Surrender the Night (50 page)

The soldier spit to the side of Alex, gathered his things, and along with several of the other men, left Alex tied to the tree with only a single soldier to guard him. It might as well have been a thousand for
as tight as the ropes were about Alex’s waist and hands. Even if he made it through the ones binding his wrists, his entire body was tied to the trunk of the tree.

He watched the solders descend the hill laughing and slapping each other on the back in anticipation of another day of plundering and destruction.

Scanning the city, Alex tried to find the house where he had left Rose, but the smoke and remaining flames obscured his view. “Lord, watch over her. Please get her home safely.”

“Pray for a storm.”

The silent words couldn’t have been clearer within Alex. He shook his head. Was he destined to go mad along with everything else?

“Pray for a storm.”

Alex glanced over the city. Sunlight shot bright arrows down between puffy gray clouds. They’d had a small storm last night, but today the sky appeared to be clearing. “A storm, Lord?”

“Yes.”

Emitting a sigh of submission, Alex bowed his head. “Very well. Father.” He nearly choked with emotion at the title with which he now addressed God. He finally had a Father who loved him—who would never close His home to Alex. And if Alex should indeed hang from Admiral Cockburn’s yardarm, God would welcome him home forever. “Please bring a storm upon this land, this city,” he continued, feeling his zeal rising. “One that will send these British back to their ships and back to their country!” He laughed at his own foolishness then leaned back against the bark.

If God didn’t intervene soon, Alex didn’t want to contemplate what would happen to Rose. “Thy will be done.”

The thud of shoes and the crackle of morning voices permeated Rose’s slumber. The men’s voices grew louder, and she stirred, rubbing her face. When reality forced itself into her dreams, she bolted upright and opened her eyes. Shouts and curses flew through the air above them. Footfalls pounded. A door slammed and then all grew silent. Above her, a sliver of sunlight speared down into the cellar, indicating that a new day had dawned. Struggling to her feet, she shook off the last
vestiges of slumber, chastening herself for falling asleep under such dire circumstances. Yet she remembered nestling into the peace of a warm hug. A dream? Or her Father in heaven? She smiled and tilted her ear to the ceiling. No sounds. The soldiers had gone. Why hadn’t Alex come to get her? Renewed fears leaped up to grab her heart.

There was only one explanation. Alex must have gotten caught. She clenched her fists and gazed upward. She had to rescue him. But how? Terror gripped her at the thought, but she forced it back. “I am not alone. I am not alone.”

Slowly creeping up the ladder, Rose lifted the trapdoor, holding it slightly ajar. No movement. No sounds. Placing both hands against the wood, she moved it from the hole, sliding it to the side. The bitter smell of brandy and sweat bit her nose as she emerged from the cellar into the storage room then inched to the door and peered down the hall. No movement, no voices. Nothing to alert her. Making her way down the hall she entered the front parlor. What had appeared last night to be a neat and nicely furnished room now resembled more of a tavern after a violent brawl. Broken furniture, crumpled rugs, and empty bottles of brandy and rum that lay on their sides, mouths open, as if they too were intoxicated.

Shoving down her disgust, Rose dared a peek out the front window. Redcoats filled the streets, some marching in formation, others crowding in groups laughing and no doubt regaling each other of their conquests the night before. Some still carried torches.

Rose ducked back to the side of the window and felt like crying. She wasn’t going anywhere. At least not for a while. “Haven’t they done enough, Lord? Oh please make them stop.” She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed.

“Pray.”
A strange sensation overcame Rose—a presence so strong it seemed the room could not contain it.

“Pray for a storm.”
The voice resounded within her, sweet, yet strong, like a harmonious chord from a violin.

A storm?
Rose didn’t understand. What could a storm do against the entire British army?

“All right, Lord.” Lowering herself to her knees, Rose clasped her hands together and prayed. First she thanked God for His love, His mercy, and for allowing her to see Alex one last time. Then she prayed
for rescue for them both, for America to survive, and lastly, for a storm to strike the city.

Rising to her feet, she took up a pace across the parlor floor, keeping an eye on the soldiers outside, and wishing she had more faith to believe God would perform the things she had just prayed for.

