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Hannah stayed in a tent next to the one where Benjamin occupied with his son. It would only be for an evening, for the next day the men were leaving for the battle. She had wandered about the camp and had heard the men talking about it. They were so full of life, so eager, so patriotic. If she had heard this talk when the war had started, it would have made her sick and she would have told them exactly how she felt. But now, it seemed that she didn't feel that way anymore. She realized what they were fighting for. They were fighting for freedom and though it felt like they were wasting their lives for nothing, it was exactly the opposite. They weren't just fighting for themselves. They were fighting for her, for their families, for everyone.
That evening she had overheard Burwell speaking to Benjamin. He had pleaded with him to come and fight. Benjamin had refused. She could believe it. He was in a state of shock. His first-born son was lying in front of him, dead. Yet another son killed by the British. She could understand, but she couldn't let him bury himself in this pit of despair. She was on the very edge of that pit herself, and if he was going to give it all up, she knew she would tumble in as well.
She walked hesitantly up to the tent the next morning. Benjamin was gone. She assumed that he had gone out to bury Gabriel. She had whispered her respects to him before he had gone into the ground, but she slipped inside the tent and stood silently in front of the empty cot for a few moments. The silence was unbearable. She walked closer to the cot and knelt down. She looked at the empty bed, at the pillow that still held the slight indentation where his head had lay but a few hours before. She sighed and looked away, her eyes fixing on the makeshift cross fixed to the tent pole. She clasped her hands together, her eyes fixed on it. "God, help us win this battle that we must fight. Help our men to be brave and their guns to be accurate. Help Benjamin. He needs help and comfort. Comfort I cannot give. You lost a son as well, help him God." She paused a moment, then closed her eyes.
"But God, I need you as well. This is my darkest hour. I need your help. I have lost everything I have ever loved. I've lost Thomas and Gabriel. And now I am losing Benjamin. Please help me to carry this burden. For God, it is more than I can bear. I need your reassurance, God I need something! I need, I don't know what I need. I just need for my soul to be at rest. I, I yearn for the peace that I once felt, though I know that that is impossible to attain. Please help me God I beg you! This is so difficult to bear!" She cried out, laying her head on her arms that were crossed in front of her on the bed. She lay there for a moment, sobbing, praying, yearning for help. Then she stopped and looked up at the cross. So simple, so humble, yet so beautiful and comforting. And as the tears slipped down her cheeks, she whispered. "It is well with my soul. It is well." And Benjamin Martin, standing just outside the tent, a mended American flag in his hands, thanked God, and cried.
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Hannah stood off to the side quietly as Benjamin saddled his horse. She knew what she had to do, but she didn't know if she was brave enough to accomplish it. Benjamin certainly seemed to think so, but she wasn't sure. "Now Hannah, keep close to the woods. It will take you longer to get to Gullah Island, but I don't want you to get in trouble. Most of the British will be at the skirmish, but still there will be patrollers. You understand?" Benjamin asked sternly. She nodded and placed her hand on the horse's neck. "I'm just not sure if I can do it." She murmured. Benjamin placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Hannah, I know you can do this. You can. You've accomplished more than any girl would even think of. You can do this. Please be safe." He said as he held her close, releasing her quickly and sat astride his horse. He raised the long piece of wood he had fashioned into a pole. On it's end was the American flag that Gabriel had spent endless hours fixing. She waved to him as he saluted and took off.
She watched a few more moments then turned to the makeshift cross on Gabriel's simple grave under the large tree. She smiled, blew a kiss, and ran off into the woods. She traveled for hours, resting only when she felt she could go no further. It was going to be a long trip she knew, but she also felt that her strength, combined with the memories of Thomas and Gabriel, would keep her going. She stopped to rest in the late afternoon, under the shadow and protection of the forest. Only a few miles away was a road, but she didn't want to chance taking it, for fear of the patrollers seeing her. She didn't mean to sleep as long as she did, but when she awoke, it was twilight.
