Decision at Fletcher's Mill

by David Caringer

  Ira remained silent. Zeke continued, “This land will be free, Ira. If not now, then eventually. The Crown can’t keep these distant colonies in bondage against the will of the people here indefinitely. You need to choose what side you’re on in this conflict, just as I have. I couldn’t help believing you would choose the same side as me.”

  Ira lowered his head into his hands in deep frustration. He couldn’t remain angry with this wise and gentle old man. Looking back up, he said, “What about your own people, Zeke? They’re enslaved by these same colonists all around us! What about their freedom? Why do you care about this war and what happens in it? The British have promised liberty to any slaves who leave their masters and come over to the English side. We have almost managed to safely stay here in peace while this madness goes on elsewhere in the colony. Wasn’t it enough that we lost Mary, Isaiah, and Natalie to those butchers….” Tears streamed down his face with the memory of that awful night.

  Zeke instinctively remained silent long enough for Ira to regain his composure. “There ain’t no separate peace here, son. Don’t think I don’t care about the slavery of ‘my people’ either! I can’t do anything about that and neither can you. Don’t forget, I was sold to your daddy in a marketplace auction.”

  Ira didn’t want to talk about his father right now. He knew his father would have had all the answers. He would have known what to do now that the world seemed to be falling apart. Ira believed his father would have remained loyal to the Crown no matter what grievances he held with the government. He believed his father would expect him to maintain the same loyalty. Ira couldn’t get past the insolent, pride-filled, meanness of the elitists in the British aristocracy though. It was this same idea of superiority that somehow allowed most of his fellow colonists to believe slavery was morally acceptable. He knew his father never accepted or agreed with that awful premise. Maybe Zeke was right. It was obviously the time to choose sides whether he wanted to or not. He knew he could never side with the Tories, but the choice was vastly more complicated than that.

  Could Ira resist the fiercely loyalist Tory party and remain a Whig without turning against his king? The governor was his personal friend. He owned vast landholdings throughout this part of the colony. He had thought about his liability here at length during the afternoon. He believed he might defend himself against charges of treason should that overzealous Captain Crispin manage to report the incident at the mill. That would not be the case if the authorities came here with force and a battle ensued as expected by the militia.

  A British victory in this war would mean a Tory victory here in South Carolina. That would bring ruin to him eventually because of his refusal to comply with the institutionalized slavery practiced here. Wouldn’t a rebel victory mean the same thing? The governor wouldn’t be able to protect him from forfeiture of all of his landholdings if he resisted the Royal Army in this time of crisis. A large part of his personal fortune was tied up in land, but thankfully, that wasn’t all of his wealth. He owned the mill. More importantly, he had the silver and gold concealed in an iron-bound oak chest. The chest was hidden in a small side cavern that he and Zeke discovered years earlier when they were enlarging the cave at the back of the mill. All of the cash he inherited from his father and removed from the banks in Charleston had been converted to silver and gold. This treasure was secured in the chest. Much of the profits since his father’s death were used to expand the business and acquire more land. The rest of this money was exchanged for silver and added to the contents of the chest.

  No one knew about the chest or its location except Ira, Zeke, Isaiah, and Mary. Isaiah and Mary were gone. Only Ira and Zeke knew about it now. Both of them intended to use this money to ensure they could always rebuild no matter what happened in the world around them. They also intended it to buy a bright and secure future for Elizabeth after they were gone. They discussed this on many occasions. All of it was in Ira’s will. Both men knew there were many rumors regarding vast sums of money hidden in or below Fletcher’s Mill. They were still confident in the secrecy of the true location and actual scope of the treasure. Zeke loved Ira and his family. There was never any question in Zeke’s mind that the treasure belonged to Ira. Ira loved and trusted Zeke completely. He held unquenchable respect for Zeke’s loyalty and impeccable character. These two old men were more like family to each other than the majority of blood relatives.

  Ezekiel leaned over to speak more quietly. “You need to tell Beth about the gold and silver under the mill.”

