Got a brain storm for a story after doing some research on the American Revolution. We've all heard about "A Yankee in King Arthur's Court" but how about "A Redcoat in Fenway Park"? What happens when a drummer from the 4th light infantry regiment finds himself on the road back to Boston after the skirmishes of Lexington and Concord... except its 237 years later?
I've always loved history and have endeavored to make this story as historically accurate to the events and lives of people during the American Revolution. Though much of the historical information is drawn out of my own memory, in order to write this story; I have researched life in the colonial British army, as well as what had actually happened during the battles of Lexington and Concord. So, to the best of what is currently known of the historical facts, this story is accurate.
Admittedly though, I have taken poetic license with the language usage, grammar and writing style of the colonial English. I am well aware that the typical British solider did not utilize his every day English as the characters in this story have been presented. A high percentage of regular soldiers would not have been fully literate; (i.e. able to read and write. The typical colonist of the day would have been better educated than the average infantry soldier of the British army, as availability of schooling in the colonies was considerably better than that of England.) Despite this though, the words themselves and much of the style would be familiar to colonial America.
Although the setting is of real times, places and some actual historical personalities are mentioned, the main characters in this story are purely fictitious.
A Redcoat in Fenway Park
Well, we've all heard about "A Yankee in King Arthur's Court", but how about a Redcoat in Fenway Park? What happens when a musician from the British 4th light infantry division falls through a time warp on the scramble back to Boston just after the skirmishes at Lexington and Concord? When everything about America is so different from the colony he remembers; what could this British drummer find he has in common with a 21st Century American teen, other than the timeless Redeemer who's regenerated both of them!
"Hurry, oh beloved brother Joseph... who's nigh to be sold as a slave. Wake up!" Patrick taunted as he prodded me with me own drumstick.
"Hey!" I hollered at yea mischievous boy. "Where is your bugle. It is thus a great hour to wrap it 'round thy neck!"
"All right youngens." Paul scolded us. "We having orders to ready ourselves and move out."
"Now?" I objected meagerly. "But I just got me to sleep!"
"Well, you know, as is said - no rest for the wicked."
"Nor the men of the king's army." Pinions added his two bits.
"So where is this they say we are going?" Patrick asked.
"To seize the rebel storehouses at Concord." Paul answered.
"Or maybe just to start a war?" Pinions laughed ironically.
"Don't say that." Paul huffed. "Is not the business I'd rather be in."
"Oh yes, we all know what business you would rather be in!" Pinions smirked his indications, accompanied by obscene hand gestures.
"Shut it." Paul muttered. "Before me be stickin me musket up yer business."
So thus was the start of a long and perilous adventure. That is if you wish to call it thus. I reckon it was about 9 o'clock when we began mustering ourselves for our appointed time in history. The shot heard 'round the world, twas the dawn of the colonists revolt against his majesty of England, king George.
Me soldier friend Paul and our drum major Sir Herbert Mims oft said that it was all of the times appointed of his Lord's Christ had called men too. Some to war, some to peace and some of us to turning points in the history of the world. Such we live in perilous times; but do we ever know that? Times of what the history books say about us though can oft bend your imagination. I could have nare speculated though on how bowed me imagination could twist. That is not until I'd met Rowel; but this be quite another matter altogether.
So we of our portion of the 5th Regiment of foot, set out that even from the commons of Boston to go on the hunt for rebel stores of munitions and weapons. This was not expected to be much more than an exercise in exhausting thee regulars of his king's army. After all, what jolly young drummer does not yearn to go hence in the midst of the bell tole to march 17 nigh or so miles in pursuit of anything nether than a good meal and an long nap when he returns to Boston? I've been on these quests before. Just finished one not hither long ago. Tis nothing to see but ceaseless farms, trees, indignant colonists and copious stores of mud!
Despite the endless plodding and mindless drumming of the same marching strain, this colony of America is quite a sight to see. There is so much more of the natural wildness here than has likely existed in London for hundreds of years hence. Yes it's quite snowy and cold much of the hour, but me'd rather be dealing with the new world winter than an ill tempered orphan master. At least thee soldiers treat me fairly; well, much of them do.
