Patriots: Boston

Chapter Ten The Battle of Lexington

    Paul Revere rode down our wharf.
"Turn out to militia! The Redcoats are coming!" He shouted.
Isaac stared longingly out the window. Then he turned and looked at me.
"I guess that's me!" He said.
"You aren't a minuteman!" I said.
"I know, but it's time to fight! They'll need all the help they can get!" He said, reaching for his jacket.
  "Not from you," I said, running in between him and the coat hook.
  "Who else? You let Zeb go without much trouble!" He pressed.
  "I didn't want him to go! I don't want you to go, at least not now!" I protested.
"Liza, the real fighting is beginning! I need to be there fighting with them!" He said slipping behind me.
  "But Isaac! You've never shot a gun in your life!" I pointed out.
"It can't be too hard! There's a trigger and you put bullets and gunpowder in the barrel," he said.
"How can you fight if you don't really know how to fire a gun?!" I asked, annoyed. I don't know much about guns either. I've only shot off hunting rifles from time to time at Uncle Tad's farm, but I know more than Isaac. He went up to the loft. I followed him.
"You're being an idiot!" I shouted. "It's suicide!"
"But what's left for me if I don't fight? I don't need to worry about supporting my family anymore. I will not be the one inheriting your father's store-"
  "What if Zeb does not come back?!" I asked hysterically. "You can not both go and die! What will we do without you?!"
  "We won't die, but if we do we'll have died for freedom!" Isaac said. "Death doesn't scare me!"
  "That's what I'm afraid of!" I said. "You can't go and die now!"
  "And I probably won't! I can survive, Liza! Why can't you just trust me?" He asked, taking up his gun and climbing back down the ladder. I followed after him back into the store.
  "I do trust you, I just love you both too much to just let you go and take that risk! Especially you! Fighting in wars involves knowing how to shoot a gun! I'm not saying never, I'm just saying not in this battle!" I explained.
  "Liza, let's not let our possibly last words to each other be in a fight. Goodbye, hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. If not, take care of yourself," he said, grabbing his tricornered hat from the hook and holding it instead of putting it on his head.
   Suddenly, he touched the small of my back and pulled me closer to him. I began to feel hot.
  "Zeb, the mature one, bid you farewell like this. Because I'm doing the job of a man here, I'm going to do the same," he said, moving in closer.
  He grabbed hold of my face gently and leaned in. For some reason I did not resist. He was about to kiss me in the way Zeb had, right? Not anything more? I had never kissed anyone like that before. I leaned in a little more too, my heart pounding so loudly it has hurting my ears. Our faces were an inch apart. Then we heard the door to the house open a little and two little giggles.
  "Whoa! Look what they're doing now, Eleanor!" Constance giggled.
  "Snogging!" Eleanor exclaimed in a loud whisper.
  Isaac must have panicked because he kissed me on the cheek quickly, like Zeb had, grabbed a powder horn, and put his hat on his head quickly.
  "Goodbye," he said quickly and turned to leave.
  I practically flew in front of him and threw my arms around his neck.
  "I won't let you leave," I whispered I felt like I was about to cry.
He tried to wriggle away from my embrace.
  "I must," he said.
  "No," I said gripping tighter.
  "Yes," he said as he broke out of my arms.
   He tipped his hat to me and ran out down the wharf.
  I fell back into a chair and put my face in my hands. Eleanor and Constance ran over to me.
  "What are you two doing out of bed?!" I almost growled.
  "I knew you loved him!" Eleanor said, disregarding my question.
  "We're sorry for ruining your kiss!" Constance said, "Don't be sad, Liza. He'll be back and maybe kiss you again someday."
  "You don't understand!" I sobbed angrily, standing up and grabbing my shawl.
  I looked underneath the counter for my father's rifle. It was where it always had been, so I took it out and checked to see if it was loaded. It was not, so I grabbed some bullets off the shelf and loaded it. This was one of those lousy one shot guns, so I kept the other 9 bullets I found in my pocket.
  "What are you doing?" Constance asked.
  "What's Isaac doing?" Eleanor asked.
  "Going to his death," I said gravely, "but I'm going to save him!"
   "You mean you are going into battle?!" Eleanor asked fearfully.
  "No," I said. "I'm just bringing him home."
  "Why do you need Papa's gun?" Constance asked.
  "Just in case I need to defend myself from other people with guns," I said.
  "Where's Zebulun?" Eleanor asked.
  "He's gone to war too, but I'll see that he gets back safely," I said.
  "So you are going where they are fighting to battle?!" Eleanor asked.
  "Shhhhhh! Lower your voice!" I whispered. "But, yes!"
  "B-but that's dangerous!" Eleanor stuttered.
