Archibald then instructed each man to keep his ears pinned back and ready to jump when the coming battle arrived. The meeting then turned to study. Archibald inquired of the group who they preferred to study: Algernon Sidney or John Locke. Sovereign Quinn proposed that Sidney was murdered by the government for his words and stated with a mischievous grin, "Let’s find out what they did not want us to know."
With the group’s approval of Sidney, Archibald reached into a secret compartment in the bottom of his bed frame at the far end of the loft and pulled out a buck skin bag. He opened the bag delicately, uncovering a very worn tome. He explained to the new brothers that these books of his were more dangerous to own than one hundred cannons. If Governor Oglethorpe or his minions were to discover the society's collection of writings, their necks would be stretched and their toes dangling from a tree. He made the new recruits swear to never speak of them. He had paid a good bit of silver to a smuggler to get the books out of London and they were the most valuable things he owned. The newly initiated members of the secret Freeman Society nodded solemnly. Archibald then carefully opened the book and read Sidney's words, reminding the gathered sovereign men as to exactly why the crown executed him 1683.
"If there be no other law in a kingdom than the will of a prince, there is no such thing as liberty. Property also is an appendage to liberty; 'tis as impossible for a man to have a right to lands or goods if he has no liberty and enjoys his life only at the pleasure of another as it is to enjoy either when he is deprived of them."
Archibald continued to read from Sidney's book for a while and only stopped after a section which proposed the right to revolution. This section always inspired the most debate amongst the secret circle of men. Isaac spoke first. He was trying to digest the words of the philosopher. “So, Sidney is saying revolution and freedom are closely linked? That when a people's rights and liberties are threatened, they have the right to rebel, nay, the duty to?”
With no easy answers for such difficult questions, Maximilian asked another. He seemed as perplexed as Isaac. “Does revolution always mean with violence, Father? Can one have a revolution with other ways?”
The group began to talk over each other, each man offering their opinion, until Sovereign Dandridge spoke above the clamor. “I have never heard of a nonviolent revolution, but I would suppose there could be one." Dandridge continued proposing that if subjects stopped funding the king by not paying their taxes, maybe then the he would not afford the pretty crown that adorns his head or his army to do his violent bidding. "Many minds have to change and they’d have to reject the king's authority before this could happen. It‘d be dangerous to those who were the first to protest but it would eventually encourage others. When enough subjects stop funding the government that oppresses them, it should collapse the empire in financial ruin.”
Patrick had not considered these radical ideas before. Before, it was just vague anger but now his thoughts were taking shape. He found it odd that throughout time, people have funded their own oppression, building the very chains that enslaved them. Patrick explored all these new ideas as the group clamored on until Sovereign Quinn's voice cut through the others, "Piss on that! The way to freedom is through the barrel of a musket. You cannot reason with evil nor violence. You must answer violence with greater violence!”
Worried the neighbors or a passing British soldier might hear, Archibald shushed the excited man. When group quieted, Archibald rationalized in hushed tones, “How can one find peace through violence, Sovereign Quinn? In the game of violence, the most violent is crowned the winner. Might makes right, not morality nor reason? You, sir, would simply be trading one violent king for another more violent king.”
"No, no, no," Sovereign Quinn countered. "You don't understand. We simply need to install one of our own men. We just need to find the right man to lead us. We have to have someone lead us, otherwise you'd have anarchy, a society wrought with nothing but murder and thievery.”
"Maybe a society with no ruler and no government would have less murder and thievery. We have plenty of murder and thievery now. Hell, King George’s troops have killed more men than smallpox!” Archibald laughed at his own joke.
"I don't know, Sovereign Freeman," Sovereign Quinn mused. “'Tis true enough but we need some sort of government. Men are too evil to be trusted to their own reckonings.”
