Little Warrior
Boy Patriot of Georgia
Patriot Kids of the
American Revolution Series
Book Two
GEOFF BAGGETT
Copyright © 2016 Geoff Baggett
Cocked Hat Publishing
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0-9973833-4-8
ISBN-13: 978-0-9973833-4
DEDICATION
To my brand new grandson and Sons of the American Revolution Compatriot, Jackson Hunter Baggett. I hope he loves doing living history as much as I do. I have a cocked hat and weskit waiting for him.
Cover Design by Natasha Show - natashasnow.com
*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
UNDERSTANDING THE TIMES
The British and their Redcoat soldiers were not the only enemies of the Patriot cause in the American Revolution. Indeed, not all soldiers in the conflict wore colorful red or blue uniforms. Throughout the years of the conflict the British made alliances with various Native American tribes along the frontier. The Iroquois, Creek, Cherokee, Chickasaw, and Shawnee tribes, among others, took part in combat against American forces. There were also many citizens of the Americas who took the side of the British. They were known as Loyalists, or were sometimes called Tories. Sometimes neighbors fought against one another in the war, especially in the South.
Many Patriots were ordinary men and women who simply defended their families and homes along the frontier against those Loyalist (Tory) forces and their Native American allies. This is a fictional story about one of those families … the Robert Hammock family of Virginia and Georgia. They were a real family of the 1700’s. They lived during a very difficult time and had to fight for their security and freedom.
This book deals with several difficult themes. You will read about the war, violence, guns, Native Americans (called Indians in the 18th Century), and slavery. These things were part of everyday life on the frontier during the American Revolution. Check the glossary in the back if you have difficulty with any “Revolutionary War words.”
There are several descriptions of battles and war in this book, as well. These things must be included so that you can have a true understanding of the period of the Revolutionary War. If you have questions about these things or if they trouble you, I encourage you to talk to your parents or another responsible adult in your life. Ask them questions. Learn about your history!
Geoff Baggett
Part I
1774 - The Trek to Georgia
CHAPTER ONE
A GREAT ADVENTURE!
Lewis Hammock sighed and sat impatiently atop his horse. He was so very tired of waiting. And he was doing everything that he could to avoid getting caught up in the tearful goodbyes that were in his immediate future.
It was the spring of 1774 and Robert Hammock, Lewis’s father, was taking his family away from their ancestral lands in Virginia on a quest to claim frontier land and establish a farm in the faraway colony of Georgia.
Lewis was ready to get on with the trip. This was shaping up to be the greatest adventure that he could ever imagine. Even though he was only nine years old, his father was allowing him to ride his own horse! All of the other children had to ride with their mother in the wagon.
But it wasn't just the horse and riding the trails like a grown-up that excited Lewis so. He looked down and patted the Virginia long rifle that lay across his lap. He rubbed the handles of the flintlock pistols that were attached to his saddle. His father had entrusted him with powerful weapons. Lewis was being counted on to defend his family from bandits, robbers, and marauding Indians! What an adventure, indeed!
Lewis cast a glance toward his Papa, who stood talking to Lewis’s grandfather, Robert Jackson. Grandpa Robert and Grandma Abigail had come to see them off on their journey. They were heartbroken to see their daughter, Milly, leaving home and riding off into the wild Indian lands of Georgia. Lewis’s mother and grandmother were both busy crying their eyes out.
Yep! Lewis had about all of this nonsense that he could stand. He gathered a little bit of courage and them cleared his throat. “Isn’t it time to go, Papa? We have a long way to travel.”
His father shot him an angry look. “Lewis, it will be time to go when I say that it’s time to go. Now mind your manners. A boy your age needs to be seen, but not heard. You will do well to remember that.”
“Yes, Papa,” Lewis mumbled.
He sat quietly and amused himself by blowing out his breath and watching the condensation form a white cloud in the crisp spring air. He also eavesdropped on his father’s conversation.
Lewis’s grandpa asked his son-in-law, “Robert, is everything in order in the house?”
“Yes, sir,” Robert responded. “The cabin is clear. It’s all ready for the new owners to move right in.”
Robert’s declaration about the empty house caused Milly Hammock to break down into sorrowful tears. Lewis hated to see her so upset, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. He wondered, “How can anyone be so attached to this rickety, drafty old cabin?”
Lewis’s father tried to comfort his mother. “Milly, darling, everything is going to be all right.”
“I know it is, Robert. I have faith in God and faith in you. It just hurts to think of someone else living in our home … the place where we have lived so long and raised our children.”
Robert smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. He stared deeply into her blue eyes. “It’s just an old Virginia cabin, my love. And it’s not even a very good one, at that! You know how cold and drafty it is in the winter and how that south roof leaked no matter how many times I fixed it. I almost feel bad selling it to Mr. Wilkes.”
Milly giggled through her tears.
“We’ll make a new home in Georgia. A bigger home and a nicer home, with lots of land for our boys and girls to roam.”