These first battles of this rebellion which had sparked so many other revolutions throughout farther history, really wasn't much to speak of in its time. The fuse that lit the powder keg maybe? And yes, it was certainly injurious for all of us trying to race our way back to the mother arms of Boston in the days following April 18th. It is debated of history that 73 of the king's men were killed, 174 wounded and 53 went missing. Well, here it is you are about to find out how a lost drummer is hence found.
April 28, 2012 (somewhere in the back woods around Concord Massachusetts)
"Rowel, have you seen my shoes?"
"No."
"Well come on, help me find them or I'm going to be late for the dance. This is my first formal and I don't want to miss it."
"Ro'sie, you have three hours before this dance begins. Chill out!"
"Momma's going to yell at you if you don't help me!"
"Momma aint even here!"
Yeah, so she's not. "But aren't you just itching to get rid of me so...so, you can play your stupid video games in peace?"
Lord of the Rings is not stupid. "OK I'll help you. I'll go look upstairs." Yeah, who doesn't want to get rid of a pesky older sister for a few hours anyways? "Ro'salita someone's at the door!"
"Who is it? It's not Marcus is it?"
"No, not unless he's really short and wearing a red coat."
Red coat? What red coat? Redcoat? Why's there a redcoat at my door? Another MIA reenactor? I guess I better see what he wants?
"What's the matter kid, you lost? The visitor's center is down the road, that way... about five miles."
"I'm sorry m' lady, but me seems to have gotten unfettered from me regiment."
Unfettered? Oh God, the little urchin is bowing? Kid you take this waaaay too seriously. "Yikes, what happened to you? You been reenacting in the mud puddles? Aren't those costumes expensive?... Hey, are...are you OK?"
"M' lady?"
"Are you hurt? You're bleeding!"
"I do apologize for me appearance m' lady, but you must know the rebels are about and looking as the fine loyalist you must be... Uh..."
"Kid, I think you need a doctor... " She is staring queerly at me. "Come in a minute."
"ROWEL GET DOWN HERE!"
"Oh Geez, sorry kid, don't run away. I didn't mean to scare ya."
"I DIDN'T FIND THEM YET!"
"FORGET THE SHOES, COME HERE... NOW!"
"Sisters man, can't make up yer min... Who is that?"
"I don't know?"
"Man what happened to you? You been reenacting the real thing?"
"I don't think he's a reenactor. Go get some towels."
"Yeah, good idea Ro'sie."
"Wh...wha... what's yer name; uh, little drummer boy. Come on into the kitchen, maybe you better sit down? How old are you anyways?"
"Uh? Sorry m' lady. I...uh... not feeling well a'tall." What is this place? Good Lord, where am I? The lady is wearing a gown, but... the young man, or is he an elder lad? He looks to be betwixt the lady and me-self? Is that some sort of new bed clothes and where's his dressing robe? And... how is it this house is so warm? I don't see any fires? Where are their fires?
"Here Ro'sie - towels."
"Yeah, thanks. Here...Ich.." She is trying to usurp me drum?
"Awfully possessive of that thing aren't you?"
"Ro'selita, do you know what happened to colonial British soldiers who lost their equipment?"
"Do I want to know... Mr. History."
"Probably not."
"OK good, now help me get him... in there." The lady is ushering me to... their parlor? What is this strange place? A cook's kitchen? Where is the cook hence? And where is the fire? Again? Where is the fire?
"Yeah, good idea. What's your name?"
"Yeah little drummer boy, what is your name... and how old are you anyways?"
"Me name?"
"Yeah, you name?" The lady, she is giggling at me?
"Me name is William, William Joseph."
"And how old is William Joseph?" The lady requires as she labors to clean me dreadfully dirty face.
"Thirteen?" I hope this doth please her, for... I am confused? What a queer dwelling.
"Thirteen? Dang boy, you look like yer nine! And what you doin' in the army at thirteen anyways? Does your mother know where you are?" She doth smile at me and... and scold me? She doth not look quite like she is believing I am telling her the truth?. Is she pleased or not?