Hannah shivered in the cool air and stood. Now that the sun was nearly gone, she was unsure as to where she was, or where she must go. But in the shadow of the moon she managed to find her way to the very edge of the forest, where the road wound around the bend. She lay her coat on the ground at the foot of a large elm tree and attempted to sleep, though she was restless. She slept till she felt a repetitive sharp poke in her forearm. She opened her eyes an inch and they suddenly flew open as she realized who it was that was poking her. It was a boy, no older than herself, and the poking was being done with his rifle. Hannah stared at him intently, taking in his bright red coat and young face. Though his face was firm and unyielding, in his eyes she saw fear.
As she sat up, the boy stuck the gun near her chest. She leaned back against the tree. There seemed to be almost a staring contest between the two as they looked at each other. Hannah was the first one to gulp and speak. "What do you want? I am a free person. You have no right to do this to me." She said firmly, with only a shadow of a quaver in her voice. The boy seemed surprised at her speech and his grip on the gun lessened slightly. "Who are you for? Your real country? Or these pitiful countrymen?" He asked haughtily. "I am for freedom and justice. That which our king does not show us. Little do you know that those pitiful countrymen are going to take you over and win this war." She said, raising her chin proudly.
The boy scoffed and narrowed his eyes. "So you are a traitor then?" He asked. "I suppose you might say I am. Others however might call me," She paused, searching for the right word. But finally one came to her and she looked up at the boy with a smile. "A patriot." The boy's eyes widened and the gun loosened slightly in his sweaty palms. "A traitor. You could be killed for this you know?" He said harshly. "I do. I'm proud to die for my freedom. Yes, I am." She said quietly, with a small smile. The boy stared at her. "Are you crazy?" He asked, honestly looking at her like he thought what he said. "Perhaps. But haven't you ever wanted to be whatever you want without people ordering you around? If we win this war, we will gain that. We will have the freedom to do as we choose." She said earnestly. He looked at her, and as he did the gun loosened more.
"That's what you colonists are fighting for? How come the King makes it sound like you are merely rebelling because you want his thrown or something along those lines?" He asked, his tone sounding confused. "Because he doesn't want to lose us. If he had his way, he would try to control us forever. From thousands of miles away, ruling us with his insane taxes. Now is that fair? You tell me, who's cause is more righteous?" Hannah asked. The boy's blue eyes glinted and the butt of the gun now rested on the grass. "It seems to be yours. But, but, that's not right! You are the enemies. Not us!" He said, more confused now than ever. "What is your name?" Hannah asked gently. The boy drew back somewhat, but answered her in hushed tones. "Charles." Hannah looked up at him and smiled. "I am Hannah. You see, here with us, we wouldn't question who you are or where you come from. You would be one of us. One of thousands of free peoples Charles." She said earnestly, extending her hand. "It sounds, wonderful." He whispered, taking a step towards her to take her outstretched hand.
It all happened so fast. Hannah didn't have a chance to really react. She thought she heard something out of the corner of her ear, but she dismissed it until Charles' eyes widened and he dropped his gun as his hands grasped at his chest. Hannah jumped up and caught him as he fell. She sat down on the ground, his head in her lap. His eyes were dialated and his breathing became more and more shallow as he stared at her. "I would have loved to be free." He whispered. Finally, his breath was non-existant. Hannah looked up at the trees where the shots were fired.
It was one of the militia. Not one that had traveled with Benjamin's party. She laid the boy on the ground and jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing. "What were you doing? He was going to come to our side!" She yelled. The man shrugged. "British always lie. It doesn't matter what he said. He could have been aimin' to do something different. The least you can do is thank me." He said as he began to walk away. "I will not thank you! You come back here and bury him!" She yelled. The man turned around and scoffed. "I'll never bury a British boy ever. No way in hell it will happen." He snarled as he walked away. Hannah stared angrily back at him before dropping back to the ground. She closed the boy's glazed eyes, folded his hands and stood up. She would have buried him herself had she had the means to do so, but she could only hope and pray that his own men would find him and give him a proper burial.