Lots of land to roam! How Lewis liked the sound of that! His mind wandered to visions of rabbits, squirrels, deer, and elk. He reached down and rubbed the cool barrel of his trusty rifle. He smiled and thought, “Look out, Georgia, here I come!”
Lewis’s mother buried her head into her husband’s chest as he hugged her tightly. Lewis’s grandmother, standing behind her, wept even more loudly.
Edward Jackson snatched his wife over to him. “Now, woman, that’ll be enough of that frightful racket! You’re terrifying these poor children. Stop that confounded wailing and love on these kids. It may be a long time before you see them again.”
Well … that was definitely the wrong thing to say, for it started a brand new chorus of weeping from the emotional woman. Lewis’s grandma broke away from her husband with great drama and began gathering her grandchildren.
“Lewis, get down from that huge horse and hug me! Robert, Joshua, John … come to me boys. Come and hug your grandmother, for I fear that I shall most certainly never see any of you again!”
Lewis rolled his eyes and dutifully climbed down from his horse. He handed his rifle to his father and walked over to his grandmother. He reluctantly endured her warm hugs and wet kisses.
Edward Jackson turned his attention away from his emotional wife and focused on his son-in-law, trying to ignore the storm of female emotion that raged behind him. “Robert, have you decided upon your route of travel to Georgia?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve agonized over the decisio
n all winter long. The new settlement lands in Georgia are northwest of Savannah, inland along the river. The great wagon road down through Hillsboro and Charlotte would be much shorter and a much more direct route, but it is also much more dangerous. It goes through untamed country and is a little too close to the Cherokee Indian lands for my comfort.”
“So you’re going on the King’s Highway along the Atlantic coast, then?” inquired Edward.
“Yes, sir. It will add many miles and days to our journey, but it will be through settled territory and much safer.”
His father-in-law nodded his approval. “I believe that is the right decision, Robert. The King’s Highway is patrolled by both the British soldiers and the local militias. There are far fewer bandits and highwaymen than there were a few years ago. There are ample supplies along the route and plenty of civilized towns for you to stay in as you travel.”
Lewis, still listening in on the adult conversation, heard several tantalizing words from his father … British soldiers, militia, bandits, highwaymen. He could barely control his excitement!
“Yes, sir,” agreed Robert. “There should be restaurants and boarding houses in Denton, New Bern, and Wilmington, to be sure. The entire South Carolina coast is thoroughly settled. I’m quite sure we’ll be camping most of the way, but it will be nice to take a break and sleep in an actual bed every now and then. We should also be able to link up with other settlers headed south.”
“I only wish that you had more armed men and guns for your security,” lamented the older gentleman.
“Frank and I will be just fine. And Lewis can shoot a gun if he has to.”
Lewis’s grandfather made a disgusted face when he heard Frank’s name. Grandfather Jackson did not like Frank. Frank was the family’s African slave.
Frank was fourteen years old. He was the only slave that Robert Hammock owned … but it was not because he actually wanted to own a slave. Robert’s grandfather died in 1765 and left the boy to him as part of his estate. Robert sort of had no choice in the matter. Frank was a small child at the time, only five years old. He was orphaned as a baby and raised by another family in the slave quarters. When Robert’s grandfather, Hugh Lambert, died, he left the little boy to Robert as part of his estate.
That was nine years ago. During that time Frank grew up in Robert and Milly’s home and was more like a son to them than he was a slave. He definitely played the role of “big brother” for all of the younger Hammock children. Frank was a beloved and important member of the Hammock household.
Frank was Lewis’s best friend. They were hunting buddies and enjoyed spending time together. Frank was a skilled hunter, an excellent shot, and a hard worker. Lewis looked up to Frank.
Robert's father-in-law stared disapprovingly at Frank, who stood leaning against the wagon. Frank’s floppy hat was flipped up in the front, revealing the distinguished features of his dark brown face. His tall Brown Bess musket was resting against the wagon at his side. Leather straps of various sizes crossed his chest. He had a matching set of flintlock pistols tucked into his leather waist belt. The handles of each pistol barely peeked out of the opening of his dark blue coat. The young black man was quite an imposing and impressive sight.
“I’m not sure how I feel about you arming your slave. I do not believe it to be appropriate for him to carry weapons.”
“Why is it not appropriate?” challenged Robert.
“Good God, man! He’s an African slave! He’s property! That boy could kill you all in your sleep and run off into the night!”
That notion made Robert laugh out loud.
Lewis, still being bombarded by vigorous hugs from his grandmother, chuckled as well. He shook his head and thought, “Grandpa Jackson doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The notion that Frank would ever hurt us. Ha!”
Robert responded, “Now who is being dramatic, Edward? That is absolutely absurd! I’ve known Frank since he was a baby. He’s like a son to me.”
“That slave boy is most definitely not your son!” exclaimed the emotional, offended grandfather.
“No, not by blood. But by sweat and time and affection, he’s just like a son to me. I know him as well as I know all of my boys. I don’t view him as a slave, and I’ll never treat him like a slave. The moment that he ever wants to leave our family I will gladly give him his papers and his freedom. I trust him with my life … with my wife and children’s lives. You can rest assured that we are all in good hands with Frank on the trigger of a musket.”
