He never got another word out. The soldier brought the stock of the musket upwards in a swift motion, striking Frank firmly in the lower jaw. The force of the blow spun Frank to his right. He was momentarily dazed and suddenly light-headed. He dropped to his knees, cradling his jaw in his hands. An instant later the soldier drove the stock of the musket down squarely onto the top of Frank’s head, knocking him all the way to the ground.
Lewis covered Frank’s body with his own and screamed, “Stop it! You have no right to do this!”
“Get out of here, boy! I am a King’s soldier, and have every right to do as I see fit to serve the Crown. It is you stupid colonials who have no rights. Now be gone … unless you want to be introduced to my musket, as well.”
Lewis dropped to his knees beside Frank. “Frank, are you all right?” Lewis wept.
Frank’s eyes fluttered open. His jaw was strangely out of place, obviously broken or dislocated from its socket. He managed to mumble from his swollen, open mouth, “Go …. find … your father …” His eyes fluttered and then closed as he slipped into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER THREE
REDCOATS
Lewis hid fearfully behind his father. They were standing in the British commander’s office at a military jail outside the city. Lewis had never seen his father so angry before.
Robert Hammock was in a blind rage. He slammed his fist on the desk that stood between him and the British major. The officer’s empty teacup jumped from its saucer and wobbled awkwardly across the desk. His beautifully carved name plate, identifying him as “Maj. Thos. Dowling,” tumbled off of the small stack of books upon which it previously rested.
“Major Dowling, this is absolutely outrageous!” he shouted. “I demand that you release my slave from custody immediately and that the soldier who assaulted him be brought up on charges!”
The major stood slowly and leaned forward, placing his weight on the knuckles of his fists upon the desktop.
The officer growled, “Sir, I strongly suggest that you change your tone, or I will have you thrown into the cell with your slave. I am the King’s representative and commander of this facility, and you will address me accordingly. I will not tolerate such abuse in my own headquarters.”
Robert sucked in a deep breath and attempted to compose himself. “I sincerely apologize, Major. I am attempting to control my emotions. But I am simply finding it difficult to understand how a fifteen-year-old slave and a nine-year-old lad could receive such violent treatment from a soldier of the British army! They were simply walking down the street, enjoying a peaceful afternoon, and minding their own business.”
The officer seemed unimpressed.
“That is not the account that I received from Corporal Ames.” The major reached toward his desk and picked up a piece of paper. “According to his official report, Corporal Ames says that he approached the slave and ordered him to accompany him to an adjacent warehouse to unload a wagon. He reports that the slave refused his command, and then he became angry and threatened the corporal’s safety, upon which time the corporal was forced to defend himself.”
The major sat back down in his chair and removed his spectacles, dropping them on the desk. “The corporal claims that he acted to protect his own life in the face of a violent physical threat from your slave.”
“Frank poses no threat to your soldiers, or to anyone for that matter.”
“Oh, really?” responded the major. “Then can you explain these?”
He reached into a desk drawer to his right and pulled out Frank’s pistols, dropping them loudly upon the desktop.
“My men tell me that your slave was preparing to draw these pistols and fire them.”
Lewis could remain silent no longer. He almost screamed, “That’s an absolute lie, Papa! Frank never threatened anybody, and he sure didn’t draw a pistol on those four soldiers! His coat was all buttoned up and closed! They must’ve found those pistols on him after I ran to get you!”
“Mind your tongue, Lewis!” scolded his father. “This is an adult conversation.”
“But Papa, it’s all a lie! A horrible, terrible lie! Frank was just trying to explain to the soldier that we were visitors from out of town and passing through to Georgia when he hit him with the stock of his musket! He just up and smacked Frank in the jaw! Frank never even saw it coming!”
The officer sneered, “Mr. Hammock, it seems that you need to learn to control your children, as well as your slaves.”
“He’s just trying to set the record straight, Major. He was, after all, an eyewitness to these events.”
