Little Hornet: Boy Patriot of North Carolina (Kid Patriots of the American Revolution Book 1) Read online

  One of the worried-looking officers spoke up, “Perhaps we should surrender, Colonel. It sounds as if there is a formidable force arrayed against us.”

  The colonel ignored him, peering at the messenger. Fishing for more information, he asked, “Seven hundred men, you say? Not likely! And you say Cornwallis is close by? How close?”

  “I can offer no other comment, sir. I am only authorized to deliver the commandant’s terms … nothing more. And I am to await your response.”

  The Patriot officers stared expectantly at the face of their colonel. At long last he spoke, “You may deliver the following message to your commandant, Lieutenant.

  “Sir, I reject your proposals, and shall defend myself to the last extremity.”

  “As you wish,” the officer countered snidely. “By your leave.”

  He spun his horse on its heels and galloped southward. His white flag danced in the soft breeze.

  The colonel addressed his officers, “Fifteen more minutes of rest, men, and then we proceed northward. I do not believe a single word of that pompous brat, but we still need to move quickly.”

  “Yes, sir,” a major responded. “Gentlemen …” The officers tipped their hats at the Hamilton brothers. “Good luck.”

  James spoke, “Well, Colonel, it looks like we’re in for a fight. We’ll go ahead and fall in with your boys.”

  The officer shook his head. “No, son. This is not your fight. I want you to move on. Three more muskets won’t make a difference if Tarleton has the numbers of men that he claims to have. Besides, you will better serve the cause by going ahead to Charlotte and warning them about the British move out of Charlestown.”

  The colonel pointed to a tree-covered ridge about a half-mile to the northwest. “You boys need to get moving now and get under cover of those trees. If there is action, it will be in this open field here near this crossroad. You should be safe up there. Once there is no danger of pursuit, proceed northward.”

  “Are you sure, Colonel? We don’t want to run from a fight.”

  “Private!” the colonel barked. “Do not question my orders. Get your brothers under cover and then deliver the news of this British incursion to Charlotte and areas northward. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The colonel extended his hand to James. “Good luck, Mr. Hamilton. And God speed.” He turned his horse and trotted back toward the column of Continentals.

  “You heard him, boys, let’s hit the tree line,” muttered James.

  William clucked at his team and popped the reins, slowly leading the wagon onto the highway northward. The road was horribly thick with mud, but they managed to cover a half-mile in about thirty minutes.

  William guided the horses off of the road and sought refuge in the trees. He hid the wagon and team behind a small knoll, next to a depression with ample water for the horses. The boys dismounted, stretched their muscles, and took a drink of water themselves. William grabbed a sack of corn to feed the horses a meal. James and John sat down against an oak tree, watching the Continentals in the clearing to their south.

  “James, do you reckon there’s a big fight coming?” asked William.

  “I assume so. Sounds like that Colonel Tarleton is aching for one.”

  “Will we be safe up here?” William sounded worried.

  “Oh, sure. We’ll be fine up here. We even have a first class seat to watch the whole show.” James smiled at his little brother. “Don’t you worry, tadpole, I won’t let those green coats get hold of you. ”

  “James, the column is back on the move,” interrupted John. “And I see riders way off on that far ridge! Look! There’s smoke way down the road!”

  Seconds later the muffled crack of musket fire reached their ears. There were six or seven shots, followed by silence.

  “What happened, James?” William asked. “Was that it? Was that the battle?”

  “No … that was likely just the rear guard. That was a long way down the road from the sound of it. They were probably shooting to warn Colonel Buford. But, really, there’s no way to tell.”

  The boys watched the action unfolding below. The wagons moved northward along the road while the infantry fanned out into a single line on both sides of the muddy trail. Riders in dark green uniforms came over the far ridge and began forming up, as well. There were three separate groups of them. They looked to be about three hundred yards out from the Continentals.

  Moments later the cavalrymen on the right flank began their charge toward the Continentals, led by a flashy officer who was vigorously waving his sword in the air.

  “That has to be Colonel Tarleton,” commented James. “That feisty fellow over on the right flank. Do you see him?”

  “I see him,” responded William. “He’s sure putting on a show, isn’t he?”

  The other groups of green-clad horsemen followed the Colonel’s enthusiastic charge. They all converged upon the line of foot soldiers. It took a couple of seconds before the thunder or their hooves traveled across the expanse of the field and reached the boys’ ears. The horses increased in speed as they continued down the hill. They were almost upon the Patriots.

  “Why aren’t they firing? They’re right on top of them!” wailed William.

  The smoke of the first shots erupted as William’s final word still hung in the air, followed by the echo of their explosions. There was one modest volley of musket fire from the Continentals, but that was all. Colonel Tarleton and several of his men on the right went down hard, their horses apparently shot from beneath them. They couldn’t tell if the Colonel had been hit because of the volume of smoke hovering over the field.

  Suddenly William saw movement to the left as a handful of riders emerged from the smoke. They were leaning low over their mounts and galloping hard toward the woods to the east of the boys’ position.

  “Isn’t that Colonel Buford?” asked William.

