by Perry Comer
“Aye, sir,” Brooks answered.
A quarter-mile into the return journey Hardy saw a boot-print in the freshly washed sand. He held up his hand signaling the party to halt. Ahead was a bend in the road; thick brush lined both sides of the sandy road. Overhead the canopy of large trees blocked the sun. The silence of the wood except for the dripping of water warned him of a trap.
“Pass the word, weapons at the ready, half-cock!”
He waited for a moment then ordered, “You six stand fast, full cock!”
Brooks approached with his pistol drawn and a sword in his hand.
“We will go about, Mister Brooks. Have the wagon turned, I will remain with these under you are underway.”
“Aye, sir,” Brooks answered and turned.
Hardy heard the click of the six muskets being prepared to fire. The sound of the wagon wheeling about followed. He waited, wondering if those who lay in ambush would come now that they knew they had lost the advantage. He glanced over his shoulder. The wagon had turned.
“Nice and slow lads, walk backwards. Careful of your footing!” Hardy said softly.
He counted off ten steps, “Half-cock!” he ordered. “To the rear, quick march!”
They turned and began to half-run and half-walk. Hardy did not join them. He stepped to the side of the road and drew the two heavy pistols. He waited, counted to sixty then stepped back onto the road and began jogging after his men.
“How many sir?” Brooks asked.
“I don’t know their number but enough to lay in wait for us. I’ve no doubt they know our number and believe they could overcome us,” Hardy answered.
“Will we fight?” Brooks asked.
“No, not at this time. We will continue toward the river crossing where we met Jackson. Before we get to it there is a small stream and a beaver pond. It is my intention to reach it before having to fight. Take eight men and quick march to the stream. I will follow with the wagon and remainder of our company. Be prepared for a fight and if the number be too great, retreat back to me.”
“Aye, sir,” Brooks answered and turned away and began calling off men.
Danner sat on the driver’s seat of the wagon. Hardy called up to him, “Follow after them but keep a good distance.”
“Aye, sir,” Danner answered and urged the oxen forward.
“Corporal Jones, take the lead, I shall be in the rear,” Hardy ordered.
Hardy waited until they were well away before following. He would stop every three hundred paces for a moment to look behind and to listen. There was no movement or sound indicating he was being followed but he was certain of it. He had heard the native Indians were skilled woodsmen and the thought came to him that they might attempt the same maneuver he had used to capture the wagon. He quickened his pace.
Brooks had set the men into a skirmish line across the road just past the stream. Hardy was pleased; the young officer was showing initiative.
The wagon was stopped short of the stream. Danner sat with the whip in his hand and had not climbed down. From inside the wagon came a low moaning from Coffin, fever had set in. Hardy worried about his friend but what had to be done next had to be done regardless of Coffin’s needs.
Hardy turned to his corporal, “Jones climb into the wagon and begin handing the muskets and pistols down. You others take them from Corporal Jones and fling them deep into that pond. Quick as you can!”
“Aye,” Jones answered and climbed up.
Hardy turned his attention to Danner, “Come down and unhitch the oxen!”
Brooks came to where Hardy was standing. “Orders sir?”
“Return to your men and set four on either side of the road to guard our flanks. When these men finish I will set them to hold the road,” Hardy answered.
Jones called from the wagon, “That’s the lot Sir, you want the power and shot out?”
“Leave it, get Sergeant Coffin down and onto an ox. Tie him on if need be! Then lead the ox to the stream.”
“Aye, sir,” Jones answered and ducked back into the wagon.
“You men form a line here in the road,” Hardy ordered. “Single fire, man to the right fires first, mark your target!”
There was a cry of pain from Coffin as he was lifted from the wagon. Hardy paid it no mind; his attention was focused on the road.
“Sergeant Coffin is away,” Jones called.
“Is there slowmatch?” Hardy asked.
“Aye sir!” Jones answered.
“Bust open one of the power kegs and lay a goodly length of slowmatch out the back of the wagon.”
“You want to blow it up?” Jones asked.
