The Stranger: Chapter 3
by Rose Baker
Mingo felt dazed and confused. He tried to sit up, but collapsed back to the ground. He winced with the pain. Tentatively his hand reached for his temple. It came away sticky with blood. Mingo frowned as his hand traveled down the back of his head, checking for other tender spots.
His long, sleek hair had been cropped short.
Mingo tried to sit up again and this time succeeded. He leaned against a tall tree and closed his eyes. His mind was awhirl with jumbled images and memories. Like cogs in a clock, they suddenly slotted into place. He remembered his early life among the Cherokee, and later when he lived in England. He recalled the return journey to his home in America, and the acceptance back into the tribe's life as a Cherokee warrior. Mingo thought of his friends, the tall thoughtful, Daniel Boone and Rebecca, his wife, with her beautiful red hair and fierce stubbornness. He smiled when he thought of dear quiet, obedient Jemima, and little Israel with his mop of white-blond hair.
At this Mingo gasped and opened his eyes. 'Israel', he thought, 'Israel Browning!' Suddenly, a torrent of memories of the recent past threatened to overwhelm him: The attack of the militia at the Ohio River. Awaking in the Browning's cabin. Charlotte, her children, and his new life as William Browning. Mingo looked down at his clothes. He was dressed as a settler in breeches, boots, a shirt, waistcoat and jacket. Why hadn't Charlotte told him about his Cherokee clothes? Was she the one who had cut his hair?
Why had she lied?
Before he had much time to dwell on these questions, he heard a loud shout from below. Holding onto the tree for support, Mingo rose to his feet. The bright moonlight illuminated the scene before him. He stood on a rise next the river. There was a road running at a right angle to his position. Where the road met the river there was a long, low wooden bridge covered with splintered pieces of timber and clods of wet grass and soil. A group of British soldiers was there, leading two men toward their camp on the far side of the road.
Mingo recognized the men. They were Daniel and Jericho. And they had been taken captive. He knew he must rescue them quickly.
If the British found out what a prize they had, Daniel and Jericho would not last long. They would be shot as traitors.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Daniel and Jericho were being interrogated in a large tent on the edge of the British encampment. They stood with their hands tied behind their backs. Before them paced a British officer who had introduced himself as Major Coles. The Major was very agitated and frustrated by his lack of progress. He came right up to Daniel, stopping mere inches from him. Unfortunately the effect was almost comical as the Major was rather short and ended up level with Daniel's chest.
"Why will you not tell me your names? If you are what you say you are, innocent bystanders, then why were you running?" the major demanded.
Looking as innocent as possible Daniel replied evenly, "Well, with a bunch of vicious looking soldiers, armed with muskets, running after you, wouldn't you run, Major?"
"Enough of these games!" the Major spat. "I will finish the interrogation in the morning." He had been about to turn and leave when a sergeant entered the tent. The sergeant was about fifty, with darkly-tanned skin. From his appearance it was obvious he had spent many years in America. He smartly saluted Major Coles.
"Excuse me, Sir? Lieutenant Thompson suggested I report to you about the prisoners. Sir!"
"Yes, sergeant what is it?" Major Coles asked.
"Well, Sir.... Perhaps outside would be more appropriate," he suggested, nodding toward the prisoners.
Before Major Coles could reply, his aide, Lieutenant Thompson, entered the tent as well. "Sorry to interrupt your interrogation, Major, but the men have searched this side of the riverbank and have not found any other possible saboteurs. I would like to suggest we try the opposite side of the river. There is nothing to say that, if there were others, they might not have gone in the opposite direction of the settlement. They may have thought to fool us."
"Good suggestion, Thompson," Major Coles replied, tapping his fingers against the small desk next to him. "Please proceed with a search party while the moon is still out."
"One other matter, Sir. Has the Sergeant told you about these men here?" Lieutenant Thompson asked. Dan could see that Thompson was young and keen to make a good impression on his commanding officer.
"No, not yet. What about them?"
Both senior officers turned toward the Sergeant. The enlisted man, who had been standing at attention the whole time, said, "I believe one of the prisoners is the legendary Daniel Boone, Sir."
"Really, and how did you come to that conclusion?" the Major asked, sighing with impatience. "This had better be good, Sergeant. I am tired. The night's events have nearly proven disastrous. We are fortunate that the bridge was not been completely destroyed. If it had been, we would surely be spending another five years in this appalling wilderness."