  “Yep. That’s Buford. And most of his staff, it looks like. Cowards!” James spat on the ground. “I reckon the boys of the Third Virginia are on their own now.”

  Screams continued to emanate from the battlefield. Men on horseback rode to and fro, swinging their swords in high, powerful arcs. The battle was over in minutes. Actually, it was over before it even began. The British Legion had routed the Continentals.

  The Hamilton brothers watched in horror as some of the men on the far right appeared to be plunging their swords and bayonets into the ground at their very feet.

  “What are those men doing, James?” questioned William.

  “I think they’re killing the wounded. At least that’s what it looks like, little brother.”

  Tears welled up in William’s eyes. “Are they supposed to do that?” he inquired innocently.

  “No, brother. They’re not supposed to do that. In fact, it’s just about the most horrible, cruel, cowardly thing that any man could do on a battlefield.”

  chapter four

  The boys heard a stick crack in the woods to their right.

  “What was that?” hissed William.

  “Something big … most likely a deer. Could be a man, though,” replied James. “Stay alert.”

  The boys kept watch in the direction of the sound.

  Moments later one of the Virginia Continentals emerged, hatless and wounded, from the thick undergrowth about fifty yards to their right. He stumbled over a tree root and slammed into a small sapling, emitting a faint, muffled cry. He collapsed to his knees.

  “Come on, boys!” urged James, running toward the man.

  Hearing the approaching footsteps, the wounded man rolled onto his back and immediately began to cry out, “Don’t! Please! I surrender! Good God, I surrender! Please don’t hurt me again! I surrender!”

  “Hush, soldier!” James slapped his hand over the man’s mouth. “Half of the countryside can hear all that wailing! We’re not your enemies. We’re Patriots out of North Carolina. You’re safe. Now lie still and let me look you over.”


  Relief washed across the man’s pale, bloody face. Blood was running from a deep gash across his forehead at the hairline. Poor William gasped when he saw all of the blood. He quickly turned his head and threw up.

  “Can I please have some water?” the man begged.

  “I’ll get it,” volunteered William, wiping his mouth with a look of shame.

  James nodded at him with a soft gaze of affirmation. “It’s all right, little brother. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Go fetch a couple of canteens. We need some extra water to wash him up a bit. And grab anything you can find that will work for some bandages. We have to dress his wounds.”

  William returned quickly with two and a half gourds of water and two linen sacks. The dehydrated man quickly downed the half-filled gourd. James took one of the other gourds and slowly poured the water over his face, gently rinsing the blood from his eyes, nose, and ears. The cleansing water revealed the tender face of a young man, probably not much older than James.

  “What’s your name, soldier?” asked James.

  “Alexander Macon, of the Third Virginia Regiment. Just call me Alex.”

  “Well, Alex, I need for you to rest as best you can for a while so that we can doctor your wounds.”

  Alex nodded his understanding. For the next half-hour James, John, and William washed, cleaned, and bandaged his many wounds. When they were done William took off his coat and rolled it up into a pillow for the wounded soldier.

  Alex smiled at William. “I want to thank you fellows. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

  “It’s not necessary, Alex. It’s our honor and our duty. You just rest easy and drink some more water. Are you hungry?” asked James.

  “Now that you mention it, I’m starved. I don’t see how I could think about food at a time like this. But I think I could eat. We’ve been on the move so long, I haven’t had a bite since last night.”

  “I’ll fetch some ham and biscuits,” volunteered William.

  “And fellows, I’m so, so cold. Down to my bones. I feel a rigor coming on.”

  “It’s all that blood you lost, I’ll bet. William, grab a couple of blankets, too.”

  William nodded and trotted off to the wagon to grab the food and blankets.

  “Alex, if you’re comfortable enough, we’re going to sit right here and lay low for just a little while longer and then head north along the road toward nightfall. We’ll try to put as much distance as we can between us and the Legion before we make camp for the night,” James explained.

  “Suits me. It feels good just to lie still a bit. And it’s real good to be able to see without all that blood in my eyes.” He smiled at James, his spirits lifting.

  “How’d you get away from down there, Alex?” inquired James. “We didn’t see any more foot soldiers getting off that battlefield. Just a bunch of officers riding low and fast toward the north right after the shooting started.”

  “Is that a fact?” inquired Alex, eyes opening wide.

  “Yes. Colonel Buford was right in the front of all of them, galloping like there was a sack full of gold at the end of the ride.”

  Alex looked sullen, disappointed. “I can’t say as I blame them. If I’d had a horse I probably would have been running off, too. We never had a chance on that field today. The boys all knew it as soon as we saw all those dragoons lining up on us.”

  “So how did you get away?” James inquired again.

  “I was way out on our right flank, about ten men from the end of the line. We were under orders not to fire until they were ten yards out … which I thought was insane … but we followed our orders. We fired one volley. I never even had a chance to reload.

  “We truly thought Colonel Buford was going to surrender. After that first shot lots of the men were dropping their muskets and surrendering. I threw mine down, too, and had my hands in the air. I even caught a glimpse of a white flag over on the left, but the man carrying it went down. I assume he was hit.”

