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The dark of the muggy August night was pierced by the sight of cannon fire from the river. A small band of rebels were silhouetted against the fire of the cannon explosions. The small troop of American soldiers were trying to keep artillery stationed at the battery from falling into British hands. The cannons continued to fire, keeping the rebels scattered, but not stopping them from their task.
“Let’s go, men!” The voice of Alexander Hamilton called from the chaos of the explosions and shouting soldiers. With great effort, a small group of men, among them his loyal friend Hercules Mulligan, were laboriously hauling away the remaining cannons.
“Herc,” Alexander slid to a stop next to the cannon he and four other men were dragging along. “where’s my gun?”
Hercules Mulligan glanced wild-eyed at his friend. “T-the parapet. You aren’t seriously going to go back and get it are you?!”
Alexander only frowned, “It’s a dereliction of duty to leave one’s weapon to fall into enemy hands, Herc. And I wouldn’t be much of an officer if I didn’t set an example for my men.”
Hercules Mulligan rolled his eyes. “Alright Alex. But for God’s sake, be careful!”
Alexander let a feral grin cross his face and he gave his friend a mock salute. He rushed down to the parapet and under the lamplight which had been hit and toppled, the light oil reaching the dry grass and catching it on fire.
He was exposed to the enemy through the light that the fire had brought about. Though in return, Alexander could now see the barge holding a smaller cannon. A cannonball had just whizzed by his ear, and he ducked to retrieve his weapon. He took it up and fired, knowing that it would not reach that distance. He stood, keeping his eyes on the shots from the small barge while shouting at his troop, “Keep going, men! Quick time now!”
He had turned his head for a moment, which had been his folly. A cannonade struck close to him, making his feet tumble out from under him. Something had struck his arm, pain overtaking his senses. The smell of gunpowder and something coppery filled his nose. Through his blurred vision, Alexander could see something sticking out from his arm, a sharp piece of wood splinter from the fence had pierced into his left arm. An agonizing pain engulfed him, causing him to cry out in anguish.
In a brief respite from the thunderous roar of cannons, the only sounds that filled the air were the anguished moans of his pain and the gentle rhythm of water lapping against the shore. He lay on the cold ground, his body trembling and his skin slick with sweat. His heart raced and his breathing came in short, labored gasps. He knew he had to get up, but his body was too weak to move.
“Alex!” Hercules cried. He rushed towards his comrade, watching as the soldier dropped to his knees and gently grasped Alex's shoulders, his eyes filled with concern. “God, Alex!” His gaze went from his friend to the Asia. “We’d better get out of here before they reload or whatever they’re planning.”
The sound of gunshots cracked through the air, shouts from the Redcoats coming close. He heard a sharp ping as a bullet hit the dirt.
As carefully as he could, Hercules gingerly lifted the weight of Alexander into his arms, supporting his knees and shoulders, despite the audible groans of pain escaping Alexander's lips. Notwithstanding that he tried not to aggravate his friend’s wounded arm. He took off swiftly back into the tree line towards the camp. Alexander heard the panting breaths of his friend and footfalls of boots stomping the dirt path.
*~*
Alexander awoke to excruciating pain as alcohol was poured onto his wounded arm. The haze of unconsciousness had faded in gradual waves, allowing him to take stock of his surroundings. He could see the bright lantern illuminating the gleaming medical supplies on a nearby cloth laden table, along with bandages and medicinal bottles. Turning his head Alexander’s stomach was already in a tumult as his eyes caught sight of his wounded limb, blood seeping from the entry point.
“Doc, he’s awake.” the deep timbre of Hercules warned. A warm hand was pressed against his forehead, trying to calm him. He stood in front of Alexander, hands placed on the wounded man’s now bare shoulders. “Alex, can you hear me?” When he nodded in the affirmative, Hercules continued, “We’re going to get that piece of wood out of your arm. Be brave now, alright?”
Alexander felt a rush of panic but nodded slightly. Hercules sat next to him by the table, still blocking the view of his wound. His friend gave him an apologetic look as he lifted Alexander’s head to take a teaspoon of laudanum and chase it down with a swig of whiskey from a flask, before placing a strip of leather in his mouth. “I’m sorry, but you’ll need to bite down on this.”
Terrified, Alexander closed his eyes as he heard Mulligan say, “We’re ready, doctor.” Warm hands pushed down slightly harder on his shoulders. Dimly, Alexander wondered if he would even have his arm when this was all over. He shifted, pain exploding from his left arm all the way to his chest, while a rush of blood to his ears drowned out any noise. Tears streamed down his face, his stomach’s contents nearly reaching his throat.
Thankfully the pain lessened, the hurting in his arm became a throb. His head swam even as the dull words of ‘debridement’ came into his ears. A wave of torment washed over him as an icy sensation made contact with his skin and sinews, tugging and stitching them together. Finally, he felt a gentle sensation of soft fabric, delicate gauze, and soothing bandages were carefully applied to his injured arm.
“It’s over, Alex,” Hercules reassured him softly, “you’ll be okay now.”
He sighed, surrendered to blissful darkness.
~*~
Alexander awoke to the smell of a musky aftershave that was vaguely familiar to him. Opening his eyes, he allowed his vision to focus, his eyebrows knitting at the unfamiliar settings. He was lying in a cot and tent that was not his own, as was the fact that there was another cot on the opposite side. His small desk was not present either, so where?….
The gentle rhythm of raindrops tapping against the canvas provided a comforting melody, a stark contrast to the chaotic noise of cannon fire and anguished cries that had filled the night. His question was answered when Hercules Mulligan came into sight with a look of surprise and relief. “You’re finally awake, Alex.”
“Mmmm….” A soft murmur escaped his lips, the only sound he could manage in that moment. Suddenly, he became aware of his arm, securely fastened to his chest in a snug sling.
Hey, do you want some water?" His friend asked, his voice filled with concern. Alexander's throat was dry and scratchy, a painful reminder of the dreadful ordeal he had endured the previous night. With Hercules' assistance, he managed to raise his upper body a little, and his friend handed him a small tin cup filled with water. As the cool liquid touched his lips, a wave of relief washed over Alexander, soothing his aching throat.
As Hercules laid his head gently back on the soft pillow, a deep frown etched across his face, causing a slight unease to settle in the air. “Alexander, I told you to be careful, and you recklessly stood there while they were firing at you!” Hercules growled deeply.
He winced at the use of his full name, something Hercules only employed when angry with his friend. Still his allowed his lips to form into a grim smile. “I had to cover for the others so we could get the cannons out.”
Hercules let out a deep sigh, his chagrin evident as he gently placed his hand on Alexander's unharmed shoulder. "You know, Alex, your impulsive nature is bound to lead you into trouble someday.”
Another smug smile had begun to tug at Alexander’s lips. “I can only hope so, Hercules.”
Hercules rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He stepped away from his friend, his hand still on his shoulder. "Just be careful from now on, okay?" he said with a sigh. “Get some sleep, Alex.”
Tiredness had swept over him again. He drifted to sleep slowly, as the rain steadily tapered off. A feeling the warmth arrived with a gentle breeze that wafted onto his face. He saw the sun began to peek from broken clouds as the tent flaps lifted and Hercules exited it.