"Ro'sie." He is poking her. "He's probably an orphan." He is whispering. "They could join the musicians corps at ten."
She is looking queerly at him now.
"Well thank you Mr. History." She is laughing again? "Ten?... Damn!"
Such language unbecoming of a lady. What is it with such queer colonists? Are they mad?
"Ro'sie stop cursing. You know momma would not approve. Look at the way he's lookin' at you!"
"Ahh, let 'im look. There's more where that came from." She leans over and whispers to the lad again. "Should I drop an F-bomb on him?"
"I wouldn't."
"You don't think he's heard worse in the army?"
"Probably, but yer not in the army."
Women...in his majesty's army?
"Well just for that, maybe I'll join!"
I suddenly feel ill. "But m' lady, you can't join the king's army."
"Than I'll join the queen's army. Hey, if you can join the army at ten, than I can join the army."
"But m' lady, you don't want to be joining the army."
"And why's that?" She is tapping her thirsting foot at me. "Although I'm sure you probably really didn't want to either, but..." She doth mutter.
"Because the army is... army men and you is...is not, a men." Me stammers in such stupor.
"Yeah Ro'salita, you is not a men." He is laughing.
"And you is a dork. Shut up."
I do not understand these... colonists? These strange sounds I hear? Cackling and voices and...is it that they have witches even so? How do I get out of this place? Must I have to awaken! Did me hit me head? Is this a dream? I have nare seen such things?
"Rowel, go turn the TV off please."
"OK, yeah, good idea. He's probably wondering what that noise is. Probably thinkin' this place is haunted."
That boy just laughed and about ghosts too? Is that what these are?
"Ehhh, speaking of hauntings, Rowel?...Do you think that's what he is?"
"What?"
"A ghost?"
"Ro'sie, you just touched him. I don't think he's a ghost."
How is it they think me for a ghost?
"What else could he be than? I mean, that was what... a hundred years ago?"
"The American Revolution? Try two hundred years ago; actually 237 years and ten days ago, from the battle of Lexington. Ro'salita, you really need to pay attention in history class."
Two hundred and thirty seven years ago? American Revolution? Is that what they have hence named this dreadful affair?
"Well if he's not a ghost, why's he all white?"
"Probably because he just saw one. Ro'sie, we just told him the war he left was 230 years ago. I think that would turn me white too!"
"Two hundred and thirty seven years?" That can not be? Man does not travel through time Lord, doth he?
"Yes." The young man is sighing. "The American Revolution ended in 1781, when General Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown."
"Cornwallis?" This name reckons familiar with me? Me thinks he be in Parliament; Yey?
"Yes, Cornwallis was a British General. He took over for Gage when the Continental Army escaped from the British out of New York City and Gage waited till spring to attack Charleston. By that time, it was too late. The French had joined the war on the side of the American colonists and since the war became unpopular in the British Parliament; it ended soon after that."
How could this be Lord? Is it not egregious sin to rebel against the civil authorities Your Lordship has set up? They are looking queerly at me again. I do not understand this place? Who be these people?
"So... if ye be not a colony of the king? Uh... who's colony be ye; the French?"
They doth mock me question? I stand to raise me stick!
"Hey, take it easy there George the Third! We're allies now, have been for the past hundred or so years." He doth prevent me chastising him.
"Yeah, we saved yer butts from the Russians in the Civil War!"
"That was the Nazis in World War Two Ro'sie."
"Yeah, I knew that." She is giggling at the elder lad. "Just testing you...Mr. History!"
"So... America is, as you say... a nation?"
"Yes, we are our own nation now and have been for... two hundred and thirty two years." He is counting in his head. Keen fellow!
"How is this? How could this be?" Me sits me-self down. "We are the greatest empire on Earth." I find this as I must be gaping for breath because I can not believe what it is they are revealing to me.
"Not any more you aint honey!" The lady is laughing.
"Well, a lot of things have happened in 230 years."
Two hundred and thirty years, two hundred and thirty years. Me brain makes no sense of such nonsense? What year would that make this now? Two hundred and thirty years? This can not be? If they be a nation now? What of me mother land? Oh, we suddenly hath...an... empire sized headache? We feel dizzy. Me thinks we are going to be sick?
