A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) (29 page)

“Stay close to me, Finn,” Noah said softly, his boots making a sucking noise in the mud.  The five of them were slowly making their way through the swamp, laden with barrels of tar and gunpowder.  The moon was the only source of light, making the swamp look eerie in the darkness, the bare branches of trees resembling skeletal limbs reaching to claim their victims and take them to the watery underworld.  Finn’s feet were soaked through, cold and slimy.  He lost his footing a few times and nearly fell into the swamp, rescued only by the strong arm of Peter, who yanked him out by sheer force.  The dark outline of the fort wall was already visible through the trees, the sharpened spikes piercing the sky at equal intervals. 

As Davey predicted, there were no guards on the side of the woods.  Luck
ily for them, the British hadn’t had time to construct any watchtowers, leaving themselves unprotected.  Noah held up his hand, listening to the sounds of the nighttime forest.  Frogs were croaking wildly in the swamp, crickets and other insects making an incessant hum, but all was relatively quiet inside the fort.  There was the occasional sound of a snorting horse, or the flapping of canvas from a tent, but the majority of the camp seemed to be asleep. 

The men fanned out along the perimeter of the wall, dousing the wood with tar and pouring some whale oil at the base.  As Finn got closer to the front
, he heard the murmur of conversation coming from the guards at the gate.  They were stomping their feet to keep warm and smoking to pass the time.  It was still several hours till dawn, the sky as black as the tar Finn was spreading.  He hastily turned back, afraid of alerting the guards to his presence.  Finally, the job was done.  The men reconvened by the back door, which they left unmarred.  It might be a way in, so best not to set it on fire.  Noah motioned for the men to retreat into the forest as he struck the flint several times, lighting a taper.  He held the taper to the oil, watching as the flame spread with a whoosh, lighting the tar.  Hungry tongues of flame licked the dry wood of the wall, devouring everything in their path.  Thankfully, it hadn’t rained in the past few days, leaving the wood nice and dry.  Noah joined them in the woods, watching and waiting.  With any luck, it would take the British some time to realize their fort was burning.  The guards at the front would not see the flames for some time, and the brisk wind helped fan the flames as well as mask the smell of burning.  The men waited, silent and tense, to see what would happen.  They had no idea where the prisoners were held, or if they were out in the open or locked up in some shack, possibly fettered.  At this point, there was no telling which way the rescue mission would go. 

As the minutes ticked by, Noah began to relax slightly, smiling at them in the darkness. 
Every passing minute gave them more chance of success as the fire spread, devouring the outer wall.  It was nearly a quarter of an hour before they finally heard a cry of alarm within the fort.  Within moments, the cry of one man became a din of noise as men hastily rose from their beds, dressing and grabbing for their weapons.  The sound of hundreds of boots hitting the dirt was thunderous as orders were shouted inside the fort, but the words were impossible to hear, carried away by the wind.  All they had to do now was wait and see what the British would do.

Several spyglasses appeared among the sharpened spikes, trying to peer into the darkness to determine what was
happening, but all they would see would be the silent, dark forest.  There were sounds of running and shouting within the fort, but the gates remained shut for the time being.   Finn felt a terrible anxiety coursing through him.  They’d done a fine job of firing the wall, but now what?  The prisoners were still inside.  He shifted from foot to foot trying to relieve the stress.

“Stay calm,” Noah whispered to him.  “It will take time.
  We must bide our time and be ready to strike when the moment is right.”

“What if they just shoot them?” Finn asked, fearing for Sam.  Noah just shrugged his shoulders.  “I can’t imagine that would be their priority at the moment, but
anything is possible I suppose.” 

Finn just stared at him in shock.  How could the man be so calm? 

Several buckets of water were hurled over the top of the wall, but they did little to slow down the hungry flames.  The whole wall was ablaze now, the satisfying crackling of wood audible over the wind.  The flames rose higher and higher, almost reaching the spikes at the top.  Cries were heard from within calling for water as the fire began to spread to the canvas tents closest to the wall, devouring the fabric like a hungry beast.  Finn felt a pang of pity as he heard the desperate neighing of panicked horses as they sensed danger and looked for a way out of the stable.  Dogs barked madly, adding to the chaos within.  It couldn’t be long before the Colonel gave the order to evacuate the fort.  Whatever awaited the soldiers outside the walls was still better than being burned alive or dying of smoke inhalation.  Finn only prayed that they wouldn’t leave the prisoners fettered inside. 

The men
froze, their guns at the ready, as the back door opened, stealthily disgorging four soldiers, each holding a prisoner in front as a shield.  They walked very slowly toward the gaping grave dug earlier.  Obviously they had orders to execute them. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Peter whispered.  “Wh
at manner of fool gave that order?”

“Quiet, Peter.  Shoot on my order.”  The men aimed at the British soldiers waiting for Noah’s command.