BOOM!
An enormous explosion thundered in the distance. The ground shook. The hickory tree shook, jarring Alex from his prayers. The soldier, who guarded him, dashed to the edge of the hill, musket ready. Beyond him, a massive plume of smoke rose in the air from the area of town Alex remembered as Greenleaf Point where the city’s arsenals had been kept. Tortured screams etched across the sky and sent a chill down Alex’s back. Pieces of rocks, shells, and bricks shot through the air like grapeshot leveling some of the men as they dashed away from the blast. When the smoke cleared, even from this distance, Alex could see bodies—and what used to be bodies—scattered over the ground.

The Americans had no doubt left the British a surprise. War made devils out of men. Alex shifted his gaze away and closed his eyes. “Lord, please help them.” He didn’t know what else to pray for, save that this hideous war would end. His prayers for a storm all morning had gone unanswered. Perhaps he hadn’t heard from God at all. Yet, despite the unanswered petition, a peace surrounded Alex as if God was somehow pleased that Alex had been obedient. The approval of a Father who loved him. Alex savored the foreign sensation. Yes, indeed, he could get used to having God as his Father.

No sooner had the wounded been carried off to the hospital that General Ross had set up near the Capitol building, than the
tap tap
of a light rain drummed on the leaves above Alex. Distant thunder accompanied the continued shouts and stomp of troops through the city streets.

The tapping increased in both tempo and speed. Water dripped on Alex’s face. Shaking it off, he gazed into a sky that had darkened to near black in a matter of minutes. Angry clouds boiled in fury above him, marching across the city. Soon thick blades of rain fell upon them as if a giant armory had been opened in heaven. The solder guarding
Alex ducked beneath the tree alongside him. He drew the edges of his coat together and held down his hat, sharing a wary gaze with Alex, as the torrent of wind and water increased.

The fierce gusts grew and grew until Alex could no longer keep his eyes open. Tucking his head between his upraised knees, the realization struck him that his prayer had been answered. Awe swept through him while at the same time the wind threatened to carry him away. Lightning crackled the air around him, painting his eyelids silver and buzzing over his skin. He smelled the electricity and something else—burnt flesh. Not his. At least he hoped not. Thunder pounded. The ground shook as if God Himself walked through the capital of America.

Screams and shouts assailed Alex, but still he could not open his eyes. In fact, he could barely move. The wind tore at his coat, at his breeches. The ropes on his hands loosened. He felt rather than saw large objects flinging through the air around him. Something struck his tree. The trunk trembled against Alex’s back.

Still the wind howled. Rain pelted him like the sharp tips of a cat-o-nine tails. The massive truck of the tree groaned and began to sway. The wind lifted Alex off the ground. The ropes around his waist tightened until he felt they would cut him in two. If they broke or if the tree fell, Alex knew he would surely die.

CHAPTER 30

T
he tiny house shook beneath a blast of wind. Rose peered once again out the window to see pieces of wood, buckets, and sand flying through the air. Soldiers, bent at the waist, struggled to walk, bracing their shoulders to the wind. Some crawled over the ground like spiders.

A storm!
Just like she had prayed for. Above her, an eerie crack sounded. A plank loosened from the roof and flapped up and down, banging out a warning. It flew away and wind tore through the parlor.

Rose should get below. Making her way to the back room, she lowered herself into the cellar and replaced the trapdoor.

Thunder cracked and roared and fumed. What little light that drifted down into the cellar instantly blackened. Torrents of rain fell from the sky as if the very gates of heaven had been flung open to release God’s wrath. Backing into the shadows, Rose gazed upward, waiting for the floor to cave in. Thunder growled again. Louder and louder it grew, as if a million-man army galloped toward her.

Turning, Rose groped her way through the darkness and dove behind a stack of crates. Hugging herself, she trembled and prayed. Something massive struck the house. Rose screamed. The walls shook.

Raindrops that surely were as thick as hail struck the house from every direction. Eerie sounds like a thousand voices screaming and
the crash of mighty waves whipped the small building. Rose couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. All she could do was huddle in the darkness and pray.

WHAM!
An ominous crash blasted over Rose’s ears. The trapdoor flew open. It slammed shut. Then it opened again. Over and over, it opened and shut like a giant mouth that dared to scold the storm for disturbing its rest. Air whipped into the cellar, spinning in a chaotic whirlwind. The crates in front of Rose performed a deranged dance. Potatoes and apples flew through the air. One struck the back of her neck. Pain shot into her head.

The door slammed shut, and something heavy landed on it, silencing it.

Rose’s ears grew numb to the deafening sounds around her.

Minutes that seemed like hours went by.

Finally the winds abated. The rain lessened and the thunder retreated.