Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version))

by Tarrin P. Lupo

  The indentured blacksmith was now turning green and leaned over to spit some brown ooze out. The old man smiled and announced, “I will help you white-skins. The British killed many of my tribe and it would make my tribe’s spirits happy to see more redcoats dead.”

  All the men, except the very green skinned Patrick, sat and smoked in celebration of their union. They puffed the pipe long until they became very hungry and Archibald prepared a dinner of venison and berries.

  * * *

  Chilly nightfall fell in the new year as muzzle flashes and loud cracks were seen in the dark. The four men were dressed in heavy furs, watching from afar while Oglethorpe’s strange mix of troops overwhelmed Fort San Diego. The fort fell quickly the next day with minimal casualties on both sides. The Spanish abandoned the fort in the face of overwhelming odds and fell back into the marshy woodlands. A few loyal Spaniards covered the retreat and were now being run down.

  Li Go Che advised, “Battle too one-sided. Now not good for battle rats. Wait till next fort.”

  Archibald conceded to the old man’s raiding experience and followed his advice. “Where do you think the next fight will be?” he questioned.

  “Spanish flee to Fort Picolotta not far from here. British follow soon. We follow too,” the white-haired man predicted.

  The old Creek would be correct. The Spanish fell back and reinforced Picolotta as Oglethorpe's brigade slowly followed, closing in on the next fort. The British were aware of Archibald’s party but it aroused little suspicion since it was common for families and merchants to follow armies. To legitimize the ruse, Archibald allowed himself to be employed by the Scottish troops making small repairs on their weapons.

  The siege of Fort Picolotta mirrored that of Fort San Diego. Oglethorpe’s men, in overwhelming numbers, forced the Spanish to fall back once again. No opportunity presented itself for the band of scavenging battle rats. The next fall back for the Spanish was at Fort Mose. Archibald was ambivalent about the invasion until the siege of this fort. He explained to Patrick he did not want to see the fall of a group of slaves who were now truly free men. He continued explaining to his apprentice that as early as 1687, the Spanish government had begun to offer asylum to British slaves hoping to undermine English control. Around 1693 that asylum was made official by the Spanish Crown making it known that runaways would find freedom in Spanish Florida, but a price had to be paid. The slaves would have to convert to Catholicism and pledge four years of service to the Spanish Crown. Ever since the days the black soldiers aided in repelling a British attack on St. Augustine in 1728, a grateful Governor Montiano abolished slavery in Florida. To cause even more disruption to the English, Fort Mose was set up as the very first free, black settlement. The Spanish governor hoped this would encourage slaves to escape from British settlements and disrupt their economy. Governor Montiano essentially established a free fort of rebels willing to fight against the British and protect St. Augustine. Fort Mose now had slaves from many tribes living free together for a common cause. There were natives of Mandinga, Fara, Arara, Kongo, Carabali and Mina. Tribes that before would never be together now lived in harmony and freedom in this fort. When Archibald finished, he grimaced and confessed, "It hardens my heart to see the British take fire to this fort.”

  Days later, the three men and their savage guide watched a familiar scene they had already witnessed twice. General Oglethorpe quickly overwhelmed the Spanish fort and the African free men fled into the marshes. The British made an example of the fort, burning everything they found to ashes and sent a clear message to the former slaves. The redcoats only spared what they could use for their own military objectives. Many soldiers laughed as they took great joy taking torches to the homes of the Africans and smashing the artwork left behind. The four battle rats watched in sadness as a symbol of freedom fell to another political power grab. It was decided again by Li Go Che to not make a move. Again, the time was wrong. They would keep following the battle.

  The old warrior started to pursue the fleeing black men when a tree next to him exploded in shards of bark and splinters. He turned his head to spot a handful of Spanish soldiers firing at the group. The white men panicked and dove into brush behind some trees as multiple cracks of gunshots echoed. They clumsily started drawing their blades and loading their muskets. The old man had his bow in hand and an arrow was already flying through the air. The aim was true and the colorful feathers of the arrow could be seen sticking from the chest of a Spanish soldier.

