Chapter 11 A Decision

The large attic of the main house had been renovated and sectioned into small rooms to accommodate the growing number of officers arriving at the fort. Miss Prescott had been moved from Colonel Tavington's room to a new, smaller room in that space on the new third floor.

Tavington was glad to reclaim his old room, for the space and for privacy's sake. Major Bordon was equally glad to get rid of his superior for that same reason. The Major could breathe easier with his commander gone.

Now, Melanie Prescott sat alone on the window seat of her new room looking out over the activity in the fort's courtyard. She was bored.

Recently she had been barred from going into the Colonial Prisoner's Compound to aid the surgeons. Miss Prescott begged for things to do and ways to help around the fort, but had been told that there was enough help with things already. She wondered why the officers and house staff seemed to bristle whenever she wanted to leave her room.

The Generals and officers were nice and well mannered toward the girl and the house servants took care of her every need. Still, she was not used to sitting idly by; she was used to working hard around her family's plantation. She longed for ways to be useful. Her idleness made the long days of war drag slowly by.

Melanie was vexed by the officer's attitudes toward her. She was reassured that she was a guest, yet she wasn't allowed to move about freely. The girl felt like she was a prisoner, though the men insisted she was not. They reinforced to her that she was there to be protected, and her limited freedom was for her own safety and that of the Fort. There was, after all, a war on and prisoners were held nearby.

She felt smothered and hidden away in her lonely room. The boredom, idleness, and her own speculation about the truth of her situation weighed heavily on her mind. All these emotions collided within her, nearly driving her mad.

After Melanie stood and stretched, the lonely girl left her little room and wandered aimlessly about the house. She felt as if she was searching for something—something she couldn't seem to put her finger on.

Downstairs in the parlor, she passed General O'Hara, who gave her a funny look, despite a kindly greeting. In the drawing room, Captain Wentworth, the third officer of the Dragoons, read quietly, yet watched Miss Prescott out of the corner of his eyes. She'd often caught many of the house's occupants watching her when they thought she hadn't noticed it.

Feeling uncomfortable, Melanie made her way back up to her room. Inside the haven of her quarters, she sighed and looked blankly about the room. She felt lost, not knowing what she wanted or needed, or how to get or find it.

Miss Prescott paced about her small lodging for countless minutes. She stopped only after she realized she had been walking around the room in circles.

She sat down once again on the window seat, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them against her body. Then she rocked back and forth mindlessly releasing nervous energy. After a moment of this, her body stopped its motion. The girl laid her head upon her knees and closed her eyes, staying that way, quiet and still, for some time.

Moments later, Melanie opened her eyes and rested her chin upon her curled up knees. She heaved a forlorn sigh.

Within the solitude of her little fortress, thoughts clouded Melanie's mind. She reasoned that she could not go on like this for much longer. She once again questioned whether she was truly a guest or a captive. Wondering how long she would be there, she pondered her fate after the war was over. She reflected upon her dead family and questioned why something so cruel had happened.

Closing her eyes in efforts to force away more tears of grief, she couldn't help but contemplate why she had lived? Other than the obvious reasons of recovery and protection, she tried to imagine if there was another reason why she was there. Though her mind ran wildly away, she couldn't escape the underlying static of one thought: what to do about her current, tedious state?

Then, it came to her. To be able to retain a sense of herself, she could no longer sit there day after day. Melanie knew that she had to find away to get free of Fort Carolina.

After deciding to flee the fort, Miss Prescott then thought about her options. How could she get away and where could she go? Though she pined to go back to her plantation, she knew she must avoid it for they would most certainly look for her there after having found her there once before.

She ruminated that she could chance going North to her Aunt and Uncle Prescott's farm in Gettysburg to hide. Then Melanie remembered that Major Bordon was adept at gleaning information. He surely knew through his intelligence network that she had relatives in Pennsylvania and would check there. She was hopeful, though, that her Uncle and Aunt could find a safe haven for her close by them in which she could wait out the war.

So, she decided to make her way North; it was worth the chance. Now she had to find a way to get out of the fort. Melanie thought a moment about her options.

She could charm her way out of the fort, as she did before. But this was risky, for after being interrogated by Major Bordon after that last 'escape', he'd probably informed the sentries about her and to be careful.

The fort was surrounded by a tall, timber spiked fence—some of it fortified with earthwork redoubts. Miss Prescott wondered if she could go over the fence. Of course, she could use a sheet, knot it at one end, toss that up so that it lands between the spikes and anchors itself. She could then climb up over the fence to freedom. But, on the other hand, she was still a bit stiff and slow moving from her injuries, so she thought she might not make if over the fence in time before getting caught.