  Ira sat back as if slapped. “I will not! Why? She has no need to know about that now!”

  Zeke stared at him quietly before continuing. “She needs to know about it so that she can use it if something happens to you and me.”

  Ira didn’t want to have this discussion now. The landholdings would be lost and he knew it. The money in that chest was the only thing between them and poverty. He wouldn’t trust it to Elizabeth. Not yet. No. He wouldn’t do it, and he resented Zeke’s suggestion.

  Ira didn’t try to examine the way the idea made him feel threatened. He couldn’t recognize the extent of his dependence on the contents of that chest. He believed himself to be a generous Godly man. He didn’t recognize the pride growing in him over the years the way someone else might. He took his wealth and the power it gave him for granted. He truly believed the people around him were better off as long as he was in authority. He didn’t view this as arrogance. He couldn’t see the awful truth of this mindset any clearer than other British gentry could see it in themselves throughout the empire.

  Ezekiel leaned back again and sighed deeply. “Ira, you know that I love you. You know I’ve always wanted what was best for you and the family.”

  Ira looked up at him with a questioning, “Yes?”

  Zeke seemed to steel himself before continuing. “Son, it occurs to me that you need some personal soul searchin’. That money ain’t your source. God is. You was put on this earth for a purpose same as the rest of us. You need to remember what the Good Lord said about real treasure. You ‘can’t serve both God and money.’ Ira, you’ve always held the mistaken belief that you are made up of what you have rather than Who has you. I think it’s time to let go of all the world’s goods and concentrate on real treasure.”

  Ira was on his feet now. He hadn’t interrupted Zeke because he didn’t know what to say. He felt somehow betrayed by his dearest friend and insulted beyond description. He stood staring down at the bed for a breathless moment, but no adequate response formed itself in his mind. Leaving the candle where it was, he eventually turned without speaking and stomped out of the room, slamming the bedroom door as he left. He never noticed the tears on Zeke’s face or the old man’s shaking head. He didn’t hear the gentle sobs of his exhausted granddaughter as he stormed down the stairs and through the parlor. He didn’t even notice Mona’s shocked gaze as he brushed past her on his way down the front steps. He felt threatened, betrayed, and very angry.

  CHAPTER 18

  Sergeant Strickland took little time trying to explain to Billy why he wanted to leave the farm before first light. He had a feeling. He couldn’t fully explain it. Something was wrong. Fear didn’t really describe it right. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips readily shared everything they had with this small group of desperate men. The house and barn were sound sturdy structures and there was plenty of food and fresh water. The situation at the farm was so appealing. The doctor decided to keep the wounded men here where he had everything he needed for their treatment and recovery. Mrs. Phillips took a liking to the mysterious old physician, and she was working closely with him to treat the worst of the men’s injuries. This seemed to annoy the doctor’s young male helper, but it had a strangely positive effect on Mr. Phillips.

  Strickland’s ill feeling about the place started during a conversation with farmer Phillips while they were moving the wounded men into the house. The sergeant noted the obvious distance between the Phillips’ farm and their nearest neighbors. He
was used to neighboring farms being closer together. It seemed odd that this many strangers could move in and around the farm without drawing attention from curious onlookers of some sort. Mr. Phillips tried to reassure Strickland by telling him that he had no real friends in the area. All of his near neighbors were avid Tories. Any friendly relationships from before “the troubles” had been dead for some time now.

  Phillips described recent threats he received from some of his neighbors when he announced he wouldn’t sign the Royal Army’s loyalty oath. The confrontation happened during a chance meeting several days ago with a small group of neighbors down at Monarch Mill. He had also let his feelings be known about the stupidity of parliament and the unwise advice someone must be giving the king. The men became so fiercely angry with Phillips that he found it necessary to beat a hasty retreat. Strickland concluded that this strange little man and his large outspoken wife probably managed to make themselves into social outcasts long before “the troubles.”