The sergeant listened to his commander's tirade and then proceeded with his proof. "From a description I heard when I was stationed in the 64th, I believe this man is Boone. A chum of mine saw Daniel Boone back then. He said he was extremely tall, wore a coonskin cap, and carried an extra long rifle. This prisoner, Sir, would be the spitting image. Sir!" The sergeant smiled proudly, displaying a mouthful of missing teeth.
Major Coles looked at Dan and Jericho. He thanked, and then dismissed the Sergeant. After he had gone, Major Coles turned to Daniel and said, "Well, well. Mr. Boone is it?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Mingo quietly made his way toward the British camp. He was beginning to formulate a rough plan of how he would rescue Daniel and Jericho. He was distracted from thinking about it when he noticed a short figure scurrying through the trees close to the road. The British soldiers were busy exploring the far side of the river. He could see them in the moonlight, with their scarlet and white uniforms. This man was attempting to remain concealed. Mingo hid from sight as the man moved past him on his way to the bridge. As he passed by, Mingo noticed it was Joseph from the tavern. The bridge was still standing. Joseph must be bravely attempting to complete the task of blowing it up.
Mingo quickly altered his plans. He had to check on Joseph before rescuing Daniel and Jericho. He approached the bridge from the upstream side, out of sight from the camp. Mingo stopped and watched Joseph group the remaining barrels around the main bridge support. The bridge's foundations had been weakened considerably. It would not take much more powder to demolish the structure. The fast flowing river would complete the task.
As Mingo came under the bridge, he whispered, "Joseph, it's William."
Joseph nearly jumped out of his skin with fright. "William? What are you doing here?"
"I thought you might need some help from a fellow patriot," Mingo grinned.
"I didn't know you supported the cause, William," Joseph said.
"Well, you could say I have been in hiding, waiting for the opportune time to show my patriotism," Mingo whispered as he moved closer to the older man. Joseph had sheen of sweat on his face and was shaking slightly. Mingo wondered whether the store-keep's nerve would hold out.
"How do I know you're not with the British?" Joseph quizzed, his voice breaking.
"You will just have to take my word for it, Joseph. I have been watching for over the past hour as you helped Daniel Boone and Jericho Jones set up the powder. You had kept the powder stored in a disused lean-to under that briar bush." Mingo indicated the bush behind him. "If I was a spy, would I not have already told the British what you planned? I had plenty of time to raise the alarm. Besides, Daniel and Jericho have been taken prisoner, and I plan to free them. But before I attempt that task, let me help you here."
"All right, I'll believe you, but how do you know Daniel Boone and Jericho?" Joseph asked.
Mingo smiled at the older man who was clearly relieved to have some help, but still a little unsure of this tall man with the English accent whom he knew as William Browning.
"I'm originally from Boonesborough, and Daniel Boone is a very good friend of mine. I owe him my life many times over. So whether I get your help or not, I intend to rescue Daniel and Jericho. If I can finish their mission of blowing up the bridge, all the better," Mingo replied as he bent to pick up the nearest barrel of powder.
He and Joseph worked quickly, positioning the barrels where they would do the most damage, at the base of the bridge pylons. Mingo then laid a trail of loose powder to act as a fuse. When he had completed the task, Mingo turned to Joseph and said, "I think we might delay blowing the bridge for a short while. I can use it as a diversion to free Daniel and Jericho. Would you give me about thirty minutes?"
Joseph thought a moment and then nodded. "Very well. I see no harm in that. And thanks, William." He took his hand and shook it and then added, "Good luck. Daniel Boone struck me as a good man. I would hate to feel responsible if the British shot him and his young friend."
Mingo nodded. "That would be a immense loss."
Patting Joseph on the shoulder, Mingo left the bridge and stole toward the camp. Pausing briefly, he looked behind him before crossing the road. A chill ran up his spine at what he saw. Two small figures were walking quickly along the road, headed for the bridge.
Israel and Mary Browning.
What where they doing out at this time of night? And alone?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Israel, Ma is gonna to kill us when she finds out we've come here!" Mary complained. She was cold and frightened. The moon had not remained out the whole time and, when it disappeared behind a cloud, the night was pitch black. Mary jumped at every slight noise. "I'll get you back for this, Israel," she growled.
"You're just being a girl," her brother answered.
Mary knew Israel was just as frightened as she was, but since this had been his idea, there was no way he was gonna own up to it.