Hannah stayed in a tent next to the one where Benjamin occupied with his son. It would only be for an evening, for the next day the men were leaving for the battle. She had wandered about the camp and had heard the men talking about it. They were so full of life, so eager, so patriotic. If she had heard this talk when the war had started, it would have made her sick and she would have told them exactly how she felt. But now, it seemed that she didn't feel that way anymore. She realized what they were fighting for. They were fighting for freedom and though it felt like they were wasting their lives for nothing, it was exactly the opposite. They weren't just fighting for themselves. They were fighting for her, for their families, for everyone.
That evening she had overheard Burwell speaking to Benjamin. He had pleaded with him to come and fight. Benjamin had refused. She could believe it. He was in a state of shock. His first-born son was lying in front of him, dead. Yet another son killed by the British. She could understand, but she couldn't let him bury himself in this pit of despair. She was on the very edge of that pit herself, and if he was going to give it all up, she knew she would tumble in as well.
She walked hesitantly up to the tent the next morning. Benjamin was gone. She assumed that he had gone out to bury Gabriel. She had whispered her respects to him before he had gone into the ground, but she slipped inside the tent and stood silently in front of the empty cot for a few moments. The silence was unbearable. She walked closer to the cot and knelt down. She looked at the empty bed, at the pillow that still held the slight indentation where his head had lay but a few hours before. She sighed and looked away, her eyes fixing on the makeshift cross fixed to the tent pole. She clasped her hands together, her eyes fixed on it. "God, help us win this battle that we must fight. Help our men to be brave and their guns to be accurate. Help Benjamin. He needs help and comfort. Comfort I cannot give. You lost a son as well, help him God." She paused a moment, then closed her eyes.
"But God, I need you as well. This is my darkest hour. I need your help. I have lost everything I have ever loved. I've lost Thomas and Gabriel. And now I am losing Benjamin. Please help me to carry this burden. For God, it is more than I can bear. I need your reassurance, God I need something! I need, I don't know what I need. I just need for my soul to be at rest. I, I yearn for the peace that I once felt, though I know that that is impossible to attain. Please help me God I beg you! This is so difficult to bear!" She cried out, laying her head on her arms that were crossed in front of her on the bed. She lay there for a moment, sobbing, praying, yearning for help. Then she stopped and looked up at the cross. So simple, so humble, yet so beautiful and comforting. And as the tears slipped down her cheeks, she whispered. "It is well with my soul. It is well." And Benjamin Martin, standing just outside the tent, a mended American flag in his hands, thanked God, and cried.
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Hannah stood off to the side quietly as Benjamin saddled his horse. She knew what she had to do, but she didn't know if she was brave enough to accomplish it. Benjamin certainly seemed to think so, but she wasn't sure. "Now Hannah, keep close to the woods. It will take you longer to get to Gullah Island, but I don't want you to get in trouble. Most of the British will be at the skirmish, but still there will be patrollers. You understand?" Benjamin asked sternly. She nodded and placed her hand on the horse's neck. "I'm just not sure if I can do it." She murmured. Benjamin placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Hannah, I know you can do this. You can. You've accomplished more than any girl would even think of. You can do this. Please be safe." He said as he held her close, releasing her quickly and sat astride his horse. He raised the long piece of wood he had fashioned into a pole. On it's end was the American flag that Gabriel had spent endless hours fixing. She waved to him as he saluted and took off.
She watched a few more moments then turned to the makeshift cross on Gabriel's simple grave under the large tree. She smiled, blew a kiss, and ran off into the woods. She traveled for hours, resting only when she felt she could go no further. It was going to be a long trip she knew, but she also felt that her strength, combined with the memories of Thomas and Gabriel, would keep her going. She stopped to rest in the late afternoon, under the shadow and protection of the forest. Only a few miles away was a road, but she didn't want to chance taking it, for fear of the patrollers seeing her. She didn't mean to sleep as long as she did, but when she awoke, it was twilight.
