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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel part 17
Lines: 320
Date: Fri, 16 Apr 2004 17:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 17.txt" begin>

Rebel 17 (Old Bill)  (Mf hist) 

Searching for Powder

	"We need powder," said Lt. Foster, sitting astride a stool in his 
tent while one of the camp followers slept on his cot, curled like a 
cat.  "Powder and shot, or lead at least.  You and George go do a 
little scoutin'.  Find us a poorly guarded supply somewhere nearby.  
Want'cha back here in five days.  And no whoring, jus' do the job."  
He stood and unbuttoned his waistband.  "What'cha waitin' for?" he 
yelled, turning the blanket back from the dozing woman who was as 
bare as the day she was born, which, judging from her rolls of suet, 
had been a while.  She turned to glance at me, her black hair veiling 
her face.

	George headed up the winding river where he had good 
contacts including a pair of randy cousins who worked in a tavern 
while I saddled my mare and rode toward New Brunswick where 
we knew a great deal of British material was usually stored. Coming 
down out of the hills, I was stuck by the number of
  abandoned 
farms, animals' skeletons and burned buildings.  The Hessians had 
obviously scoured the area, leaving behind little that was either 
valuable or useful.

	I made a few tavern visits before easing into the town itself 
and quickly decided that the main storage area was much too 
heavily watched to attack. It looked like a whole regiment of 
grenadiers stomping around.  One girl told me that she had heard 
about some sort of redoubt where supplies were kept, but she was 
not sure where it was.  I gave her a six-pence and suggested 
she ask a few more questions.

	"You need ought else?" she asked, playing with her corset 
strings and pouting nicely, her hip thrust out toward me.

	"Later, maybe," I told her with a pat on her firm behind.

	She sniffed and sauntered off, buttocks rolling from side to 
side like the hind end of a bullock.  I went out looking for auxiliary 
supply dumps, something I had not heard about before.  Some hours 
later, north of town, where 
 the river makes a big looping turn and 
the South Branch joins, I discovered exactly the kind of place I was 
looking for.  It was a small, log fort with a central bombproof or 
dugout that was sure to be where powder was stored.  It had been 
carefully built, complete with parapets, on a ridgeline that looked 
down over the river, a popular fording place.  They were working 
on improving the abattis.  While I watched from the crotch of a leafy 
tree, I saw both supply wagons coming in from the countryside and 
kegs of powder being delivered from the south.

	I rode back to the tavern, found the serving wench who had 
taken my bender and pulled her back into a dark corner.  "Learn 
anything more?" I asked as I fondled her soft breast and unlaced 
her stays, holding her in place with my knee.

	"What's it worth?" she asked, squirming but not really trying 
to leave.

	"Nother coin, maybe a bulls eye," I whispered, getting her nipple 
between my thumb and forefinger and squeez
 ing gently.

	"Mebbe more," she said, pulling her loose corset higher.  "You 
know the bend, up yonder?" She gestured, and I nibbled at her 
neck.  She bit her lower lip and moaned invitingly.  I was not dealing 
with any amateur.

	"Um hm," I said, pulling up her skirt with one hand and 
unbuttoning my foreflap with the other.  We wiggled deeper into 
the dark recess under the stairs, pawing each other

	"Not here," she rasped as I got between her legs and poked at 
her, my hands lifting her wide buttocks.  Her legs rose to encircle 
my middle.

	"I know the place," I said, holding her hips tightly and taking 
her roughly, quickly, easily as her legs clamped me hard.  "Couple a 
miles north.  Lift your legs."

	"Oh, damn," she gasped, heaving on my spear and getting her 
knees above my hips.  "Uh, they got loads of lead and powder up 
there, officer tole me, getting ready for what he called an expedition.  
Go easy, damn you, easy, easy."  She bucked and ground into me.

	I
  took her lips with mine and concentrated on what our bodies 
were doing until I felt her come, shaking and exhaling loudly, her 
mouth gaping wide, chin raised, body tense.  I spurted, shuddered, 
withdrew, buttoned up, thanked the girl, gave her two crowns and 
left quickly.  The whole interview might have taken five minutes.

	I was back and reporting to my lieutenant early the next 
morning, having ridden all night.  I told him about the fort or 
redoubt or supply cache or whatever it was across the Raritan.