"Yer not going to pass out on us are ya?" The lady is looking at me.
"Think we should call an ambulance?"
BEE, BEE, BEE, BE-BEEP...
"AHHHHHHH!" I jump for refuge beneath their table.
BEE BEE, BEE, BE-BEEP...
"Not if the cell phone freaks him out. Imagine what a hospital would do!
BEE BEE, BEE, BE-BEEP... "Hello?"
"Hey there... eh, little redcoat. Don't worry we've got Post Traumatic Stress in our century too. My cousin's got it. Afghanistan you know...er... maybe not!"
I be not a coward. I be not a coward. I be not a coward. Oh Lord help me! Me mind is sucked into darkness.
"Ro'sie, who is it?"
"Shhh. Shhhh. It's Marcus!"
"Tell him we need Doc Stan."
"He's a veterinarian Rowel!"
"So... cats, dogs, horses,... British drummers - what's the difference?"
"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God - I just thought of something. Marcus, Marcus honey I got to go. Uhhh, ... our, our cat is sick. We need doc Stan."
"Ro'sie - He's bleeding all over the floor. I need help!"
"I know, I know. I'll call you back later. We have to get Doc Stan. Love you sweety. OK - I promise, I'll call you back in a bit. OK - bye."
"Oh Rowel, I just thought of something? We were talking about this... this disease in biology yesterday. It's suppose to be dead. What if he has the...the bubonic plague?"
"Ro'sie, let's worry about the bleeding first! Give me that towel... please!"
"Oh yeah, yeah - sorry... but... but what do we do if... he is sick. I mean they haven't vaccinated anyone for that since...like... the 1950's. What if we get it...and... and we spread it like ... to the whole state?"
"Ro'selita, that wasn't the bubonic plague, that was small pox and if he has that and none of us leave the house than... than... that's treatable and the rest of Massachusetts is safe. OK?"
"Alright, Alright, sorry. Should I call doctor Stan?"
"Well, let's wait a few more minutes. Why don't you go get cleaned up. You got a little bit of blood on your dress."
"Oh? Oh, I guess I do? I'll get it later...ahhh, after I get the first aid kit. Yeah, I'm a sox fan!"
"A sox fan?"
"Yeah Rowel, like you said: Red sox Red coats - what's the difference? Ehhhh... I'll go get the first aid kit!"
"Good idea!"
Me face is throbbing as me looks at the elder lad. "Uh?" There are two of him?
"Uh, uh, what happen?"
"You passed out dude...I think?"
"Dude? What be an dude?"
"Never mind."
"OK, OK Here it is - first aid kit."
"OK Ro'sie. Thank you. Do you know where the wilderness kit is?"
"The camping one?"
"Yeah."
"Why do you need that one?"
"I think it's still got anti-biotic shots in it from cousin Jesus? Plus I know there's epi-pens in there."
"Oh yeah, good idea. Let's drug 'im!"
Is warm in here. Is the first time we are warm in... six months? "Paul, Paul. Where are you?" I open me eyes. This lamp is queer?
"Doc, he's awake."
"Be right there."
I hear voices. Has this queer dream finally ended? Did we find our way back to Boston? Why does this lamp not look so right? I sit up. This is an house? A warm house? How is it this house be so warm? Where is their fire? I don't see their fire? I still... can't find their fire?
"Hello William. Ro'silita and Rowel tell me your name is William."
"Yes Sir."
"Are you feeling better?"
"Uh?"
"I'm Doctor Stan by the way. Ro'selita and Rowel told me you just showed up on their doorstep a couple of days ago. We're all trying to figure out where you came from and how you got here? Do you remember?"
"Huh, Where's me regiment?"
The man sighs. "I don't know where your regiment is, but I'm not quite sure I don't half believe the story their telling me? When I came here a few days ago, you were wearing a very dirty colonial British army uniform; which...from what I can tell, is historically accurate. You've got scars all over your body and obviously, you could use more to eat. I looked at your teeth and bones and that. Ro'selitia told me that you said you were thirteen years old? And yeah, you're kind of small for thirteen, but in the 18th Century, that seems about right to me. I also tested your blood though, and apparently at some point in your life you've had small pox. Is that correct?"