“I still don’t like it … guns and slaves,” Edward mumbled.
“Well, you don’t have to like it. But it suits our family just fine.”
The older man realized his defeat. He quietly nodded his agreement.
“Look, Edward, I don’t want us to depart on bad terms. You’ve been good to us. Your gift of this land, your unwavering support, and your friendship have meant everything to this family. We could not have made it without you. But it’s come time for us to move on and to do so on our own terms.”
“I know it is time, Robert. I could tell that you’ve been growing restless for quite a while now. I know that you will all be just fine, and that you will do well for yourself down in Georgia. But I’m going to miss all of you.”
The older gentleman broke down into silent tears. Robert gently patted his shoulder.
“We’ll not be that far, Edward. We’ll be just three weeks’ ride away. Perhaps you and Abigail can come down for a visit soon.”
Edward Jackson shook his head. “No, son, my traveling days are over. I’m too old. I can barely come up with the strength to leave my own farm these days. I certainly don’t want to stray very far from my own bed. No, I suspect that Abigail is right … this is the last time that I will see any of you.”
“I hate it when you speak that way, Edward. It all sounds so final. I feel a tremendous burden of guilt for causing this separation.”
His father-in-law wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his dark green linen coat. “Now, Robert, don’t you fret the whining of an old man. Young families have left home for opportunity and adventure since the dawn of time. I’m quite sure my emotions are the same ones experienced by our own ancestors as they watched their sons and daughters and grandchildren board ships in London and Liverpool bound for America. It is always difficult to watch our loved ones go, yet it is also difficult to blame them for wanting to go.”
“It’s still hurts, doesn’t it?” remarked Robert.
“Indeed it does, son. Indeed it does.” Edward Jackson winked at him and leaned closer. “But if I was just twenty years younger and my wife wasn't so ornery, I’d be hitching up my wagon and going, too.”
Robert chuckled and winked at his father-in-law. He whispered, “I would welcome you in my caravan and in my camp, Edward. But Miss Abigail … not so much.”
Both men laughed and embraced one another, slapping one another on the back with affection. They separated after lingering a few moments.
Robert looked at his wife and sons, locked in the embrace of his mother-in-law. “Milly … boys, say your final farewells. It is time for us to depart. We have many miles to travel.”
The youngsters didn’t need any further instruction. They broke free from their grandmother with little emotion or fanfare and raced for the back of the wagon. The three youngest boys clamored into the rear, eager to begin their adventure.
Lewis ran back to his horse and pulled himself up onto the huge animal’s back. He almost looked comical … a scruffy nine-year-old perched atop such a huge, majestic animal. What was not comical was the pair of pistols strapped across the pommel of his English saddle. His father handed him his .36 caliber flintlock rifle, which he comfortably balanced across his lap.
Milly walked over to the wagon. She handed little Nancy to Frank. He balanced the little girl on his hip with his left arm and held out his hand to assist Milly up onto the seat of the wagon. Nancy spontaneously grabbed Frank’s face and pulled his cheek to her lip
s, planting a slobbery kiss and squealing with delight. Frank grinned his brilliantly white, toothy grin as he handed the little girl to her mother and then mounted the seat of the wagon beside them.
Robert climbed nimbly up onto his horse and guided the animal to the side of the wagon nearest his wife. Lewis took his position behind the wagon.
Robert nodded to the older couple. “Edward, Abigail, we are grateful to both of you for you seeing us off today. I trust that we will see one another again very soon.”
“We pray God’s mercies for your travel and for your future, Robert,” responded Edward. “Take good care of our girls and boys.”
Robert leaned over and extended his hand to his father-in-law. “I promise that I will, Edward. We will write you as soon as we arrive in Georgia, won’t we Milly?”
His wife wiped her tears and adjusted her bonnet. “Yes, dear. Of course we will. And sooner, perhaps. Mother, I will attempt to send letters and notes from some of the cities along our route, if you would like me to.”
“Oh, yes, my dear!” exclaimed her mother. “Please tell us all about your travels and keep us informed of your progress. It will enable us to pray more diligently for all of you.”
“Very well then, Mother. I will write you at every possible opportunity.”
Her mother stumbled forward to the wagon and took her daughter’s hand. “Go with God, my dear. I shall forever love you with all of my heart.”
“And I shall always love you, dear Mother.”
Edward Jackson interrupted the endearments, “Well, off you go, then, Hammock family! To the wild woods of Georgia! Enjoy your adventure, and live your lives to the fullest. We will see you in the Hereafter, if not sooner.”
“Thank you, Edward. Be blessed, my friend,” responded Robert.
“And you, as well, Robert.”
With the family blessing received, Robert Hammock clucked at his horse and trotted slowly down the road. Frank gave a quick snap of the reins and launched the wagon, falling in behind Robert. Lewis brought up the rear, following behind the two horses tethered to the back of the heavily loaded wagon.
Little Warrior: Boy Patriot of Georgia (Patriot Kids of the American Revolution Series Book 2) Page 1
