***
Robert heard the sounds of fighting coming from his left. He heard Lewis yelling, grunting, and growling. He heard a shot and a shrill scream and then saw the flash of a shot inside the cabin.
He shouted, “Lewis, are you all right? Are you injured?”
“I’m fine, Papa. My hand is scorched and I have some powder burns on my face, but I’m all right.”
“Thank God!” his father responded. “I can’t see anything outside!” Robert yelled, exasperated. “What about you, Lewis?”
“I can’t see anything, either! There’s a dead Indian in front of my hole!”
Lewis had just responded to his father when the doorframe and crossbars of the front door cracked. An invisible force, massive in size and power, had impacted the cabin door from the outside.
“The savages are going to break through the door!” screamed Milly.
“Don’t worry, dear, they will never break through those oak beams. And the door is simply too thick and strong,” Robert assured her.
But he was wrong … horribly and dangerously wrong. Seconds later another mighty impact slammed against the wood. The center of the door bowed inward as the lower crossbeam cracked in the middle.
“The beam is broken!” shouted Chris. “One more hit like that one and they’ll break through!” He grabbed his rifle and musket and jumped out of his trench. He made his way into the pit with Esther and the children. He flipped the bed up on its side and screamed, “Esther! Get the babies behind the bed! Stay out of sight from the door! And for goodness sake, keep them quiet!”
He knelt down at the mouth of the connecting trench, where he had a full view of the door and leaned his musket against the wall of the pit to his right. He cocked his rifle, aimed at the door, and waited.
Seconds later the battering ram struck the door again. The bottom beam exploded inward as the center of the door gave way. The thick wood panels cracked down the center along a seam.
Creek warriors poured through the ruptured door. The women and children screamed in horror. Explosions erupted throughout the cabin as Chris, Robert, and Frank fired at the intruders.
Robert screamed a warning to his son, “Lewis, hide in the trench! Go quickly! Indians have gotten into the house!”
Lewis heard his father’s shout and darted around the corner into the side trench. He tried as best he could to melt into the wall of the trench and hide. He was so afraid. He was completely alone. And he wasn’t sure how many of his family and friends remained alive inside the cabin. He pointed his rifle toward the corner of the trench and waited.
Lewis jumped in fear when an Indian came running around the corner. The man saw Lewis and reacted immediately. He threw up his pistol and fired. Lewis felt the warmth of the muzzle blast in his face and a searing fire in his left arm. Still, Lewis pulled the trigger on his rifle. The Indian gave a mighty lurch and then stumbled forward, slamming head-first into Lewis. The boy flipped backward under the weight of the Indian. His attacker had been hit, but he was not dead. The man screamed in a strange language and grasped at Lewis’s neck.
Lewis felt the powerful grip of the Indian’s hands around his neck. His skin stretched with pain. He gasped for a breath but could not find one. He began to see tiny twinkling lights that almost looked like stars against the darkness of the cabin ceiling. His brain was becoming devoid of oxygen and he was on the edge of unconsciousness.
“He is going to strangle me!” Lewis thought with horror.
His survival instincts kicked in. He tightened the muscles in his neck to resist the crushing grip of the Indian. He searched for every ounce of strength left in him and focused that strength on his right leg, which he kicked at his attacker. The Indian grunted in pain and rolled slightly to his right.
That was all of the opening that Lewis needed. He reached down with his right hand and whipped his knife out of his belt. He quickly jabbed the knife into the Indian’s back. Then he blacked out.
***
Lewis heard voices. He felt water splashing in his face. His somehow managed to open his tired eyes. He saw Wappanakuk hovering over him and was confused at first. Lewis smiled when he saw his mother and father and little brother, Robert, all gathered close around him.
He tried to speak but his neck was sore and swollen. The inflamed tissues around his vocal cords muffled his words. He grumbled as best he could, “Is it over? Did we get them all?”