"Yes Sir... you know this from... me blood?" Me head is spinning.
"Yes, I know this from your blood." The man is sighing again. "When ever any of us gets sick, there's stuff in our blood that fights the illness off. Then, depending on the illness; there is other stuff in our blood that stops us from getting it again. Well, the last known case of naturally occurring small pox on the planet... was back in 1977, some thirty plus years ago now. So, either someone is pulling a really elaborate hoax, or you somehow came from the past?
The past? Is this nightmare not over? Me head still will not cease me spinning, so is best to stay on the pillow. "Ouhhhhhwwwaaaaa." All me body throbs and folds up as an rusty pocket knife. Who is thus who doth wail? Tis shame I bring to me-self and me regiment. The king's soldiers shant nay blubber like infants. I hear the voices in me head.
"Doc?" Me hears a kindly voice. "What's wrong with him?"
"Well, lot of things Row." Me hears another man? "Kind of like Diego. What if he got stuck in Afghanistan and couldn't get out? Nothings familiar to this kid, he's got no clue who we are and everyone he's ever known is long dead."
"Besides the fact he'd taken quite a beating from someone?" Me hears the man who calls himself doctor. "He's all black and blue."
"So Doc? What do you think we should do? Call the cops?" Me hears a woman's voice?
"Well, eventually I think we're going to have to notify some sort of authority. I wouldn't do that just yet though. Looking at the shape he's in and no real verifiable identity? You don't want to be accused of human trafficking."
"But he's English. What Mexican traffics English kids?"
The man is laughing. "I know, but still."
"No Melita. I've worked too hard to get here. I don't want INS yanking my green card."
"And besides the fact they'd stick him in a psych hospital and claim he's delusional because he thinks he was in the American Revolution."
"Well, how are we sure this is not some sort of hoax?"
"I'm not sure what we think this is?"
"So what? We wait it out?"
"Yeah dad, let's keep him."
"Rowel, he's not a dog." Me hears a man laughing again.
Me opens me eyes.
"Sir, if this not be 1775? What year be it?"
"2012"
"Two hundred and thirty seven years?"
"Yep." The doctor sighs.
"Where is this?"
"You're in Concord Massachusetts. Same place you left, as far as we know. You're just two hundred and thirty years later." This other man is chuckling.
"Kind of like a Yankee is King Arthur's court; now we've got a redcoat in Fenway Park."
"Fenway Park? Is this what they hence name... the Boston commons?"
"No." The man is laughing. "Fenway Park is a baseball stadium."
"Base...ball? You mean stool ball?"
"Stool ball? I'm not sure what that is?" The man is holding his finger up? He is consulting with the elder lad they call Rowel. "Hey Mr. History?"
"What?" He is smiling.
"When was baseball invented?"
"Not sure, the first written reference to it was in an English children's poem book in 1744."
"Thanks Google!" The man is laughing.
"You're welcome!"
"Rowel? They call him...google?"
"No, it's a joke. You'll learn soon enough what Google is."
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"What... What of England? Doth me mother country still subsist?"
"Subsist?" The younger lady is hence looking round her elder. They all be dressed queerly?
"Yes." The lad smiles. "England still exists and matter of fact, from before your time till now; it has never been invaded."
"No." His news brightens me countenance. "This be good; but tell me please? Who be her king?"
"Queen!" The young lady doth correct.
"Yes Queen." The lad agrees. "Elizabeth the second. She has been the queen since just after World War Two."
"World War...as in...Armageddon?"
"No, but close." The lad chuckles.
"That's another thing that has changed a lot in two hundred and thirty years: the face of warfare."
"And what of your...colony nation? What be her name?"
"The United States of America."
"Be it, be she an empire?"
"Not really, but sort of."
"This is a big country." The lady nods.
"And Britain? Has she seen more wars?"
The man called Doctor is hence smiling at me. "Let's see if we can get some soup or something like that in you before we talk about the politics of the last 200 years. OK?"
