“Ahh, Miss Milly! It is so wonderful to see you. I must say that you are as beautiful as ever!”
Milly blushed and grinned from ear to ear.
“Am I to assume that you are just as good a cook as ever?” the Indian asked.
“Well, we’ll just have to see about that later today, won’t we?” she teased.
“I definitely hope so,” he replied.
Wappanakuk looked directly at Frank, who stood quietly in the rear behind the Hammock children. The Indian gently parted the children and approached him with his hand outstretched. “Frank, it makes my heart dance with joy to see you. You look strong and well.”
“I am well, sir.”
“I am glad that you are still with the Hammock family.”
“They are my family, sir. I will always be with them.”
Wappanakuk patted Frank on the shoulder. “They are truly blessed to have you. You are a fine man and an impressive warrior.”
Robert spoke up, “Wappanakuk, you gave us quite a scare. Lewis sounded the alarm when he saw you on the road.”
Wappanakuk nodded. “I apologize, Robert. But Tarowa Yetashta scared me as well! When I heard the woman scream and then the voice cry, ‘Indians!’ I ran into in the woods. I thought I had walked into the middle of a bunch of Creek warriors!”
Lewis could not contain his excitement, “Wappanakuk, tell us about your journey! What is happening in North Carolina? Did you encounter any danger?”
“Yes, Wappanakuk, we need news from the world. We do not hear much out here on the edge of civilization,” agreed Chris.
The native nodded his understanding. “Well, North Carolina is very different. The people are all very excited about this Declaration of Independence from Philadelphia. They fancy themselves part of a new nation and seem quite excited to be rid of Great Britain. They have formed a new assembly, organized local governments and committees, and sought to discard all things British.”
“Did you encounter any difficulty on your way here?” asked Chris.
“Not until I crossed the river into Georgia. The people here seem wary of all Indians. No one bothered me, but many looked upon me with suspicious eyes. I felt as if someone might take a shot at me at any moment. So I have tried to avoid as many people as possible.”
“And what about your tribe?” inquired Robert. “Has the war made things different for them?”
“The Waccon people are unaffected by these things, at least for now. We are a very small tribe and not strong militarily. I do not think that anyone, whether British or American, will be approaching us or any other tribal people as allies or partners any time soon.”
Robert replied, “That is good, old friend. I am glad to know that your people are not involved. Unfortunately, the British are busy stirring up the native people in this area to make war against the settlers.”
Wappanakuk’s eyebrow lifted. “Indeed? Tell me more.”
Robert explained, “We have learned that they sent representatives to the Creek Nation back in July to recruit them as allies against the Patriots. They paid them in silver and provided muskets and powder. We understand that some of their officers and soldiers have remained among them to take part in their attacks on frontier settlements.”
“Is that why I encountered so very many people headed to the north and east? I came down through South Carolina and crossed the Savannah River at Augusta. I saw people in wagons and on foot moving inland and toward the coast.”
“Yes. People have abandoned their homes and farms in great numbers. There have been numerous attacks and killings. Most were late last summer. Many crops, cabins, and barns have been burned.”
Wappanakuk shook his head. “How tragic and senseless.” He looked at their cabin and noticed the firing ports and the dirt piled against the logs. “I see that you have chosen to remain here and strengthen your home.”
Robert nodded. “Yes, we have a fortress now. It is barely suitable for living, though. Mostly it is a fort for fighting. We still sleep in it, of course. Would you like to see what we have done?”
“Yes, indeed!”
The men all rose from the table and headed for the cabin. Wappanakuk whistled in awe when he saw the trenches and pit that they had dug inside.
“Gentlemen, this is most impressive, indeed. You have a very defensible fort. You have done well, my friends. But it is a shame that you have been forced to destroy the interior of such a lovely cabin.”
“That’s what I said!” chirped Milly.
“Still, Miss Milly, it is better to save your home than abandon it. Those trenches can be filled someday. Or better yet, you may keep them for a cellar or storage and build a wood floor right over the top of them,” Wappanakuk encouraged.