	"How many men?" he asked.  The top of the frowzy head 
showing in his cot was reddish, and I wondered if I knew the girl 
that owned it.  Fatigue made my mind wander.  I showed him the 
place on the map and told him that I had seen only six or seven but 
guessed they probably had twice that number.  I yawned and 
rubbed my eyes.

	"How high's the stockade?" he asked, pushing his shirt into his 
breeches.

	I told him and we talked some more.  "Aw right," he said.  
 
"Good job, get some food and a fresh horse.  We'll head out in an 
hour or so."

	"I ain't slept," I said, feeling groggy, stumbling about.

	"You can sleep in the saddle.  Get moving."

	So I did and by afternoon the lieutenant and five others, 
including me, were camped out on the lumpy ridge opposite the fort 
with the ammunition we needed.  The back gate was open, the sally 
port I expect they called it, and while there were two guards on the 
wall, nobody seemed very alert.  I did notice that the Redcoats did 
all their smoking outside the walls.  I curled up and slept, briefly.

	"Might as well hit `em now, while we've got some light," Foster 
said, kicking me awake.  I stretched and rose, having trouble 
keeping my eyes open.  "Whoa," he said as a string of five wagons 
came in view, all heavily loaded.  "Well, ain't that nice a'them?"  Each 
wagon had a driver and an armed guard on it which made the odds 
a little longer, but having wagons loaded was helpful and the
  guards 
looked to be militia.  I yawned, primed my piece and we began 
moving through the woods.

	At first our attack went well.  We got two men inside the walls 
before the British knew we were about and within a few minutes we 
had evened the manpower disparity although one of our men was 
down and not moving and there was some well-aimed firing coming 
from behind the blockhouse.  Then all hell broke loose.  Burning 
powder or a pan flash had started a fire in the weeds by the log wall 
and it quickly spread toward the sod-covered magazine and the 
wagons with their loads of powder kegs.

	I did not wait.  I ran, yelling for my friends and comrades to 
get out.  I had almost reached the treeline when the first explosion 
shook the ground and tossed me heels over head into the 
underbrush. I stayed low and covered my head as debris rained 
down.  Two more, even bigger blasts followed, tossing parts of 
men, mules and heavy logs into the sky.  A fourth explosion 
sounded 
 muffled but resulted in a cloud of dirt and logs being 
thrown up.  The small fort had almost disappeared.

	Foster cursed all the way back to camp and halfway there he 
singled me out, turned me around and pointed me back toward 
New Brunswick.  "Go find another," he said.  "Be quick about it."

	Dead tired and dozing on the horse from time to time, I went 
back to the same tavern, stabled my animal, found the girl I had 
swived in the hallway and asked her if I could use her bed.  She 
helped me up the stairs and I collapsed, face down and feet hanging.  
I was instantly asleep.

	The girl kicked me awake early the next morning.  "Stop that 
snoring," she whispered hoarsely.  "Y'sound like a bloody sawmill."

	I was awake, hungry and horny, and took care of my needs in 
the opposite order.  With the young woman well served and 
moaning with pleasure, I dressed and went down to enjoy some 
fried corn mush and sweet coffee.  The place had lots of good 
honey, so I gobbled do
 wn a load of that and ran back up stairs.  
The wench had managed to get her shift back on when I came 
through the door, grabbed her and hauled her back to the 
disordered bed.  She squealed and clawed a bit, but soon was 
bucking and rogering away, helping us both get the day well begun.

	I told her what happened when we were able to talk 
rationally, and asked if she had heard of any other such small forts 
out in the hinterland.  She wrinkled her young brow.  "I recollect 
some riders once come in from up Plainfield way, so they said.  
Welsh they was, couldn't hardly understand `em."

	"When was this?" I asked, pulling my boots back on, well 
satisfied, limp in fact.

	"Fortnight, mebbe," she said.  "You gotta go?"

	"I'll be back," I said, standing and kissing her nicely.

	"You better," she said with a smile.  "I'll be a'waitin'."

	Since George had gone off in that direction and had not gotten 
back by the time of our abortive and explosive raid, I headed 
toward Me
 tuchan, his usual stomping ground.  I found him exactly 
where I had expected to, pried him off Milly or Maggy, bought him 
an ale and told him what I had heard.

	"Could be," he said.  "I been here listening.  Ain't heard nothin' 
like that."

