The sound of gunfire burst through the early morning air. It was the morning of July 3, 1754. Today was the day that I dreaded. All I could do was wish for it to be over and that I would live to see tomorrow. The men on patrol returned fire to a wooded abyss. They had no target to return their fire. The French and their indigenous allies maneuvered their way around us, using the trees as a protection from our gunfire. Trenches dug out around the stockade filled with men, and with the constant rain, it filled with water. We were sitting ducks in the water, unable to defend our pond. I heard the shouts of instructions. Louis brayed and reared. The both of us were agitated. I tried to comfort him, but Henry was the one he sought. If able, I was supposed to ride Louis to Winchester, then on to Fredericksburg, then to his house in Williamsburg. That was fine that Henry thought that would be the plan. However, without my GPS, I had no clue how to get there and would probably end up back in the clutches of the French.
Sporadic gunfire continued throughout the day. More shouts. More shots. When I thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. Mid-afternoon, the clouds burst open, and a torrential downpour made it difficult for us to return fire. The rain soaked the gunpowder and made it impossible to shoot anything. The French were protected from most of the rain under the canopy of the trees they hid behind. We were out in this godforsaken marsh, exposed to water both coming down on top of us and knee deep in mud. It doomed us before we started.
I continued to hunker down in the stockade. I kept Louis with me, in the event I would have to make for a quick escape. He was continually agitated with the bangs and whistle of the bullets as they flew the air. I would duck as the occasional one broke its way through to the interior. I ducked, hoping to avoid catching a slug and the splintered wood. How could I think I could duck a bullet?
The rain did not let up throughout the rest of day and left me drenched. My dress was heavy from the constant deluge. The water had nowhere to go. The earth saturated, could not take in anymore water. We trudged through the mud to repair what we could and provide reinforcements.
They brought casualties to the stockade. Our men fell one-by-one. My heart broke piece-by-piece. They were friends and brothers-in-arms. I attempted to provide whatever care I could under some guidance from Doctor Craik. It was not much. I lost count of how many came in wounded and left for dead. A bloody, undistinguishable face would come in, and I would swallow down in hopes it wouldn’t be Henry. Every wounded man brought my emotions closer to a breaking point. A private. A sergeant. A corporal. A lieutenant. Patch him up. Pile up the dead outside of the fort for someone else to tend to him. Duck from a bullet. We patched and sent the injured ones back to the lines or to their tents. This continued into the early evening. Then there was silence. No more gunfire. No more yells of orders. Injured and dead continued to be brought in. I leaned over Sergeant Lovett as I attempted to wrap up his leg. A superficial wound. If we could prevent infection, he would live long enough to get home to Mistress Lovett.
There was a hand on my back. I pulled the wet twists of hair out of my face with my blood-covered hands. I turned around and had to focus my exhausted eyes. It was Henry. There was blood on him. “Cheese and rice, Henry. You’re bleeding. Where?” I shouted as I opened his jacket to look for the wound.
“I’m well. Not shot.” He looked down at his jacket. He seemed half in a daze. “I carried in Corporal Jenkins. It’s his blood. I believe.” He wiped at the blood.
My vision spun. I grabbed hold of his arm to brace myself. I could feel myself losing my balance. There was nothing I could do to stop me from blacking out. Henry grabbed me around my waist and helped me to sit on the ground. The rain continued to fall from the sky.
“Where have they shot you?” I could hear the panic in Henry’s voice.
I regained consciousness and looked up at Henry. Water dripped down his nose. He was soaked. “Me? They have not shot me. I don’t think I have,” I said as I looked down at my dress. The sting of iron from the blood pierced into my nose. It was not my blood, but there was a lot. So much blood. “Just got lightheaded from not eating and this damned heat and humidity.” I stopped and listened to the silence. “What’s going on? I don’t hear the guns.”
“I must go. I’m headed out with Van Braam and Bennet to begin negotiations with the French to offer the conditions of surrender.”
“Who?” My thought processing slowed. I was confused. Words were jumbled in my head, and I shook it to try to straighten them out. It only half-way worked.
“The French, Van Braam the translator, Bennet, and I are supposed to start the negotiations,” he said slowly so I could take it in. I shook my head again. “I need to get out there. I just needed to make sure you were alive and well.”
“Who is the French officer?” I grabbed hold of Henry as he tried to leave me. He helped me stand up. I grabbed hold of both his arms and forced him to look at me. “I need to know who.”
“It’s a Captain Louis Coulon de Villiers.”
“That’s Jumonville’s brother. We’re screwed.” I walked with Henry towards the command tent. “And he is ticked off.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Henry stopped and looked at me.
“To the tent, of course. Colonel Washington needs to hear what I have to say about the terms of surrender that are going to be offered to him.” I looked up at Henry and kept trudging through the mud.
“You know he will not allow you to be in there to discuss anything about the negotiations.” Henry pulled on my arm to stop me. “Amelia, have you not learned anything while you’ve been here? You do not have the authority to do as you please. The colonel can send you away. Permanently.”
“Listen, you go do whatever it is you need to do, but the French are going to blame Colonel Washington for the death of Jumonville. I don’t trust Van Braam’s translations.”
“He’s Dutch, and the only one that here that knows enough French.” Henry let out a loud sigh. “I’ll do what I can, but you need to know, we will do what it takes to get out of here alive and in one piece. We’ve had an abundance of casualties today. I’m not willing to have more before the night is done.”
