Son of the Revolution

by June Venable

  Mollified, Caleb began his story. “My family lived in Orangeburg, although my father came from just outside London.”

  “What! A loyalist?” Seth interrupted.

  “No, never!” Caleb replied, his face flushed with the idea that his new friend thought Pa might have sworn allegiance to the tyrant who occupied the throne of England. “He loved this country, same as me.”

  “Good! I’ve spent my time lately fighting the loyalists and I’ve taken a particular dislike to them. Do go on though.”

  “There’s really not much to tell. Pa died a year ago. The chest sickness took Ma two months ago. That’s when I joined the militia. I signed on with Captain Johnson, but our company got separated and I got lost. One of the men found me and we all joined up with Major Hunt. I guess that’s about all.”

  “You’ve had a bad time of it, haven’t you? You’ll like Major Hunt. He’s seen a lot of action for only twenty-three. He’s a born officer. But we can talk tomorrow. Sunup will come before you know it. We’d best settle down now.”

  Caleb stretched out on the damp ground, hoping the heat of the fire might keep him warm during the night. In the stillness, he heard the croak of tree frogs and the chirp of crickets. In the heavens, the stars looked unusually bright. He trembled as a cool breeze swept over him.

  “What happened to your bedroll?” Seth’s voice came from the dark.

  “I lost it when the company got separated.”

  “Well, here you go, Fields. I have an extra blanket. Do take it. I don’t need it.”

  “I accept gladly.” Caleb felt the sting of tears at this unexpected kindness.

  “Think nothing of it. If I’m not mistaken, you could probably wear the extra shirt I have. Maybe some of the others will have a pair of breeches to lend. It’s hard luck to lose your belongings but we’ll fix you up. Try to sleep now.”

  Caleb fell asleep with the thought that a friend might make the enemy less difficult to face.

  SIX

  They woke to a pink dawn. Caleb stretched and reached for the water flask. He took a few small sips, mindful of the need to save the precious liquid.

  He glanced around and saw Seth Larkin whose eyes remained closed. “Wake up, corporal. We’ll have to move out soon.” Caleb didn’t really relish another day in the saddle.

  Seth sat up and yawned. “Private Fields, when I get home, I’m going to sleep for a week.”

  The words hit Caleb like a thunderbolt. He wondered where he would call home if his farm had been destroyed.

  The rest of the company roused to start the day. Someone built up the dead fire while another put a pot on to boil. Again, the men shared their food with Caleb, treating him like a younger brother. He made a vow that when he caught up with Captain Johnson and collected his back chits, he’d repay those who so willingly gave up some of their meager rations.

  The morning flew by. Seth and Caleb rode together, getting acquainted. Caleb had first checked on Johnny Bell. Mr. Brown, a barber who rode with Major Hunt, had some knowledge of medicine. He dug the bullet from Bell’s leg and tied it with strips of cloth he carried in his saddlebag. Bell fainted since they had nothing to lessen the pain. Today, he sat astride his horse, pale but upright.

  The morning brought a surprise. Seth Larkin’s hair looked like a red flame in the dawn, while copper colored freckles dotted his nose. Caleb grinned at the image.

  Seth laughed when he noted Caleb’s amazed look. “They’re from my mother’s Irish kin. I have a younger sister who looks like our father, with light hair and green eyes. She’s about your age, a bit younger, but you wouldn’t like her.”

  “Why?” Caleb questioned. He had no brothers or sisters, but thought anyone who did must feel especially close to them.

  “She’s too bossy. All the young men fall in love with her though she’s too much of a child to pay them any mind yet. She’d rather join the army.”

  Caleb felt amazed to know a girl could act so brash. The young women he knew at home had downcast eyes and shy manners. At church meetings, they studied their prayer books and during infrequent socials, sat together and stitched samplers under the watchful eyes of the older women.

  “Tell me about your family, Seth.”

  “My mother is beautiful. She manages our home and plays the spinet. Father practices law and Elizabeth, as I’ve mentioned, does just as she pleases. I call her Bossy Bess. Seth grinned, warming to the task of describing his younger sister.

