Last Run of the Whisperer
A Story of a Soldier of the Connecticut Line
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
"Last Run of the Whisperer", Chapter 5, pages 44-46. The first battle. “Yes, sir,” we said together as we reined our horses and moved to back of the group of dragoons. Several of the horses were moving about with nervousness as they could sense the impending excitement and danger. My horses began moving about and I patted his neck to calm him. Most of the dragoons had drawn their sabers and a few had a pistol in their hands. I realized this was my second real engagement with an enemy and my mouth became uncomfortably dry. I looked at Eli and as he looked back, I realized that he looked as scared as I felt. Eli and I only had our rifles and suddenly I felt we were in over our heads and inadequately armed. I quickly thought back to the encounter with the Huron Indians on the Connecticut River back in ‘73. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. “Was my gun loaded?” I thought as I looked down at the flint and flash pan. Of course it was. I never left camp without checking it, I thought to myself. Everything began to slow down. I looked to my left and from the entrenchment, the Massachusetts men were firing on the regulars marching out on the field. To the front of us, and a little to our left the sergeant had formed his unit of militia and they were marching toward the regulars. From the British fortification at the neck to Boston, I could see sporadic gunfire and, behind the lines, the British artillery was being moved into position. Suddenly, without notice, the lieutenant and the front group of dragoons moved forward and then all was in motion. We left the Massachusetts earth works in a gap between the lines and were moving down the hill toward the flats. As we raced toward the group of regulars at the barns on the flats, I realized the white puffs of smoke coming from their guns meant that they were firing at us. I thought their fire was ineffective, until I saw a dragoon in the front of our group slump in his saddle and then fall to the ground, dropping his saber as he fell. As I looked to the left, the Massachusetts unit was fully engaged with the regulars who had formed up in front of the Massachusetts lines. Both were pouring close range musket fire into each other’s lines and men from both sides could be seen falling to the ground. From the British defensive works at the neck to Boston, a heavy fire was concentrated in our direction as we bore down on the regulars at the barn. Suddenly with a crash of horses, we were among the regulars at the barn who were about our equal in numbers. The regulars on foot defended themselves with their muskets, as the horse-mounted regulars engaged the dragoons with sabers and pistols. Gunfire seemed to be everywhere and as I rode into the enemy, I lost contact with Eli. Several dragoons and regulars already lay on the ground wounded as I whirled my horse around looking for a regular to attack. I saw the lieutenant in a close attack with two regulars on horses. He was doing all he could do to defend himself. I reined my horse to hold him steady and instinctively drew my rifle to my shoulder and fired at the regular making his way to the back of the lieutenant to strike him from behind. My rifle jumped in my hands and as the smoke cleared I saw the regular slumped in the saddle riding off. With one of his adversaries wounded and out of the fight, the lieutenant was more than a match for the remaining regular as I saw the flash of his saber through the air. I immediately turned my horse in a circle to check my back and saw Eli chasing a regular on a horse behind a barn. Reloading as I turned my horse, I sensed danger was approaching as I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my right eye. Reining my horse to the right, I found a regular on foot advancing toward me with bayonet charged. I spurred my horse in the direction of the regular and the force of a twelve hundred-pound animal slamming into the regular knocked him to the ground and rendered him defenseless. As he lay there unresponsive, I jumped from my horse and secured his hands with some leather. Suddenly, all around the barn began to explode with a deafening sound as the British artillery was engaged and began to find the range. A shell exploded some 50 feet from me and I felt a burning sensation on my right arm. As I put my left hand to my right arm and pulled it away, my hand was covered with blood. I next saw the lieutenant waving his sword over his head trying to regroup his men. I found Eli at my side and together, we hoisted the still unconscious British soldier over my saddle. Most of the regulars at the barns had already begun their retreat and those, who hadn’t were either the dead and wounded on the battlefield or were prisoners. Eli and I reined our horses and as a scattered group, we accompanied the dragoons back toward the Massachusetts lines. We left several dragoons dead on the field and as I looked over toward the Massachusetts unit that had engaged the regulars on the flat, they also left several dead, with the wounded being helped toward our lines. There were many dead and wounded regulars left on the field of battle. As we approached our lines, I realized that besides the regular Eli and I were bringing back as a prisoner, there were two other prisoners being escorted at gun point by the dragoons. Once through the break in the Massachusetts entrenchment, a rider approached who had a smart uniform I hadn’t seen before among the New England militias. “You men take your prisoner to the commanding general’s headquarters past Brookline,” he commanded Eli and me. As he wheeled his horse he shouted to the dragoons as they came back through the line. “You dragoons bring your prisoners to headquarters; show these scouts where to go”. And with that he spurred his horse and was off. Our prisoner was coming to his senses and I slid him to the ground off my horse, as Eli was riding up with a spare mount. Eli had the prisoner mount the horse he provided and Eli tied his hands in front of him and to the pommel. Eli and I fell in behind the dragoons as they headed down the road toward Brookline, and I held the reins of the prisoner’s horse.
Formats
Book Details
About the Book
"Last Run of the Whisperer" is a historical fiction novel based upon the Revolutionary War records of William Waterman of Norwich, Connecticut colony. The author has taken the information that William Waterman has provided to us through his own account of his service in the American Revolution, when he petitioned the United States Congress in 1832, for a pension for said service.
The author has taken the information provided by William Waterman and completed extensive research on the battles and areas of service that our hero served in, embellishing and expounded upon this information, to develop an exciting and accurate historical story surrounding our hero, William Waterman.
William Waterman himself, in his petition to the United States Congress identifies one severe wound received in said service, at the battle of White Plain, in the colony of New York, above New York City. This wound by itself could have cost our hero his life. That he survived this wound and the numerous other battles and action that he undoubtedly saw was extraordinary.
Although William Waterman lists a number of battles and theatres of war he saw service in, he does not describe the details of these battles. The author takes his literary liberty, upon researching these battles and events to interject our hero into the battles. That William Waterman is involved in each and every one of these battles or theatres of war in based upon William Waterman's own account.
Upon his completion of service in the Continental army, William Waterman listed his next service as a privateer, that is as a licensed pirate. The author has taken the liberty to believe that William Waterman engaged as a privateer in the cause of the upstart Americans and prayed upon British shipping , as he makes no mention of serving the British in his petition to the United States Congress, and infact lists his service as a privateer in his petition for his pension, indicating that all of his papers and records of his service in the Continental army were lost when the ship he was engaged on as a privateer was sunk, leading to his subsequent imprisonment by the British on the prison ship "Jersey". Our hero, William Waterman also does not identify the name of the ship on which he was engaged as a privateer. Again the author takes his literary liberty to name the privateer ship, and thus we have the "Last Run of the Whisperer".
During the course of our adventure, William Waterman loses his boyhood friend to the cause of the American Revolution, learns that his father is fighting against him on the side of the British, loses his first love to another man while he is imprisoned, and eventually finds the girl he is to marry while hiding from the British. William Waterman finds peace and contentment spending his life after the war living in the Green Mountains of Vermont.
About the Author
The origins of this book can be traced back to extensive genealogical work completed by author Calvin J. Boal regarding his family, as well as his lifelong interest in history, particularly the French and Indian War and American Revolution colonial eras.