Hardy answered, “Aye!” He turned at the crack of musket.
“Missed him!” Hargett said
“What did you see?” Hardy asked.
“Indian, sir! Like the ones back in the town,” Hargett answered.
“Fall back toward the river,” Hardy ordered and called to Brooks, “Mister Brooks fall back toward the river!”
The men rose from their knelling positions and rushed past Hardy.
Jones jumped down from the wagon, “Slowmatch is ready, sir!”
“Aye,” Hardy answered and drew a pistol. He took the slowmatch in one hand and held it over the pistol’s pan. He pulled the trigger and the pistol fired sparking the slowmatch.
“Run!” he yelled to Jones.
Hardy reached the front of the wagon and heard the man before he saw him. The man leaped from the brush holding a pistol. Before Hardy could pull his pistol a shot rang out. The man’s chest spouted blood. Hardy rushed on and saw smoke waffling from Brooks’ pistol.
“Down!” Hardy shouted and dove to the sand.
The powder in the wagon exploded in three tremendous booms showering burning wood and iron in all directions. As the debris rained down, Hardy rose up and shouted, “To the river!” Run!”
His men rose up as one and began running headlong toward the river. Behind, came the cracking of several muskets. Balls plucked at coattails and clipped branches from the trees. They rounded a bend and the hail of lead ceased.
Hardy called, “Halt and form up! Double rank!”
The men halted and formed the double rank,
“Wheel right!” Hardy shouted.
They obeyed and were joined by Danner and Vargas.
“Level!” Hardy shouted and the muskets came up.
“Full cock!” Hardy shouted and all muskets clicked.
They stood waiting for what seemed minutes but it was only seconds. Ten men came around the bend at a quick trot. Hardy noted that some were Indians and others darker skinned. “Fire!” he shouted.
The muskets roared and screams erupted. Several of the men went down but not all.
“Pistols!” Hardy shouted, “Independent fire!”
The pistols began to crack and more men went down. Those that did not turned and ran.
“Reload muskets!” Hardy ordered.
The men did as ordered.
“Mister Brooks is hit Sir!” Someone called to Hardy.
“A scratch Sir,” Brooks said as he sought to stand. “Knocked the pin out from under me is all.”
“Ready, sir!” Corporal Jones called to Hardy.
Hardy called, “Wheel left! Quick march! Danner and Vargas catch up the animals!”
Brooks attempted to keep up with the men. Hardy jogged to the young lieutenant, “A scratch you say?”
“Aye,” Brooks answered and gave a wry grin.
“Lean on me!” Hardy said and took Brooks’ arm and put it over his shoulder. “I’ll see to the wound once we reach the river, it’s no more than a mile.”
The men were waiting for Hardy and Brooks; none had crossed the river. Hardy scanned the opposite river bank, he had thought Jackson and those who would receive the wagon of arms would be waiting. He was certain the ones giving chase were not Jackson’s band of cutthroats, no these were hastily assembled at Amelia Island to stop him from capturing the wagon. No dou
bt the men who had sat at the table with Williams had sent them. Jackson still was ahead waiting for the wagon. He did not want to contemplate meeting Jackson’s party with these so close on his heels.
“Corporal Jones! Lead them across!” Hardy ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Jones answered.
Brooks slumped and it required all of Hardy’s strength to keep the young man from falling. He knelt beside Brooks and pulled his knife and slit Brooks’ britches to get at the wound just below the knee. The ball had ripped a deep furrow at the top of the calf muscle.
“Vargas bring a bottle of rum!” Hardy called as he pulled out Brooks’ shirt. He then took the knife and cut the back out of the shirt.
Vargas ran over with the bottle of rum and Hardy took it then doused Brooks’ leg. Using the piece of cloth from the shirt, Hardy bound the wound. “It’s not much but it will stop the bleeding,” he said and rose.
“It’ll take both of us to get him across the river,” Hardy said to Vargas. “Take the ass across and come back to help me.”
“Aye, sir,” Vargas replied and dashed back to the ass.