Hannah shivered in the cool air and stood. Now that the sun was nearly gone, she was unsure as to where she was, or where she must go. But in the shadow of the moon she managed to find her way to the very edge of the forest, where the road wound around the bend. She lay her coat on the ground at the foot of a large elm tree and attempted to sleep, though she was restless. She slept till she felt a repetitive sharp poke in her forearm. She opened her eyes an inch and they suddenly flew open as she realized who it was that was poking her. It was a boy, no older than herself, and the poking was being done with his rifle. Hannah stared at him intently, taking in his bright red coat and young face. Though his face was firm and unyielding, in his eyes she saw fear.
As she sat up, the boy stuck the gun near her chest. She leaned back against the tree. There seemed to be almost a staring contest between the two as they looked at each other. Hannah was the first one to gulp and speak. "What do you want? I am a free person. You have no right to do this to me." She said firmly, with only a shadow of a quaver in her voice. The boy seemed surprised at her speech and his grip on the gun lessened slightly. "Who are you for? Your real country? Or these pitiful countrymen?" He asked haughtily. "I am for freedom and justice. That which our king does not show us. Little do you know that those pitiful countrymen are going to take you over and win this war." She said, raising her chin proudly.
The boy scoffed and narrowed his eyes. "So you are a traitor then?" He asked. "I suppose you might say I am. Others however might call me," She paused, searching for the right word. But finally one came to her and she looked up at the boy with a smile. "A patriot." The boy's eyes widened and the gun loosened slightly in his sweaty palms. "A traitor. You could be killed for this you know?" He said harshly. "I do. I'm proud to die for my freedom. Yes, I am." She said quietly, with a small smile. The boy stared at her. "Are you crazy?" He asked, honestly looking at her like he thought what he said. "Perhaps. But haven't you ever wanted to be whatever you want without people ordering you around? If we win this war, we will gain that. We will have the freedom to do as we choose." She said earnestly. He looked at her, and as he did the gun loosened more.
"That's what you colonists are fighting for? How come the King makes it sound like you are merely rebelling because you want his thrown or something along those lines?" He asked, his tone sounding confused. "Because he doesn't want to lose us. If he had his way, he would try to control us forever. From thousands of miles away, ruling us with his insane taxes. Now is that fair? You tell me, who's cause is more righteous?" Hannah asked. The boy's blue eyes glinted and the butt of the gun now rested on the grass. "It seems to be yours. But, but, that's not right! You are the enemies. Not us!" He said, more confused now than ever. "What is your name?" Hannah asked gently. The boy drew back somewhat, but answered her in hushed tones. "Charles." Hannah looked up at him and smiled. "I am Hannah. You see, here with us, we wouldn't question who you are or where you come from. You would be one of us. One of thousands of free peoples Charles." She said earnestly, extending her hand. "It sounds, wonderful." He whispered, taking a step towards her to take her outstretched hand.
It all happened so fast. Hannah didn't have a chance to really react. She thought she heard something out of the corner of her ear, but she dismissed it until Charles' eyes widened and he dropped his gun as his hands grasped at his chest. Hannah jumped up and caught him as he fell. She sat down on the ground, his head in her lap. His eyes were dialated and his breathing became more and more shallow as he stared at her. "I would have loved to be free." He whispered. Finally, his breath was non-existant. Hannah looked up at the trees where the shots were fired.
It was one of the militia. Not one that had traveled with Benjamin's party. She laid the boy on the ground and jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing. "What were you doing? He was going to come to our side!" She yelled. The man shrugged. "British always lie. It doesn't matter what he said. He could have been aimin' to do something different. The least you can do is thank me." He said as he began to walk away. "I will not thank you! You come back here and bury him!" She yelled. The man turned around and scoffed. "I'll never bury a British boy ever. No way in hell it will happen." He snarled as he walked away. Hannah stared angrily back at him before dropping back to the ground. She closed the boy's glazed eyes, folded his hands and stood up. She would have buried him herself had she had the means to do so, but she could only hope and pray that his own men would find him and give him a proper burial.