Tale of a Patriot Part Two

TALE OF A PATRIOT

PART TWO

Written by

GRANDPA CASEY

Smashwords Edition

This Story is fictional any depiction of a person or place is purely coincidental

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER ONE

Since I left the Navy, I’ve devoted my time to helping on the family farm. It was late June in 1778. While my brother Luke is in town, getting some much-needed supplies, my father and I are out tilling another acre of grazing land. Once we’re done, we will plant more wheat. Since the war started, the demand for wheat has doubled and so has its price.

When we hear someone shouting and running towards us I instinctively grab my musket, which I kept in the cart; you never know who or what you might encounter out here. When the person gets closer, I recognized him, it was my cousin Mark.  It seems, after losing one eye; my sight became sharper in the other one.  While Mark is running towards us, he’s frantically waving some papers.

When he gets within twenty feet of us, I ask, Mark, what do you have there?

Im-port-ant, news, Mark stammers as he tries to catch his breath. 

Wanting to hear what he has to say, my father asks, Mark, what’s so important that caused you to ran all the way over here? Then he turns to me, Joe, let’s take a break and listen to what your cousin has to say.

While sitting against the shaded side of the cart, Mark reads us the important events of the war and other things, that recently took place.  J. P. Jones, commanding the Ranger, captured the HMS Drake.  As J. P. Jones described it, his capture of the Drake was one of the Continental Navy’s few significant naval victories.  The Ranger, being out gunned and out manned, managed to subdue its enemy while in European waters. Mark stops reading and comments about the article. It seems that J. P. Jones is always able to have a victory in some grandiose way.  At least he always described his victories that way.  J. P. Jones’s victories and his colorful descriptions are sometimes the only good news we Patriots have to read.

I say, I wouldn’t call Jones’s actions grandiose; that’s a description his foes use. I’d call his actions flamboyant. I have it on good authority that Jones’s antics once enraged an Admiral so much, the Admiral almost had a heart attack. To this day, that Admiral refuses to acknowledge that Jones even exists.  

As Mark continues reading the paper, I wonder, what would it be like, sailing under the command of J. P. Jones. Yes, Jones is flamboyant, but he does get results.  Mark regains my attention when he reads the article about the Army, commanded by General Washington, barely surviving the winter at Valley Forge.  With winter over, because they need time to bolster their ranks, the Army is doing ‘Hit and Run’ tactics against the British. After a short pause, Mark says, Here’s something interesting, more British Loyalists are leaving the Colonies and going to England or Canada."

When Mark is done, my father comments, Loyalists are not necessarily bad people they just believe the Colonies should not break away from England.  Unfortunately, there beliefs aren’t popular.  I know of a few Loyalists, because they can’t or won’t leave, quickly learned how to hide their beliefs. He gets up and shakes the dirt off his behind. Mark, thank you for the news, now Joe and I need to get back to work. 

Mark says, While I was unsaddling my horse, Aunty told me, I can stay if I want, she has plenty for supper; she’s making stew, with apple pie for desert. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay and help you finish.

Hearing that, my dad says, Mark, of course, you can stay and help; only a fool refuses help. Then he turns to me and says, Joe, you and Mark finish the plowing and I’ll start sowing the seeds. By Jove, we’ll have this done in no time.

After supper, Mark and I, sit on the porch, enjoying the cool evening breeze.  Mark mentioned that last year he helped his Brother Mathew with a project for General Washington.  The project was top secret and great effort was made to keep the British Navy from finding out about it. 

I asked, Mark, speaking of Mathew, how is he?

Mark replies, With the planting done, tomorrow he’s going back to Yale University. Then, after he gets up, he looks at me and says, Joe, I have to get going, walk with me to the barn. Without thinking about it, I do as he asks. While we’re walking Mark says, I’m joining the Continental Army tomorrow. When I told my parents, they were not too happy. After he reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out a thick folder, he says, I want you to hang on to these papers. In case Mathew and I don’t survive the war, I want our story told.

Before I can ask him what he meant by that, he gets on his horse and says, Now I bid you Adieu.  Whatever you decide, about the Navy, I hope the decision is right for you. 

As I watch him ride away, I wonder, why the melodramatics about not surviving and wanting their story told. Also, how did he know that I had mixed feeling about joining up again?  Was it that obvious, I never mentioned it to anyone that I was thinking of re-enlisting?  I don’t even know if the Navy still wants me.  Having only one eye could be a handicap the Continental Navy doesn’t want to deal with.  They did in the beginning, but that was then.

You’ve done your patriotic duty, I heard my father say as he walks up to me.  We need you here; here is where you should stay.  You can help the cause more by helping me.  Our soldiers need more food, not another sailor.  Now I will bid you Goodnight.  I trust you’ll do what’s right.

Goodnight Dad, I said. I’ll check the barn and blow out all the candles before I go to bed. Walking back to the house, I mumble, Boy, he sure knows how to give a person the guilt trip.

As I blow out the candles and head for my room, I mumble, Tomorrow’s another day. Then I look at the papers that Mark gave me, Maybe Mark’s papers will shed some light on his weird behavior.

The next day, after finishing my chores, I decide to read Mark’s papers. After dinner, I settle down next to the hearth and look at the first page. I thought its heading, THE TORTOISE, was odd. After reading the first paragraph, I realize, the name is for something other than a reptile. I pause to think, OKAY, Mathew designed something and Mark helped him build it. But why call it a Tortoise? I’d call it a horse, a dog, a musket ball, anything but a Tortoise.

Looking for an answer, I quickly thumb through the documents and notice that they’re out of order. It took me a while to put the pages in chronological order. If there weren’t dates, in the upper left corner of each page, I’d never accomplish that task. Once that’s done, rather than skimming through them, I decide to start at the beginning. After a few sentences, because of the neat handwriting, I realize, other than the drawings, this document was dictated to someone; probably a secretary.

Here’s, the gist, of what I’ve read so far:

‘The Tortoise’, is a submersible created to break the British blockade of Boston Harbor.  On completion, Mathew christened it ‘The Tortoise’.  This did not sit well with Mark.  He felt the submersible’s name