by June Venable
Sometime during the night, Caleb came instantly alert. The time had come. He must escape now, or when sunup arrived the Red Coats planned to take him along when they left. Moving quietly, he wiggled around and managed to slip the knife from his pocket.
Now, the hard part would begin. He used a sawing motion and pushed the knife back and forth until part of the rope gave way. Encouraged, he increased the pace, making as little noise as possible. In another few minutes, the rest of the rope fell away and Caleb broke free. He stuffed the telltale pieces of his bonds into his pocket. Rising from the floor, he stood for a moment holding his breath, then tiptoed through the dark building, careful not to step on a sleeping soldier. His heart beat so loudly he knew someone must hear. Stopping each time he heard a snore or a man mumbling in his sleep, Caleb tried to keep his knees from shaking. It seemed hours before he saw a sliver of moonlight peeking through the chinks in the barn wall. Following the light, Caleb reached the door, eased it open and stepped into the cool night.
He pulled in a deep breath and decided to wake Abby to let her know he had escaped. Giddy with the thought of freedom, Caleb headed for the farmhouse then stopped in his tracks when a gruff voice spoke from the dark. “Halt or I’ll shoot!”
THREE
Caleb’s heart thudded against his ribs as the cold barrel of a musket bit into the flesh of his neck.
“Taking a little walk, patriot?” The figure in the dark spat out the last word. Caleb remained silent and hoped the man did not guess his fear.
“The captain thought we might need a lookout tonight for more reasons than one, and he guessed right. Seems like we’ve caught the same enemy twice. What will the women think when I tell them I had to shoot my prisoner because he tried to escape?”
Caleb’s thoughts raced. At last, he found his voice. “If you plan to shoot me, at least don’t disturb the women. They’ve done you no harm and the mother lies ill.”
“How thoughtful of you, patriot, although some might see it as a sign of weakness. Well, I am not entirely heartless. Let the ladies continue their rest. You, however, have taken up arms against King George and must pay for your act of treason. With this attempt to escape, your punishment will come sooner than later. I’m sure it will be deemed justified.”
At that moment, Caleb detected a slight noise. He listened carefully and tried to separate it from the usual sounds of the night. Small creatures scuttled through the grass. The pawing and snorting of horses sounded and cool breezes rustled through the reeds lining the river’s edge. The sound resembled none of those.
“We’ll just take a short walk and not rouse the others. The captain ordered me to take care of any problems and I consider you a big problem.”
Caleb was pushed forward by the soldier’s musket barrel prodding his back. With his arms above his head, Caleb started down the narrow path beside the river. Again, his ears picked up a sound. Was it an animal, or could another soldier have come to gloat over his capture? As they reached the edge of the river, the moon slipped behind a cloud. An inky blackness surrounded them.
Another form materialized. Caleb heard the sounds of a scuffle and a whoosh of air leaving a chest. A dull thud came next when a body hit the ground.
Not knowing what to do or where to turn, Caleb stood rooted to the path. “Who’s there? What’s happened?” His teeth chattered and he strained to see the third figure.
An arm shot out of the darkness and a hand clamped over his mouth. Caleb struggled as he felt himself lifted from the ground. His feet dangled in the air.
“Be still, lad,” a raspy voice whispered in his ear. “I’m Amos Clark, Abby’s father. I came home earlier tonight and she told me the story. I waited to see if you got away from these ruffians. Guess my girl’s pretty smart to slip a knife in your soup, eh?”
Caleb wobbled, and then stood straight when Abby’s father set him down firmly on the ground.
“Thank you, sir. Yes, Mistress Abby acted bravely and I thank her for the plan to help me escape. What happens now? What will we do with this man?”
“Don’t worry, boy. I’ll take care of his majesty’s soldier. Now, I have a horse saddled and waiting for you beyond the house, and my daughter has packed some food. Oh, she also rescued your militia documents. I’ve tucked them in your knapsack. You’ll find everything in the saddlebags.”
Caleb hardly knew what to say. The man’s generosity and bravery overwhelmed him. Indeed, the whole family had helped him, even to the point of putting themselves in danger.