	"I know what you been doing," I said, making a vulgar 
gesture.

	He laughed, and we saw to our animals and headed off 
toward Plainfield.  We ran into some guarded wagons along the 
way, watched them go by, and then followed them from woodland 
trails and creekbeds.  They led us right to a small fort we probably 
would never have found otherwise.  Instead of being built on a 
hilltop or ridge, this stockade had been erected where two creeks 
joined, on the edge of a meadow with the forest to its back.

	We sat in the sheltering trees and counted as best we could.  It 
looked like there were a dozen or so men, plus two or three officers 
and some civilian teamsters stationed at or working in the small 
redoubt which had a shallow tre
 nch dug all around it.  The place 
contained a slope-roofed barracks built into one wall and a 
windowless warehouse on the opposite side.  The building looked 
new, raw wood showing.

	"Think we can do it?" I asked George.

	He spat.  "Doubt it."

	"Suppose we try this," I said.  "Capture the officers, run off the 
men and one of us goes for the company while the other holds the 
place.  How's that?"

	"Some plan, two `ginst, what twenty?"

	"We need the wagons.  They'll likely be gone tomorrow if we 
wait."

	"When?" he asked.

	"Moonrise," I said.  "I'm going to sleep some."  I got my bedroll 
and kicked out a hiphole and did as I said.

	George toed me awake.  "You snore loud enough to give us 
away?" he said.  It was still dark as hell.

	We chewed down some dried meat, saw to our weapons and 
an hour after we were sure the fort was all tucked in for the night 
and the moon was climbing, we spotted the two sentries, and we 
made out move.

	The guards died quietly, and 
 the officers were indeed 
surprised in their beds.  We gagged and tied two of them up and 
then explained to the other, the older one, what we wanted.  He 
took some persuading, but by the time I had broken two of his 
fingers, he understood that we were serious.  An hour before 
dawn, I awoke the civilians and told them to leave.  I gave each of 
them a handful of shillings we had taken from the officers' mess.  
They had kept their money in a pewter pitcher.

	The soldiers proved to be well disciplined and very orderly.  
They assembled on command without their weapons, and by the 
time the sun was up, led by their commander, who was sucking on 
his swollen fingers, they marched out of the fort in good order.  We 
kept the two subalterns, flipped a coin and George rode off for 
reinforcements while I stayed with the young men, the five wagons 
and their mule teams.  We had let the civilians each take a horse if 
they wanted to.  Most did.

	The two men and I sat and played
  cards for a while, discussed 
the war and our plans, and then talked about women we had 
known or wished we had known.  I had, of course, disarmed the 
officers, and taken their pledge that they would behave themselves 
rather than stay hog-tied to each other.

 	I was not altogether surprised, however, when they made an 
attempt to turn the table.  I surely would have done the same in 
their shoes.  Actually, they were shoeless since I had tossed their 
boots down the well.  When I returned from a trip to the privy, one 
of them hid behind the door while the other sat playing solitaire.  
The bigger of the two lunged at me from behind, a hatchet in his 
hand, as I started to say, "Where's . . ." and saw his reflection in the 
barracks' window.  My elbow stopped him just in time.

	They fought well and bravely, but I was bigger and more used 
to this kind of combat.  I avoided all the niceties and used my knees, 
fists, feet, teeth and thumbs to bring them to heel.  I tied 
 them up 
and kicked them a few times, tended my scratches, felt at a loose 
tooth and was able to welcome Lt. Foster alertly when he and my 
company arrived about sunset.

	We did not hesitate since we were sure that more Brits were 
probably on the way to relieve the place.  We got the teams hitched 
and the wagons on the road at once.  I tied to the two young 
officers to trees outside the fort, hanging each up by one foot, and 
then we set fire to the place.  The powder we had not taken made a 
wonderful explosion that must have been heard for miles.  I cannot 
say whether or not the ensigns survived the fireworks.

	With the job done, I slipped away and headed back to New 
Brunswick.  I gave the girl a sack of shillings and spent several days 
with her, rewarding myself for my hard work.  She shared me with 
another young women and parceled out the money as well.  When 
George arrived to haul me back to my other duties, both wept mock 
tears and waved their handkerchiefs
  as we rode away.

	Such are the sacrifices men made for their country.
<1st attachment end>


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