“That is my plan,” affirmed Robert. “But, come. That is enough talk about defenses and floors. Let us sit and visit. Supper will be ready soon. Let’s head back to the table and see what the ladies have prepared for the evening meal.”
The ladies did not disappoint. They served a sumptuous meal of fire-roasted chicken, potatoes fried in middling grease, fried corn cakes, and buttery squash. For drinks there was cold water, hot tea, and fiery rum for the men. The meadow full of family and friends ate heartily and conversed until darkness began to creep over the countryside. The temperature began to drop considerably.
They quickly cleaned the tables and dinnerware and retired to the cabin. Wappanakuk pitched his bedroll in the connecting trench between the cabin door and the central pit where the women and children slept. An hour later all of the candles were snuffed out and the cabin grew silent as everyone descended into deep, restful sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
THE RAID
Robert felt something pressing on his lips and nose. He opened his eyes and to his horror the red face of an Indian stared down at him. He began to kick and swing his arms, but he could not move … he could not scream.
“Robert, stop! It is I. It is Wappanakuk.”
He stopped swinging his arms and stared wide-eyed at his friend.
Wappanakuk raised his finger to his lips, urging Robert to remain quiet.
He hissed softly, “Robert, there are men in the woods outside the cabin. I believe that an attack is coming.”
“How do you know there are men in the woods?” asked Robert.
“I smelled them. And I heard them.”
Just as Wappanakuk spoke a horse emitted a nervous whinny from the direction of the barn. Robert’s eyes grew wide.
“How many do you think are out there?”
“I do not know, but it must be several. Their smell is strong. They are men of the forest, no doubt the Creek Indians that you have long feared. It sounded like they were laboring and dragging something very heavy through the woods.”
“Dragging something heavy? What could that be?” asked Robert.
“Most likely a battering ram. They will try to break down your door with a heavy timber. We must wake the others quietly. No talking. No candles. We do not want to alert them to the fact that we are aware of their presence.”
Robert joined Wappanakuk in the task of waking everyone. They crawled quietly through the trenches, silently waking each defender and informing them of the situation. After rousing the men in the outer trench, Robert crawled quietly into the pit to wake up the younger boys and warn Milly and Esther. Little Robert took his position at the northern firing port. Joshua, and John sleepily reported to east and south sides of the cabin to serve as musket and rifle loaders.
It took less than five minutes for all of the men and boys to reach their assigned positions. The lookouts peered through the firing holes, looking for any sign of movement. There was no moon. It was pitch black outside, except for the soft glow of the stars that illuminated the clear sky.
Robert conferred with Wappanakuk. He was unsure how to deal with the Indian threat. “What should we do now?”
“You do nothing until you can see them. They may only be scouting out your farm, or p
erhaps they are planning to steal your horses and livestock. You will know their intentions if and when they open fire on your cabin.”
“So we just wait?” asked Robert, exasperation adding to his nervousness.
“No we do not have to wait. There is something else that we can do. You must let me sneak out of the cabin and move around behind them. I will scout their positions. If their intent is hostile, I can fight better in the forests and fields than I can from behind these walls. I may be able to distract them and make them think that they are outflanked or perhaps even outnumbered.”
“Oh, no, my friend. I cannot ask you to do that. I cannot ask you to fight our battle for us, especially if you are unprotected and out in the open.”
“You have not asked, Robert. If this battle is yours, then this battle is mine. You are my companions and friends. And, besides, I owe your son a blood debt that can never be repaid.”
“Are you sure that you can get outside undetected?”
“Yes, of course. But we must make haste. If we wait until an actual attack begins, then it will be too late.”
Robert nodded grudgingly. “All right then, Wappanakuk. All I can say is that I am very grateful for your help.” The men shook hands. “Which direction will you go?”