Wappanakuk placed a firm hand on his chest, “Yes, Tarowa Yetashta, our enemies are slain. You and your family are safe. You fought most bravely, Little Warrior.”
Robert and Milly scooped up their boy from the ground and wept as they held him close.
CHAPTER TEN
A BEAUTIFUL INDIAN GIRL
Not everyone survived the horrible attack by the Creek Indians. Both Chris and Esther Chandler died in the attack, leaving an orphaned son. Robert and Milly would have another little boy to raise in the Hammock home.
Wappanakuk and Lewis left before sunrise the next morning to go to Wrightsborough and fetch back the local militia to the scene of the battle. Robert believed that the size of the attack was serious enough to justify involving the army. He also discovered that the muskets and pistols carried by the Creeks were stamped with a large, “GR,” the stamp of the army of Great Britain.
The Creeks had attacked the Hammock home with weapons supplied by the Redcoats!
***
Several hours later they heard the sounds of horses and wagons on the road. Soon Wappanakuk and Lewis rode into the clearing, followed by three wagons containing about a dozen men, none of them armed. Four other men followed on horseback. Those four were well armed.
“We have brought help, Robert,” Wappanakuk declared. “The Quakers have come to help bury the dead. And there are four men from the militia company of Captain Robert Carr. They insisted upon coming along to see if they might be of help.”
“Good,” Robert responded. He looked with concern at Lewis. “Are you all right, son? I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Papa. Just a little sore.” His voice sounded scratchy and hoarse. “Wappanakuk checked my arm and put on a poultice and fresh dressing while we were in town. He said it’s looking just fine.”
Robert smiled at his son and then turned his attention to the visitors from town. One of the men was Joseph Maddock, leader of the Quaker settlement in Wrightsborough. He had brought several men from his church with him to help bury the Indians.
A burly militiaman climbed down from his horse and extended a handshake to Robert.
“Mr. Hammock, I’m Sergeant Zachariah Henderson of Captain Carr’s company of militia. We’ve been trying to get around to all the homesteads that haven’t been abandoned and check on people. We were in town when your boy and his Indian friend came riding in. We decided that we would ride on out with the burying party and see how we might be of help.”
“I wish you had been here last night, Sergeant. We could have used the help then, for sure.”
The sergeant looked at the row of covered bodies in the yard. “Looks to me like you folks did a fair job on your own.” He grinned broadly, exposing crooked, discolored teeth.
“It was not without great loss. We must bury our dearest friends today.”
“I’m mighty sorry for those folks. Let’s get these Indians in the ground and then we can bury your friends nice and proper.”
“I think you should first look at the weapons that they carried, Sergeant. They are all stamped with the symbols of the British Crown,” declared Robert.
The sergeant squatted over the pile of weapons and examined each one.
“Yep! These are British army issue guns.” The man spat on the ground. “We been seeing them all up and down this frontier. Redcoats are supplying these guns. There can be no other explanation. The British are arming these Indians. When we fight these Indians here in Georgia, we are fighting in the American Revolution! That’s how I see it, anyway.”
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p; Robert nodded. “I quite agree, Sergeant. King George is no friend of ours. England holds all of us colonials in a very low regard. The simple truth is that we are not Englishmen, but Americans. I believe that the only option that we have left is to fight.”
“I agree,” said the Sergeant. “But Mr. Hammock, folks like you can’t go it alone out here on the edge of Creek lands. You don’t have enough neighbors to stand together and fight. You were lucky last night, but I don’t believe your luck will hold out for you a second time.”
“What are you saying, Sergeant?”
“I’m saying that it’s time for you to pack up your wife and children and bring them into Captain Carr’s Fort. We have a fine fort built at the captain’s place. There’s room enough for close to three hundred settlers. You need to get inside those walls with us to make your stand.”
“I’m not quite ready to leave my home just yet, Sergeant.”