“Indeed. But as you and I both know, neither the word of a child nor the testimony of a slave bears any credence in such matters. I have the sworn report of a soldier of the King. That is sufficient for me, and for the law.”
“So the word of a lawful British citizen of the Americas holds no weight whatsoever against a piece of paper written by a man in a red coat?”
The officer chuckled, retorting haughtily, “I dare say, sir, that you have never set foot in England. You are certainly no British citizen. You are simply one of our wayward American children … a mere subject, nothing more. You serve the King and Crown at our leisure and good pleasure.”
Robert was aghast. He did not know how to respond. He had always considered himself a loyal citizen of Great Britain, a servant of the King, and under the protection of British law. This British officer had just shattered his lifelong beliefs. Surely this major did not speak for all officers in the King’s army!
“Frankly, Major, I cannot believe that I am hearing such deeply insulting words from a British officer.”
The major lifted one eyebrow. “Insulting, perhaps, but certainly not surprising. There is a stench of rebellion in America, Mr. Hammock. Massachusetts is aflame with it, aggravated by a band of outlaws who call themselves “Sons of Liberty.” Now there are rumblings of an unlawful legislature … a Continental Congress … taking form somewhere up North in the coming months. We must crush these seeds of rebellion immediately and get you colonials back to doing what you are here to do … providing the goods and services needed by the King and Great Britain.”
“I assure you, Major, that I have always been a loyal subject of the Crown. I know nothing of the rebellion of which you speak,” proclaimed Robert.
Pointing at the pistols, the officer screamed, “Then you will explain these weapons to me!” He pounded his fist on his desk to show his seriousness.
“They are for our family’s protection, nothing more.”
“In the hands of a slave?” inquired the major, incredulously.
“Yes, sir. Frank is, indeed, my slave. But he is a trusted member of our household.” Robert nodded toward Lewis. “My children are all very young. This boy is my oldest son, not old enough to assist me in defending the family. But Frank is an expert marksman. He hunts and helps feed our family. Recently we departed Virginia and embarked upon a journey of several hundred miles to settle on the Georgia frontier. It is a journey full of danger. Surely you understand the wisdom of an extra set of weapons for the protection of my family.”
“Not in the hands of a slave. Law demands that he receive thirty-nine lashes of the whip for carrying a weapon. The presence of two pistols may, indeed, double that count,” retorted the officer.
Lewis gasped when he heard the word, “lashes.” Surely they would not beat Frank with a whip. Not thirty-nine times!
“Father, do something!” Lewis begged.
His father barked, “Silence, Lewis!” He turned to face the major.
“Sir, you cannot beat my slave for carrying my pistols with my permission!” Robert yelled, growing angrier by the minute. “Besides, you would not have even known about them had not your soldier interrupted my slave and my son in the middle of the street.”
“I have already explained to you the sequence of events in the corporal’s report.”
Robert stood his ground. “And I have already explained to you
that your corporal is a pathetic liar.”
The major exhaled in exasperation. “You are testing my patience, Mr. Hammock.”
“And my patience is already stretched beyond its limit, Major Dowling. Your men had no right to approach my slave, in the presence of my young son, on a public street and then demand forced labor without first consulting me, his rightful owner. It was your soldier’s action that was unlawful.”
The major turned his head and gazed out of his office window toward the street. There was a long period of awkward silence. He finally turned his eyes back to meet the glaring gaze of Robert Hammock. He exhaled a long, tired, defeated breath. Lewis held his breath. It seemed like the British officer was about to change his mind.
Major Dowling looked Robert in the eyes. “Mr. Hammock, this affair has already consumed more of my time than I had to spare. I will release the slave and the weapons to you and consider the matter closed. My only condition is that you take him and leave this city as rapidly as possible.”
“Oh, you have nothing to worry about, Major. I cannot wait to shake the dust of this town off of my shoes,” retorted Robert smartly. “But I believe that the speed of our departure will depend upon how much damage your men have inflicted upon my slave.”