“I will move toward the northeast corner at the front of the cabin. The sounds that I heard came from the southwest side, more in the direction of your barn. Perhaps they will try to take your livestock and leave the cabin alone.”
Robert nodded hopefully. “That would be good. Cows and horses can be replaced.”
Wappanakuk cautioned, “But I must first tell Lewis what my plans are, since he is standing watch on the northeast side. I must cross in front of his firing hole in order to reach the trees. I do not want him to shoot me. And you must inform the others that I will be outside the cabin.”
“Very well then,” Robert replied. “I will meet you at the door.”
It took a couple of minutes to pass the word that Wappanakuk was sneaking out of the cabin. Robert and Frank moved to the trench directly below the door. They quietly removed the two protective timbers from their brackets and placed them across the trench. Robert gripped the leather latch string and prepared to let their friend out into the darkness.
As the Indian knelt in the trench beside Robert he checked his equipment. He had his two flintlock pistols tucked into his belt. In his right hand he held his razor-sharp hunting knife. In his left hand was his tomahawk. A smaller dagger dangled in its sheath, suspended by a leather cord around his neck. He crawled onto the edge of the door platform and prepared to exit the cabin.
“I am ready, Robert. Pull the latch and open the door. But only a few inches. We do not want them to see any movement of the door.”
Robert applied slight downward pressure to the leather string and silently lifted the heavy latch from its cradle. He had barely opened the door when Wappanakuk slithered silently through the gap. He was amazed at how easily the stealthy Waccon warrior squeezed through a crack barely over six inches wide. Wappanakuk crawled to his left and disappeared into the night. Robert shut the door quickly, and then he and Frank placed the timber security bars back into their brackets.
***
Lewis’s heart was in the bottom of his throat. He could hear the blood whooshing through his ears as he peered through his firing port, looking for any sign of life or movement in the trees. He was also waiting for Wappanakuk to cross in front of his position.
He had actually calmed down a bit from the excitement of his father waking him and telling him that hostiles were outside the cabin. For those first few minutes his hands had shaken uncontrollably.
So now Lewis waited. He scanned the tree line, looking for any sign of life or movement. There was nothing. Moments later Wappanakuk’s buckskin clothing filled Lewis’s field of sight through his firing hole. Even though Lewis knew that he was coming and fully expected him, the sudden appearance of movement right in front of his face startled him. Then, just as quickly as he appeared, Wappanakuk disappeared from view.
“He must be in the woods by now,” thought Lewis. The boy uttered a silent prayer for his Indian friend.
***
Robert was manning the firing hole to the right of the cabin door. He had a solid view directly to the east and could see a little bit to the south. He was beginning to wish that he had installed more firing ports with better fields of view.
Suddenly the woods to his right erupted in sparks and light. Someone was striking a flint! Then small, bright yellow flames caught fire somewhere beyond the edge of the tree line.
He shouted, “I see fire to the southeast! They’re going to try to burn us out!”
The Indians released flaming arrows into the air. There were several dull thuds on the roof.
“I see them!” responded Frank, who was manning the lone firing hole on the southern side of the cabin.
The eerie battle screams of the Creeks commenced. It sounded like the woods to the south and southeast were full of them.
Suddenly screaming and crying of women and babies erupted within the central pit of the cabin. Esther wailed uncontrollably. The baby girls followed her lead.
“Goodness, Esther! Shut your mouth!” screamed Milly. “Robert, how many of the savages are there?”
Robert didn’t have time to answer. He swiftly aimed his .54 caliber Virginia rifle at the direction of the origin of the flames and fired. He heard a scream of pain and knew that his shot had found its mark. Less than a second later Frank fired his musket in the same direction.
Frank passed his expended musket to John. “Johnny, load it with buckshot. I want to scatter as much lead into the trees as I can.” John traded his Brown Bess musket for Frank’s second weapon, an old .69 caliber French Charleville musket. Frank aimed through the firing hole again and squeezed the trigger as John quickly reloaded the Brown Bess.