  “You actually saw a white flag of surrender?” asked James in disbelief.

  “Yes. Definitely. But the horse soldiers still didn’t stop. They rode right into us, dozens of us with hands up to surrender. The first rider that came by me was swinging his sword. He caught me right across the line of my hat. It felt like a brick had hit me. I think I passed out for just a bit.”

  “But how did you get off of the battlefield?”

  “When I woke up I rolled over on my belly and started crawling toward some high grass to the right of our line. Whenever I heard their soldiers I lay still and played dead until I didn’t hear anything else, and then started crawling again.

  “I managed to make it to the tall grass and kept going. A couple of minutes later I rolled into a small creek. I washed my eyes out, made sure that I wasn’t being followed, and then headed up the creek. I finally reached the woods and stumbled into you fellows.”

  William returned, carrying a sack of food and dragging two blankets. He helped James cover the shivering soldier.

  “William, can you just pinch off some small pieces for Alex and feed them to him? Let’s let him get warmed up a bit,” suggested James.

  William nodded and sat down near the soldier’s head, and then started feeding him small morsels of the moist biscuit, with an occasional piece of salty ham.

  “You’re lucky you got out of there. Lots of men died,” stated James.

  “The blood of those Patriots is on Tarleton’s hands. He is already well known for his savagery. Now we have an actual record of it and witnesses who saw it all. I just pray that the blood of the men massacred on this field, my friends and compatriots. will not be forgotten. I’m going to make sure that people know that this was no battle today. This was a massacre in the Waxhaws!”

  A single, bloody tear trickled into his ear. “I have served with some of those boys for two years, and now I’ll never see any of them again.”

  “We’ll make sure that people know what happened here today, Alex,” James promised.

  William, curiously quiet since the embarrassing loss of his lunch, spoke up, “You said you’ve served two years. Exactly how old are you, Mr. Alex?”

  “I’m twenty years old, William … that’s your name, isn’t it?”

  William nodded and smiled. He was clearly proud that Alex knew his name.

  “But I feel much older than that today, William.”

  “You’re just a year older than James!” William replied.

  “I imagined that we were about the same age when I first saw your brother. So tell me, how old are you, William?”

  “Oh, I’m just thirteen … way too young to be in the army.”

  “But not too young to fight the Legion,” James interrupted. He went on to describe the events of Saturday night and how they had defeated the squad of British Legionnaires with the help of their friend Andy Jackson.

  “Well, that’s quite a feat, indeed! So you have seen action then, young William. I have a brother back home who is almost your age, I think. I’ve been gone far too long. Shadrack … we all call him Shad … must be twelve by now. I hope and pray that he will never have to fight in this war or fire his weapon at another man.”

  “Me, too, Mr. Alex. I decided that for myself today. I don’t ever want to shoot another man, or even shoot at another man, for as long as I live.”

  “That is an honorable decision, William. I hope, as well, that you will never again have to take up arms against another man.”

  “But I’m still a Patriot!” chirped William.

  Alex smiled. “Of that I have absolutely no doubt. Now … can I have some more of those fine biscuits and ham?”

  “My pleasure!” William carefully and tenderly fed the wounded man.

  John interrupted their conversation, “It’ll be pitch dark in an hour and a half, James. Do you think we ought to get on the road and get out of here?”

  James replied, “Yep, let’s go. Let’s get Alex to the wagon.”

&n
bsp; It took several minutes to wrestle the exhausted soldier up the hill, but they finally made it. William had prepared a first-rate bed for Alex to rest upon. He took the reins and John joined him on the seat. James sat in the back, keeping watch to the south. William skillfully led the team through a shallow gully and back onto the road below the crest of the ridge, well out of sight of the battlefield.

  They headed northward toward Charlotte … back toward home.

  chapter five

  The roads did not cooperate as they had hoped. The boys struggled to make even two miles for each hour of travel. The twilight appearance of the Hamilton boys in downtown Charlotte on Tuesday afternoon with a wounded, bloody Continental soldier in their wagon caused a general disturbance. The news that a major battle had just occurred forty miles to the south threw the town into an uproar.

  The boys left their wounded friend in the local doctor’s good care and continued on toward home in the dark, leaving the townsfolk to their hysteria. They arrived at their cabin late in the evening. Emotionally and physically drained from their ordeal and journey, they kicked off their leggings and shoes and tumbled into their beds.

  Sunrise brought a parade of visitors and curiosity-seekers, anxious for news and information about the British. Their mother and little brother, Hugh, were among the first visitors on Wednesday morning.

  James, John, and William had not lived with their mother and stepfather for almost a year and a half. The boys did not get along with their stepfather, so they took the first opportunity they had to leave home and buy their own piece of land. They actually purchased their father’s original farm from their stepfather. The three boys had been on their own and doing quite well with James in charge of things.

  But their mother still loved them very much. She embraced her boys and wept, relieved that they had returned home safely. She brought with her two chickens and all of the fixings for a feast and insisted upon cleaning up the cabin and cooking the boys a huge “welcome home” dinner. It was exactly the homecoming that they all needed.