The soldiers looked around as they lined the four prisoners along the edge of the grave.  They were young and scared, fully aware that they’d been sent on a suicide mission.  Evidently silencing these prisoners was more important than saving the lives of four soldiers.  They stepped back a few paces, aiming at the backs of their victims. 

“Now!” Noah
whispered as four shots rang out, mowing down three of the soldiers.  The one that wasn’t hit dropped his musket in panic, fleeing toward the wooden door.  Noah got him between the shoulder blades, just as he was almost through.  The soldier slumped against the wall, his tunic catching fire.  The men watched in horrified fascination as the flames took hold, turning the soldier into a ball of fire.  Finn was glad to see that the man wasn’t moving.  Hopefully, he was dead by the time he hit the ground, avoiding a horrible death. 

The prisoners looked around, unsure of what to do
.  Sam and one of the men dropped to the ground, but the other two just stood there frozen with indecision.  Their hands and feet were fettered, so they were unable to take more than shuffling steps away from the yawning grave.  Noah and Davey slipped from the shadows, urging the men to make for the cover of the woods.

Finn looked back at the fort, but there was no sign of pursuit. 
The back door was burning now, set aflame by the body of the dead solider blocking it.  The nighttime sky was lit up by the flames, a shower of sparks shooting up like fireworks.  Finn turned to the rescued men.  Sam was sitting on the ground, his hands and feet in front of him as Noah used a crowbar to wrench open the links of the chain.  They would get the cuffs off later, but for now, the men needed to be able to move.  Sam smiled at Finn, his eyes full of gratitude.  He didn’t say anything, but Finn felt a glow in his belly.  He didn’t need thanks.  Seeing Sam smiling was thanks enough.

The men were about half a mile from the fort when they heard it.  The explosion was
like a roar of the gods, booming through the night like thunder.  The fire must have reached the powder stores, igniting the kegs.  They went off in a series of explosions, flaming debris falling from the sky like rain.  The rebels could still hear the sound of screaming men and dying horses as they reached the swamp. 

Finn gratefully munched on porridge as he kept watch over the horizon in case of pursuit.  He sat on a fence, the musket propped against his thigh should he need it, but no one thought the British would come.  They had bigger problems at the moment.  Peter worked to get the fetters off the prisoners as at least seven children came and went, curious to see what was happening in the forge.  Noah had already departed, taking one of the freed prisoners with him.  It had been decided during the course of their escape that they would go to the Mills farm long enough to get the chains off and have some food before leaving.  Each man would go off in a different direction, making pursuit more difficult.  Noah thought it would be best for the men to lay low until they knew more of what happened at the fort, and if there were any survivors.

Sam emerged from the forge, rubbing his wrists.  They were chafed by the fetters, as were his ankles. 
The British had taken his boots, so he was barefoot, his feet covered in dried mud from the swamp.  He gratefully accepted a bowl of porridge from Mrs. Mills before making his way over to Finn.

“You saved my life, Finn.  I don’t know how to thank you.”  Sam was watching him, his gray eyes smiling.  “You’re a brave lad.”

“I couldn’t just leave you to die,” Finn mumbled, embarrassed by the praise.

“Of course you could have.  Most people would.”  Sam spooned the porridge into his mouth.  He was obviously starving. 

“Were you afraid?” Finn couldn’t imagine what Sam and the other prisoners must have been feeling as they awaited the dawn, knowing they would face the gallows come morning. 

“Yes, I was afraid, but not sorry.  As I sat there, trying to make my peace with God, I realized that there are only two things in this world worth dying for: love and liberty.  I would be dying in the cause of liberty for the people and country that I love, so at least my death would be worth something.  That
thought brought me peace.”  Sam finished his porridge, eyeing what was left of Finn’s.  “Are you going to eat that?  I’m starving.”  Finn just handed over his bowl.  His stomach was still doing somersaults after the events of last night.  Was he now officially a rebel?

“What will you do now, Sam?”

“The Brits never learned my real name, so I think it’s safe to go home for a bit.  They won’t come looking for me there, if they come looking for me at all.  I’m ready to go whenever you are, Finn.  I’d just like to wash up first.”  He slapped Finn on the shoulder, giving him a serious look.

“Thank you, Finn.
  I’m forever in your debt.”  Finn wanted to reply, but had to look away to hide the tears that sprang to his eyes.  Sam just smiled and walked away, taking the dirty bowls to return to Mrs. Mills and giving Finn a few moments to compose himself.

