“Let us not try to waste that shot. It be hard to get metal in Savannah. Try to find it. Now Patrick, hold your breath and stabilize it more with your shoulder." Archibald smiled, "Now show me how fast you can load, lad.”
“Everyone clear out of the way, I'm loading,” Patrick called out to the twins.
Patrick had practiced the procedure repeatedly without ammo all morning hoping it would become second nature. He pulled the charge out of his deerskin pouch. It was shot and gunpowder carefully wrapped up in paper to fit in the barrel easily. He then detached the ramrod from under the barrel and pushed the charge all the way to the bottom. He returned the ramrod, moved the flint to the half-cocked position, and then opened the flash pan. He poured in a small amount of powder in the pan and then moved the flint to full cock. He then sited at the large pine 50 paces away and took careful aim. He lined up his feet and shoulders as Archibald instructed, held his breath and lined up the sights again. He closed his eyes and held his breath as he slowly squeezed the trigger.
A loud crack could be heard as the flint struck the mizzen. The powder ignited in the flash pan and moved into the chamber. BLAMM! A large cloud of smoke covered Patrick and a paper wad flew out of the barrel. When the smoke cleared, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes and asked with anticipation, “How did I do?"
“Father!” Amos shouted. “He hit it!”
“Fantastic, lad! It took me days before I ever hit anything. You need to fire ten more to get a feel for Marian,” Archibald said with pride.
"You named your firelock ‘Marian’?” Patrick queried.
“Of course, lad. It be bad luck not to name your weapon after your sweetheart. You really don’t know a darn thing about fighting, do you?” Archibald laughed.
Patrick practiced all morning and hit six out of ten of his shots with the musket before switching to Archibald’s antique Queen Anne dueling pistols. The pistols were wildly inaccurate. Even at fifteen paces, Patrick only hit the tree three, out of ten times.
“You boys go now and dig that spent shot out of that pine, we need the metal to recast,” their father commanded.
The men went shooting the entire week under the guise of being bad hunters. Patrick improved greatly. Archibald even showed him some basic knife and broadsword skills before his shooting lessons. Once in a while, one of the twins would bring back game he had hunted while Patrick was getting his lessons. They were excellent hunters for such a young age. Both boys had learned to shoot a bow from a savage friend of theirs and were becoming deadly shots.
One morning in November, Maximilian helped his brother hobble to the front door. His foot was bleeding badly.
“What in the Lord’s name happened?!” Marian exclaimed. "Heather, fetch your father immediately!”
Amos grunted in pain, “I stepped on a bloody oyster shell and it sliced me good.”
“Heather, go fetch that Jew doctor! Hurry!” Marian screamed while she compressed the wound with her dirty hand.
Amos’s foot started to bleed less and in a short time, Dr. Nunis and Isaac Swartz were tending the boy’s foot. Patrick had missed seeing his goliath friend and once Amos was tended to, they caught up. Patrick had shown Isaac the broadsword he was making and Isaac showed Patrick the exotic plants he had in his medical bag. Dr. Nunis watched the exchange and finally said to Archibald, “Why don’t I stay for a while and visit your family? I would be happy to check you all for aliments. It would be nice to let the old friends talk.”
Archibald nodded his head in agreement and then showed him Maximilian’s forearm. “See the worm is moving right next to the skin, it is growing and almost half the length of his forearm,” Archibald pointed out.
“Oh, Mr. Freeman, you need to call me sooner. If you had waited a few months longer, the African worm would have come right out of a blister. It would burn like hell and cripple your boy," Dr. Nunis explained. "We need to take this worm out right now. Let me get my worm stick."
He returned with a knife and a small stick that had a hole dug out in the center of it. After that he explained, "We have to cut enough to put the end of the worm through the hole in the stick. Then we need to tie it off." The Doctor then cut a small nick and blood rolled down the brave boys forearm. Everyone gathered around to watch as the doctor threaded the head of the large white worm though the stick. While nimbly attending to his work, Dr. Nunis spoke, “These cursed worms are all over lately. I think they came over with some slaves in the Carolinas and now they are everywhere.”
After a few moments, the doctor stated, “Okay, I have it tied down. Only give it one half turn a day, anymore than that it will break and kill the worm. If this worm dies in your son, his forearm will become septic and make him very ill. Do not over turn the stick! Do you understand?" Dr. Nunis warned. "Now son, continue to hold your hand on the laceration until it clots.”
Archibald then took the opportunity to show the doctor a rotting tooth and asked his opinion.
Patrick and Isaac were laughing, reminiscing about the vanishing of Shamus, when Patrick froze in mid-sentence. Isaac watched as his best friend’s face lost its color. Two well-dressed men were standing over them.