Hardy spent the time waiting for Vargas reloading his pistols. No sooner had he finished than he caught sight of a man watching him from behind a bush. He raised the pistol and fired. The man did not scream but fell back; dead Hardy hoped. He knew it was just a matter of time before they would rush him.
“Sir, we’ll take him,” Jones said as he reached for Brooks. Hambright took Brooks other arm and the two men more or less dragged Brooks toward the river.
“I’ll cover your withdrawal,” Hardy said and began backing to the river while pulling a pistol from inside his coat.
He reached the edge of the water and began backing into the stream. Only when it was waist deep did he turn and wade for the far bank. Two muskets fired and both balls threw water into his face. His men immediately returned the shots.
Hardy reached the bank and was helped by Danner.
“What of Sergeant Coffin?” Hardy asked.
“Still tied to the ox, he’s not stirred,” Danner answered.
Hardy looked around and spotted Jones, “Corporal Jones, I’ll have four men behind that log,” he said and pointed to an old fallen tree. “Keep them from crossing. Once we are away, come after us!”
“Aye, sir,” Jones answered and called, Hambright, Ellis, Horne and Radcliff.
“We’ll hold them sir,” Jones said as he ran for the log.
Brooks was sitting up. He looked up at Hardy.
“Just a scratch,” Hardy said and grinned.
“Aye, sir,” Brooks answered but did not grin.
Hardy reached down and pulled Brooks to his feet. “Can you stand?” he asked.
“Aye, sir,” Brooks answered.
“Lean on me Mister Brooks and we will be away,” Hardy said.
Brooks put his arm over Hardy’s shoulder and they started off. Hardy called to the others, “Skirmish line two yards apart until we are out of this clearing!”
The men fanned out, muskets at the ready. Hardy and Brooks followed. Brooks tried to walk but the wounded leg was becoming stiff and made walking difficult. Hardy struggled to hold a pistol and to keep a grip on Brooks. Sweat was running down his back.
From the log came the ripple of musket fire and then the bark of pistols. There were several answering shots. Hardy paused and looked across the river. There was a haze of blue smoke but no men were visible.
“Corporal Jones, withdraw!” Hardy shouted. “Double quick!”
To the men to his front, Hardy ordered, “You men ahead, turn and stand fast!”
They had almost reached the wood when they turned. Danner also, stopped and tied the ox and Vargas tied the ass. Both joined the line.
Jones and his men sprinted across the clearing and at least six muskets fired after them. No one was hit and they fell in behind Danner and the others.
Their attackers remained hidden in the brush and none dared to cross the river. Hardy considered his options. They could stay here and wait for the attackers to attempt to cross the river, or they could proceed on to Saint Marys and risk running into an ambush by those who were to receive the wagon. Perhaps, they could take to the woods in hopes of finding another way back to Saint Marys. The odds did not favor a fight; they were thirteen and two of their number wounded. He estimated there were at least twenty on the other bank of the river. No doubt they knew the terrain and knowing it they would know another crossing and come at his flank. Staying was not an option nor was trying to find a way around them. What remained was risking an ambush while returning to Saint Marys.
“Single file withdraw, Corporal Jones lead the way!” Hardy barked.
“Aye, sir,” Jones answered.
He turned to Danner, “Help Mister Brooks onto the ox! He can assist Sergeant Coffin.”
Hardy drew both of his four barreled pistols. He would wait until his men were well on the way. Given the time they had regrouped, the Indians among the attackers could have made a river crossing and were converging with the road. He knelt behind a low knotty pine and waited. The letter came to mind, he thought of Julia. Why had she written, it was a question he had asked himself many times since receiving the letter.
