Chapter 3
In the next day or so, Spot's family received a letter from him. It read:
My Family, "Though many seasons have passed, it seems like only yesterday when we last saw each other in Charleston. It was with great sadness that I learned of it'' recent fall to the British under General Lord Cornwallis. I received a letter from Grandma telling me she had closed her home in Charleston, after the city fell, and moved her plantation on the Santee. Here in the north, our campaign has been marked by defeat and privation. Our losses have been grievous. My good friend, Thomas Martin, fell at Elizabeth Town. His death has been difficult to bear. We are told that soon we will march south to fight the redcoats under Cornwallis. I envy you, your youth and your destines from this cruel conflict from which I am a part. But, I consider myself forcing to be serving the cause of liberty. And though I fear death, each day in prayer I refer my willingness if necessary, to give my life in it's service. Pray for me, but above all, pray for the cause."
Your loving son and brother, Spot
That night, the distant sound of gunfire and yelling could be heard. Spot's father walked out onto the porch with Anthony close behind.
"Six pounders, lot's of them."
"How far away?" Anthony asked.
"Oh, they're a long way off, they're most likely headed in the other direction."
"Let's go into the house."
Spot had been in the battle that took place that night. He had managed to hide and get out of the fighting without getting wounded. Since his house wasn't far, he rode off. When he got there, he opened up the door and walked in, gun in hand.
A crack of a pistol's hammer caused Mother and Anthony to look up in fright.
"Slowly turn" Spot's Father said.
Spot dropped his weapon and put his hands in the air. He turned around to see his father's face go pale.
"Spot!" "What were you trying to do, give me a heart attack?"
"Father, have you seen any red coats?"
"No, not yet."
Anthony and Mother came in.
Mother hugged me and Anthony asked me, "Where was the battle, were you there?"
"Yes, I managed to escape before I got killed!"
From our bedroom windows that night, Anthony and I watched a war scene. Almost every soldier of ours died. With the firing and yelling stopping, we tried to get some sleep.
The Next Morning
All day, we helped both British and American soldiers. We brought them onto our porch and gave them medical attention. Then, more than 1,000 British soldiers walked across the field and over to our house. The General approached Father.
"Thank you for the care of his majesty's soldiers."
Father nodded.
Colonel Tavington and the Green Dragoons then showed up.
"Luteniant, have our wounded be taken to our surgeons in Wilmsbrough." "Fire the house and barns." "Let it be known that if you help the enemy, you will loose your home."
I then heard my father say under his breath, "Bastard." Tavington then took out his pistol and shot my father in the chest. My mother caught him as he landed in her arms. Anthony ran to his side. I took his hand.
"I'm sorry, father."
"...I ...love you all..."
I looked up at Colonel Tavigton with tears coming down my face.
"Someone should have taught him some respect!"
Tavington had now killed 2 people that I loved. I wouldn't let it happen again. With the smoke from our house burning all around, I wanted to seek revenge!
In the next day or so, Spot's family received a letter from him. It read:
My Family, "Though many seasons have passed, it seems like only yesterday when we last saw each other in Charleston. It was with great sadness that I learned of it'' recent fall to the British under General Lord Cornwallis. I received a letter from Grandma telling me she had closed her home in Charleston, after the city fell, and moved her plantation on the Santee. Here in the north, our campaign has been marked by defeat and privation. Our losses have been grievous. My good friend, Thomas Martin, fell at Elizabeth Town. His death has been difficult to bear. We are told that soon we will march south to fight the redcoats under Cornwallis. I envy you, your youth and your destines from this cruel conflict from which I am a part. But, I consider myself forcing to be serving the cause of liberty. And though I fear death, each day in prayer I refer my willingness if necessary, to give my life in it's service. Pray for me, but above all, pray for the cause."
Your loving son and brother, Spot
That night, the distant sound of gunfire and yelling could be heard. Spot's father walked out onto the porch with Anthony close behind.
"Six pounders, lot's of them."
"How far away?" Anthony asked.
"Oh, they're a long way off, they're most likely headed in the other direction."
"Let's go into the house."
Spot had been in the battle that took place that night. He had managed to hide and get out of the fighting without getting wounded. Since his house wasn't far, he rode off. When he got there, he opened up the door and walked in, gun in hand.
A crack of a pistol's hammer caused Mother and Anthony to look up in fright.
"Slowly turn" Spot's Father said.
Spot dropped his weapon and put his hands in the air. He turned around to see his father's face go pale.
"Spot!" "What were you trying to do, give me a heart attack?"
"Father, have you seen any red coats?"
"No, not yet."
Anthony and Mother came in.
Mother hugged me and Anthony asked me, "Where was the battle, were you there?"
"Yes, I managed to escape before I got killed!"
From our bedroom windows that night, Anthony and I watched a war scene. Almost every soldier of ours died. With the firing and yelling stopping, we tried to get some sleep.
The Next Morning
All day, we helped both British and American soldiers. We brought them onto our porch and gave them medical attention. Then, more than 1,000 British soldiers walked across the field and over to our house. The General approached Father.
"Thank you for the care of his majesty's soldiers."
Father nodded.
Colonel Tavington and the Green Dragoons then showed up.
"Luteniant, have our wounded be taken to our surgeons in Wilmsbrough." "Fire the house and barns." "Let it be known that if you help the enemy, you will loose your home."
I then heard my father say under his breath, "Bastard." Tavington then took out his pistol and shot my father in the chest. My mother caught him as he landed in her arms. Anthony ran to his side. I took his hand.
"I'm sorry, father."
"...I ...love you all..."
I looked up at Colonel Tavigton with tears coming down my face.
"Someone should have taught him some respect!"
Tavington had now killed 2 people that I loved. I wouldn't let it happen again. With the smoke from our house burning all around, I wanted to seek revenge!