"Come on, the bridge is just there," Israel said. "That explosion must have come from the camp. Maybe the soldiers were using the cannon. I could have seen it, if you weren't so slow and didn't whine all the time, Mary!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The moon was a large bright cream ball, hanging low in the sky. It's light struck the bridge and the water beneath it like a beam from a lantern. They were standing on the bridge now. Mary looked down between the cracks in the planking that covered the structure and thought she saw someone silhouetted against the river. Someone was hiding beneath the bridge.
"Look, Israel! Down there!" Mary voice rose with fear as she pointed at the water below them. "There's a man!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Torn between rescuing his friends and keeping the children out of danger, Mingo hesitated. Mary and Israel had already reached the bridge and were standing looking down at the river. A group of British soldiers had appeared and were running now, away from the camp and toward the bridge.
They must have seen the children.
"Stop!" he heard a British soldier order. The children looked up, startled.
Mingo started to run. He wasn't far. If he sprinted, he should just overtake the soldiers before they reached the bridge -- and the children.
"Israel and Mary!", he shouted as he drew abreast the soldiers. "Where on earth have you been? Your mother and I have been absolutely worried sick!"
Mingo knew he had to get the children, and hopefully the soldiers away from the bridge. He stopped short with the soldiers next to him. He ignored their curious stares and pretended to breath heavily, as if winded. He shouted again and signaled to Israel and Mary. "Come here, right now! I have been looking for you two for hours. Just wait until you get home. Now come here. Can't you see that you are taking these soldiers away from other important work?"
Israel and Mary jumped with joy when they saw him, but then walked toward him with their heads down. Mingo felt awful. He had never yelled at them in such a way before. Normally he was good-natured and soft spoken. He knew they would think he was angry with them now.
As they walked toward him, Mingo turned to the soldiers. He pretended again to be out of breath. "I am so very sorry to have caused any trouble. Mary and Israel are normally very well behaved, but you know what children can be like. Always curious." He favored them with a chagrinned smile.
"No problem, Mister. I've got children of my own back home. Always getting into mischief they are," one of the soldiers replied. "But, if you have been out looking for your children tonight, tell me.... Have you seen anyone acting suspiciously?"
"Anyone acting suspiciously? Well, now you mention it, I did see someone sneaking about on the other side of the river," Mingo lied. "Is this about that explosion?"
"Yes, some rebel tried to blow up the bridge tonight."
"The bridge you say? That was very daring. Who would have the nerve to do something like that? Honestly, these rebels just don't know what's good for them," Mingo said earnestly.
By now Israel and Mary had nearly reached them. Mingo was worried that the children had seen Joseph and might say something. He was also worried that the store-keep was about to blow up the bridge any second.
Before they came too close, Mingo turned to the soldiers and said, "Well, we must be off, their mother will be at her wits' end." He walked up to the children and said in a very angry tone, "Come on! And I do not want any excuses! We must get home as soon as possible."
"But, William, we were just wanting to look at the cannon," Israel whined, sounding like his sister.
"No, excuses!" Mingo replied loudly and hustled them off, keen to get moving.
"But, Cousin William, I saw someone under the bridge" Mary sniffled quietly.
Mingo glanced back at the soldiers, hoping none had heard her comment. He saw no reaction, and so waved his 'good-byes' to them. Raising his voice again he told the children, "Just wait until you get home. I do not want to hear another word out of either of you!"
Mary was crying by now, clearly upset by his angry tone. Mingo felt terrible, but it was for their own good. They had to get them to a safe place, and quickly. He picked up his pace as he moved them away. Both children were dragging their feet. Taking each one by the hand, he said brusquely, "Come on, now. Quickly. No dawdling!"
They rounded the slight rise and left the bridge behind. As the trees closed around them, he knew they were hidden from the sight of the soldiers. Checking to make sure no one was around, he pulled the children to a halt.
"I'm really sorry, Cousin William," whimpered a frightened Israel.
Mingo turned and knelt down in front of the two children. He hugged both of them and said in a gentle tone, "No, I am sorry. I did not intend to frighten you, but I had to get you away from the bridge as quickly as possible. I cannot explain why, but it is very dangerous to be there right now."
"Cousin William, I did see a man under the bridge," Mary insisted.
Mingo looked into her tear-stained face. He felt appalled for having made her cry. "I know. I was worried that you had. I did not want you to tell the soldiers about him."
"Why? We heard an explosion," Israel said. Then he frowned. "Did someone try to blow up the bridge?"