“You need to use that reasoning a little deeper, you are saying that men are too evil to be trusted, but government is made up of men. So does something magical happen when they become the government that washes away that inborn evil? Lads, remember the most basic thing about all governments: GOVERNMENT IS FORCE! In its simplest form it is one soul making another soul do what he wants by force. It rings true for any of the king’s laws and actions. The only reason his subjects comply is because of the threats of force hidden behind the law. So it is the musket in the room that demands obedience. He who has control of the gun cannot resist the temptation and power to use it,” Archibald explained.
He continued, “Even if we fight like hell and throw the king and his corrupt government out of power, we are just handing the musket in the room to a new ruler. In time they will not be able to resist the siren’s call of its power and will find a reason to justify using it. Perhaps the new ruler will only use the gun to keep the rest of us safe and force his new subjects to pay for a military. Maybe he will force his new subjects to pay for programs to help his kingdom and its people. Over time the new ruler will find more and more reasons to use the musket to take his subjects’ silver.
“When a government’s only tools are threats and violence, why is it so surprising to its subjects when they use it? If you only own a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Lads that is why it is called a revolution, because it only goes in an endless circle of killing and control. When you use violence to remove a government it is only a matter of time until the new government has to be removed with more violence,” Archibald summarized.
“You are living in a world of fairies! You can’t use nonviolent methods at people willing to kill you. No thanks! This change has to happen with blood. There is no other way.” Prudence’s father stood steadfast.
“I like Sovereign Dandridge’s idea of a massive tax revolt, using nonviolent resistance to cripple the king’s treasure chest. But how do you get enough subjects to risk their lives and do it?” Patrick questioned.
“It has to be in everyone’s best interest and important enough to them to take a risk. As far as I know we are the least taxed subjects in the world, so taxes alone won’t be enough here. This will come down to an issue of control. The king will not be able to maintain control much longer since he is so far away. There is also no representation but folks still have to pay taxes to some other land. The way to change people’s hearts is to sell the idea that they should be in control of their own lives; not some government,” Archibald responded.
The men argued until the dawn, much to their wives’ and daughters’ dismay, about if such a thing as a nonviolent revolution could ever occur.
* * *
It was still hot, even in Mid-December. Although some leaves had turned and fallen, other more robust foliage was still holding tight to their colors. Despite the heat, a cold snap in November killed most of the sand gnats and mosquitoes, a small blessing to all men and beasts. Patrick had a face of fully grown beard and Archibald followed his lead growing a mustache, though it was still hot enough for him to take off his wig when they were smithing. The twins were growing tall and lean and Heather and Marian seemed to not age a single day anymore.
During this strange and balmy winter, Archibald quietly taught Patrick the art of gunsmithing. It was an ideal time to teach since much gun work was coming in. Many repairs and modifications were being made in preparation for the anticipated Spanish and savage invasion, so the making of stockpiles of guns openly aroused no suspicion. Taking advantage of the situation, the blacksmiths worked long hours into the night crafting extra
black market firearms.
During his tutelage, Patrick found the most difficult aspect of gun smithing a smoothbore firearm was the barrel. It took great skill in fabricating to get it smooth, even and straight. The lock was dissembled into its parts; hammer, trigger, springs and flash pan. Patrick would delicately dissemble a flintlock and copy each part one by one. He would first take the hammer and set it in a clay sand mix to make a mold. Then he would pour molten iron into the mold and create a close replica. He then would file and shape the hammer to the exact dimensions of the original. He repeated this process until all the parts of the gun were finished but the barrel could not be cast. Archibald would cut a pattern from a sheet of metal and hammer it around a rod. Once he had the shape of the barrel, the master blacksmith would heat the barrel in the fire to fuse the ends together. He used long strips of metal to force the edges together and heated the barrel to just before its melting point. It took a very experienced eye to do this. Before the barrel would be cooled in a pool of water, Archibald poured small drops of hot metal into any cracks that did not fuse. When completely cooled, the master blacksmith used a tool he designed that looked a file on a stick. He would file the inside of the gun barrel for hours till it was smooth as glass.