The crack of a twig caused him to turn his head. Two men, both Indians stepped onto the road. His choice of waiting place was fortunate for he could just make them out past another small bushy pine. He tightened his grip on the pistols, preparing for the recoil. The moment they spotted him, he would have to fire but he waited for the third or fourth man to appear. He gave it to the count of ten then rose up, aimed the pistol in his right hand and fired. The ball tore into the man’s shoulder, he twisted round. The second began to half-turn and raise his musket. Hardy aimed the pistol in his left hand and fired. The ball went wide! Instantly, he dropped to the ground, just before a musket ball clipped the limbs above his head. He fingered the lever on the right hand pistol, checked the power, raised the pistol aimed and fired. The man screamed as the ball ripped into his stomach.
Hardy rose and dashed toward the road. The wounded man lay on his back with both hands clamped on his stomach writhing in pain. The other man was attempting to draw a pistol from his belt with his left hand. Hardy clubbed him with the butt of the pistol in his left hand. The man went down without a sound.
“Sir?” Ellis called.
“Just these two, let us be away,” Hardy answered.
Chapter Four
They rounded the bend and came to the dip in the road Hardy remembered. “We’ll cross through the wood here,” he said to Jones. “Sergeant Coffin said there was a track that led to a spring house from the plantation house.”
The way through the wood was no more than a few hundred feet and they came to the track that bordered a large field.
“Halt! All rest!” Hardy ordered.
The men immediately went for their canteens and removed their hats. Brooks swung his good leg across the ox and sat looking as if he would slide off. Hardy called, “Belay Mister Brooks! Wait for assistance.”
Brooks’ eyes met Hardy’s. “Aye, sir!” he managed.
Hardy crossed to the ox. “Horne lend a hand,” he said to Horne who was the nearest man. Together they helped Brooks down. He stood with one hand braced against the ox’s flank. “It’s better sir, head not so woozy.”
“We’ll have a look at it when we reach the house,” Hardy said.
“We bound for there?” Brooks asked.
“Aye, Sergeant Coffin needs a proper dressing as do you. They’ll have bandages and hot water,” Hardy said.
“What of the ones behind us?” Brooks asked.
The same question was already in Hardy’s mind. He answered, “If they pursue us, they’ll catch up to us. Our men need rest and you and the sergeant need tending. If we are to fight, I prefer we do it from behind walls.”
“What if the owner will not assist us?” Brooks asked.
Hardy grinned, “He’ll have no choi
ce! Sun will set in a few minutes, he’ll have no warning.”
Two young boys were loading their arms with wood, they saw Hardy and their eyes grew wide as saucers. They did not move, they saw the two pistols in Hardy’s hands. Vargas followed close behind, his musket at the ready.
“Is your master in the house?” Hardy asked.
The boys looked from one to the other. The taller of the two stared at Hardy.
“Is he?” Hardy asked.
The boy found his tongue. “Naw, sir!”
“Men in the house?” Hardy asked.
Again the boys exchanged looks.
Hardy put one pistol into his belt and drew the knife he kept inside his tunic. It was just light enough for the boys to see.
“Men in the house?” Hardy asked again.
“Just two sir, Uncle Nelson and Uncle Eli,” the taller boy answered.
“Surely there are more men working here, where are they?” Hardy asked.
“Gone sir, gone with Master Ramsey to fight the Seminoles,” the boy answered.
Hardy drew a sigh of relief; they would not have to fight. He put his knife away and said, “Put the wood down and take us to the house.”
“Yes sir!” the boy answered and dropped the wood he was holding.
The boy led the way to the back of the house and made to go down the three steps to the basement. “Upstairs,” Hardy said. “We’ll see your mistress.”
The boy hesitated then turned to the porch steps. He and his companion climbed the steps as quietly as cats. Hardy and Vargas followed. The boys stopped at the door, Hardy stepped passed them and knocked.
A few moments passed and a tall young black girl opened the door. Her face registered horror at seeing Hardy. He quickly said, “I would see your mistress, I am Lieutenant Hardy of the United States Marines, I intend no harm.”
The girl did not move.
“Hettie! What you doing girl?” An older female voice asked.
An older woman appeared from behind the girl. “Oh Lord!” She said and froze.
Hardy repeated himself, “I would see your mistress, I am Lieutenant Hardy of the United States Marines, I mean no harm to this house.”