"Yes, but they did not succeed. They are going to try again, and you need to be as far away from here as possible when they do."
"Do you think they are rebels?" Israel looked at Mingo with his large, round eyes.
With a sigh, Mingo replied, "They might be. But whoever they are, this is no place for children." He looked at each of them in turn. "Now you must promise me something. It is very important."
Both Israel and Mary nodded, and said in unison. "We promise."
"I need you stay here, under this tree, and wait for me. I could be a little while, but I do not want you walking back home by yourself."
"Why? Where will you be, Cousin William?" Mary asked, wiping tears from her face.
"There is something I have to do. If I am not back by first light, you must walk home by yourselves. Promise me, please."
"You're with the rebels, aren't you?" gasped Israel.
Mingo could see he was shocked. Charlotte had told him the boy's father supported the English. Israel naturally assumed Nathan's cousin would as well. He knew Israel had been in fights with other boys whose fathers supported the rebels.
Mingo could lie if he had too, but he often found it hard. And lying to children was the most difficult thing of all. However, if he was captured and identified as William Browning, life could prove very difficult for both the children and Charlotte. They might be questioned.
If they knew nothing, they should not be in danger.
In a stern, but calm voice Mingo answered, "I cannot say. Just please promise me that you will wait here. And wait only for me. If anyone else comes looking, hide as best you can. Please remember, if I am not back by first light, you must make your own way home. I'm very sorry that I cannot stay, but I really must leave now."
He made them comfortable as possible under the tree. Before leaving, he looked them each in the face, and then leaned forward and kissed the top of their heads. He walked a few paces away, but then stopped and turned back to wave goodbye.
Mary and Israel were nestled together looking very frightened and wary. He felt a lump come into his throat at they huddled together.
He could only trust that he would see them again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A few dozen British soldiers searched upstream, while another dozen or so combed the banks of the river downstream. Their leather boots trampled the ground; breaking twigs and crunching loose pebbles and dirt. Stealth was not something at which these British soldiers excelled, Mingo mused as he watched from behind a fallen tree. He guessed they must be newly arrived from England. Their scarlet coats, along with their pure white breeches, were bright and clean from lack of use. He also sensed about them a fear of this strange land with its unfamiliar plants; noises and smells. Their search pattern was very haphazard. They moved in and out of the shadows very quickly, as if they were reluctant to venture too far into undergrowth, which the moonlight could not penetrate.
Their apprehension could work to his advantage, he realized, as he needed to get to the rear of the British camp. If he stayed nearer the river and hugged the shadows, he should be safe. This would also provide an ideal escape route. The ability to move quickly and silently had been born in him. And, even though he was half-English, his Cherokee ancestors guided his every move. He knew instinctively when someone was near. Knew how to take advantage of the wind rustling the foliage so it would hide the sound of his movements, and how to remain still when there was silence and no wind stirred the carpet of leaves. At times, this night, the soldiers came so close he could smell the pungent mixture of sweat and leather and fear.
Yet they had no idea he was there.
In this way, Mingo edged forward. When he reached the clearing that contained the British encampment, he silently made his way from tent to tent. The commanding officer's tent was sure to be among the largest and also the most well lit. Finally, he spotted it. Against the bright interior, he could see the cast shadows of three figures. There was a short man who paced up and down. Near the back wall of the tent, standing, was one very tall man, and next to him a shorter companion. Both had their hands behind their backs as if bound. The wind that ruffled Mingo's short hair, caused the walls of the tent to billow in slightly, which in turn made the candles inside flicker and dim. Mingo glanced at the tent's entrance. Two guards were stationed there, standing to attention. He looked around the camp. Even though there were two search parties out, a good number of soldiers remained in the camp. He couldn't stay where he was very long without being discovered. He had an idea of how to free his friends, but it depended on Joseph successfully destroying the bridge. If Joseph was late, even by a minute, the plan would not work.
Mingo started to move forward. He headed toward the guards. Once there, he drew his knife. Suddenly, footsteps approached. Just in time he retreated behind a darkened, neighboring tent. Four soldiers walked close by to his left. Waiting there, flattened against the canvas, he heard others approaching from the opposite direction. His options were few, and so Mingo decided to dart around the corner. He dived under the loose side wall of one of the tents, praying its occupants were a part of the search party.