“I’m just making an offer, Mr. Hammock. And the offer will stand until you’re ready to take us up on it. We’ll open up the gates for you when you come. Just head north up Reedy Creek and cross the Little River, then turn northwest. It’s about seven or eight miles from here.”
“I’m grateful, Sergeant. We just might take you up on that offer. Not right now, but someday.”
The men soon began the gruesome task of burying the Indians who had died in the battle. Even with the help of the men of the militia and the Quakers the job took several hours. It was early afternoon when the Quakers returned to Wrightsborough. Robert invited the militiamen to join him back at his cabin.
As they rode into the yard they saw Milly and the children standing near the cabin. She walked over and greeted the group.
“You men haven’t had a bite to eat since breakfast, and it will be time for supper before we know it. I’ve set out a couple of loaves of bread and butter to hold you over. There’s also fresh milk and hot tea.”
“We don’t need to take too long,” Robert cautioned. “We need to bury our friends.”
Milly nodded. “I fetched Esther’s quilt to wrap them in. She told me some time ago that her mother made it for her. I know that it was dear to her. I only wish that we had proper caskets for them.”
“That was very thoughtful of you, Milly. And very appropriate.” He turned to the men. “Gentlemen, let us enjoy some food and then we will hold service for the Chandlers.”
A half-hour later the men carefully and reverently placed Chris and Esther’s bodies in the back of Robert’s wagon. The Hammock family and guests then formed a short funeral procession and marched silently to a nearby grave plot, where Robert conducted a reverent service in honor of their dear friends.
***
An hour later the men were finished with the grave and made their way back to the Hammock cabin. Frank and Lewis had a roaring campfire going in addition to Milly’s cooking fire. Wappanakuk was “helping” Milly with the cooking, but from the exasperated look on her face he wasn’t being very helpful, at all. The boys beckoned Robert and the soldiers to join them beside the fire. Within minutes the men were smoking pipes, telling stories, and laughing. Moments later Wappanakuk joined them. They were all in a strangely joyous mood after such a physically difficult and death-filled day.
Suddenly a scream pierced the air. It echoed through the forest to the west.
“What was that?” the sergeant exclaimed.
Milly came running around the corner of the cabin. “Robert, I heard a scream. Is it the Indians again?”
“That sounded like a woman!” one of the other militiamen replied.
“Might have been a wolf,” volunteered one of the other soldiers.
Wappanakuk shook his head. “No. That was most definitely human. It sounded like a woman to me, as well. Somewhere to the west.”
“We have to go and see what it was,” Robert declared.
Another scream, somewhat weaker than the first, came from deep in the woods. Everyone’s eyes grew wide.
“I’m not going out in those woods,” one of the soldiers replied.
“Me either,” echoed another.
Wappanakuk stood. “Robert, Frank, Lewis … come with me. We will search. Bring your weapons. You soldiers stay here and guard the cabin.”
The four men grabbed their rifles and trotted off to the woods to the west.
“Let’s spread out some,” Robert suggested. “About fifty yards between us. Keep sight of one another.”
Wappanakuk moved to the far left and Frank and Lewis moved to the far right. They all walked carefully, rifles at the ready. They strained to listen.
Lewis’s heart was beating fast. He felt the rush of danger, much like he experienced the night before. He gripped his rifle tightly and continued through the underbrush. After he had traveled about a hundred yards he heard something off to his right. It sounded like a moan.
“Over here, Frank!” he hissed. He veered in that direction and then slowed down.
They came to the edge of a large depression in the forest floor. Frank and Lewis were not prepared for the sight that greeted their eyes in the bottom of that depression. There, with arms and legs wrapped around and tied to a small tree, was a young Indian girl.
The girl’s eyes met Frank’s and widened in fear. It looked like she was about to scream, but her eyes suddenly rolled backward into her head and she collapsed to her right. Her body dangled haphazardly beside the tree.
Lewis cupped his hands and yelled back to his left, “Papa! Wappanakuk! You’d better get over here!”
