Chapter two! If you're still reading, thank you! Enjoy!
Alexander had barely been in America for half and hour before he nearly got himself killed. And now he was making small talk with the man who'd saved him.
George Washington….. he sounded important, but Alex couldn't quite put his finger on it. But the man was speaking again.
"Are you looking for someone? Here, come with me, I'll help you find them."
Swallowing his nerves, Alexander responded. "No, sir, I'm just looking for a place to stay. Do you- do you know anywhere?"
The man frowned. "Do you have any family in New York? A relative or a friend? You won't last long out on the streets."
"No, sir, I- I'm an orphan, sir, and I'm from the Caribbean. I just got to America today, sir."
Mr. Washington nodded. "Ah. Well, in that case, why don't you come with me. We can work something out."
He didn't quite trust the man yet, but Alexander was out of options. "Thank you, sir."
Alexander walked beside the man, the cursed horse trailing after them. George Washington was asking him little questions about himself, and he responded best he could without having to talk too much about his past.
"How old are you?"
"Thirteen."
"Why did you come to America?"
"I got a scholarship to a school in New York City. And it sounded far better than the Carribean."
The questions continued, until they stopped outside a inn, and the older man turned inside, giving the reins of his horse to a stable boy. Then he turned to Alexander. "Come along, son."
I'm not his son, Alex thought as he trailed behind Washington. The inn was homey, and Alexander looked around as Washington spoke to the innkeeper. The man led the two down the corridor, and opened a door.
George Washington stepped inside, beckoning to Alexander when he hesitated. The room was nice enough, with two beds, a desk, and a wardrobe. Evening light filtered in the window. "Alexander- can I call you Alex? Are you hungry?"
Now that he stopped to think about it, Alexander was hungry. The last food he'd had had been the night before, on the ship. "Alex is fine, and yes, sir."
Washington chuckled. "Alright, then, Alex. Let's see what there is to eat."
Turns out, the inn's dining room had plenty to eat, though Alexander didn't eat much. He wouldn't want to burden the man, or take advantage of his kindness. Washington led him back to the room, and cleared his throat.
"Son, I was thinking. You seem like a good kid, and I don't want you to get hurt. So, how about you come stay with me until you're old enough to live on your own. Of course, it might be a little difficult. I'm riding out to the army's camp tomorrow, but you could come. I'm sure we can find something for you to do."
Alex doesn't know what to say. He's only just met the man, and barely knows him, if he can be trusted, if he would…. No. He wouldn't. But he might not get a chance like this again. The army. Something he heard on the ship came back to him.
General George Washington.
Wait.
"Are you General George Washington?"
The man smiles. "In the flesh, son." Alexander nods, his voice is stuck in his throat. "Thank- thank you for your kindness, sir."
Washington grins. "Call me George, son."
They were on the road, on the way to join the army at last. Henry Laurens was mounted on a stallion, looking brave and noble. John rode beside him, looking, well, looking like a thirteen year old boy excited for adventure.
The state of New York offered beautiful scenery as they rode through the little towns on the way to the camp. The two were silent, taking in the sights, and thinking. For John, it was mostly wondering if he'd meet anyone his age, and how he'd be able to assist the army. His father, on the other hand, thought about business back home in South Carolina, and how he couldn't wait for the war to end so he could get back to the plantation.
Sunshine beat down, and the world was bathed in the daylight. Or perhaps John was just romanticizing. But it was true that the grass and trees swayed gently in the wind, and light sparkled off of water in streams and ponds. Hope seemed to fill the air, hope for freedom, and a new country, and something about it made you want to fight for the future of such a wonderful place.
Well, he was on his way. He might be only thirteen, but John just knew that something would present itself, something that would allow him to write his way into the pages of history. Breaking into a huge grin, he glanced over at his father, whose brow furrowed, evidently not seeing what John was. No matter, he'd see soon enough.
At long last, after many long hours of riding, they had arrived! Hercules stood on a hill overlooking the camp of the Patriot army. White cloth tents and a few small buildings were spread out around the small town, and men ran to and from each, carrying papers, guns, or food. Squadrons leaned against their muskets, laughing and chatting amiably. In some areas, men were leading other groups, going through exercises, or practicing battle situations. The only thing it was lacking was organization.