Maybe she could squeeze out of a gap in the fence? She tried to remember seeing any weaknesses in the fence row, maybe a hole just wide enough for her to slide between. Unfortunately, when out on her walks, she was seldom allowed close enough to the fence to notice any. Besides, it seemed like there was always someone working on the fence weaknesses, repairing and refortifying it.

Melanie thought about disguising herself again—this time as a soldier. But she'd have to get a uniform. Sneaking into the supply hut was not an option for it was a busy place. The supply officer used it as his quarters, sleeping in there at night.

She wondered if she could steal a uniform from the laundry. No, it was busy most of the time, as well. She could swipe one from an officer's room. That wasn't viable, either, for their doors were usually locked. Even if she could take one from a soldier's quarters, the officers were well known around the fort. Melanie would need to blend in to the masses of young, enlisted soldiers—not stand out like an officer.

Melanie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, her head aching as she thought of ways to escape. She drew in a breath, stretched her legs out in front of her on the window bench, and reclined back.

As she rested back against the wall, Melanie peered out the window again, viewing the activity in the courtyard. The girl saw a covered wagon marked "Devington Mills" on the side, pull up in front of the detached kitchen building. She watched as a man dismounted and went into the structure.

Miss Prescott sat up straight and stared intently at that wagon. Then a grin slowly crossed her face. If she could slip unnoticed into that wagon, she reasoned, then she could stowaway to freedom.

With an idea in mind, she grabbed a gathering basket from beside the fireplace and bolted from her quarters. Once on the first floor, she strode confidently to the main entry. A young sentry standing just outside the door stopped her.

"Good morning, Miss Prescott," he said politely.

"Good morning, sir," she replied sweetly. "May I go out to collect some flowers for my room?"

The soldier looked questioningly at her, then down at her basket, staying silent all the while he did.

Melanie spoke up. "I won't go far. I'll stay near the house. I can gather from the flower beds against this house and by this kitchen."

"Alright," he relented. "But, be quick about it or the Lord General will have my head."

"Thank you," she smiled. "I will." With that, she started down the steps. The girl tried to appear calm but her heart was pounding an anxious beat in her chest.

Melanie soon busied herself pulling flowers. As she did, she positioned herself where she could easily view the wagon. She watched the driver unloading heavy bags of sugar and flour, taking it into the kitchen. No one helped him. Soon, he reappeared with some empty burlap sacks laid over his arm, tossing them into the back of the wagon.

Nonchalantly, Miss Prescott made her way closer to the wagon and driver. He didn't notice her. She knelt down at the flower bed next to the kitchen building close enough to hear the exchanges between the driver and the cooks.

The driver stated that he needed someone to sign the receipts, then went into the cooking building. She noticed he closed the door behind him absently. Melanie figured that he was nearly done with his business and would soon be leaving.

At the same time, shouts about her from the watchtowers got her attention. She knew that a patrol was about to come in through the entrance. With the driver occupied inside and the others' attention turned toward the returning patrol, coupled with the noise of their stampeding horses, she knew this was her chance.

Melanie placed her basket into the foliage, which helped to obscure it, and walked to the wagon. The canvas blocked her from being seen by anyone in front of the wagon. As she heard the gates of the fort open, she looked about cautiously, careful not to draw attention to herself.

An instant later, there were shouts and the stomping of horses. With the din and commotion to shield her and occupy the others, she pulled herself quickly up and into the back of the covered wagon.

She wedged herself in between the heavy bags of sugar and flour. Covering herself with a couple of the empty sacks, she pulled with all her might on two of the loaded bags in order to hide partially beneath them.

There, tucked away neatly beneath the heavy bags, she hid discreetly. She prayed silently for the driver to hurry back and leave, hoping the wagon would not be searched. Melanie waited there for her freedom.

In a couple of moments, the deliveryman reappeared and mounted the wagon, not bothering to look in the back. A minute passed before the wagon pulled away with a jerk. As it did, Melanie smiled to herself, pleased that she was able to initiate another escape with little effort.

But, Miss Prescott wasn't clear of trouble yet. Suddenly, the wagon jolted, then stopped. She swallowed hard and held her breath, trying not to tremble. She heard the gate sentries state that they needed to look in the wagon.

Panicked, Melanie squeezed her eyes shut. "Please don't let them find me," she prayed silently. She heard the booted footsteps of an approaching soldier as they fell upon the ground by the carriage.

