How to Love

Chapter Five: Ghost's Militia

Awaken by a gunshot in my tent was not the way I wished to wake up on a sunny day. The gun's rang was loud and it startled me right away. I was furious. I sat upright on my bed looking at the gun's owner: Dan Scott.  "What are you doing?" I asked squinting my blue eyes. 

"Waking you up, Captain." Dan Scott said. 

Scott was one of the people in this militia who I would let shower first and would try to keep my distance from. He stunk like urine from drinking his beer and he was racist and sexist. He was not my type of tea. 

"But by a gunshot? Are you out-of-your-mind! I could of thought redcoats were invading the camp and shot my gun at you since you're in my tent. Do be careful on how you wake people up, Scott." I warned. "Next time you won't be so lucky."

"You're supposed to call me by my rank, Captain." Scott said. 

"I will call you by your rank when you earn my respect. You already lost it this morning. Be gone." 

"Yes, Captain." 

-Time skip-

"Everyone be quiet and stay low. We do not want the redcoats to know we're here. The plan is to ambush. We didn't organize a formal battle." I said.

"Who's you to make suggestions and orders? You're a girl." Scott said, chewing on a piece of grass.

"I am your Captain, Scott. You will do your best to respect me and follow my every command. Me being a girl does not make any difference." I said. 

Papa shushed us. "Redcoats are coming. Get ready."

I loaded my gun and looked at the British supply train coming our way. We laid low in the thicket, doing our best to create no audible sound. The British rolled closer and we were given the motion to aim our guns through the thicket of the bushes. 

Time seemed to slow down as the supply train rolled closer and closer. I took in a breath and aimed my gun at the redcoat directing the maple-colored horses. The horses' hooves could be heard more as they trotted closer to our distance. The redcoat directing the horses was occupied by many other horse-drawn carriages and other redcoats on foot and horse. I made my gun ready and awaited the order to fire. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Fiv-

"FIRE!"

Sound of shots rung out in the woods, bullets flying and hitting their aimed targets. Redcoats fell off their horses, hitting the hard ground underneath them. Redcoats on foot scrambled to get into positions but only failed as they too were shot. Some of those lucky to still be living, fled down the road. 

I got myself onto my feet (since other militiamen were doing it) and ran towards the end of the road where those fleeing redcoats were making their way to. We approached our prey (as to speak) and raised our muskets. They did also but no shots fired out. They ran out of ammo. All three of them that we approached. I smirked and pulled the trigger. 

The redcoat on the left side was hit in the head. His brains and blood splattered out of head, dropping onto the ground. The other two were taken down by the two militiamen next to me. "Good job, boys." I praised. 

Other militiamen ran past me carrying close-ranged weapons. "Let's go, Captain! Get your knife out! We're about to hack these damned redcoats to pieces!" Yelled out Billings. 

"You got it," I said unsheathing my knife. 

I ran with them towards the large mass of fleeing redcoats and sunk my knife into the nearest one. I saw a tomahawk fly into a redcoat's forehead in the corner of my eye. Papa was in this hack-those-redcoats organization. 

On the other side of the road stood Gabriel, Reverend Oliver, Scott, and others firing at redcoats that tried to escape that way. 

Two redcoats were left. "Surrender! We sur-!" Gun shot. 

"Stop!" Reverend Oliver's voice cried out. 

Gabriel ran to Papa's side looking appalled. "Father! Those men were about to surrender!"

I heard Billings laugh and saw DeLancy shrug next to me. "Perhaps. We shall never know, shall we?" DeLancy chuckled. 

I could see Reverend Oliver bristling. "That was murder!" 

"A delicate distinction," Papa said noticing the hostility. I, too, wasn't a fan of what just happened. A surrender is a surrender, and one will be taken as a surrender. Not a murder. "But in the future wounded and surrendering British soldiers will be given quarter." 

DeLancy looked maddened. "I piss on your delicate distinction." 

The men all stopped arguing and turned to DeLancy. I too was shocked by his choice of words. "A British man-of-war made no such 'distinction' when it fired on a ship carrying my wife and daughters!

I stood on a bark, only two hundred yards off, watching as they were burned alive." 

"You have my sympathy, but the order stands." Papa responded. 

DeLancy still wouldn't take it. He looked to be even more maddened by what Papa just said. And he was due to the words he said next. 

"Piss on your sympathy. Who are you to give such an order? I know what you and your men did at Fort Charles to my countrymen."

"I'm the commanding officer of this brigade. This is a militia, not a regular army. Every man here comes and goes as he pleases, but while he's here, he follows my orders." 

DeLancy leaned down and wiped the blood on his sword off onto a dead redcoat's coat. "I serve at my pleasure. I do not serve under you." He said as he stood back up. 

Papa looked at DeLancy with tensed eyes before sounds of barking interrupted the tension. DeLancy paid no heed to it, but nodded. 

"And it is my pleasure to give quarter to the wounded and surrendering British soldiers...for the time being." 

Papa took in his words and strided off toward the wagons where the commotion of barking was heard. I followed closely behind him, curious to why dogs were in the wagon. Two Great Danes stood guard of the wagon barking angrily. 

"Shoot them!" Billings yelled.

"Put that pistol down!" I commanded. "All they need is a distraction. Oí, you, give me that chicken." 

Scott handed the chicken to me and it caught the dogs' attention. "Fetch!" I threw the chicken and they chased after it. 

"Dogs love food. Keep that in mind, militia." The men laughed at my comment. 

"What's in the wagon?" I asked Papa who was searching it. 

"Rum, French Champagne, Madeira, Port.." he said as he continued to search. When his hands touched something leather, he pulled out a book that looked like a journal and inspected it. "My heavens.."

"What is it?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.

"It's the journal of Lord Cornwallis." He hands the journal over to me and I turn to walk towards my horse to put it in my horse's satchel. 

"Anything else?" I yelled over my shoulder. The wagons we had captured, they all belonged to Lord Cornwallis. We had his processions in our hands. Some of his most valuable now belonged to us. The journal, for example, was one of his most valuable. And now, we own it. 

To what I heard next made me grin even more. 

"Colonel, there's a wagon here full with officer uniforms, and there's a lot of powder and muskets here." Scott announced. 

I jogged over to the wagon. "This is amazing," I breathed.

"I agree," Papa said, proudly placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, Captain?"

"Hmm?"

I looked at him with a smile on my face and said the words. "I'd like to become a spy."