“You there, go fetch your master,” the tall aristocrat demanded.
Patrick stood up and continued to stare at him intensely.
“Are you dumb and deaf? Go fetch your master or I will have him beat you!” the tall man pushed on.
Isaac quickly sensed something was very out of sorts with Patrick and waved Archibald over. Patrick began to close the distance between himself and the two men when his employer stepped in his way and stated, “I am the blacksmith here. How can I help you?”
The tall man replied, “Ah yes. I need a very small hammer made. I am a jeweler just come from London and I seem to have misplaced my hammer.”
“Can you draw out the size you need with this paper and quill?” the blacksmith responded.
“I can do my best, good smith.” The aristocrat then took the quill and paper.
“I’m Archibald Freeman and can I ask your name, sir?” Archibald asked as the tall man busied himself drawing the dimensions of the proposed hammer.
Drily, the aristocrat announced, “My name is Mr. Potts and this is my associate Mr. Edgeington.”
Patrick pushed past Archibald and smacked the paper and quill out of Potts' hand. “We won’t help you here," Patrick snarled. "Now get out!” The entire group was stunned by Patrick’s extremely unusual behavior. Archibald tried to step back in and but Patrick pushed him away. “I said get the out!" Patrick screamed.
“Mr. Freeman, you might want to control your hammer monkey before Mr. Edgeington buries a blade in his chest,” Mr. Potts threatened.
Tension grew thick in the small house and everyone was standing on toe. Patrick then spit a large ball of mucus into Potts’ eye and screamed, “Pox on you! And take that with you!” Patrick's accuracy had benefited from hours of spitting competitions in prison.
Everyone stood stunned and mortified. None believed what they were seeing. As all disbelieving eyes were on Patrick and Potts, Mr. Edgeington skinned his blade, though Potts urged him to hold.
Patrick now took his time to build a large amount of phlegm in his mouth before sending it flying across the distance and landing on Potts’ chin. “CURSES ON YOU! GET OUT!” he shrieked.
Potts then wiped his face, closing the distance between himself and Patrick. As he was closing fast, he was suddenly smacked in the face with Patrick’s deerskin smithing glove. The entire room watched in awe as the glove hit the floor and lay at Potts’ feet. Potts stopped in his tracks and looked at the glove. He then looked back up at Patrick with a moment of fear.
“Pick it up,” Patrick demanded coldly. Isaac tried to pull Patrick back but the challenge had been made. “Pick it up you coward!” Patrick growled.
Potts hesitated and was terrified as he looked into the rage filled eyes of his oppo
nent. "I want to know your name first before I accept your challenge."
“I am Patrick Willis," Patrick hissed. "You stole my life. You disgraced my father and you’re the reason I was in debtors’ prison all these years.”
Marian and Heather simultaneously gasped in shock.
Potts stopped and examined the younger man closer. “Ah yes... Mr. Edgeington don’t you remember this boy who was nice enough to donate those stones to you all those years ago?"
Mr. Edgeington smirked, “Right, boss. I had forgotten. Hey lad, how’s da face?"
Both men laughed as Patrick flew at them in a rage. Isaac then quickly grabbed his friend and was only barely able to overcome Patrick, pinning him against the wall and holding him back.
“Well, lad, those stones of your father’s were worth dog-squeeze," Potts said mockingly. "I had to practically give them away.” Mr. Potts slowly bent over and picked up the fallen glove and informed, "I guess I will have to end your whole rutting bloodline and accept your challenge. Stupid boy, I have emerged victorious in four duels.”
“Very well. We will engage in single combat, at daybreak, on the deer-hunting road to Darien. Meet me under the thunderbolt tree outside of town to avoid legal complications.” Mr. Potts challenged.
“You cursed child. Were you not already gelded, you would do it at noon. Dawn is for cowards,” Patrick bit back. “Why not a duel at noon? Your death will be devoid of mist and fog."
"Fine," the tall aristocrat answered. “A single combat duel at noon, I will take your life in clear sight, boy.”
Isaac pulled Patrick’s other glove off his hand and threw it down at Edgeington’s feet. “He does not accept single combat, do you second?” Isaac questioned.
The crowd looked on in amazement.
“This man wants to meet his Jewey god. I will hurry your wish," Mr. Egeington laughed as he picked up the glove. “I have killed many more men than Mr. Potts. I will enjoy this opportunity to send another Jew to his grave.”
As the arrogant men took their leave, Isaac continued to hold Patrick against the wall while the enraged man continued to scream in anger. After a few moments, his rage waned and led to tears. Isaac was able to release his upset friend and the entire Freeman family came to Patrick and hugged him. They held onto him tight as if they knew these would be his last hours on earth.
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