The journey back to the Mallory farm took over a week.  Finn and Sam stayed off the roads, keeping mostly to the woods to avoid British patrols.  They had no idea if Sam was being pursued, but it was safer to stay invisible.  Mrs. Mills had given them a little food, but with seven children of varying ages, she didn’t have much to spare.  Finn set makeshift traps in the evening before they bedded down for the night, hoping to have something by morning.  Noah Brady had given them a musket, but they saved the shot for an emergency, not wanting to waste it on hunting.  Finn managed to catch at least one rabbit during the night, giving them something to eat for breakfast. 

Finn didn’t tell Sam, but he was enjoying the walk back to the farm.  Sam was like the older brother he never had.  They spent hours talking as they walked, covering everything from the Revolution to Sam’s
romances.

“I wager you’d like to wring Cissy’s neck for betraying you,” Finn said, broaching the subject that had been bothering him for days.  Would Sam seek some kind of retribution?  After all, it had been Cissy’s father who helped Finn organize a rescue.  Sam just shook his head, walking carefully on the forest floor.  He was still barefoot and his feet were raw from stepping on broken twigs and
pine cones.  Finn would have offered him his own boots, but Sam’s feet were larger.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Sam replied, yelping as he stepped on yet another
sharp twig.  “Some people talk too much, especially to a girl.  They think it’s safe.  Cissy was scared out of her wits, so she blurted out everything she knew.  I don’t blame her.  I’m sure her father saw to her punishment though,” Sam grinned.  “That lovely arse turning all shades of red must have been a sight to behold.”

“Have you been with many girls, Sam?” Finn asked shyly.  He didn’t want to overstep the boundaries of their new
friendship, but he was curious.  Most young men of his own time had little experience of women by the time they married, finding out about their bride after the wedding.  The morals of this time seemed a little less rigid, allowing young people to court and get to know each other before they wed.  Premarital relations weren’t encouraged, but clearly not totally uncommon. 

“Just two.  The first one was
still a maid, but Cissy gave me an education.  That lass spends a lot of time in the barn.”  Sam gave Finn a meaningful look, making him guffaw with laughter.  “She’s not shy about asking for what she wants either.  If only her poor father knew what kind of daughter he’d raised.  I tell you Finn, when I marry, I hope to have only sons.  Girls are lovely when they’re moaning beneath you, but not so much when they’re your daughters.  I don’t envy Pa having four girls.”

“Your
Pa has nothing to worry about,” replied Finn; Abbie’s naked thighs springing unbidden to his mind as he fashioned a spit to cook their supper.  He positioned the chicken they’d stolen from a farm over the flames of the campfire, hoping it would cook quickly.  He was starving.

Sam sat down on the ground examining his sore feet.  “What I wouldn’t give for a pair of boots,” he moaned.  “Should have taken a pair from one of the soldiers, but I was too stunned to think of it at the moment.  I must admit I felt sorry for those poor lads.  They were no more than boys, dying for something they probably don’t even care about.  They joined the army hoping for adventure and glory, and all they got was a quick death in some backwoods.”  He looked up at Finn.  “How’s that chicken coming along?  It smells good.  Wish we had some ale to go with it, or at least a heel of bread.”

“Stop whining like a girl,” Finn replied, handing Sam a chicken leg. 

“I’m not whining –
- just wishing,” chuckled Sam through a mouthful of chicken, grease running down his chin.

**

“You’re sweet on Abbie, aren’t you Finn?”  Finn stared at the stars twinkling through the intertwined branches of the trees above their head.  There was nothing to do after eating but go to sleep, but neither one of them could fall asleep, despite being tired from walking all day.

“Come, you can tell me.  No need to be so secretive.” 
Sam jabbed Finn in the ribs, urging him to answer.  “Now, if you said you were burning with love for Martha, I might have to slap you around a bit to bring you to your senses,” he continued, “but Abbie is different.  Any man would be lucky to earn her love.  Does she feel the same?”

“I hope so,” Finn mumbled.  “I haven’t got much to offer her.”

Finn could hear Sam grinning in the darkness.  “Finn, you are a very useful individual to have around.  You burn British forts, shoot the enemy, and set clever traps to keep us from starving.  Who could ask for a better man?”  Sam replied, pleased with his assessment of Finn’s charms. 

“I’m not sure that burning forts is something that would induce your father to allow me to marry his daughter.  Arson is not a desirable quality in a potential husband,” Finn said, grinning back at Sam.

“It is if the said arson saves the life of the bride’s charming older brother, who would be oh so happy to be best man at the wedding.  Leave it to me, Finn.  I’ll speak to father.  You just say the word.” 

Finn nodded happily.  Having Sam on his side would be a huge help in convincing Mr. Mallory.  Finn didn’t think Abbie would want to be wed right away, but if they were promised to each other, they could work together toward their future.  Finn’s stomach twisted as he thought of his parents.  The thought of them not knowing his bride or being at the wedding hurt more than he could have imagined.  His mother would love Abbie, he was sure of that, and his father would have been so proud of him for helping Sam.