“I’ll delay the Red Coats and give the captain a good story about his prisoner stealing my horse. If he asks about his man, I’ll say it’s not my business to keep up with his soldiers and suggest he has a deserter. Don’t worry, lad, we’ll fare all right. But come now…let’s get you on your way. The sky will lighten soon.”
Caleb followed the husky man who hurried through the burgeoning dawn. Leading him to the side of the house away from the barn, Amos helped Caleb onto the waiting horse. “I call him Victory. He’s a good companion. Perhaps the two of you will return in better times.” Amos gave the chestnut a farewell pat. “Here’s a rough map I’ve sketched for you. I hope it helps.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, sir. I will come back. Please bid Miss Abby and her mother goodbye. I’m very grateful for their help.”
“Aye, boy, I will. I figure you’d better head south. I think the Red Coats’ plan carries them north to join with a larger regiment. I heard that news while at the trading post.”
“I’ll follow your directions and I thank you again, sir, for all you’ve done.” Caleb patted the horse and turned him south. As he rode away a whisper borne on the early morning breeze reached him. “Godspeed, young Fields, and come home safely.”
FOUR
When he decided the hoof beats could not be heard, Caleb urged Victory into a full gallop. He must reach the main road before full light of day. He kept the river in sight and at last guided the horse toward the tall reeds. Dismounting, he led Victory to the water’s edge. The chestnut, parched from the hard ride, drank greedily. Caleb stopped him after a bit and spoke gently. “I’m sorry, boy, you’re too hot now to drink any more. Let’s rest and then we’ll both have more later.” He led Victory away and tied the reins to a slender sapling.
The boy threw himself down in the grass and pulled the makeshift map from his pocket. Studying it, he furrowed his brow trying to decide which direction to take, and feeling more confused than ever. Hunger overtook him and he reached into the bag Abby’s father had given him. He pulled forth a package wrapped in oilskin. It contained cold biscuits and ham. As he munched his food, he wondered what had happened at the Clark’s farm after he left.
Not wanting to leave any clues, Caleb pushed the wrappings from his food deep into the bag. His fingers touched a piece of paper. Drawing it out, he unfolded the single sheet and read the few words written there. “May God keep you safe. Come back when you can.” The signature said only, “Your friend.”
How smart of Abby not to include names. If caught, both could suffer: he from bearing arms against the king, she for befriending the king’s enemy.
Caleb folded the message several times and tucked it into his jerkin. He fed Victory the oats Mr. Clark had included. When the horse had his fill, Caleb led him back to the river and allowed him to drink deeply. Then Caleb stretched out on the grass. Soon, his head nodded and his eyes closed. He fell into a dreamless sleep while his new companion stood guard.
“Wake up, you scoundrel! Where in tarnation did you get to?”
Caleb bolted up. Frightened, he blinked to clear the sleep from his eyes and spotted the pudgy form of Private Charlie O’Shea. “Easy, lad, we thought we’d seen the last of you.”
“Charlie, how did you find me? I got lost, then the king’s soldiers caught me and—”
“Hold on, son. We’ll have plenty of time to hear your story, but let’s get you out of here. We’ve searched everywhere for you. I sent t
he fellows on ahead and thought I’d take one last look around. Good thing I did. And I see you’ve acquired a fine piece of horseflesh there.” O’Shea gazed in admiration at Victory.
“That’s true. He got me this far and now you’ve found me. I’m mighty glad to see you, Private O’Shea.”
“Then let’s get on our way. Follow me and keep a good lookout. The king’s men are everywhere. We had a couple of skirmishes yesterday. Johnny Bell took a shot to his leg. He’s hurt pretty bad and the corporal wants to get going. He heard a rumor that a big contingent of the king’s soldiers will head north. Captain Johnson and a group have gone ahead to make sure.”
“He’s right, Charlie.”
“How do you know that, lad?”
“Amos Clark told me. He owned the farm where I got caught. He heard about it in town.”
“Let’s catch up with the others. The corporal needs this information.”