As he and the tailor trotted through the camp on their horses, men stopped what they were doing to wave cheerfully. It didn't seem like an army at all, more like a summer gathering in a garden, with weapons. The tailor stopped a man rushing by, and asked where they could find General Washington, explaining that they were the new spies. The soldier told them that Washington was on his way to the camp, likely would arrive in a few days. "Go check in with one of the colonels, they'll be able to tell you where to stay for the time being."
Hercules was assigned to a tent in center of the campground, right at the center of all the action in the camp, as luck would have it. When the General did arrive, maybe he'd be close enough to see the man! Looking around hopefully, he sighed. No one at the camp seemed to be near to his age. If he gave it a few days, maybe he'd be able to make some friends, or at least find someone to spend time with before he and the tailor were sent off on their first spying mission against the British forces.
"Hercules! Get over here, we need to get our things set up, we could be here for a while." The tailor called out. "Coming!" Hercules yelled back. He turned and ran off to the tent, resigned to spending the afternoon setting up. Exploring would have to come later.
The tent was neat, their things were in order. The sun was just sinking over the trees when a new group of people came in, walking into a tent just across from Hercules's. Excitement was building in him. As far as he could tell, the newcomers were a grumpy- looking man, and a younger boy, who couldn't stop smiling and bouncing on his toes. He had poofy brown hair, green eyes, and freckles. As Hercules watched, the elder man groaned and said, "John, can you please calm down for just one night?"
The boy, John, tried in vain to stifle his grin, failed, and broke into an even bigger smile. "Guess not, Dad, sorry." The man who must have been his father dropped his head onto the heel of his palm, sighing. "Alright. You stay here, I'm going to be back in about half and hour. I'd like to get a tour of the place, if I can." With that, he was off.
Hercules took a nervous step towards John, trying to decide how to introduce himself. Fortunately, he didn't have to. John noticed him and ran over, all excitement and smiles.
"Hi! John Laurens, of South Carolina." He held out a hand.
"Hercules Mulligan." Shaking John's hand, Hercules realized that he'd made his first friend in the Continental Army.
The two immediately hit it off. They spent the rest of the night talking and laughing, only separating to return to their respective tents when it got to be past midnight. Lying on his cot, Hercules gazed at the roof of the tent, content. The revolution had come to his life, and it had brought new people, places, and excitement.
It had been a few weeks, and Gilbert was beginning to settle into his new home. The Millers, as he had learned they were called, were kind and generous. But one one day, Mr. Miller came home looking troubled, bearing a letter. "What's happened?" Gilbert inquired. "More trouble from the British. I'm thinking of joining the Continental Army. What do you say say, Gil? How about we go enlist before Rebecca gets home, eh?"
The suggestion gave him pause. It would be wonderful to help the colonists fight for the freedom of America. Remembering how the frivolous activities of the French monarchs had angered him, and how similar the Americans' plight was, he nodded. "Oui. Let's go." He gripped John Miller by the forearm, dragging him towards the door. The man laughed. "Someone's enthusiastic." The plan was short lived, however, as Rebecca opened the door. She was back from...wherever it was that she went.
"What are you two up to?" She arched an eyebrow.
John rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing, darling. Gilbert and I were just going off to enlist in the army."
Rebecca pointed her fan at them like a sword. "I don't think so. Not before dinner, anyways. Sit down, the both of you. Maybe you can go enlist tomorrow. I'm thinking of coming with you. Those horrid redcoats. I see them when I walk through the streets. One of these days, I'm going to smack them right across the cheek. I can't take much more of them, I hope that General Washington gets them good and kicked off this shore for good."
Gilbert would never fail to be impressed by the fire inside Rebecca Miller. She was truly one of a kind, but she was also the sweetest, kindest person he'd ever met. People had a way of surprising you like that, he mused.
Chapter two, anyone? You guys are truly the most wonderful people in the world. Thanks for your continued support with all of my stories. Review please! ~RedCoatsRedder
