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SgtMunro
Soldier of the King
USA
Bumppo's Patron since [at least]:
September 23 2002
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 Posted - October 04 2005 : 09:29:21 AM
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“The Conference Bower” (Part One) By Sgt. Munro
Northwest of the Camp Near Tuscarawas, The Ohio Country
14 October 1764 / 0920 Hours
Stephen Patarcity led his two charges along the trade path, which followed a leisurely, southeasterly course. Noticing that the men where not at the same level of physical conditioning as he was, he halted and allowed them to rest.
“I thought you men were rangers. Why are you so exhausted?”
The older of the two men answered, “We are actually Virginia Militia, formed into a provincial ranging company.”
Stephen exhaled loudly, and looked down the path, “That would explain a great deal.”
“Thank you again, for freeing us from those Indians, sir.” The younger man said, with extended hand, “I am James Ogden, from near Will’s Creek.”
Taking the young man’s hand, Patarcity replied, “I am Stephen Patarcity, and think nothing of it, because they were going to release you anyways.”
James acted surprised, and asked, “Are you the same Patarcity of Rogers Rangers?”
“Yes son, I am, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. I also served in the 48th Regiment of Foote before that; and later, I was a captain in the Queen’s Royal American Rangers.”
The older man introduced himself as well, “And I am Thomas Whittler, also of Will’s Creek. Mister Patarcity sir, what makes you certain that they were not going to kill us?”
“I spoke with their headman, a gentleman by the name of Custaloga, and he informed me that the ‘peace faction’ of the Delaware Nation had finally gained control of policy-making. Custaloga also did not want to risk any of his own men getting shot, by over-zealous soldiers, while delivering the message you two carry. Therefore he was most pleased to let us go, and to direct us toward the approaching army of Colonel Bouquet.”
Ogden added, “Yes, he did appear to be a kind, older-sort of fellow.”
“Appearances can be deceiving, young ranger.” Patarcity noted, “That ‘kind, older-sort of fellow’, has the heart of a bear. I knew of him for many years, and in his prime he would best any man; besides, he was probably the one who roasted Lieutenant Gordon over spit, last summer at Fort Venango. For all their talk of peace, it is the threat of overwhelming military force and embargo of trade goods, which really brings them to the peace table.”
Patarcity opened his compass, and then checked his pocket watch; shooting an azimuth toward his next geographical landmark, he then said, “We are burning daylight, and still have an unknown distance to cover. We had better press on, men.”
The two weary ‘rangers’ followed as Stephen moved briskly down the trail.
…Midday, two miles west of Bouquet’s Camp:
Privates Stewart and MacDonald the Elder were posted at the point of a “V” formation, situated one-quarter mile ahead of the road construction party. Today the men of Graham’s Company, 42nd Royal Highland Regiment, were detailed as advance party security. The road building had been slow going as of late, due to stubborn trees and equally stubborn weather.
“Wae Donald, at least I am not swinging a mattock today, lad.”
“Aye Charles, but I would feel better if the weather was drier.” Pausing to scan the forest in front of him, “At least then I could hear them approach.”
“There be nothing of concern, Donald. With Mister Cooper’s rangers and Captain Schloss’ Pennsylvanians conducting patrols ahead, I doubt that we will be at all surprised.”
Setting his firelock against a tree, Private Stewart then dug into his haversack and pulled out a half-eaten piece of Munition Bread. Flicking the weevils off of its surface, he then bit down hard and broke off a bite. With a swig from his canteen, he swished it around in his mouth till it softened enough to swallow.
“You never get them all, Charles.”
Struggling to swallow, with another drink from his canteen, Stewart asked, “What?”
“The bugs, Charles. They are all through the biscuit.”
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Serjeant-Major Duncan Munro
Capt. Thos. Graham's Coy.
42nd Royal Highland Regiment of Foote
(The Black Sheep of the Black Watch)
"Nemo Me Impune Lacessit"
-Or-
"Recruit locally, fight globally." |
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The Conference Bower (Part-1) - 14 October 1764