The soldier crouched down and looked under the wagon. Then, he peered into the back of wagon. He did not see Melanie, who was perfectly hidden.

After a tense moment, the girl heard the footsteps walking away. "Move out," she heard the soldier say. With that, the wagon rocked forward and moved again.

The sound of the horses hooves and the wagon wheels turning on the ground were a sweet sound to the girl. And hearing the fort gate swing open was the sound of freedom. She breathed easily and relaxed now.

As the wagon left the fort and rolled along, Melanie thought about what to do next. She figured that since a few bags of flour and sugar remained, the driver obviously had another delivery to make.

Melanie decided that she would slip out of the wagon at the next stop. A village would be best, she thought. It would be easier to get a ride North from there.

If the wagon stopped at a farm or plantation, all she could do was hope the owners weren't Loyalists and that they would help her. Whichever was the case, she knew she'd have to rely on the kindness of strangers.

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"What do you mean she's gone?", An angry Tavington exclaimed as jumped up from his desk.

Bordon, who was sitting in the chair across from Will's desk, rolled his eyes. He laid the document he was looking at down on William's desk and stared up at Captain Wentworth.

"We couldn't find her anywhere," the young officer replied. The dragoons' third in charge then held up a basket of flowers, showing it to his superiors as he continued. "We found this. She was last seen by the house sentry and one of the kitchen servants in the flower beds just outside of this house."

The Colonel stayed silent a moment as he fumed. He, Major Bordon, and Miss Prescott were to have joined the Lord General for lunch today, at the General's request. Tavington had sent the Captain to retrieve the girl and escort her to his office. Colonel Tavington wasn't sure if the officer had just overlooked her, or if she had escaped.

The Major rose from his chair. "Did you look everywhere?"

"Yes," Wentworth answered.

"Did you check the Rebel prison camp?" Bordon delved.

"No. We didn't, sir," the Captain replied.

Tavington interrupted, turning back to Bordon. "I thought you made it clear to her not to go in there again?"

"I did," Alex argued. "But I suspect she still wanders in there sometimes."

Tavington heaved a frustrated sigh and turned away from his two underlings. He calmed himself, trying not to panic.

Turning back to face the officers, he gave his orders. "Search the grounds again, including the rebel compound. Gather a few men to help you."

"Yes Sir," Wentworth obeyed. He then bowed his head, turned, and left the room. Bordon began to follow him out when he was halted.

"Hold on, Major," Will requested.

"Sir?" Alex turned back to face William.

"Get a few of the dragoons. Meet me at the gate saddled and ready to ride."

"Oh, you don't think she's escaped again, do you?" Bordon asked in disbelief coupled with dread.

"I think that where there's a will, there's a way," Tavington remarked. "We'll split up the group and search the area around here. She can't be far if she was just seen."

A few minutes later, Colonel Tavington stood on the front lawn of the main house with his helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes randomly followed pairs of his men looking about for Miss Prescott. General Charles O'Hara stood next to him, watching as well after having been apprised of the situation.

A moment later, O'Hara bid William good luck and went to make apologies to Cornwallis for his absent lunch guests. He also planned to try to smooth things over with the Lord General. A grateful Tavington thanked him.

Just after O'Hara left, Will looked back to see Bordon talking with Captain Wentworth and a few of the dragoons. He raised his eyes and saw some of the horses assembled near the gate. A few of the men were preparing to ride out.

Tavington donned his helmet and walked toward the group. As he neared them they began to disperse, having been dismissed by Major Bordon.

As Bordon barked orders to mount horses, Tavington walked not toward them, but to the gate sentry instead. Alex watched his commander curiously as he did.

"Private," Will began in a clipped tone, "Have any carriages or wagons left here recently?"

"Yes," answered the sentry. "Just one."

The corners of Tavington's mouth crept up into a subtle, pleased smile. He raised his eyebrows as his blue eyes twinkled with satisfaction. Then he spoke.

"What did it look like?"

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Outside the fort, William ordered the men to split into two groups. He asked Lieutenant Scott to head one of the groups and break it down into smaller pairings and search the woods and fields immediately around the fort. Tavington and Bordon took a handful of men and headed down the Cascadia Road—the familiar road that led to the Prescott plantation .

After a few moments of moving at an easy trot to warm the horses' legs up, they slowed to a walk. All sets of eyes scanned the woods on either side of the road for movement, with all ears listening for it as well.

A minute later, Bordon broke the silence, talking in a hushed voice to his commander. "Colonel, we're not going to her plantation, are we?"