  With their shots fired, the Spaniards were scurrying to push shot and powder down their barrels with their ramrods. The white-haired, wrinkled old man was dead calm as he knocked another arrow to his bow. Patrick was convinced the calmness of the old warrior in the face of death could only come from a life of battle. Li Go Che was already loading another arrow while his second arrow pierced another soldier’s chest. A third soldier raised his musket to fire only to be struck in the neck with a colorful shaft of wood. The forth Spaniard panicked and tried to run, only to be pierced in the back, falling to the ground. The last Spaniard charged at the old Indian using his musket as a two-handed club. Archibald fired a shot that did not find its mark while Patrick and Isaac fumbled with loading their muskets. The old man coolly pulled his war club from his belt and, with a fluid spinning motion, dropped his body and struck the incoming soldier in the knee. The Spaniard dropped and the Indian finished him with a swift death blow to his skull that had so much force it shattered the club. Calmly, the old man picked up the dead man's musket and then collected the arrows from the bodies that littered the field. Letting out a loud Indian battle cry, the old warrior smashed the heads of his fallen enemies with the musket stock one by one. The white men watched in amazement and could not comprehend what just happened. One old man had just effortlessly killed five other men in less than two minutes.

  Patrick and Isaac stared dumbfounded as Archibald ordered, “Wake up! Search these bodies and then hide them good.” The men nodded and began collecting the weapons of the dead Spaniards. They circled like vultures as they picked the bloody bodies clean. The corpses were soon hidden and the party retreated into the safety of the swamp to tally their swag. Archibald was impressed with the haul: five muskets, bags of shot and horns of powder. Also found were two Spanish blades, three pairs of boots, belts, five water skins and rations. The clothes were bloodied and ruined and not even considered. Archibald then divided the spoils, giving each man a musket. Patrick was handed the musket used by Li Go Che to bash in the skulls of the dying Spaniards. He slowly examined the bloodied Hickory stock.

  The warrior quickly started disassembling a gun, freeing stock from the barrel. “Wait what are you doing? That musket is already sighted. Careful or it won’t shoot straight,” Patrick warned.

  “I no want whiteman’s firestick. Too slow. I fire ten arrows in time to fire and reload one gun,” Li Go Che boasted as the Indian broke down the flintlock, casting the barrel, bindings and lock aside. He took a large knife off his belt and hacked at the stock. He shaved and whittled it until it fit in one hand. He gave his new war club a practice swing and seemed pleased with the outcome. It was only then Patrick realized that Li Go Che's last club was also a musket stock. It made sense to Patrick. From afar, it would look like the Indian was carrying a gun that could possibly deter hostiles. The hard wood in the stock would make for a strong club.

  Later that night, Isaac and Patrick found it hard to sleep. Neither had ever seen a man killed as they had witnessed earlier that day and the images were hard to bury. Unsurprisingly, the white-haired warrior and the Scotsman slept well. After killing close to a hundred men, Patrick guessed death no longer bothered the Indian's sleep.

  * * *

  Almost five months had passed and the Spanish in St. Augustine numbered almost two thousand. Many sought refuge within the wooden walls of Fort Castillo de San Marcos when Oglethorpe’s navy began bombarding the town. A mass evacuation of St. Augustine had been underway for days. There w
ere only about seven-hundred and fifty soldiers. The rest were families and merchants, all crammed into the fort, slowly starving to death by the siege. General Oglethorpe’s forces had swelled to close to three thousand soldiers at his command. He was finally joined by Ahaya the Cowkeeper and his Oconee warriors. The Oconee had a deep hatred of the Spanish in Florida and were excited to join the British general's campaign. The rest of the British fleet finally arrived, led by Commodore Pearce, and had blocked the ports while Oglethorpe deployed his batteries on the island of Santa Anastasia. But the Spanish General Manuel de Montiano had an advantage of an impenetrable fort. The British general’s cannons were too weak to take down the fort’s walls so the armies stood at a standoff. It was now the scorching hot month of July and this invasion had become a waiting game.

