Friday, September 26, 2014

Captured! Part 1, by Kathryn

First off, I want to thank everyone for their many story ideas! It was extremely hard to pick one. I don't think any one time period would please everybody, so I finally just had to choose one. I think we will have a lot of fun with it, and I can't wait to begin! Don't be disappointed if it wasn't exactly what you wanted; we will do more stories!

Setting: Revolutionary War, the American Army
Main Character: Samantha Katherine Smyth

Disclaimer: All characters and battles are fictional. I didn't want to take the time to historically research this. 

So without further ado, let us begin. 

***

     "Oh, bother! Not again!" 
     With a grunt, I hurried towards the large tent in front of me. Its flickering walls stood out against the dark background of woods behind it. The night was starless and chilly, my every breath forming a cloud.
     "Hank," I began, pushing back the tent flap. But I stopped short when the heads of a dozen officers shot up from the table. 
     "Yes, Samantha, what is it?" one of them asked.
    "Sorry, I'll come back later, sir," I apologized, leaving the tent and allowing the men to return to their conference.
     The man was Captain Henry Braxton, or Hank as I called him. He had been a good friend of my now departed father, Edward Smyth. My father had served under him until a year prior, when he was killed by a British bullet. He made Captain Braxton promise to take care of me, which he was ever willing to do. The captain knew how close I had been to my darling father, so much so that I had followed him to the battlefield, my mother being deceased since I was a young child.
     Hank was truly more like a grandfather to me in age, but loved me like a daughter, and we grew ever so close. He had continually cared for me, making sure my every need was met, even if that meant less for him.
     I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is Samantha Katherine Smyth. At the time of this story, I was 15 years old, living in the camp of the American Army. The soldiers there knew me as Sam, the fiery redhead who had a temper to match. In the camp, I was water girl, seamstress, cook and even nurse if need be. I would do most anything that needed to be done, though I was getting quite tired of fetching Hank's horse, who rather enjoyed straying from camp. 
    At last, after 20 minutes or so, the officers departed the tent and mounted their waiting horses. Off they galloped into the dark night, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.
    I entered the army tent once more, glad to find the captain by himself, smoking his pipe.
    "Ah, there you are, darling. I hope your matter wasn't of too much importance. I tried to hurry them along," he said, rising from his seat. I hugged him and began irritably,
    "It's that horse of yours. He's gone and deserted again."
    Hank laughed heartily, the gold buttons on his fine uniform tinkling.
    "Dear me, what shall we do with that thing? I'm afraid I have to go over these papers with Lieutenant Atchinson in a few minutes. Would you be so kind as to locate the animal?"
    I grunted.
    "I shall, but if he does it again, I will have him hung."
    Smiling, Hank shook his head and returned to the many papers strewn across the makeshift table.
    He was white-haired, with the exception of a small amount of grey on his sideburns. He had a long and thin face, one that had been quite dashing in his youth. When he smiled, wrinkles would appear around his blue eyes.
    While he had a soft and gentle side, the side that I saw most, Hank could still be the stern and ever intimidating Captain Braxton. His passion for freedom and liberty spread to his men like a wildfire. Even when a battle seemed lost, he would shout with all his might, "Onward to victory!", reviving their dimmed hopes and spirits.
    Hank planned to take me with him back to Philadelphia-his home-once the war was over. I think, though, that every day he worried that he might be killed- not for fear of dying; he would gladly do so for his country-but that I would be left without soul in the world.
    "Will you be able to have supper when I get back?" I asked the captain.
    "Yes, I believe so, darling. I'm sorry you've had to wait so long. I'll try to hurry with Lieutenant Atchinson, all right?"
    "And I'll hurry and find that stubborn animal," I sighed, leaving the tent.
    "Oh, and take a soldier with you," he called.
    I took a lantern, lit it, and headed for the far woods where the mischievous animal liked to roam. I knew the place well, for we had been camped here for quite some time. I don't need one of the men, I thought. They'll only be sore for me interrupting their card game.
    I wandered deeper and deeper into the woods, whistling and beckoning for the horse to come. The moon and stars had at last come out from behind the billowing clouds, aiding my plight in finding the lost animal.
    As I continued to shine my lantern about, a soft rustle sounded in the brush behind me. I whirled around, but no horse was there. Stealthily I walked forward and around a grove of thick bushes. My dim light suddenly fell upon two men crouched on the ground. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the brightly colored uniforms and the scowl etched on their faces. 
    Redcoats!
    Before I could muster a scream, a hand clapped over my mouth and I was forced to the damp earth.
 
***
    "You blundering fools! What am I to do with this child?" a voice howled. 
    "Sir, she was about to give us away! We had to take her." 
    I held my breath, not daring to open my eyes. Where am I?  
    "You had better be glad she didn't. Our entire attack would be ruined if the American camp knew we were here." 
    My heart dropped. I hadn't imagined the bright red coats and the foreign accents as I had hoped. No, they were real, horribly real. 
    "I suppose we'll have to keep her here, thanks to your brightness. Wake her." 
     I shuddered as I felt the hard tip of a boot prod into my side. My eyes opened, revealing a low-rank British officer staring down.
    He yanked me off the cold soil, myself a bit dizzy from the apparent blow I had received on the head earlier. The man pushed me a few paces forward until I stood directly in front of the British general whose voice had boomed throughout the tent.
    "State your name," came the order.
    "Samantha Smyth Braxton." My voice quivered.
    The face of the old general suddenly grew very surprised.
    "Braxton? You are of no relation to the Yankee pig Henry Braxton, are you?"
    I scrunched my face, a sign that my courage had suddenly appeared and had taken over.
    "Captain Braxton is no pig, I assure you. Legally I am of no relation, but in my heart he is my adopted father," I stated, blood boiling. The general laughed.
    "How humorous that the captain's daughter shall be on our side when he is killed. Take her to help the women cook," he sneered. "I'm sure she will bring little trouble. But just the same, keep a close eye on her. The American Army must have no knowledge of our residence here."
    With a tight grasp I was pulled out of the tent and into the dark British camp. You have a lot to learn about Sam Smyth, general, I thought, my eyes filling up with tears. I'll find a way to reach Hank and the men if it's the very last thing I do on this earth.

To be continued!

Kathryn