  "I know, but I'm smart, you know. I can bring them back, and I'll be ok. I promise," I said, giving them each a hug. "One more thing, you need to keep it a secret that Zeb, Isaac, and I left. We'll hopefully be back by morning, but just in case we are not, tell Ma and Papa that we went to get water, alright? Absolute secret!"
  "Absolute secret!" They chimed in unison.
  "Goodnight! See you tomorrow!" I said.
  I grabbed a powder horn and a lantern and ran outside with my gun in hand. I ran for the stable, which was crowded with frantic militiamen getting horses to ride to Lexington. I pushed past my neighbors to get to Agnes and slip out unnoticed.
It was probably 2 am. As I rode out of town I saw one lantern hanging in the belfry of the Old North Church. I watched as the British soldiers marched out of town and into the countryside. I followed the way to Uncle Tad's farm instead of just blending in with the British armies. The object is to get there before them! I galloped faster and faster to the farm. It took at least an hour to get there. By the looks of it, Uncle Tad had already left for town and his stables were open for use. I put Agnes in there and decided to try to get into town on foot. It would be harder to spot a short girl on foot than one mounted on a giant horse and everyone else is on foot. Of course, it would now be harder to see who was who, but I couldn't deal with that now. Now I had to run as fast as I could into Lexington town.
I passed many militiamen on their way. I followed them all the way to the Lexington town green. I was exhausted by the time I reached it. I saw their humble guns and shabby farmers' clothes and thought of how unfair this fight was against the highly trained and equipped British. I realized that because I was here I was now in nearly as much danger as they were! I needed to stay hidden unless I found Isaac or Zeb. I could not go on the front line. I did not trust myself to fight properly. I stayed hidden behind a house for a long time. At dawn when the light came across that town green I could see Doctor Warren talking to a group of militiamen. They got into a formation where they stood shoulder to shoulder together. I still could see neither Zeb nor Isaac. Had they even made the trip fully? I had to wait and see.
Suddenly I heard marching and drumming in the distance. It seemed too organized to be more militia. I peeked out from the house I was hiding behind. I saw them. So many, all in red coats with white breeches and all in fancy white wigs. They all had their nice muskets, all like the one Isaac has stolen. Where was he?!
The British troop marched forth into a formation. I could now see that the British had 400 soldiers there on that Lexington town green. Our militia had around 80. They stood facing each other. The greatly outnumbered militia stood firm. No fear seemed to show on their faces.
A British officer rode to the front of the formation. "Lay down your arms ye villains! Ye rebels!" He commanded.
"Stand your ground!" someone who looked to be a captain of the militia said.
Not one of them laid down their arms. The silence was killing me. No one on either side made a sound. Suddenly a shot was fired. I did not see which side had fired it, but there was smoke all over the place. When it cleared about 8 militia men were lying dead or wounded and just one or two British. None of the injured or dead ones appeared to be Zeb or Isaac.
   Then a lot of the British rushed at the militia with bayonets out. Militiamen fired at them as they ran. They fell one by one quickly, but of course militiamen were falling too. It was horrifying to watch. However, the little band of militia seemed to be winning!
I caught sight of Zeb, who was trying to engage in hand to hand combat with a British soldier who was trying to bayonet him. It looked like Zeb was getting tired and would die if no one did anything. I ran out from my hiding place. Zeb did not see me and neither did the soldier, for he was too busy trying to kill Zeb. I had one shot in my father's rifle. I aimed at the soldier and placed my finger on the trigger. I took a deep breath and pulled it, shooting the soldier in the shoulder, causing him to fall backwards and making it possible for Zeb to catch his own and the soldier's gun. Zeb looked to see who had saved him. When he saw me he looked shocked and honestly a little mortified. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him behind the house I had been hiding behind.
"Liza, what the hell are you doing here?!" He asked in disbelief.
"Not important! Where is Isaac?!" I asked, panicking.
"HE IS HERE TOO?!" Zeb eyes widened even more. "What?! WHY?!"
"You haven't seen him?!" I asked.
"No! You two stupid kids are going to get yourselves killed! And if you survive, what will your mother and father say?!" Zeb shouted over the gun shots and yelling.
"I need to find him and take him home too! You stay here and rest up. Keep that gun! It'll be helpful!" I shouted, peeking out from behind the house.
That is when I saw Isaac. He was aiming the fancy gun which he had stolen at a British officer, when two shots were fired at him. They seemed to have hit him, because he fell back and dropped his gun.
"Noooooo!" I screamed, sobbing.
I ran from our hiding place to his side.
"Liza! No! Come back!" Zeb shouted after me.