"No," answered William. "She's smart enough not to hide there."

Will paused for a moment to look back behind him at the men. He turned forward again in his saddle and in a resolute voice stated simply, "We're looking for a wagon."

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Melanie's eyelids were heavy as she laid secure amongst the wagon's cargo. The steady rhythm of the carriage was lulling her to sleep. She fought to keep her eyes open, but to no avail. She soon nodded off.

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Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon saw a covered wagon on the road ahead of them. Bordon signaled the men to keep silent. The bunch rode on at a steady pace, soon catching the wagon.

Once alongside of it, Tavington motioned the wagon's driver to stop. Bordon did the same for the men. As all came to a stop, William pointed his pistol at the driver and nodded for him to dismount the wagon. The deliveryman was scared, but understood and complied with the Redcoat officer's silent request. The driver had been through this inconvenience before, resigning himself to the hassle of contraband searches for as long as this war would last.

The other Dragoons, still silent and mounted on their steeds, covered the wagon with their guns, watching for any movement in the back of the thing. As they did, Major Bordon dismounted quietly and pulled the driver away from the carriage.

"We need to search your wagon," Bordon stated in a very low voice. He then pointed his weapon at the driver, motioning him to stay quiet and raise his hands in the air. The driver obeyed and stayed silent as he watched the cavalry go to their business.

Colonel Tavington dismounted his beast in a whisper. Then, he stalked slowly and quietly around to the back of the wagon, careful not even to let his spurs jingle.

Melanie woke up disoriented, realizing she had fallen asleep on her ride. She hadn't been asleep for long when the feeling that the wagon was no longer moving awakened her. The girl shook off her sleep, excited to get out of her cramped little hiding place. Staying still a moment, she listened cautiously and wondered where they were.

The stowaway could hear a horse's whinny and the stomping of its feet, but no other noise. Melanie knew it was too quiet to be a village, and she heard no farm animals for it to be a plantation.

Hearing only the sound of the woods, she could only assume that the driver had stopped to relieve himself. Miss Prescott decided to stay put for a few minutes, wanting to wait for the driver to come back to see what he would do next.

Melanie soon heard footsteps and was relieved, thinking the driver was on his way back to the wagon. But, she held her breath as the steps moved toward the back of the carriage where she was hiding.

Suddenly, the flour bag she had pulled over herself was ripped away. Melanie looked up with wide eyes to see Colonel Tavington glaring down at her from the back of the wagon. Her breath caught in her throat, rendering her shocked and speechless.

"Good day, Miss Prescott," he greeted in a snide manner. "So, tell me, were you just out for a pleasure ride, or have you taken up delivery as an occupation?"

Melanie's face and neck turned red with embarrassment and shame. She said nothing back to him and cast her eyes downwards. She wished she could slink back underneath the heavy bags of flour lying beside her.

William reached in to the back of the wagon and took Melanie's hand. He then helped her out of the wagon, where two dragoons on horses were pointing pistols down at her. She dared not run.

Major Bordon, seeing all this from the front of the wagon where he held his gun on the driver, dismissed the man. The officer then walked back to join the others behind the wagon.

As Tavington climbed up into his saddle again, he calmly gave orders. "Bind her hands, then bring her to me."

Bordon, still walking to the back, grabbed a cord off his saddle as he passed his horse. He met Miss Prescott at the back of the wagon. He felt a little sorry for her as she looked scared, but he was irritated at her as was his commander for this was the second time she'd run away—the second time they had to look for her.

He directed the dragoons to put away their guns, then firmly took Melanie's thin wrists in one of his hands. With the other, Alex twisted the cord quickly about them, binding her like a captive.

She could tell by his speed that Major Bordon had probably bound dozens of people before her, for he was good and quick at it. Burning with humiliation, she looked down at the ground, then closed her eyes.

Alex Bordon took the bit of lead on the rope and pulled her behind him to his commander. Once there, he lifted her with strong arms up by the waist to his superior. William grasped her and pulled her over on to the saddle in front of him. He said nothing as he watched his second in command get back on his animal.

Bordon gave the signal for the dragoons to move out, leaving a confused delivery driver behind them to puzzle over the situation. When they were out of earshot of the wagon, Tavington spoke.

"Now, Miss," he began, "I believe we have a luncheon engagement with General Cornwallis."

Melanie sighed and looked away from him. Will took hold of her chin with his fingers and gently guided her head back around to look at his face.

Then, he sneered, "I'm afraid you're going to have to explain to the Lord General why we're late!"