Another ten minutes of hard riding brought Caleb and Charlie O’Shea to a narrow side road that twisted through a stand of oaks. Banners of gray moss floated from the tall trees. Caleb stayed just behind O’Shea while they rode toward a clearing. Well-hidden from the enemy’s eyes, it served as a meeting place for the militia.
Ahead, a dozen men sprawled around on the spongy grass. Some slept, resting for the journey ahead. Others stood watch and scrambled for their muskets at the sound of hooves.
“Settle down, boys. It’s me. Guess who I found?”
A few whoops greeted Caleb. Tom Longworth, oldest of the militia group shouted, “well, boy, you tried to get away, but we found you anyway.” The man’s voice rumbled when he laughed.
“Aw, Corporal Longworth, I didn’t run away. I got lost and captured by the Red Coats.” Caleb hung his head. Then, he brightened. “But I sure let those dandies have it. How do you think I got away? They put up quite a fight I can tell you, but I got the best of ’em. You should have seen those cowards run.”
“Well, General, guess we can all go home happy now. If you scared them Red Coats that bad, they’re probably hightailing it for England right now.”
The fun and story telling went on until night fell.
Caleb finally stomped off, weary of serving as a target of their jokes. Finding a secluded spot he stretched out and patted his pocket to make sure he still had Abby’s note. For a long time he lay still, turning the events of the last few days over in his mind. When at last he slept, he dreamed of the dark haired girl who risked her own safety to aid him.
When he next opened his eyes, thick fog blotted out the morning sun. The men lay in bedrolls around him. Some muttered in their sleep, reliving recent battles. Johnny Bell tossed and moaned. The blazing fire of last night had turned to gray ash and smoking embers. Rising from the dew-laden grass, Caleb felt ravenous. He shook his knapsack, hoping he might have missed a scrap of ham or some biscuit crumbs, but found nothing.
He wandered away from the sleeping men and spotted a small lean-to in the woods. Curious, he made his way through the trees. The shack’s door barely clung to its hinges. Caleb stepped across the threshold into the small space. He guessed it might have served as a storage place. A woven basket held several apples. Eagerly, he scooped up two of them. He tucked one into his pocket, rubbed the other on his sleeve, and sank his teeth into the fruit. Immediately, his nose wrinkled and his tongue tingled with the sour taste. Tossing the mealy fruit aside, he slumped to the ground and leaned against the side of the shack. He sat thinking again of everything that had happened to him in the last few days and wondered if he had done the right thing by joining the militia.
While he mused, his ears picked up the sound of hooves beating a tattoo on the main road. He listened for a moment to determine the direction in which they headed. He had his answer when the sounds grew louder. Springing up, he ran back to the group shaking each man in turn. “Wake up! I hear horses, lots of them. Wake up!”
Half asleep, the soldiers struggled to their feet, reached for their muskets and scattered into the woods. Caleb followed, and then stopped. His chest tightened when he realized this place offered no way out.
The riders closed in and their voices rang out in the misty dawn. Hearing them, the men of the militia turned to one another and grinned. “It’s all right everybody,” shouted Longworth. “They’re ours. Can’t you hear the sounds of Carolina in their speech?”
As the regiment reached the clearing, the militia stepped from the covers of the trees and broke into cheers. “Whoopee! We thought the Red Coats had us for sure. How’d you find us, Major?” The men grinned and waved as they surrounded the horsemen.
“We met a couple of men from your group on the road. They directed us. I am Major Hunt and these are my men. We’re the 16th Regiment of the Continental Army. Who’s in charge here?”
“Captain Joseph Johnson, sir, but he’s gone on ahead. Guess I’m next in line. I’m Corporal Longworth, sir.” The lanky militiaman twisted his hat between his fingers.
“I’m glad to meet you, corporal.” The major pulled out a rolled sheet of paper from his saddlebags. “Captain Johnson sent a letter asking that your group join us. He’s been transferred to the front lines. What do you say?”
“Aye, we’ll join you, sir.” Longworth looked at his men to see if they agreed. All nodded assent.