  “You call her what?” Caleb laughed, recalling a milk cow of the same name his father had owned.

  “Bossy Bess. And when I call her that, she gets furious and chases me. I tell you, I have to do my best to outrun her. King George might do well to withdraw his troops if she ever enlists.”

  Caleb knew that despite the frivolous talk, Seth held much affection for his sister.

  “Why, at five years of age, she…hold up, Caleb. Look!”

  Caleb’s eyes followed where Seth pointed. The quiet of the countryside suddenly shattered as a squawking flock of crows rose from a stand of live oaks. Their raucous noises continued as they flew into the cloudless sky.

  “Birds sense danger,” Seth began when a volley of shots rang out. Horses reared and threw their riders.

  Major Hunt shouted orders as the men struggled to control their steeds while they searched for the direction of the attack.

  In the midst of the confusion another volley exploded into the group. Corporal Longworth fell from his horse. Several of Major Hunt’s men went down. Fire seemed to come from all sides. Turning back to his companion, Caleb gasped. Seth lay slumped across his horse, as a wide red stain soaked his shirt.

  Grabbing the reins of Seth’s horse, Caleb led her to the side of the road and into the shelter of some tall brush. He jumped from Victory’s back and tied the reins of both horses to a sturdy tree. “Quiet, girl,” he cautioned Polly, Seth’s chestnut mare.

  Caleb slid the young soldier from the horse and placed him on the ground. He pulled a shirt from Seth’s saddlebag and held it to the angry wound to staunch the bleeding. A low groan told him the boy had regained consciousness.

  “Be still, Seth. I don’t think they’re Red Coats. I heard Major Hunt say we could avoid the British on this road. They’re probably a renegade band and we rode right into their trap.”

  “My shoulder hurts something fierce. How does it look?”

  “Not too bad,” Caleb answered, not really knowing the extent of the bullet wound.

  “Funny. With all the action I saw last year, I never took a hit. What do we do now?”

  “You stay put. I’ll get some help. Polly and Victory will keep you company.”

  Swallowing his fear, Caleb crept back to the road taking Seth’s weapon with him. Peering from behind a tree, he spotted Major Hunt attempting to fend off a ragged looking fellow holding a club in the air. The major’s gun lay at his feet. Caleb lifted the heavy pistol, took aim and fired. The ruffian dropped to the ground. He had guessed correctly. These were hooligans who had set upon the company in a surprise attack.

  The major scrambled back onto his horse and began shouting orders. The men rallied and soon the ragged group of evildoers scattered, riding toward the west.

  Taking stock of the situation, the major assigned the able-bodied to take care of the wounded. “We’re only a short distance from Charleston, men. We’ll find food and medical attention there. We must go on. Our troops fighting along the coast need our help.”

  “I owe you my life, Private Fields,” the major said as he approached Caleb. “I do know a good man when I see one. Now, what’s happened to Corporal Larkin?”

  “He’s hit, major. It’s his shoulder and it’s bleeding pretty bad. He’s hidden near those bushes yonder. Will you take a look?”

  When they reached the wounded boy, the major examined Seth’s shoulder. “Corporal Larkin, that shoulder doesn’t look good. I’ll send Brown to see what he can do, but if I’m correct you live near Charleston, do
n’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Seth nodded, wincing in pain. “We live about an hour outside the city.”

  Thinking for a moment, the major spoke. “Larkin, I’m proposing Private Fields here ride home with you. He’ll see you get there. After that, he’ll rejoin us. You’ll have to let that shoulder heal, but when you’re ready, you’ll have a place with us.” He patted Seth’s good shoulder.

  “You’re in charge, Fields.” The major saluted the two young men. “Take care and God bless you both.”

  When Corporal Brown appeared, he set his cloth carryall down and examined Seth’s shoulder. “You’re lucky, lad. The bullet went through clean, front to back.” Brown cleaned the wound and sprinkled it with root powder before wrapping it in the muslin cloths he carried. Rising from the ground where he knelt beside Seth, Brown dusted the grime from his uniform and bid the two farewell as he helped set Seth upon his horse.