Patrick learns the illegal art of gunsmithing
The gunstock was made from any hardwood the blacksmith could get his hands on. Oak was the most common choice, but Archibald would take custom orders for anything. The twins would work on whittling the oak down to a basic stock and Archibald would step in to do the finishing. He even customized the gunstock, shaving down the grip, a trick he learned from the local savages. With the thinner, modified grip, the musket could now be held with one hand and used as a club when the ammo ran out.
With troops and mercenaries amassing in Savannah, Yamacraw, Uchees, Creek, and Chickasaw war parties were all camping on the outskirts of town. The secret of Governor Oglethorpe’s invasion was not a secret anymore. Even Hugh MacKay's Highlanders, including William McIntosh, were in town and dressed for war. A mixed force of British regulars, the 42nd Regiment of Foot and the colonial militias from Georgia and Carolina were also added to the mix. Five frigates and three sloops were also gearing up for war in the harbor.
When William McIntosh arrived in Savannah, he headed directly to the blacksmith’s home. “Is Duncan here, lad?” the large kilted man asked Patrick.
“Who?” Patrick was puzzled.
“Oh right, excuse me. I meant his English Lord, Sir Archibald,” McIntosh stated in a sarcastic tone.
“He will be back in an hour or so, do you have a message?” Patrick calmly stated as he continued his work.
“Yes. Tell him da target is St. Augustine and to prepare quickly. We ride out in four days to attack Fort San Diego on our way to da prize. Tell him to get everything in place,” the Scot instructed. Patrick nodded and the Scottish warrior ran down the street to join his men.
Later, Patrick took the message to Archibald who, in turn, passed it to Heather. He instructed her to tell Prudence’s father to get his savage ready and to join the men west of San Diego in seven days. Archibald explained everyones role in the family’s next endeavor at dinner.
“Sons, you have to stay here and watch the home. If I need to know something important, I want Max to deliver the message." Amos frowned with disappointment. "Sorry Amos, but Max can out run you since you cut your foot. Plus I need you to watch this place closely, keep the lobsterbacks from fishing around the house." Amos nodded as his father continued.
"Marian and Heather, you'll stay with the home. We should be back in a few months. Until then, remain unseen. No socializing and stay the hell away from the reds. Understood? You must not go out at night for any reason and I want you to shut in properly every night. I also want you to carry dirks at all times as well. This is a very dangerous time, so I expect you to check in with Mr. Dandridge and Mr. Quinn every day. They will be staying behind for now.
"We will be going into this war zone under the guise of helping out, but we have no plans on fighting. We are going to scavenge the riches of battle and hope to make this family enough silver to move far away from the British forever. Perhaps if all goes well, we'll head to the frontier where we can live freely. We would only put ourselves in the devil's sight for the family. We will pack light in order to carry back heavy loads. We leave in four days time.”
* * *
The three men met quietly on the south side of town. Archibald and Isaac were loaded down with supplies. Patrick thought it odd that this was Freeman's idea of traveling light. “Isaac, I did not know you would be joining us. How did you ever talk the doctor into letting you leave?” Patrick asked.
“Archibald hired my services for the next few months. It is not hard to convince the doctor when he sees the glimmer of silver. Plus, I will be selling medicine and will make a fortune for him. People will pay a good amount of money if you can save them from shitting themselves to death,” Isaac replied with a smile.
Archibald belted out, “Lads, best be on our way before the sun beats us down. What I would not pay for a good horse right now but the livery is sold out. I have the map to Fort San Diego around here somewhere.” The men slowly wandered down the road loaded from head to toe with equipment as Archibald searched one of his many bags to find the map.
Chapter 11
Land Pirates
and Battle Rats
With a mix of swamp marsh and thick woods, the men moved slower than anticipated. Even the shortest of distances took much time but eventually they made it to the rendezvous point west of Fort San Diego. While Archibald tied yellow and black cloths to his arms, Patrick questioned, “What do you know about the savage sent to meet us?"