  The Tory neighbors probably believed they had ample justification for anything they might do here. This was clearly a wealthy farm by current standards. Why hadn’t it been plundered? The Royal Army left it alone only because they didn’t know the farm existed. Strickland felt a storm coming soon. He didn’t want to be here when it arrived. He didn’t think the doctor should stay here with the wounded either, no matter what conveniences the place offered. The doctor wouldn’t listen. Lieutenant Morgan was more receptive, but he couldn’t do anything to persuade the doctor to leave either.

  The young lieutenant and his two sergeants concluded plans for the next day quickly. They would rise very early to prepare for a hasty departure. The doctor and his assistant would be left behind with the wounded. Billy decided to give one of the wagons to Mr. Phillips, along with the draft animals, in exchange for the use of his home as a makeshift hospital. He and his small force would proceed to Fletcher’s Mill with the remaining wagons carrying the captured weapons and ammunition. He intended to return to the farm as soon as possible after delivering the military supplies. They would reunite with the doctor and his patients on the way back north to find the rest of the army.

  Billy spent a few minutes with Silas before leaving. He was terribly worried about his friend, but he knew Doctor Bolt would give him the best possible care. He agreed with Strickland that this place wasn’t safe from attack. It also seemed that it would be better not to move these poor injured men any further in this cold, damp weather. Silas was not aware of his presence anyway. He had been unconscious for many hours now. The doctor seemed to be optimistic about his chances, but Billy wasn’t so sure.

  The convoy left the farmyard with one less wagon. Private Spate guided them out through the fields into the woods to the southeast where he once again found the small hidden track they used the day before. Spate displayed a confidence that was reassuring to Billy and the two sergeants. The terrain was hilly, and there were large patches of deep woods interrupted by natural meadows. They traveled less than a mile when the sun climbed above the horizon to reveal a mostly clear but still cold day.

  Billy was talking quietly with Sergeant Duncan as they walked along the trail well behind the last wagon. Sergeant Strickland was far out front with John Red and the lead squad ensuring that the small convoy would be alerted to any potential threats ahead of them. The other two squads were spread out along the trail behind the wagons near Billy and Duncan. Billy’s thought was that they would be close at hand to react quickly if anything should happen along the route of march.

  Suddenly, the silence of the morning was interrupted by the dull report of distant gunshots coming from far behind them. Billy and Sergeant Duncan simultaneously spun around to gaze through the trees at the horizon to the rear. They saw nothing at first. The convoy continued to move slowly forward. Duncan called out to one of the nearby privates and sent him running ahead to tell the teamsters to stop where they were and bring Sergeant Strickland back to the rear. Billy quickly turned the trailing squads to face the perceived threat brought by the continuing distant gunfire. He then noticed a small plume of gray smoke climbing above the trees in the direction of the Phillips farm. His heart was beating like a drum, and he was filled with anguish for Silas and the others at the farm. He knew better than to charge toward the sounds without waiting for Strickland and the rest of his small force. Billy now carried the reputation of a hothead. He was thankful that he could sometimes manage to stop and think rationally about what to do.

  Sergeant Strickland ran up several minutes later. There were six men with him. He had left four men to guard the wagons along with the three teamsters. They were to pull the wagons as deeply into the nearby woods as they could while still having access to the trail. Billy appreciated the wisdom and nodded his agreement. He quickly told Strickland why he called the halt. Several more muffled gunshots rang out as Billy finished speaking, almost as if they were meant to reinforce what he said.

  Billy didn’t wait for the opinions of the two sergeants. He heard himself rattling off instructions to his subordinates as if he were listening to someone else speak. Within seconds, a plan was formed and implemented. They were moving swiftly back toward the Phillips farm in less than two minutes. Every man knew what he was supposed to do. They were tense and focused. These men were excited, but not foolish. They ran toward the sounds of battle with determined will. Someone was attacking their friends. Someone was going to pay a steep price for what they were doing at the Phillips farm. The farmer and his wife were odd, but they had been very kind.