"How about tacos!" The lady is laughing.
"Ro'sie?" Her elder smiles.
"But momma, he can have soup. I want tacos."
"OK, you can help me."
Me sits up and looks after these new... Americans? They all be withdrawing to retire hence maybe? Only the elder lad remains.
"Excuse please?" Me asks politely while seeking out their window. "Me hath need of an... cup of water?... please."
The lad giggles. "Yeah, cup of water. Come on, I'll show ya. It aint far."
I look queerly at him as he steadies me wobbling knees. We totter hence out the room and down the hall. The lad halts and pushes a door open. Me peers inside. Tis a room filled with... dimly familiar yet strange apparatus. The lad holds an hand out, then reaches hence and flicks an lever. Light fills the room. I gaze dimly at him. He smiles fretfully and lends a brisk demonstration. He commences to an... wash basin? Is that what that is? What is this? How is he getting... is that water? How is he getting water from that... that... fountain thing?
"Hey? Where you going little drummer boy?" The young lady unexpectedly looms on the steps. She comes to me and peers into the room where the lad doth stand.
"He's never seen indoor plumbing. Wonder of all wonders!" The boy is smiling. "Here." He is holding me a cup of...yes, it is water! I wobble to retrieve it. How is it they do this?
"In Jesus name Amen!" The lady is giggling.
"Yes, Amen. Thank you."
The boy is looking at me. He seems... benumbed. He gets this wink in his eye; a twinkle. He smiles as he reaches hence and nudges me toward the basin. There I look up and see our images reflected in a looking glass. The reality of such things grabs me imagination. The centuries be staring back at us. Two boys, two hundred and thirty years apart. One jolly with vigor and health, the other...? He be so small and thin and frail, a bruised, battered ghost gazing back at me. A child who sincerely looks as he'd lost this... American Revolution?
"Rowel?"
"Yeah?"
"How many years are you?"
"You mean my age?"
"Yey?"
"I..I'm thirteen too."
The lad recedes from view. He lightly tappeth me arm. I turn to him. He points to the large basin set upon the floor. He reaches hence and flicks another lever. The water in the basin swirls down the drain. I peer befuddled at him. He demonstrates by sitting on the basin.
"Oh Yey!" I giggle abashed. Me should have seen that! The lad smiles as he stands and walks out the room. He quietly clicks the door shut behind him.
Me imagination turns back to the looking glass. The face of the child be streaked with tears. Me imagines him to be strong and ruddy. Me sees the ghosts of history peering out at me. Paul is standing hence. The child... his woe hath overwhelmed him.
Me sees the hands as an elder man stoops and groans to scoop up the child. Just as an young girl's rag doll, he carries the limp boy back to the room and tucks him back to bed. He leaves this child to be, as the lad keeps watch over him. He folds his hands to pray. It is silent for an eternity when me suddenly hears something?
"All creatures of our God and King." He begins to... sing?
Yes, I know this. "Lift up your voice and with us sing."
"Alleluia, Alleluia."
"Alle..." The young man looks at me and smiles.
"Joy to the world, the Lord has come."
Yes, "Let earth receive her king." He doth rest to let me assay to join.
"Let every heart prepare him room."
"And heaven and nature sing,"
"And heaven and nature sing,"
He is thus sings faster than me. "And hea - heaven and heaven and nature sing"
"Believe yeh, yee thinks he cometh quickly?"
"You mean Jesus?" The lad is smiling. "I sure hope so!"
"Yey. Thus me prayed when Paul and Pinions chased Patrick and me-self into the ship, heretofore me regiment's reinforcement set sail for the Bay colony aft the destruction of the tay in thee harbor."
"The Boston Tea Party... It took a couple of months to get here, didn't it?"
"Yey, We fell deathly ill and pray that the scourge nay kill us, nor... war, but only if be the Lord's will."
"So, you knew it was coming?"
"How to avoid thus? The colonists be bitter and the king be stubborn... and the soldiers? We pray our consecration unto His Grander Army."
"Hum..."
Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hast have formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God.
"Thou turnest man to destruction and sayest; return, oh ye children of men. For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night."