  “You boys will make out fine. Ride easy and beware of those ragamuffins. They’re likely to hide along the way. If not them, look sharp for Red Coats.” Lowering his voice, Brown whispered to Caleb. “Better get him to a doctor as soon as possible.” With a snappy salute, the soldier rode out to catch up with his regiment.

  Caleb watched until the corporal disappeared from sight. He looked at Seth. “it’s just us now, my friend. If you’ll kindly direct me, I will see that you reach home and family shortly.”

  “And none too soon,” Seth replied weakly. “A side road will get us there in a few hours.”

  * * * *

  The journey lasted more than a few hours. Seth’s face shone paper white beneath the freckles and his wound began to bleed again. Caleb hoped they could make it, and that could happen only if Seth remained conscious to give him directions.

  At last, the countryside gave way to dwellings. Caleb knew the Larkin home must be near. He gently shook the drowsing boy. “Seth, we’re close. Can you tell me how to find your home?”

  With great effort, Seth lifted his head. “Go to the blacksmith’s shop, then turn left. The house sits a distance from the road. You’ll know the entrance by a large magnolia tree. A drive leads up to the house.”

  Caleb tightened his grip on Polly’s reins and followed Seth’s direction. Shortly after seeing the smithy’s place he turned left and spotted the huge tree. He turned down the long drive, and cast a quick glance at Seth, who looked as though he could not stay in the saddle much longer. Just as Caleb prayed to see the house, the plantation loomed up before them in the lowering dusk.

  Caleb jumped from Victory’s back, ran up the tall steps and lifted the heavy knocker. The oak door swung open and a woman stood in the candlelight. “Ma’am, I’m Private Caleb Fields and I have—”

  The woman’s hands flew to her mouth as she looked beyond Caleb, her eyes wide. Caleb turned and saw that Seth lay slumped over Polly’s back.

  “James, come quickly. It’s Seth and he’s hurt.”

  James Larkin ran, catching his son as he slid from the saddle. “Get some water, Mary, and turn down the bed in the downstairs bedroom.” Looking at Caleb he asked, “can you give me a hand here, lad?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The two, working together, got Seth into the house and laid him on a four poster bed. His mother hurried in with a bowl of water and after gently bathing his face, pulled a quilt over the pale boy.

  “I’m going for the doctor, Mary.” James Larkin hurried away.

  Not knowing what else to do, Caleb found a chair in the large hallway and sat down.

  A few minutes later, he heard a noise from above and looked up, shocked to see a young girl on the landing who threw her leg over the wood banister. Her petticoats flying, she slid expertly down its length. Startled at seeing a stranger at the bottom, she flew off the end and landed squarely on the polished wood floor.

  She sat up and stared at Caleb until she found her tongue. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Private Fields, and you’re most likely Bossy Bess.” Instantly sorry, Caleb bit his lip.

  “Seth! He’s here or you wouldn’t know that horrible name.”

  “H-he’s hurt. Your mother is with him,” Seth told the girl and nodded toward the downstairs bedroom.

  “Oh, I must go to him. He’ll want to see me.” The girl rushed off, her silvery braids escaping from her lace cap as she bounded away.

  Once more, Caleb sat to wait. He gazed around. Seth’s description hadn’t done justice to this lovely home.

  The door opened and Seth’s father appeared followed by a stout man who Caleb decided must be the doctor.

  “Still here, private? Why don’t you go to the kitchen and tell cook to give you something. I think she probably has plenty set aside from our evening meal. It’s the first building next to the back gallery.”

  “Yes, sir.” Food smells from the recent meal had wafted through the house, teasing Caleb’s nose. Finding his way out, he encountered a woman who sat dozing before a small cooking fire. He stood in the open doorway and cleared his throat to get her attention.

  “Gracious! You startled me, young man.”

  Again, Caleb indentified himself and briefly explained what brought him here.

  “Well, then, you’ve both returned from the war, have you? I’m ever so sorry to hear of Master Seth’s injury. But, here, sit down and let me see if there’s not a bit of venison left. Oh, and if anyone needs to know, I’m Charity, of County Down, Ireland.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Caleb ate everything set before him. He finished the meal with a pudding of corn mush laced with molasses.