“Stay safe and come back to me. I cannot do any of this without you.” I pleaded with him. He had been my protector and friend. I did not want to lose him to what should be simple negotiations with the French.
Henry left me standing there as he met with Captain Jacob Van Braam and Lieutenant Hector Bennet before heading out to their meeting. I turned heel and went to meet with Colonel Washington, whether he wanted me to speak with him, or not.
“Colonel Washington, may I speak with you?” I stood outside his tent. He was going to be in a foul mood, but I hoped he would grant me the curtesy of my wisdom.
“Mistress Murray, please make it quick.” His voice dripped with stress and annoyance at my presence. Arrogant.
I needed to ensure that I didn’t make this worse. I entered and fell into a curtsy. “Colonel Washington, I wanted to give you a few updates on the health of the men.” I figured I better not jump into the “I told you so” lecture that I wanted to give him. “I’ve assisted Doctor Craik with the injured men as best I could, but we had some that succumbed to their injuries. Others, I’m not sure if they will make it through the night or if they will be overcome with fever.”
“We will have to worry about that later.” He turned to Captain MacKay, who had been in the tent when I had entered, to continue their discussion on our retreat. He looked up from the papers they were looking at. “Is that all, Mistress Murray?”
“No, Colonel, I’m not sure what the surrender terms are going to be, but whatever comes back, you need to reconsider it.” I held my hands behind my back and twisted my ring to the point I was sure my finger would fall off. “The French are not to be trusted. Captain Coulon de Villiers is Ensign Jumonville’s brother. He is most displeased with the death of his brother and wants to hold you accountable for his death.”
“Mistress Murray,” Colonel Washington stood up, towering over me. “If you please.” He waved his hand towards the opening of the tent. I was no longer welcomed in there. I had to think of a way to make sure he did not sign the agreement. They would blame him for the death of Jumonville.
It was almost midnight when Henry, Van Braam, and Bennet returned to the fort. They made terms of the agreement over the past four hours. The men made a beeline it to the command tent. Henry glanced over at me, shook his head, and waved me off. I had to know what they discussed. He should have known that I wouldn’t stand by and allow Jumonville to win from beyond the grave.
I ran over and stood next to the tent, attempted to look busy, and listened the best I could–with ears that still rang from being strained from all the nearby musket fire–to the discussion. We were to surrender the garrison, supplies, and leave unarmed. Expected. All of us wanted to leave here, anyway. It would be difficult to leave without our rations, but we were leaving with our lives. I looked forward to civilization and a legitimate roof over my head instead of a tent or the open night sky. The part about being unarmed and without supplies bothered me a bit, but we would make do. Some men had brought their personal muskets. That would be a financial burden on them, but they were alive.
We, the British, were not to build another fort on the Ohio for a year. Of course, they were going to push the boundary of their territory into ours. Fine. We had plenty to do within that year to prepare for engagement and make a better plan to take back Fort Duquesne. I wanted to see the look on their face when it was taken back. I then realized that I would probably not be here for that, as I would hopefully find my way back to my time before that occurred.
I heard a noise behind me. It was Sergeant Lovett. “Mistress Murray, we have a stew made. Would you care to join us?”
I threw my finger over my lips to shush him. The command tent was not where I needed to be found eavesdropping. I stepped away and in a low voice, “I can’t leave here just yet. Will you bring me something?” He nodded, and I stopped him before he left. “Do tell the men to eat and drink up. We are losing our supplies to the French in the morning. I don’t want to leave anything to those bastards.”
“What’s this part?” Washington seemed concerned about the term of the surrender.
“The terms states that you attacked Sieur Jumonville.” Captain Van Braam said in his heavy accent.
I burst into the tent. I had to let Colonel Washington know what he was signing. “It does not state that you attacked. It says you assassinated him. Read it.”
“Mistress Murray,” Washington shouted as he stood up. He looked tired and angry. “Captain Spencer, remove this woman.”
“Do you speak French?” Van Braam said, with a smirk, knowing full well that I did not.
I shook my head. “No, but I know what that says.”
“You do not understand the interpretation of this document. That is why I’m here.” Van Braam was smug. He didn’t want me there from the beginning, I knew that. His disdain for me was apparent.
Henry grabbed me by the elbow. “Amelia, please. You need to leave now.”
“I’m leaving.” I jerked my elbow away from Henry. “He needs to know what he is signing. It says assassinate.” I lunged towards the document to point out the word.
“If we don’t sign this document, they will kill us all and scalp us. Is that what you want? It doesn’t matter what it says. If we want to leave here alive, Colonel Washington signs it.” Henry turned around to the men that were staring at our quarrel. “Gentlemen, if it pleases you, Mistress Murray will take her leave.”
I turned on my heel and left the tent. My blood boiled. This was not how I planned it to turn out. I thought they would be pleased with my knowledge and want to protect Colonel Washington from making a mistake. I wanted to find a dark corner to cower and cry. Private MacDonald stumbled over to me. “Mistress Murray,” he said, as he shoved a bottle of wine in my hand. “Celebrate our defeat with us.” He was drunk. I looked around at the men. The sound of singing, laughter, arguments, and chatter were all being enhanced by the raid on the supply locker’s wine, ale, and whisky.
I took the bottle from my young bartender and tossed back a hearty swig. It didn’t matter at this point, we either get drunk or we give it to the French. I had every intention of getting drunk with the rest of my brothers-in-arms. I took MacDonald’s offered arm, carried my bottle with me, and joined the troops drinking by the fire.