I didn't listen. I grabbed Isaac by his shoulders and pulled him a little distance across the grass and then tried to pull him to his feet. I got him propped up enough to put one of his arms over my shoulder and to try to drag him that way. Zeb came to help me.
"We're getting out of here," I said.
"Good call," Zeb breathed.
We dragged Isaac away from the town green where the fighting was. Zeb picked him up like a child and we ran towards Uncle Tad's farm.
"Where is your horse?" I asked.
  "It's nearby, I'll go get it," Zeb said, handing me his gun and the soldier I had shot's gun before he ran off.
   It really hit me now that I had shot someone. I really tried not to aim at a part that would be fatal, but I may have very well just killed someone as a 14 year old girl. That thought frightened me. The fifth commandment "you shall not kill" rang in my ears. It was to save Zeb when he could not defend himself. Was I justified? Zeb rode up before I could ponder this more.
He had a bigger saddle bag that was more equipped for holding guns.
"You take the weapons," I said to Zeb.    "I'll ride with Isaac on my lap."
  "Where are we going to go?" Zeb asked.
  "Doctor Warren's," I said. "He'll have things we can use to help him."
  We rode off towards Boston again. I looked down at Isaac, he was wincing and breathing heavily. A spot on his arm was bleeding furiously through his shirt. There was also a horrible wound on his leg. His face looked very pale.
  "Zeb," I said, panicking, "He's losing a lot of blood."
  "Oh dear, poor kid. What was he even thinking coming here, not even knowing how to even shoot a gun?!" Zeb stressed.
  "He wanted to help! Also, now that I think about it, his father encouraged him to as he was dying," I said, sadly.
  "Didn't you try to stop him?" Zeb asked me with an angry tone.
  "Of course I did," I said as a tear escaped my eyes. "He just would not listen."
  "How is he looking?" Zeb asked.
  "He's almost grey in color, he's still breathing, but not well. He's kind of wheezing," I observed.
  "He isn't wounded near his heart or lungs, is he?" Zeb asked worriedly.
  "Not that I can tell," I fretted. "Did you talk to Doctor Warren at all?"
  "I overheard him talking to his troops. He had all these things to say about what to do about Concord. My guess is it will take all day and he won't be back any time soon, if he even makes it out alive," Zeb said. He seemed just as scared as I was. "You know what happens if he doesn't make it out?"
  "I would not like to think about it," I said. "He lent me a book about certain treatments for certain things, but I am by no means as good as he would be at helping the wounded people. We know that there are many more people who need his help."
  "Do you think you could help Isaac?" Zeb asked.
  "Maybe," I said. "I can bandage a wound but if he gets sick from it...I-I don't know what to do!"
  "Let's pray it is not too bad," Zeb said.
  I looked to Isaac. He was still now, more and more color was fading from his face. His eyes were closed and he was not breathing too heavily, or as it seemed, not at all. Was he dying? I cried softly as I laid my head on his chest, trying to hear his heart beat. It was slow and rather unclear.
  "Zeb," I cried, "I think he has passed out from the pain."
  "Let us hope that is all it is," Zeb said. "He has been like a brother to me, losing him is not something I could handle."
  "I feel the same way," I sobbed.
  "Are you sure it was not more than a brotherly love?" Zeb asked.
  I began to cry harder, "You and Eleanor-"
  "Liza, you don't love me like you love him," Zeb said. "You obviously love me enough to risk your life to save me, but there is something between you and Isaac that is more than you and I have ever had. I saw the night you two danced together and held hands under the stars. You were happier than I had ever seen you. He is happy with you too. We see it, do you?"
  "He is fading!" I sobbed. "I'm about to lose him. Don't make it any worse than it already is!"
  "I just want you to recognize your true feelings before it is too late," He said.
"It might be too late, Zeb," I sobbed. "He is losing so much blood. I hope none of the wounds are infected or he is a goner!"
  "It will be alright, Liza," Zeb said, reaching out to grab my hand.
  I grabbed his hand and we kept riding as fast as our horses could go. I could tell Zeb was trying to think positively just to reassure me, but there was obviously some fear and doubt in his eyes. Isaac did not move much for the rest of the ride. Finally we arrived at Doctor Warren's house. We tied our to the gate and Zeb dismounted.
"I'll take him inside," Zeb offered. "He is alive?"
I nodded. Zeb took his limp and bleeding body from my lap and carried to the doorstep. I followed. I peeked in the window to see if anyone was inside. I saw a little old woman sitting and knitting inside near the fire. I knocked on the door. The woman got up and looked through the window at us. She looked fearful.
"Please!" I cried desperately, "We're friends of Joseph Warren! We have a young man here who is dire need of medical attention!"
She opened the door for us and looked at Isaac.