  “I can’t believe we are still in this shit box of a swamp," Patrick whined to Archibald as he swatted another mosquito. "Why the hell hasn’t Oglethorpe just given up yet?"

  “The general’s ego wouldn't allow him to leave. He won’t be shown up by Admiral Vernon," Archibald explained. "When he returns to London he wants to be the toast of the town.

  “Who’s Admiral Vernon?” Patrick asked.

  Archibald explained the history, “On the 22nd of November 1739, Porto Bello, a silver-exporting town on the coast of Panama, was raided as an attempt to damage Spain's finances and to weaken its naval capabilities. The poorly defended port was attacked by six ships of the line under Admiral Edward Vernon who captured it within twenty-four hours. It was a very easy battle for the Admiral. He captured a great deal of Spanish treasure and returned to the king as the country's newest hero. Oglethorpe was envious. He desperately wanted to launch his own invasion on the Spanish and return to England as a hero himself. So I don’t think we are going anywhere, lads.”

  “Welcome back, Saw Bone!” the Scottish warrior piped up.

  Isaac walked into the camp covered with blood. “That is the third man I amputated that died this week. I can’t take any more of the screams. We ran out of spirits and rum weeks ago. Now I have to put a bucket over their head and smash it hard to knock te men unconscious. My bone saw is so dull, it took me almost thirty minutes to cut through the last man's thigh. Half the troops on both sides are incapacitated and dying of the black-water shits. I have never seen such a horrible loss of life just for some man's fucking ego.” Patrick gave the brawny man a hug, compassionate of his old friend’s frustration, as Isaac continued, “I had two men refuse to let me work on them because I was a Jew, because they thought I would use the devil’s favor to heal them. They died in the mud making jokes about my horns on my Yarmucle. I hate this place!” Isaac yelled.

  “Today I also treated the hundredth snake bite. I have been out of pulpous for a month. All I can do is get one of their soldiers to suck the venom out and then stick his foot in the cold creek. I am really grateful Li Go Che showed us how to pad our boots, protecting us from bites. At least all the snake meat is tasty,” he complimented.

  Archibald gave praise to the old scout, “You’re the reason we never got sick. We are very grateful you kept us healthy and helped us avoid the bad water. You honor your tribe.” He then handed the Indian a leather pouch of hemp bud. The old man grinned a little. He loved compliments from the white man, as he quickly got out his pipe to smoke.

  “Lads, I know this has dragged on a long time, but we have to come back with something big now to justify this excursion. Just a little longer. The Spanish are starving and are almost broke. Soon we will have our chance,” Archibald persuaded.

  “Easy for you to say. You went back to your family for the month of May. Isaac and I are nothing but mosquito welts! How the hell is it they never bite Li Go Che?" Patrick questioned with a laugh.

  “I had to go back and sell those guns. My family needed the money to live on. I had to file off all the markings and I sold them for parts. I also worry for the family’s safety and had to be sure they were still healthy. Heather did tell me to tell you she has some corn bread waiting for you.” Archibald said.

  “I am sure it is still good to eat, lad,” the Scotsman laughed.

  A mottled orange and white dog had adopted the group over the last few weeks. He had shaggy fur with a white nape, white feet and the end of his tail looked as if it was dipped in white paint. He had a long black snout and intense, high energy. He wandered into camp one evening, starving. Patrick had thrown him some scraps from a doe the Indian had killed and now it was impossible to get rid of the dog. William thought the dog looked like an ancient Scottish cattle dog called a collie. The collie was a welcome interruption to the months of monotony as the group debated for days what to name him. The group suggested male names for the dog but after Patrick discovered it was a female, his suggestion won. He named the dog Garland after his youngest sister he left behind in London. In a very short time, Li Go Che had put the dog to work for her meals. He had trained the collie to charge bushes and flush game out. The two seemed a perfect match, like they had been hunting together for years.

  As the days passed, the old warrior taught Patrick and Isaac a great deal about tracking and hunting. He showed them how to preserve meat by smoking it over the fire pit. Even though Patrick learned some very useful skills, the one that most impressed him was a trick the Indian did with corn kernels. The white-haired man would take a deep pot with animal tallow melted down and some corn seeds. When the grease grew hot enough, the corn would jump up and turn to white puffs that looked like cotton. The first time Patrick heard the popping sounds, he jumped out of his skin and the old man laughed wildly. Isaac threw some salt in the mix and they really enjoyed the new treat.