“For starters, they don’t care much for being called 'savages’," Archibald grinned. "The scout is an older warrior held over from the Yamasee War that ended in the seventeenth year. My understanding is it was a terrible war."
Archibald told the story of the Yamasee War. “The Yamasee hated the Spanish and their evangelizing for Christ and the Catholic Church. The Yamasee joined forces with the English in Charles Towne and assisted in slave raids deep in the Spanish territories. Then something changed and to this day I do not know what. I'd bet the colonials cheated them or took a shite on one of their burial grounds. Who knows? The Yamasee then turned on their former allies, attacking Charles Towne and the surrounding areas. Other tribes that hated the British as well joined the Yamasee cause and attacked. It was a hell of a collection of tribes that convalesced to spill British blood. It was the Yamasee, the Creek, Cherokee, Savannah River Shawnee, Congaree, Waxhaws, Pee Dee, Chickasaw, Catawba, Apalachee, Apalachicola, Yuchi, Cape Fear, Cheraw and others. The English were on the edge of defeat until the Cherokee turned on their savage allies and saved the British.”
"Time and bribes heal lots of old wounds," Archibald smiled. "Now most of these tribes are allied with the English. Many of the warriors still hate the British and only pretend to help them until they can spill their blood again. The man we are meeting is one of those. He hates both the British and Spanish and will keep our business quiet. Currently he is spending time with the Creek in a settlement called Eufaula trading deer pelts. Most of his tribe was killed during the Yamasee War and he is one of the last of his bloodline. When he was a young warrior, he spent many years around St. Augustine capturing the enemies of his tribe, selling them into slavery. The British and Spanish would sell those captured men to the Caribbean to work the sugar fields. Sovereign Quinn warned me to show him respect because he is a legend to his people. His skill with a bow is deadly and he is a master tracker.”
“This bow has killed thirty-four English, twenty-four Spanish and fifty-five enemy tribesmen. Each bead on my bow is a soul it has captured” said a voice from behind a tree. "I waiting all morning here. You make much noise, you be easy to kill.” A white-haired Indian stepped from behind a tree. He was short and muscular but aged. His face looked liked a wrinkled leat
her satchel with fiery coal eyes. He was bare-chested and had a decorated bow and quiver hung over his shoulder. He was like a proud stone and little expression came from his scar riddled face. On his bead belt hung a strange shaped war club which had been decorated with feathers. The three men jumped back, startled by the warrior’s mysterious entrance. “Quinn told to find man who wear yellow and black on arms." The old warrior questioned, "You be him?”
“I assume you are Li Go Che. Your English is impressive. Quinn did tell me what a great warrior you are but he had never told me you were also well educated,” Archibald complemented.
“Learning good English made me much silver," Li Go Che replied. "What you whiteskins want from me?”
“We need you to guide us over the next few months. We need to stay close to the redcoats but staying away from their war. We want to profit from the bloody backs after the battle,” Archibald explained.
Li Go Che burst into loud laughter. “You three want me to help you be battle rats? You want to steal the redcoats’ fallen warriors’ weapons? This disgraceful behavior to my tribe. Will you use these firesticks to kill the English?”
“We want to sell them to people who will use them to kill the British,” Archibald replied.
“Let us smoke on this,” Li Go Che calmly said as he sat down.
The three white men awkwardly sat down in a circle and watched as the white-haired man produced a small pipe from a bag he was carrying. Archibald watched as the old warrior pulled out a bud of a hemp plant and packed a little in his pipe. He made a small bundle of dead foliage into a miniature torch, then ignited it with a flint rock and a small piece of metal he had. The men passed the pipe around and smoked in silence until Patrick took a smoke and coughed violently. The coughing amused the old man and he broke into laughter. Li Go Che encouraged Patrick to slow down and not suck the smoke in so fast. Patrick failed miserably at smoking, much to the group’s delight. Tension lifted as laughter and blue smoke filled the air.
Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version)) Page 15