The major barked at a soldier who had been sitting silently at his desk in the corner of the room throughout the entire exchange, “Sergeant!”
“Sir!” responded the sergeant.
“Have the slave prisoner brought out to Mr. Hammock’s wagon. He is to be released immediately.”
“Right away, sir!”
The sergeant moved quickly, placing his white-trimmed black cocked hat on his head as he departed the office.
Robert stood tall and proud. “I would say, ‘thank you,’ Major, but I’m not exactly feeling grateful at this moment.”
The officer did not even bother to look him in the eye. He merely began to shuffle papers on his desk. “That will be all, sir. Now kindly depart my office. Please close the door as you leave. And never come back.”
“Gladly, but not before I get my pistols, Major.”
The officer pushed the firearms across the desktop toward Robert, still refusing to make eye contact.
Robert didn’t say another word. He grabbed the pistols with one hand and Lewis by the shoulder with his other hand and quickly left the building.
“Father, do we have to go get Frank somewhere?”
“No, Lewis, the soldiers will bring him to us in a moment. We will wait in the wagon.”
Ten minutes later they heard the heavy clang of iron as a gate opened on the left edge of the courtyard. The sergeant from the office walked in front of the squad of soldiers that was transferring Frank. Two Redcoats dragged Frank between them. They held him by his arms. A cloth sack covered his head so that they could not see his face. He was not moving. Two other soldiers armed with muskets followed the two men dragging Frank.
Lewis exclaimed, “Frank!” He jumped from the wagon and began to run toward the soldiers.
“Stay where you are, boy!” commanded the sergeant. “Get back in your wagon. Mr. Hammock, you will remain in the wagon, as well. We will load your slave.”
Lewis froze in fear for a moment, and then turned and ran back to the wagon. The sergeant lowered the rear board and the two soldiers who had been dragging Frank dumped him into the wagon bed as if he were a sack of potatoes. One of them chuckled as Frank moaned in pain.
Lewis leaned toward his father. “Papa, that’s the one who hit Frank.”
Almost on cue the corporal looked directly at Robert and grinned. He bragged in a thick, lower-class English accent, “Here’s your uppity slave. He’s a little worse for wear, but he’ll be all right. I toughened him up for you a little bit, though.”
Robert’s faced turned crimson as his blood boiled with rage. Before he even realized what he was doing he jumped from the wagon seat and took three steps toward the tiny little corporal. The group of soldiers seemed a bit surprised at his sudden move, but none of them tried to stop him. Robert stared angrily at the corporal.
“Are you as tiny a little man on the inside as you are on the outside, Corporal Ames? Because only a little man could take such joy in abusing children and slave boys.”
The corporal seemed surprised that the Colonial man would speak to him in such a way. He seemed downright disturbed that the man addressed him by name. His face flushed red in embarrassment and anger.
He shrieked in a loud rage, “You get back up on that seat right now, or that boy of yours will be driving the both of you home in the back of this wagon!”
“You don’t scare me, little man. No matter how loud you get, you will always be just that … a tiny little excuse of a pathetic little man.”
The sergeant interrupted the exchange, “Mr. Hammock, please get back in your wagon and depart the garrison. This matter is closed.”
Robert glanced sideways at the sergeant and nodded. He tipped his hat, spun around, and jumped back into the seat of the wagon.
“Let’s get out of here, Lewis.”
Lewis slapped the reins and guided the team toward the gate. Two minutes later they were outside the compound. Lewis could feel the seat of the wagon shaking from his father’s emotion and rage.
“Take the road to the left, Lewis.”
His son obeyed. Robert noticed a small cluster of trees about a hundred yards up the highway.
“Park under the cover of those trees and let’s take a look at Frank.”
Again, Lewis obeyed. Robert dismounted the wagon before it reached a complete stop and ran around back to check on Frank. He climbed up into the wagon beside the injured boy and gently laid him over onto his back. He untied the string that secured the cloth sack over Frank’s head and gently removed it. The sack did not come loose easily. Dried blood had caused the cloth to stick to the right side of his face.
