“I think I’m going to throw up,” I coughed out and gasped. My lungs and throat burned from tobacco smoke. I handed Sergeant Lovett his pipe. “That tasted and felt like shit.”
The men burst out in laughter. Drunk and laughing his head off, MacDonald fell backwards off the log he used as a chair. That only caused the men to laugh harder.
“Mayhap the lady would like another puff?” Sergeant Lovett offered his pipe to me, followed by a laugh that sent his rotund belly in to a fit of spastic jiggles.
I stood up, attempted to curtsy, and hacked up a lung instead. My legs were unstable and caused me to sway. I had finished the bottle of wine and never found a bowl of stew. “Mayhap, the lady thinks you should take the pipe and shove it up your arse.” The men bellowed in laughter. “I’ve got to pee.”
I looked around for a privy or a dark corner. My eyes lit up when I spotted a location near the storeroom that offered a dark corner, which would give me only a little privacy. To say that it was a corner is a bit of a stretch. They had built the stockade in a circular footprint, but it was a corner none the less. I crossed over our makeshift bridge and entered the stockade. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Come on, Amelia. Left foot. Or was it supposed to be my right?
It reminded me of Mardi Gras in New Orleans when I had turned twenty-one. Todd was in training for his new position with the State Department. It was my senior year of college and a couple of friends thought it would be fun to party it up in the overcrowded streets of NOLA. We carried yard-length tubes filled with boozy concoctions everywhere we went. By the end of one of the parades, I was drunk off my ass and my bladder felt as though it would burst. Of course, I couldn’t find a bathroom. I stumbled behind a bank and peed by the dumpster. By the smell of it, I wasn’t the only one that found refuge behind it. I remember looking over as I balanced myself with a hand on the dumpster and noticed someone had left a Victoria’s Secret bra just lying there. I remember thinking that was an odd place to leave a bra. I was young, drunk, and stupid. Fun times. I got pregnant with Hannah shortly after that trip. It was my first and last foray into the wild world of Mardi Gras.
The corner would have to do as my makeshift bathroom. I wandered over to the dark corner. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I was hammered. Leaning against the logs that made up the wall of the stockade, I lifted my dress off the ground, squatted, peed, and almost fell over in my attempt to stand up. I was certain I would be drunk for the next week. As I gained what little footing I could to walk across the muddy yard back to my drinking partners, a group of about five men approached me. I didn’t recognize them. They might have come with Fry’s or MacKay’s group. They weren’t any of Washington’s or Henry’s men. “Gentlemen,” I clumsily curtsied. “There is a suitable spot to relieve yourselves back there. It should provide you with enough…”
“Aye, yes, Mistress. It is a dark spot.” said the soldier who I assumed was the leader of their group. It was too dark to see his face, but he was not much taller than me. His voice sounded like he smoked like a chimney. “Would you care to join us back there?” His voice scratched at my ears.
The nerve! “Absolutely not.” I quickly retorted as I tried to push myself past the wall of men.
The leader flicked his head and one of the other men grabbed me, spun me around, and clasped his calloused hand hard across my mouth. My screams muffled. The roar of drunken celebration occupied the night and drowned out my calls for help.
“We fought hard today. Friends died. We deserve a bit of recompense.” He growled in my ear. I kicked back. I twisted and turned. The hand slipped from my mouth.
“Not from me, you bastard,” I screamed out. “Go fu….”
The leader slapped me across the face. My attacker grasped me with more force. “This one’s got a fighting spirit.” I was lifted by the waist and dragged back into the dark corner I had just flooded with urine. “You think you’re better than us? You’re just a harlot out here, drunk with all these men. You give it up to that Captain. You can give it up to us.”
Two men grabbed my arms. They forced me onto my knees and shoved face first into the ground. I could smell the sting of the urine and feel the mud caked on my face squishing its way into my nostrils. I tried to twist my way out of their grasp. I screamed. Only the mud could hear my call for help. I could hear the unbuckling of his belt and the sound of laughter close by and in the distance. Couldn’t anyone see what was happening? Of course not, I chose this location for the privacy and now it was a place where I would be hidden while they violated me. I clenched down on my teeth. Someone pinned my legs to the ground while I tried to kick them. I had to resist as much as possible, even as these men outnumbered and overpowered me.
I braced myself for the thing even Bouchard would not dare to do. The entire weight of my unsupported body crashed into the mud as I was released from their grasp. I heard a grunt. There was a crack of a fist hitting a jaw. I pulled myself up, weighed down by the mud that covered me. I looked behind me at the melee. Sergeant Lovett, Private MacDonald, Henry, Private Davies, Corporal Cooper, and Lieutenant Collins were engaged in repelling my attackers. They pressed my back against the wall.