Then the Creeks opened fire. The heavy lead balls thudded against the logs above Robert and Frank’s firing holes. They sounded like fingers thumping on ripe watermelons. Other projectiles sailed harmlessly into the protective dirt mounds beside their holes. Some stray earth flew through the openings, but the firing of the Indians was ineffective.
“I can’t see anything at all!” yelled Chris, sounding frustrated. He was running back and forth between the two firing holes on the west side, looking for a target.
“I think they’re all on this southeast corner! But keep a good lookout, they might shift around.” yelled Robert. “Robbie, do you see anything?”
“No, Papa!” Little Robert was watching through his hole on the north side.
“Milly, get up in the trench with Junior! If he begins to shoot, you can reload for him. If Lewis begins to shoot, move over and reload for him. Just do the best you can. Leave the babies with Esther!”
“Yes, Robert!” she yelled in response.
“Chris, if they move around to your side, we will shift holes and adjust our fire. Just keep watching. If we need you over here I will let you know.”
“All right, Robert!” Chris responded from the opposite trench.
Robert and Frank continued to pour their shots into the trees as John and Joshua reloaded for them. They didn't know if they were hitting anything or not, but they kept up the firing. The two sides exchanged shots for about ten minutes.
Then, as quickly as the commotion began, it seemed to stop. Everything became quiet. It felt like an eternity of silence. Ten minutes later the combat resumed. The woods thundered with gunfire.
Suddenly Lewis shouted, “Papa! They’re coming toward the front of the cabin!”
Lewis spotted the Indians as they burst from the trees. There were three of them. They ran silently. Lewis took aim at the Indian closest to him and fired his .36 caliber rifle. He heard the impact of the ball as it struck the Indian in the center of his chest. The man screamed in pain, but kept running. Lewis stared through the hole, watching the Indian run through the smoke of his rifle. H
e was mesmerized … almost frozen … as the man ran straight at him. Then his father shot the Indian on the far right.
The Indian that Lewis wounded screamed as he continued his run toward Lewis’s hole. That scream snatched Lewis out of his mental freeze. He jerked his rifle back inside the hole and was reaching for his second weapon, an old .75 caliber trade musket, when a barrel came thrusting into the hole right beside his face. Lewis reacted immediately, instinctively grabbing the barrel of the gun with his left hand and trying to wrestle it from his enemy. He pulled inward and downward, deeper into the trench beside him. He simultaneously forced the barrel away from his face.
On the other side of the log wall the wounded Indian pulled the trigger. The rifle belched a massive cloud of smoke and fire into Lewis’s face. He screamed in pain yet held on to the barrel as it heated blazing hot in the palm of his hand. The explosion blew his hat off of his head and scorched his eyebrows and face. The ball only traveled twelve inches and impacted harmlessly into the rear wall of the trench.
The invisible enemy beyond the wall tugged at his rifle, attempting to pull it back out, presumably to reload. But Lewis held a firm grip and downward pull on the barrel. Amazingly, a bronze colored hand appeared through the opening. In that hand was a cocked pistol.
Lewis reached out with his other hand and grabbed the barrel of the pistol, but the Indian was strong. As he held fast to the barrels of both weapons, he opened his mouth and propelled his head forward onto the Indian’s exposed hand. He bit down hard just behind the thumb. Lewis tasted the man’s salty blood. He growled with determination and then in desperation he bit down even harder. He heard a bone crack somewhere in the attacker’s hand.
The Indian screamed and released his grip on the pistol. Lewis caught the weapon, flipped it around in the air, and pulled the trigger as he stuck it into his firing hole.
The outward pressure against the rifle released. The Indian had stopped pulling. Lewis jerked the gun through the hole and tossed it on the floor of the cabin behind his trench. He looked through the hole but couldn't see anything but complete darkness.
Little Warrior: Boy Patriot of Georgia (Patriot Kids of the American Revolution Series Book 2) Page 8