  “It’s good to see you eat so hearty, boy. Have you had a bad time of it?”

  “Not bad, ma’am, until yesterday when Seth got wounded.”

  “I can understand that. I helped to raise young Mr. Larkin. He’s like one of my own. I’ll go see him presently.”

  “Here you are. I thought perhaps you’d gone,” a new voice interrupted.

  Elizabeth plopped herself in a chair across from Caleb and to his amazement pursed her lips and started whistling. “Can you do that?” Her sea green eyes dared him.

  “I don’t feel like whistling right now. I just ate.” Not wanting to admit he had never mastered the art, Caleb took refuge in the weak excuse.

  The girl didn’t reply, but Caleb guessed she knew his secret, so he changed the subject.

  “What news of Seth?”

  “The doctor sewed his shoulder and said time will tell. For now, he must have lots of rest and nourishment. That means he must eat the kind of food that will help him regain his health.”

  “I know what it means.” Caleb recalled Seth’s words and silently agreed that Elizabeth could truly irritate a body.

  Mr. Larkin appeared at the kitchen door. Upon seeing Elizabeth, he exclaimed, “Daughter, are you bothering our guest?” He did not wait for an answer before he spoke to Caleb. “Well, lad, my wife and I wish to thank you for what you’ve done for our son. In time, he’ll heal. He’s told us how much you’ve helped him. You can’t imagine how grateful we feel.”

  “Seth would have done as much for me, sir.”

  “Yes, I think he would. Now, will you accept this small token?” Mr. Larkin slipped a cloth pouch into Caleb’s hand. Through the soft fabric, Caleb felt coins and heard the crackle of paper.

  “Sir, I can’t take this.”

  “Nonsense. You never know when it will come in handy.” Lowering his voice, James Larkin whispered, “I hear things don’t look good for our side. Charleston just fell. Seth said your company was on its way there when he got wounded. So, if you ever need a safe place, please find your way back here. My family owes you a great deal. You will always have a welcome here. I know you need to rejoin Major Hunt, but you must stay the night with us.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will remember your kindness, but I must get on my way.”

  “I’ll take you to Seth,” Elizabeth offered.

  As she walked beside him, Caleb realized he and Elizabeth st
ood almost the same height. Matching his long stride, she led him to the bedroom where her brother lay.

  Seth gave them both a weak smile, when they peeked into the room. “Come in. I see you’ve met my sister. What do you think, my friend? Was I right?”

  Caleb blushed and declined to answer. “I’ve come to say goodbye. I need to find Major Hunt and the rest of my unit.”

  “I’m indebted to you, Caleb. When I’m able, I’ll rejoin the major too. Perhaps you’ll still be attached to his group. If we don’t meet again in this war though, please come back when it’s all over.”

  “I will, and I wish you a speedy recovery. Goodbye for now.” He realized Mr. Larkin had not told his son of Charleston’s defeat. He wondered what had happened to Major Hunt and the rest of his command. They had ridden into the city not knowing its fate.

  Mary Larkin and her daughter accompanied Caleb to the door. Seth’s mother thanked him again for aiding her son, then leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “God go with you, Caleb Fields.”

  Victory waited, already fed, and Charity had tucked enough food in his saddlebags to last several days.

  Caleb waved goodbye to the Larkins and turned Victory toward the port of Charleston. Stopping partway down the long drive, he looked back toward the house. In the open door stood Elizabeth, her slender figure outlined in the soft glow of lamp light. Caleb felt sure he heard her whistling.

  SEVEN

  Caleb had traveled less than an hour when he saw a strange procession. Soldiers on horseback, others afoot, all walked in the opposite direction. The men came from various commands, but with one purpose—to leave the defeated port city.

  “Hold up,” Caleb called to a weary soldier. “Do you know Major Hunt or Captain Joseph Johnson?”

  The man looked up. He’s young, Caleb thought, despite the dirt-streaked face and hunched shoulders that give him the appearance of a much older person.

  Shaking his head, the soldier replied. “No, never heard of ’em, and if you’re smart you’ll turn back. The British lie just behind us, busy sacking Charleston. They’re a fierce lot, boy. Turn back.”