"What on earth happened?!" She asked in a slightly shrill voice.
"He was shot in the skirmish at Lexington," I explained.
"Ma'am, I do not mean to be rude, but who are you?" Zeb asked.
"I'm Mary Warren, the doctor's mother. Have you seen my son lately? He went to fight," she explained.
  "I saw him in Lexington," I said, "but we fled after our friend here was shot. Is there a cot or something we could lay him on?"
  "Oh right! Your friend! Yes of course!" Mary said, leading us to the back room of the house. It had a bed, a bedside table, a chair beside the bed, and a table in it. "Joseph tends to patients here most of the time."
  "Do you know anything about caring for wounds like this, Mrs. Warren?" Zeb asked.
  "I'm awfully sorry, sonny. I do not know anything about that sort of thing. I do know where Joseph keeps his bandages and splints and such," she said.
"Could you please get some, and maybe some water and a rag too?" I asked.
  "Oh course, dear," She said kindly as she shuffled off.
Zeb laid Isaac down on the bed. He groaned a little. That was the first noise I had heard him make in hours.
I sat down in the chair next to the bed. I looked at Issac. He looked so pale he was almost grey, and he had bled through the right sleeve of his jacket. I stood up.
"Zeb, please sit him up carefully so I can remove his jacket," I commanded.
Zeb did as I said. I gently slipped the jacket off, revealing a bloody shirt. His right arm had obviously been the one that had been shot. His left pant leg was also wet with blood, as was my dress. Thankfully it was my old shabby work dress, but still there was no hiding where we had been from my mother or father. There was a giant hole in his thigh. It continued to gush blood. I feared greatly. How much time did he have left before it ran out enough?!
Mrs. Warren came back with the water and the bandages and rags. I thanked her and she went to stand in the back of the room. I knew what I would have to do in order to at least slow the bleeding enough until Doctor Warren got back, if he ever made it back. The thought haunted me. Not only was he a close friend who would be tragic to lose, but what would Isaac and all of the other soldiers do if there was no doctor left in town? I might be able to help some of them but not as many or as well as Doctor Warren would!
I had to toss aside these thoughts and set to work on Isaac.
"Zeb, please remove his shirt," I said.
Zeb looked at me with a sly smirk, but did as I said.
"Oh grow up!" I said angrily.
I looked at Isaac's right arm. There was an awful and deep wound straight through the upper part of his arm, just below the shoulder. I dipped the rag in the water and wiped away all of the extra blood from around the wound and tried touch it with the rag. Isaac jerked.
"I'm sorry!" I cried.
Isaac stilled again and I went back to cleaning. I noticed how swollen his arm was. It seemed broken because the bullet had passed through. I grabbed a bandage and wrapped it around his arm.
"Where is his shirt?" I asked Zeb.
"Here it is," Zeb said. "Are you able to tell if he'll be ok?"
"No," I said. "I think we need to get his breeches off now to look at that wound to his thigh. I know it my seem a little strange but it is what we must do."
Zeb did not snigger or smirk again. We went about with what I ordered him to do. Isaac jerked again.
"Oh dear god!" I thought, "please don't choose now to wake up!"
He stilled again. Every time he did this I feared he might be dead. He was never quite dead when I worried he would be. I tended to his thigh wound like I had done to his arm. It was bigger and had also gone all the way through, breaking his leg. I bandaged it and we put his breeches back on.
Mrs. Warren had brought a piece or cloth that could be used as a sling. I tied it around his neck and placed his arm in it. I put another bandage over his leg. I looked to Zeb. He looked at Isaac as he lie unconscious on the bed.
"Stay alive, my friend, please," he pleaded softly.
He grabbed my small hand with his large strong one and we stood by that bed for a long time. Suddenly I realized that there was a spot of blood on Zeb's sleeve. I rolled his sleeve up quickly.
"Ouch!" He exclaimed as he pulled his arm away. "What are you doing?!"
There was a deep cut on his forearm. "How did you get this? A bayonet?" I asked.
"Yes, but it is only a scratch. Don't worry about me," he said rubbing it.
"At least let me wash it," I said, dipping a bloody rag into the water and ringing it out. "It can get infected so easily!"
"Fine," he said as he held his arm out.
I touched his arm with my wet rag. We winced and jerked his arm a little.
"I'm sorry, it'll sting for a minute, but that's the worst part I promise," I said.
"It's fine, it does not hurt that bad, Liza," he said.
"You do need this looked at, and I also need more practice," I said.
"Alright," Zeb said.
He let me tend to him as we stayed by Isaac's side. He did not wake up for a long time. Soon more and more militiamen were coming into Doctor Warren's house with their wounded comrades. The war had begun, and people were falling.