by Perry Comer
Hardy fired his last shot and clubbed a man down with the butt of his pistol. The man dropped a machete and Hardy scooped it up began yielding it to great effect taking down one man after another. A tall lean man with a similar machete forced Hardy to swing wildly and miss the man grinned and swung before Hardy could recover. The clang of steel against steel surprised Hardy and he turned his eyes to see Sergeant White who blocked the blow with a machete and in the next instant slashed the man’s face with the bayonet he held in his other hand. There was no time for gratitude and other attacker took the tall man’s place and jabbed at Hardy with a spear. He parried the trust and kicked the man in the knee. White stabbed with the bayonet and the man shrank away. The roar of the fight grew intense and was a kin to standing under a waterfall.
Hardy found it impossible to gauge how his men were faring for as he dispatched one foe another was waiting. He stepped on something and slipped, he looked down and saw it was a long knife, he snatched it up with his free hand just in time to slice at a man’s bare belly. The man folded, his hands going to his gut to hold his intestines in. When the man fell, a boy of no more than twelve stood in front of Hardy holding a pistol. Their eyes locked and the youngster’s hand began to squeeze the trigger. In a blur a sword blade flashed, the boy’s neck spurted a stream of dark red blood. The pistol dropped and the boy crumbled. Nichols withdrew his sword and stared at the dying boy. Hardy sprang in front of Nichols at an attacker and hacked down on the man’s arm. Nichols seemed not to notice. “Mister Nichols!” Hardy shouted as he fended off another attacker. Nichols did not hear.
Witen’s men began falling away. Nichols stood staring at the dead boy. Around them more than three dozen bodies littered the ground. The sounds of fighting were dying and were replaced with the agony of the wounded and dying. “Thank you Mister Nichols!” Hardy shouted to the young man. Nichols still stared at the body of the boy.
Ramsey came to Hardy, his jacket was slashed in several places, and he bled from a gash to his head and blood streamed off both hands. “They bout done for me,” Ramsey stated.
“Aye, but you’re standing and these are not!” Hardy said and moved past him.
Ramsey nodded, “I am but barely, I’d not care to go through such a fight again.” He held up his right arm and looked at it, “This is the worst of the lot.”
Hardy said, “Tend your wounds, I shall see to what remains here.”
Ramsey moved off.
Hardy said nothing more to Nichols; the young man had survived a vicious fight and would have to fight his own demons. It happened to all soldiers at one time or another.
He surveyed the death that surrounded him. Some of Ramsey’s men were walking among the wounded and ending their suffering. Hardy ignored them; he was too tired to care. It had been one of the toughest fights he had ever been in and would not want such another.
“Shall we go after them?” Brooks asked.
Hardy gazed at the young man for a moment and said, “I’m pleased to see you’ve recovered, but no, Mister Brooks, we’ll not give chase. We shall leave that for Ramsey, we’ve done our part and more. We shall see to our people and return to the camp.”
Captain Williams lay as he had the past two weeks. He neither spoke nor moved. Hardy stared down at his friend and wondered how the man managed to cling to life.
Cole said, “The fever has left him but he’s not had a drop of water in three days.”
“A man can’t continue in such a state,” Hardy remarked.
Cole stared into Hardy’s eyes, “he’ll not, without God’s help.”
Hardy exited the tent with a sense of sadness, which was immediately lifted as he saw Coffin walking toward him leading a horse. Behind him came Danner and Ellis on foot with Ellis leading a jenny.
“Sir!” Coffin said smartly and saluted.
“Always late to the fight Sergeant,” Hardy replied.
Coffin grinned and said, “Came as quick as I could, that woman Jewel wanted to claim me as her own.”
“Sergeant, I doubt Jewel was the woman clinging to your shirttail, like as not she was younger and with green eyes.”
Coffin let the remark pass and said, “I’m to report to Captain Williams.”
“He’s not able to receive you, I’m senior so you’ll report to me.”
Coffin fished into his tunic and brought out a waxed envelope and handed it over to Hardy. “I was to give him this, it’s from Lieutenant Seiver.”
Hardy opened the envelope; it was Sevier’s report. He scanned the letter. “We are at war Billy,” Hardy said while re-reading the letter.
“England?” Coffin asked.
“Aye,” Hardy answered and shoved the letter into his tunic. “We are to remain here until orders are sent.”
“Gawd that could be weeks!” Coffin groaned.
“Aye, but those are our instructions. Lieutenant Seiver was anxious for Captain Williams to return but he will not be returning. I will have to send word about Captain Williams and request orders, Lieutenant Seiver is senior.”