  Garland would howl at night when the group ate. Patrick would take left over corn meal, ball it up and drop it into the grease. It would turn to round brown balls that tasted like cornbread on the inside. He would throw the cornballs to the collie to keep her quiet. He soon added the term 'hush puppy' when he gave the canine a corn meal ball. The dog learned very quickly to quiet down whenever someone said 'hush puppy.'

  It was now the very early morning of June 26, 1740 and was still very dark. The old Indian woke the party up and told them to pack quickly. He reported he had seen a large group of African and Spanish warriors quietly sneaking through the marsh.

  “We go Fort Mose now!" the Indian roused the sleeping men. "This army attack Fort Mose soon before sunrise.” The parties packed in record speed and within a half hour were on the move deep into the marshes. The small party caught up with the invading force and Patrick was amazed at what he saw. The African warriors looked similar to Indian warriors. They were dressed in war paint and had tribal scars all over their bare bodies. The men’s faces were covered with keloid, chevron-shaped scars. Some had muskets, but most had huge spears and small shields they had crafted for themselves. A few Spanish came as well and their weapons were a mix of old and new gunsmithing methods. Some foolish soldiers still wore conquistador metal chest plates with helmets. The heat was unbearable and the soldiers became dehydrated and too weak to be very effective. The rest were a collection of current Spanish uniforms, common clothes and weapons. It was a hodgepodge killing force the Spartans of old would have been proud of as they also numbered three hundred.

  Somehow, the free blacks and Spanish managed to sneak out of Fort Castillo de San Marcos during the night, and in just a short time, arrived at Fort Mose before dawn. The Africans knew the inner workings of the fort intimately after living there so long. Using a series of trees as cover, the force was approached by blind spots. They quickly and silently slipped in a small breech in the wall of the fort and assembled inside. The Spanish force almost got a third of its force inside the walls before the shouting started.

  The four men watching heard Indian, African, Spanish and Scottish screams of terror erupt as the fighting started. It was then that it dawned on Patrick that the Scottish highlander rangers and the Creek were the only forces the British left to occupy the fort. The group qu
ickly became concerned about William and his clan. The sounds of death were horrible as the fight sounded one sided. A group of five kilted men came sprinting out of the fort toward the four hidden men. Archibald broke ranks and stood up, waving for the highlanders to join them. The Scottish men were already covered with blood and ran to Archibald and his crew. The Scots dove down into the marsh and vanished into the high grass.

  William McIntosh’s voice boomed, “What da fuck was that, lads?! I had never seen killing so fast. Dos African savages killed many of our clan while they slept.”

  “William, are you okay?” Archibald questioned his brother.

  "A retreat was ordered to abandon the fort. I have no idea how many made it out. I saw many of me clansmen lying dead with large spears sticking out of der chests.” McIntosh shook with nerves while he spoke, “I have done me share of killing but they had the spring on us. There was nothing I could have done to save me brothers. We best get away from this fort and regroup with the clan. Come on, join us.”

  The four men agreed and followed the bloodied and cussing Scotsman deep into the marsh. After a few hours, the battered war party came to a makeshift camp in the swamp. Men ran out to greet William’s group and hugged them. Patrick saw them greet each other in Scottish and then the arguing started.

  Patrick quietly leaned over and asked his employer, “What did they say?”

  Archibald stoically replied, “Only eighteen made it back here. The fort had one hundred and twenty Scots with only thirty Indians. Over half the clan died and only a few have been captured. They are arguing and debating about going back. We best keep our distance and let the families grieve, lad." The salvaging party stayed in the shadows the rest of the night as kilted warriors grieved for their friends and relatives.

  * * *

  “Most are going back to Darien. They feel they spilled enough Scottish blood for king and country. I am not going with them. I'm going to stay, see if there be a way to free the captives,” William announced the next morning.