Fortunately it was empty. The tent appeared to house four soldiers. Mingo rummaged in the darkness, going through their kits and packs, hoping they had left a stray uniform or two behind -- and that not all of the tents occupants were short of stature. The cuffs of the first coat he tried on only came half way between his elbows and wrists. He tried another with a similar result. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he tried the third. Though still on the short side, the fit was acceptable.
No one would notice that it was slightly too small in the dark of night.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Daniel and Jericho had been standing the whole time of the interrogation. Major Coles was enjoying their discomfort, but had made little real progress. He let out a long slow breath and said. "Now once again, what were you doing in the area of the bridge? You know, you could both be shot as spies? If you tell me what I would like to know, then we may be able to come to some agreement."
Capturing the famous Daniel Boone was a wonderful coup, Coles knew, but if he captured his compatriots, it could even mean a promotion. Coles turned to the younger man and looked him up and down. The youth was clearly some uneducated Colonial oaf. Perhaps he was the weak link. He had been told his name was 'Jericho'. The young man only echoed what Daniel Boone said. He doubted he knew too much, but still, he might prove useful.
The Major was not a barbaric person, but 'needs as must at times' was his motto, and this was such a time.
"I'm mighty sorry Major, but I can't add anything to what we've already told you, " Daniel replied evenly.
"Yeah, we ain't telling you nothin' more," Jericho echoed again.
The Major paced, looking thoughtful. "Now, let's see. Why would the famous Daniel Boone be in this area?'" The Major stopped, turned, and pulled on the front lapels off his brilliant red uniform. "I've been told the hunting season is not due to start for at least another two to three months," he said. "So, maybe you are here...to blow up a bridge?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you Major," Daniel answered, shifting his feet. "Me and Jericho are just here scouting the area for 'possible' hunting. That's all."
"Yeah!" Jericho added, rather too loudly.
Major Coles came up to stand before the tall gangly, younger man. He looked straight in his eyes. "You don't like the British much, do you?"
"'Course, I don't. My father was a bond servant and was killed in cold blood by a cowardly British soldier," Jericho replied.
"Really? Is that why you look at me as if I was some kind of vermin?" the Major asked, as he looked Jericho up and down as if he was some kind of vermin.
"That's right. All British soldiers are murderers, and don't belong in our country," Jericho responded, growing more and more angry.
"Well, I'm not surprised a fellow subject of the crown killed your father, especially if he was anything like his son." The major smiled and perched himself on the edge of his desk. He then proceeded to straighten his lace cuffs.
"My father was hard workin' and honest. Not like you, with your fancy lace and powdered wig. I hate the British."
"Hate us? Enough to destroy British property, you stupid illiterate fool?" sneered the Major.
Daniel was growing concerned. The major seemed to be deliberately bating Jericho. He opened his mouth to say something. Unfortunately, Jericho got there first.
"I ain't no illiterate fool. I can read real good," Jericho proclaimed loudly, his brown hair flopping into his eyes. He flicked his head angrily to clear his vision, since his hands were still tied.
" 'Real good'," mimicked Major Coles. "I suspect you are so stupid, boy, that you wouldn't even know how to blow up a bridge." He laughed while continuing to straighten his lace.
" 'Course, we do. It was easy!", Jericho shouted.
Daniel quickly interrupted. "Jericho here gets kind of heated at times about the British. I wouldn't worry too much about what he says. He's just young and a mite hot-headed."
"No, Mr. Boone. I heard your young friend quite clearly. He said, and I quote, " 'Course, we do. It was easy." Coles met Boone's eyes. "That sounds like an admission of guilt to me."
Jericho met Daniel's eyes and mouthed the word -- sorry.
Major Coles saw it. "This young man has given me everything I require," the major said as he stood and turned toward Daniel. "Are you certain you do not want to change your story?"
"Nope, don't reckon I do. Jericho's mouth might get carried away at times, but like I said, we had nothin' to do with the bridge.".
"So you are going to stick to your story, Mr. Boone?"
"Yep. That, I am." Daniel Boone adopted a blank, infuriating expression. The major suspected Boone was sorely tempted to kick the young man.
Jericho Jones, on the other hand, looked very dejected.
The Major stared at them a moment and then walked around his desk and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a flintlock pistol, checked to see if it was loaded, and then deliberately walked toward Jericho.
"I think I have all I need from this young man," he said as he approached him and brought the weapon close to the side Jericho's head.
As he cocked the pistol Coles looked at the tall man and said, "Your decision, Mr. Boone?"
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