“Glad to have you.” Major Hunt snapped out a salute toward the assembled men. “I’m short handed and can use the extra help. I’ve got someone who can look at that young fellow.” He nodded toward Johnny Bell.
Caleb noticed the boy’s face looked flushed with fever. His uneven breathing hardly moved his chest.
When the soldiers had shared their rations with the militia and the wounded boy attended to, Major Hunt raised his hand and gave the signal to move out. “All right, men. Let’s go. The Red Coats are waiting.”
Another cheer went up from the group, but Caleb shivered. The time had come when he’d now face the real war.
FIVE
Two day’s travel lay ahead as the troops made their way to Charleston. During the afternoon of the first day, Caleb found himself riding alongside Major Hunt. He had noticed the officer liked to ride among the men and take the opportunity to speak with them.
“A fine steed you have there, Private Fields. How did you come by him?”
“Well, sir, I got separated from my regiment and stopped at a farmhouse for help. The Red Coats came by and arrested me. I escaped and the farmer kindly gave me his horse. He’s called Victory.” Caleb stroked the horse’s mane. He only described the highlights of his adventure, thinking the major wouldn’t care to know one of his new troops had gotten lost through his own act of carelessness.
Silent for a moment, the major asked another question. “How old are you, private?”
“Sixteen, sir, but with a birthday soon to come.”
“That young, eh? At your age the thought of army life never crossed my mind. What about you, lad? What do your future plans include?”
This surprised Caleb. “I don’t know, sir. For now, I want to fight for my country. When the war ends, I’ll have to decide what to do with myself.”
“Choose wisely, Private Fields. Perhaps later you will decide to switch over to the regulars and stay on permanently. We always need good men.” The major touched his fingers to his cap and rode ahead to confer with his second in command.
Alone, Caleb thought of the major’s question. What did he want to do when the war ended? Like his father he could farm, or perhaps take up a trade such as shoemaking or he might consider the silversmith’s art. He sighed. I guess I can do whatever I want since I’m alone in the world now.
By dusk, Major Hunt signaled the men to stop for the day. His regiment sprang into action. Guards surrounded the camp, horses munched their fill of oats, and a roaring campfire soon sent sparks dancing in the night air. Charleston still lay too far away for anyone to detect the glow.
The generous soldiers shared the few rations they had. Caleb ate hungrily when
given some hardtack, a bit of cheese and a flask of water. One of the men reached into his pocket and fished out a piece of rock candy.
“Take it, lad. You’re welcome to it.”
“It’s wonderful, sir. My thanks to you.” Caleb crunched the sticky morsel between his teeth. Settling down a few feet from the campfire, he savored the sweet taste, ignoring the juices that dribbled down his chin.
The cool breezes carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine. Men drew close to the fire and passed the time with jokes and stories. Caleb shivered when one of the soldiers recalled the terrible winter of ’78. Silence fell when the soldier repeated the words of Washington. Seeing his men, shoeless in the freezing rain and snow, the General had declared, “You might have tracked the army to Valley Forge by the blood on their feet.”
“Do you mind if I sit down?” The voice startled Caleb from his reverie.
He nodded and moved over. A young man sat beside him. In the light of the fire, Caleb noticed the soldier looked not much older than himself.
“You’re militia, aren’t you?” The inquisitive dark eyes studied Caleb. “How does it happen you’re serving? So young and all?” Before Caleb had a chance to answer, the young man continued. “By the way, I’m Corporal Seth Larkin from near Charleston.”
“At your service, sir. I’m Private Caleb Fields, lately from the Barnwell District, but originally from Northampton County in North Carolina.”
“Well, just two lads from the Carolinas, eh? What’s your story, Private Fields? Don’t you belong in the schoolroom?”
“I signed myself up, sir. I didn’t know patriotism required an age limit,” Caleb replied stiffly.
“I’m sorry, Fields. I’m only nineteen myself but after a year of seeing the sights I’ve witnessed, I feel a hundred. Go on, tell me about yourself.”