Within two strides, Henry was in front of me, hands on my shoulders. “Did they violate you?”
I couldn’t answer. I stood there staring at him, unable to speak. The tears had already flowed.
Henry grabbed my face and forced me to look at him and away from the fight. “Amelia, did they violate you?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him they almost did. He saved me before it happened, but I couldn't tell him. All I could do was stand there. My body trembled. My knees were weak. Henry grabbed me by the waist and lead me away. The rest of the men continued the beat down of my attackers.
I reached up to wipe the tears away. My hand was covered in mud. My face was caked thick with the urine-soaked mud. I needed to sit down. We crossed the walkway to the colony of tents and continued our walk over to the command tent. My feet and dress were heavy with mud. I wanted to collapse into a hot shower and cry.
Buckets of cold water were poured over my head. I sat there, sobbing, unable to care for myself. The world around me was out of focus, but I could sense Henry's presence. I closed my eyes. Another bucket of cold water. Someone wiped my face with a linen cloth.
“Hm?” I thought I heard someone say something to me. “What?” I shook my head.
“I said, we need to get you cleaned up.” Henry was within inches of my face.
I looked down at my hands and dress. “I’m filthy.”
“Are you drunk?” His voice rang with disappointment.
“I was earlier.” The trauma of the attack had sobered me up. The shock of it kept me in a daze. “I need to get clean.” I tried to wipe the mud off my dress. “I don’t have any clean clothes.”
“Sergeant Lovett, find clothes for her. I don’t care from where or who.” He turned back and looked at me, then to Lovett. “Hasten man.” Lovett limped away, determined.
Henry stood me up and walked me to the command tent. I shivered. “What is going on here, Captain?” Washington stood up from behind his desk and crossed the tent to us. He braced me on my left, Henry on my right, and they led me to a chair.
“It appears the men got into the storage and helped themselves to the alcohol. A group of MacKay’s men thought they would take their liberties with Mistress Murray.” Henry shot a glance at MacKay who stood next to Washington. “We stopped them from harming her virtue, but they did rough her about before we found her.”
“Mayhap the lady should not be on the battlefield.” MacKay didn’t care what his men did.
Washington interrupted, “You were to be with Captain Van Braam and Lieutenant Bennet meeting with the French.”
“Captain Stobo went in my stead.” Henry turned his attention back to me. “I have one of my men finding clothing for Mistress Murray. We will get her cleaned up.”
“You don’t intend on doing that in here, do you?” I could hear the annoyance in Washington’s voice. He was not happy with my outburst earlier this evening, but why couldn’t he show any sympathy for my plight?
“She has a small tent that we set up for her last night. If it’s still standing, we can try to get her in there.”
“Captain Spencer,” Lovett’s voice came from the other side of the tent. “We have what you asked for.”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking.” I glared at Washington as I gave a curtsy. “Captain Spencer, please take me to my tent. I need to get cleaned up for our departure tomorrow.”
We headed towards where my tent was supposed to be located near the storage room. “It’s not here. It’s supposed to be here. Why? Why would they steal my tent?” That seemed to be my last straw. My previous sobs went into a complete meltdown. “My notebook,” I exclaimed. I could lose everything else, but not that notebook. Not again.
“Are you sure you don’t have it in your pocket?” Henry asked. “You never let it out of your sight.”
“I, uh.” I felt around my pocket. It wasn’t there. “So much has happened today. I don’t know. It must have dropped out somewhere.” My hands shook.
“We will look for it, Mistress.” Sergeant Lovett had been by our side as we walked over to the storage room. My eyes darted to the corner next to it. Not moments earlier, I was almost assaulted over there. Now, this place was going to be my refuge. I shook my head at the irony.
“It’s not much, but you can use the storage room to clean and change your clothes.” Henry handed me the stack of clothes. They weren’t clean, but they were cleaner than my dress. It was going to be nice to put on pants again.
I walked into the storage room, looked around, and realized I was going to have to figure out how to get my clothes off with my trembling hands. It couldn’t be easy for me, of course not. I stuck my head out the door, “I need clean water and a linen to clean myself.”
“I’ll send Private MacDonald, if I can find him in all of this, to bring you buckets of water. Sergeant Lovett and I will look for your notebook.”