Hardy caught sight of Ramsey striding across the camp toward him. “Colonel Ramsey,” Hardy said to Coffin. “He has command of the militia.”
Ramsey got right to the point, “You’ve come from Amelia Island?”
Hardy answered, “He has with a report for Captain Williams but no orders.”
“Anything concerning me?” Ramsey asked.
“A bit of news, the United States is at war with England,” Hardy said.
Ramsey face showed his surprise and his uncertainty. He asked, “What will happen to our cause here?”
“My men and I are to remain until orders are sent. Other than that, it is all I know,” Hardy said. He added, “I will be sending Sergeant Coffin back to Amelia Island with a report. You may want to include a report of your own.”
“Perhaps,” Ramsey said and walked away.
“Cheeky bugger,” Coffin said.
“He is that but he is also a fighter. I gained a new respect for him in our last tussle,” Hardy said.
Coffin asked, “I am to go back?”
“Aye, within the hour I fear. It is good you have a horse.”
Hardy wrote a short report. He informed Seiver of Williams’ impending death and requested orders. His description of the routing Witen was short but he did cite the bravery of Brooks and Nichols. He also wrote a sentence of praise for Ramsey. Coffin rode off alone. “Don’t stop until you are there! I look for your return tomorrow!” Hardy ordered.
Nichols and Brooks joined Hardy for the evening meal. Vargas had prepared a meal of fish, rice, died tomatoes and onions. It was spicy and the wine did little to douse the fire.
“Damnable stuff,” Brooks said after gulping his wine. He then stuffed the cornbread into his mouth.
“Aye,” Nichols agreed and grinned. “Vargas has a flair with the spices.”
“Flair or no flair it takes the hair right off your tongue,” Hardy added.
“More sir?” Vargas asked while holding a pot.
Hardy shook his head, “I’ve had my fill and my belly will burn all night.”
Vargas laughed and carried the pot away.
“I’ll not sleep at all after eating that,” Brooks said.
Nichols burped and said, “nor I.”
“You’ve told me of your belly Mister Brooks, what of your head?” Hardy asked.
“Hurts, that’s all I can say for it. And, your wounds sir?”
Hardy held up his arm. “I’ve had worse, this too will heal if care be taken. The one across by arse stings like a hive of bees has been at it.”
Nichols laughed and spit wine into his plate.
“And you feel no pain Mister Nichols?” Brooks asked.
The young lieutenant grinned and put his hand to his ribs where he had received a glancing blade, “Hurts like its on fire. I’ve doused it in the river more a few times.”
Hardy was alarmed, “Mister Nichols drop your trousers!”
&nbs
p; Nichols said, “Sir?”
“Drop your trousers! That’s an order!”
“Aye, sir!” Nichols answered, stood and complied.
Hardy first examined the wound above the young man’s knee and so that it was not as severe as he was led to believe. “Turn around!” he ordered.
Nichols obeyed and Hardy called, “Vargas!”
The young man came from the fire and said, “Sir?”
Hardy drew his knife, “Heat this and remove the leeches from Mister Nichols legs. Then douse his wounds with rum.”
Nichols face showed deep concern and he twisted around to see his legs.
Hardy said, “Go!”
The young lieutenant hitched up his britches and obeyed. Worry was etched on his face.
Captain John Williams died in the early hours of September 12th, 1812. A hand shook Hardy awake at dawn. He opened his eyes to see Brooks staring down at him.
“What is it Mister Brooks?” Hardy asked.
“The captain sir, he passed in the night,” Brooks answered.
Hardy had expected as much. He swung his feet off the makeshift cot. “I’ll come,” Hardy said and began pulling on his boots.
Williams lay as he had the last time Hardy had visited. The face was bristled, the eyes closed, he lay at peace.
“The battle is over and the victory won,” Hardy said as much to himself as to those in the tent. He reached down and patted his friend’s cold hand. “Be at peace John!”
He stood erect and tuned to Cole, “Dress him in his uniform and wrap is body tightly in a blanket. I’ll not have the flies disturb him.”
“Yes, sir,” Cole answered.
Hardy strode from the tent and drew in a long breath. The stench of death was heavy in the morning air. “Mister Brooks are all the bodies buried?”
“Aye, sir!” Brooks answered and faced Hardy.
“There’s possibly some dead in the jungle,” Brooks added.
“Aye, there is that. I’ve the smell of it in my nostrils on mor’n one occasion. I’ll never stomach the smell.”
“What of the Captain’s burial?” Brooks asked.
“Not here and not now,” Hardy said and walked away. Brooks did not follow.