***
Frank carried the unconscious girl back to the cabin. Lewis carried both of their guns. Milly’s eyes grew wide when she saw the beautiful young woman. She quickly placed a blanket near the fire and Frank laid her on it.
Milly looked up at the men surrounding the girl. “Now somebody tell me something! Where did she come from? Is she injured? Who is she and where did you find her?”
“Lewis and I found her in the bottom of a gully in the woods. She was wrapped around a tree and tied up tight. No telling how long she’d been there,” explained Frank. He reached out with concern and felt for a pulse in her wrist, then brushed back the coal-black hair from her eyes.
“She is a Cherokee maiden,” explained Wappanakuk. “I do not think she is injured. She is no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. She was most likely taken captive by the Creeks in the last few days. They simply tied her to the tree and, no doubt, planned to retrieve her after the attack on your farm.”
“How do you know she is Cherokee?” asked Robert.
“By her clothing and beadwork. She is obviously Cherokee.”
“Why would they take her? I thought the Cherokee and Creek were allies and tolerated one another,” Robert observed.
“For the most part they are. I can only guess, but based upon her age she was probably just an easy opportunity for the war party.”
“She certainly is a pretty girl,” Frank stated. He was captivated by her beauty and had not taken his eyes off of her since he placed her on the blanket.
Wappanakuk grunted. “Yes, Frank, she is an beautiful young woman, and would be highly prized among the Creeks. One of them, no doubt, claimed her as a war prize and planned to make her his wife.”
Milly soaked a small towel with the water and wiped it across the girl’s face and neck. The Indian girl gasped at the cold and sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at Frank’s dark face. Fear seized her and she began to kick and thrash beneath the blanket. Then the screaming began. The girl wailed with a broken, fearful, mournful cry.
Wappanakuk knelt beside her head and attempted to soothe her. He patted her arm and quietly hissed, “Tss, tss, tss ….”
The girl calmed down somewhat and ceased her screaming, but retained her expression of horror. Then Wappanakuk began to speak to her in a tongue unfamiliar to Robert and the others. Relief washed across the girl’s face and she conversed with Wappanakuk, asking questions in rapid-fire succes
sion. Wappanakuk answered her questions patiently and kindly, and it was clear that he was asking questions, as well. The girl seemed to answer with candor. Everyone else stood by helplessly, observing the prolonged conversation.
After a few minutes the girl smiled and nodded in response to one of Wappanakuk’s questions. He reached down and took her by the hand, helping her to sit upright. He and Frank gently draped the blanket around her shoulders. She instinctively scooted a bit closer to the warm fire.
Frank dipped a pewter mug into the bucket of water and handed it to her. She smiled and drained it quickly, then offered it back to Frank. She obviously wanted more. Frank filled her cup again and again she drank it dry. Finally satisfied, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them and then stared uncomfortably into the fire.
“Well … tell us what else you two talked about,” Robert demanded. “You carried on quite a conversation. We would like to know what was said.”
“My guess was quite correct. The girl told me that the Creek warriors stumbled upon her in the woods near her home. The warriors took her three days ago. At least four of the men were unmarried. They spent the past three days arguing and bickering over who would have her as a wife. The matter was not yet settled. They tied her up in that deep gully early last night to prevent her escape while they made war upon your home.”
“So she’s been there for almost an entire day?” Milly exclaimed.
Wappanakuk frowned. “Yes. She had resolved herself to the fact that she was going to die beside that tree. Since so many hours had passed she did not think that anyone was going to return for her.”
“Well, no wonder she is so filthy. We must get her washed immediately and get her into some clean, warm clothes. Robert, you and Frank must help me heat water and draw her a bath. We will set up the tub inside the barn so that she can have some privacy and I will stand watch at the door while she washes herself.”
Little Warrior: Boy Patriot of Georgia (Patriot Kids of the American Revolution Series Book 2) Page 9