Robert wasn’t prepared for the sight that awaited him. Frank was almost unrecognizable. His chin was slightly ajar and shifted toward the left side of his face. The first upward blow from the musket stock had knocked his jaw out of its socket. The skin along his right jawbone had burst open from the blow. The break in his skin was the source of all of the blood that covered his face and clothing. Frank’s bottom lip was huge, swollen until it looked like a large, ripe, purple plum.
All of those wounds could be fixed. What Robert was most concerned about was the blow to the top of his head. There was very little blood, but he could see considerable swelling of the top of his skull. This swelling, and the fact that Frank remained asleep, was what worried him the most. He prayed that Frank did not have a permanent injury to his brain.
Robert almost forgot that Lewis was with him. His son’s small, frightened voice broke his concentration. “Is Frank all right, Papa?”
“I hope so, Lewis. I’m very worried about that huge knot on his head. It’s been a couple of hours since he was hurt. He should be awake by now.”
“Maybe he’s just tired,” commented Lewis, innocently.
Robert smiled at his son. “I’m sure he is. Can you fetch me a canteen of water? Let’s see if we can wake him and clean him up just a bit.”
Lewis jumped over the driver’s seat and grabbed a wooden canteen from beneath the seat on the passenger side. He climbed up onto the sideboard of the wagon and handed it to his father. Robert popped the wood stopper from the canteen and gently poured the cool water over Frank’s face. He coughed and gasped as the water ran over his nose and mouth, and then began swinging his arms and struggling to rise. He looked confused and very frightened.
Robert tried to calm him, “It’s me, Frank! Everything’s all right now. We got you out of that prison. Lewis is with me. See? He’s right here.”
Lewis jumped into the back of the wagon and knelt beside Frank’s head. “I’m right here, Frank. Papa got you away from those nasty Redcoats. We’re taking you back to Mama.”
Robert saw the relief wash across Frank’s face.
The injured boy reached out with his left arm and pulled Lewis down to him, hugging him. He began to weep. And even though his mouth wouldn’t move, he tried to talk. He literally pushed the words out of his mouth with his swollen tongue.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Robert! I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” His words were difficult to understand. His tears flowed freely and bloody slobber oozed from the corner of his swollen mouth. “I still don’t understand what happened. That soldier hit me for no reason! I didn't do anything wrong, I swear!”
“Shhh … hush now, Frank. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t you worry about it, now. It’s all over. We’re leaving this place and we’re never coming back. I promise you that.”
But Frank continued to weep. “I woke up right after they got me back to the jail. But then that man hurt me again.”
Robert’s face clouded. “Who hurt you again? That tiny fellow? That mean little corporal?”
Frank nodded. “The same one who clubbed me with that musket. Two of them held me up while he hit me in the belly and chest. He started with his fists, and finished with a wood club. It hurts to breathe.”
Robert reached down and lifted Frank’s bloody weskit and shirt from the waist of his breeches and looked at Frank’s torso. He was badly bruised, especially on his left side. Robert had little doubt that some of his ribs were broken. There was no actual bleeding. Just tremendous swelling and deep, grotesquely purple bruising that showed through Frank’s dark brown skin. Robert gently lowered the shirt to cover the wounds.
“Frank, I’m going to get you back to Milly. It’ll take about fifteen minutes to make the trip to the boarding house. This British jail is way north of town. But I promise that I’ll take it as slowly and gently as I possibly can.”
“Thank you, Mr. Robert.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THIEVES AND BANDITS
It was three days later before Frank was well enough to travel. While Frank was on the mend, Robert took the opportunity to replenish the family’s supplies and gather information about the road to Georgia. Unfortunately, their convoy of friends followed their agreed-upon schedule and had already pressed on toward South Carolina. The Hammocks would be on their own.
Little Warrior: Boy Patriot of Georgia (Patriot Kids of the American Revolution Series Book 2) Page 3