I continued to fight back my tears, nodded, and shut the door. I couldn’t see anything around me. The room was pitch black. I felt around and found a crate to sit on and fumbled with the pins and ties to my clothing. The dexterity in my fingers disappeared as they trembled. I sloughed the mud and water heavy clothes and finally got down to my shift. I shivered. There was a knock at the door. “Yeah,” I called out through chattered teeth. Private MacDonald opened the door, the glow from the fires still burning in the rows of tents dimly lit the room. He entered with two buckets of water and sat them down next to me. “Will you find a candle or a torch or something so I can see what the hell I’m doing in here?”
“Yes, Mistress Murray.” Initially shocked, when he entered, he kept his eyes on the floor. Private MacDonald did not want to look at me standing there in my shift. Can’t say that I blame him for not wanting to look. I was probably older than his mother. “I haven’t seen you eat since this morning before the attack. Would you like me to find you something?”
“Yes, please,” I said. “Sergeant Lovett was supposed to bring me something earlier, but I think he forgot.”
“Aye, mistress.” His foot shifted around and continued not to look at me. “He had a bowl of stew for you, but Private Linden looked like he needed it. He was quite pale from being shot; you know.”
“I think I knew that.” My mind raced around the faces and injuries from earlier in the day. I could see the young private’s face. He had to be only sixteen at the most. There were too many baby-faced soldiers. They should be at home, goofing off and finding wives. “In the shoulder. He bled. I think I pulled the ball out washed the wound as best I could. Sewed it with a dull needle and thread. If he makes it through the night without dying from infection, would surprise me.” It was well past midnight, and my body and brain were exhausted. The wine had kept me going earlier in the evening. It’s probably why I didn’t miss the stew earlier, but now the wine was no longer doing its job and I was hungry and tired.
“I’m not sure if there is anything left, but I will find what I can.”
“And a light of some sort, please. Don’t forget.” I didn’t shut the door completely behind him. The fires provided a small sliver of light. I didn’t want to be left in the dark. I had wiped my face and hands when another knock came on the door. “Grand Central,” I called out, exacerbated.
“Pardon?” Henry’s voice called from the other side of the door.
“Come in, but fair warning, I’m wearing only my shift.” I figured I would warn him before I received the same look of embarrassment that I received from Private MacDonald.
“Sergeant Lovett found your notebook.” He cautiously opened the door and slowly entered. His outstretched arm had my notebook being delivered as though it was a sacrifice to the Minotaur.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I said as I snatched it out of his hand and hugged the book. It was covered in mud and stunk to high heaven of piss. “Where on earth did he find it?”
“Where we found you. It must have fallen out of your pocket when…” his voice trailed off. He knew he didn’t need to remind of the events from earlier that evening. “Yes.” Henry said to whomever was on the other side of the door. Private MacDonald handed Henry a nub of a candle. It should give me a half hour of light. That is all I thought I would need. Long enough to get cleaned up and dressed in the clothes that Sergeant Lovett could scrounge up for me.
This time MacDonald addressed me from the other side of the door. I’m sure he did not wish to see me undressed again. “There was no more stew, but I found this bread. I’m afraid it’s hard and not much.”
“That’s more than I could ask for. Thank you, MacDonald.” I called out over Henry’s shoulder and through the door. I would have to make do.
The candle was lit and placed on one of the nearby crates. I turned to Henry. “Unless you plan on helping get this caked-on mud off my naked body, I suggest you give me a few minutes.”
“Oh? Oh, but of course,” Henry exclaimed in embarrassment. “I’ll be right outside your door. Let me know when you’ve completed.”
“I must be a VIP. Like, a queen or something.”
“Pardon?”
“Well, who else would have a handsome lord standing guard outside her door to protect her honor while she bathed and dressed?” Exhaustion made me silly. If I didn’t have to look at the place in the corner of the stockade or the men that tried to assault me, I would be fine. At least, that is what I told myself over and over.
He smiled and gave an exaggerated bow. “Your grace, with your permission.” He closed the door behind him and stood guard outside. I smiled. I felt as though I hadn’t smiled in days. I don’t know how I could flirt in a circumstance like this. I didn’t handle stress very well and making light of the situation was all I knew to do. It gave me a sense of “maybe I would be okay and forget what happened.”
Cleaned and dressed in pieces of uniform, I gnawed on the bread that had dried nearly rock hard. I picked up my notebook, looked at it in hopes that I could salvage it. The candlelight had faded to a faint glow. I stared at it until it faded into nothing a minute later. I opened the door to the storage room and peeked out to find Henry asleep and leaned against the wall. I wiped the notebook off with the water and linen cloth. I was without my pockets, since they were piled with the rest of my muddy and wet clothes. My worn-out satchel had been in my missing tent, so I dropped the notebook down my shirt. It was cold and wet as it rested next to my belly. I had to keep it safe. In a few hours we would be mount Louis and leave this place behind forever.