Hardy walked along the riverbank. His mind going back to those days in Boston, remembering how Williams sat alone at the table. Call it fate or call it destiny, it mattered not which to Hardy but were it not for their encounter that day, he’d not be here today. Odds were he would be sitting once again in debtor’s jail. But there had been Williams, sitting alone in the crowded inn, shocked when Hardy sat.
His mind flitted from that inn to Applewhite’s inn and the lovely Julia. She would have been quite taken by John Williams and he, her. But, he’d not the heart to introduce them to one another. For a moment, he questioned why he had not made the introduction. The answer did not surprise him; he wanted her for himself. Cousins they may be but he wanted her love nonetheless.
The cracking of a branch underfoot put him instantly on alert, he froze, listening. His eyes searched for any movement. Another branch cracked, he turned and saw a figure coming from behind him. There was no mistaking the blue tunic.
“Sir, may I speak with you?” Nichols asked.
“Is it urgent?” Hardy asked.
Nichols stepped over a fallen tree. A fish or turtle splashed in the river. The young man turned his head at the sound.
“Nothing to fear Mister Nichols, what is your emergency?”
Nichols answered, “None Sir, at least with the camp or the men I wanted to ask if we would be returning to Amelia Island today since Captain Williams has passed?”
Hardy was annoyed. “No Mister Nichols, we will stay here until Sergeant Coffin returns with new orders. We may be ordered to pursue Prince Witen or we may be ordered to return, I’ll not know until Coffin returns.”
Nichols seemed deflated.
“Why are you concerned about returning?”
Hesitancy showed on Nichols face. “I was curious is all.”
Hardy said bluntly, “Your question is not to satisfy curiosity Mister Nichols, speak your mind!”
Nichols confessed, “No Sir, it was not curiosity, I was attached to Captain Williams and he is dead. I should like to return to Washington.”
“That will be for Lieutenant Seiver to decide, it is not in my hands. You will remain here and under my orders until I hear otherwise. You have fought bravely and I expect you to do so when we are next engaged.”
“That’s just it sir, I do not wish to fight any more. I should return to Washington and resign my commission.”
Hardy would not let Nichols continue, “You will neither return to Washington or resign your commission. Having taken up the sword you can not simply lay it down, there are those who depend on you, you have obligations that are not easily laid aside. Your family would turn their backs on you, can you live with that?”
Color rose in Nichols face and he answered Hardy, “I would rather be disgraced than to take another life!”
“Life?” Hardy questioned. “Taking a man’s life who is about to take yours is not taking life, it’s saving your own!”
“He was not taking mine …”, Nichols voice trailed off.
Hardy understood, he should have seen it sooner. “The boy, the one you hacked down who was about to shoot me in the gut, that’s what this is about?”
Nichols appeared sheepish and answered, “I see his face, I see the blood every time I close my eyes. I can’t live with that for the rest of my life.”
The young man was on the verge of tears. Hardy stepped closer to Nichols; he was about to put a hand on Nichols shoulder but thought better of it. He stood staring at him for a long moment before speaking. “The pistol the boy held may or may not have been loaded. He may or may not have fired. We do not know, but what I know is that you acted to save a life, mine. For that, I am in your debt. Were our positions reversed in that moment I would have acted as you did, it was the right thing to do. The nightmare would be mine and not yours. But, our roles are not reversed and you responded to a threat against a fellow officer. You did your duty and you were loyal to a mate. The consequence is to be borne and can’t be escaped. I’ve many nights that I lie awake from a torment, drenched in sweat from having seen again the faces of the dead. You, like I will not escape, not in a bottle or in some life as gentleman safe in a home surrounded by family. No, once you’ve taken the sword in hand and cut and trust and the blood runs, you’ve no escape.” He put his hand on Nichols’ shoulder, and stared into Nichols’ eyes, “You’ve no escape and you’ve not disgraced yourself. That which we do, it is done in honor and there is no shame. Do not make it into shame for it you do, you’ll not be fit for service or for family. Linger here if you need to and consider my words then turn your thoughts to other things, to the future or perhaps to some girl that has smiled at you.”
Hardy removed his arm and walked away, back toward the camp, back to the responsibilities of command and service. Duty and responsibility lay before him. The words he had spoken to Nichols were as much to the young man as to himself. He did as he always did after a battle; he turned his mind to other things. Her face and her smile came to him, he thought of the lovely Julia.
A True American Marine Hero
Captain John Williams
Service date 06/17/1804 - - 9 /29/1812
Interment in Arlington Cemetery
1904
The brave and valiant Captain John Williams was wounded eight times while leading supply efforts to surrounded forces on the Saint John’s River in Eastern Florida in 1812. He succumbed to his injuries three weeks later.
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