  The shots were heard only occasionally now. Billy’s men cleared the distant tree line and spread out to move low and fast across the intervening field toward the farm buildings. The barn was being totally consumed in a roaring fire. One of the draft horses lay dead in the middle of the barn lot. The other animal and the wagon were gone. Billy halted on a low rise overlooking the scene to assess the situation and think frantically about what to do. The others stopped when he did, and went to ground waiting for him. Sergeant Strickland ran over from the left end of the line and pointed to the wood pile and rail fence near the road approaching the house from the north.

  Several figures were spread out there. A puff of smoke billowed out from one of these prostrate figures followed momentarily by a dull report. The shot was answered from a window of the house a half second later. Billy looked further along the fence line toward the back of the house and saw an even larger number of men moving slowly in that direction. They were partially screened from the house by the fence and thick forest trees on that side. He noted that a few of these men were carrying lit torches. They clearly intended to set fire to the house if they could get close enough.

  Billy saw one of these men with torches fall suddenly, and heard another dull thud from the back side of the house. So, the farmer, the doctor, or whoever was alive in the house could still offer a defense in more than one direction. Billy started to ask Strickland for advice in a moment of doubt, but changed his mind. He felt the not unfamiliar excitement welling up inside him. Rather than forming a question, he began shouting orders to the sergeants. Moments later, Sergeant Strickland, John Red and three other men moved swiftly to the left in a low running circle. This brought them up behind the Tories at the woodpile and along the fence at the side of the house.

  Most of Billy’s small force was still close to him. He waited until Strickland made it to the spot he pointed out a moment earlier and flopped down there. Billy waved his own men forward then at a slow steady trot while pushing them into a wider line as they approached the barnyard and the front of the house. No one outside the farm buildings had noticed them yet apparently. That was good.

  None of the enemy attackers he could see were wearing uniforms. That told him a great deal. These were Tory raiders. They were probably some of farmer Phillips’ own neighbors. He noticed that a few of them were face down and motionless out in the mud of the barnyard. Billy and his group of breathless men made it to the rail fen
ce surrounding the pigsty now. The smoke from the heap of charred ruins that had been the barn was blowing low across the lot in front of them driven by the cold winter breeze. All of his men stopped at the fence and were staring at him waiting for the next move.

  Sergeant Strickland saw Billy reach the sty fence and began counting as he had been ordered. When he reached twenty, he rose to a knee with a shout and fired his musket at the men behind the woodpile. The other four waited several seconds and fired as well. Billy heard Strickland’s shot and vaulted over the fence into the sty, frightening the old sow inside and nearly falling headlong into the mud and slime. He regained his balance and ran to the other side where he was up and over that fence in moments. His men followed him as quickly as possible. They were now crossing the barn lot through the smoke at a dead run.

  Tories at the side and back of the house turned in panic to fire at Strickland and his men. Billy’s party split apart with half going around the house to the right and half around to the left. A ragged volley was fired by the largest group of raiders, apparently in the direction of the new threat posed by Sergeant Strickland. Billy chose that moment to let out a loud bellowing yell that was taken up by his men now emerging from the smoke at both ends of the farmhouse. They fired on the run into the now panicked Tories. They covered the distance in moments and vaulted over the rear fence in headlong pursuit of the fleeing enemy.

  Strickland and his men reloaded quickly and moved forward. The rest of the fierce little battle was over in seconds. Three more raiders were lying lifeless on the ground. Seven more were now huddled in a disarmed and terrified group under the trees behind the house. Ten of Billy’s men surrounded these with leveled muskets under the supervision of Sergeant Duncan. Billy, Strickland, and the others continued to pursue the remaining Tory raiders as they fled through the woods with the empty captured wagon and the surviving draft horse. Exhaustion and Billy’s instinctive unwillingness to be drawn any further from the rest of his men brought them to a halt without any further contact.