New Beginnings

(Source)

Alain nodded to one of the village elders as he walked back to his longhouse. He and his brothers Jacques and Little Wolf had just returned from a successful trip out to their trap lines, they had taken many pelts. Some they would keep, many they would sell to les français up the river in Montréal.

It had been ten years since they had returned to the north after their foray into the territory of les anglais. At that time Little Wolf had been banished from his tribe due to his behavior on a raid. While the other warriors had taken part in killing the settlers and taking captives, Little Wolf had taken a single captive, an Englishwoman with yellow hair, he had run off with her into the forest. For that he had been ostracized.

But upon their return from the war along the Cannitticutt, Little Wolf had been reunited with his kin. He had taken many Mohican scalps and was now acclaimed as a great war chief.

The three men had gone into the wilderness to live with Little Wolf's people. Jacques and Alain had both taken wives and both men had fathered children. Jacques and his woman, Little Raven, had one son and one daughter who still survived. Alain and his woman, Strong  Willow, had only a single son, he was known as Pierre to the French and Little Badger to the Abenaki.

Their village was near the big lake the Abenaki called Pitawbagok, but which the French had named for their great explorer Samuel de Champlain. Most of the people Alain knew simply called it, The Lake.

Strong Bow, an Abenaki warrior, hailed Alain as he neared his longhouse. "Alain! A messenger has come in from les français!"

Alain had ceased reminding the Abenaki that he was himself French, but now he didn't, as far as he was concerned, he was Abenaki now. He spoke as one, he dressed as one, on his last trip to Montréal, the inhabitants there mistook he and Jacques for natives. He didn't mind that at all.

"What word comes from les français my friend?"

"War. Les anglais and les français are beating the war drums once more. Our Mohawk enemies across The Lake are receiving many gifts from the English king. The sachem is worried that we must again fight beside our French friends and their general Montcalm."

Alain realized that Strong Bow was excited at the prospect of another war. He couldn't blame him, the Abenaki warrior was familiar with raids and the like and enjoyed the action. But he might sing a different tune once he'd seen the power of the Europeans' massed firelocks and cannon.

(Source)

Will Jefferson adjusted his uniform coat once again, the damned tailor had made it too snug around the waist. His old wound still bothered him when the weather got wet, he needed a loose coat to try and alleviate that old ache.

He looked down the street with some impatience for his sergeant. The man had gone off with a recruiting party to bring in some last minute recruits. Hopefully he had convinced enough of the old soldiers in the area to rejoin the colors. They would have very little time to train raw recruits on the ship and probably no time at all once they reached the colonies.

It still rankled Jefferson that he had been mustered out of His Majesty's 1st Regiment of Foot Guards after he had returned to England to convalesce in 1745. Apparently the regiment wasn't very impressed with his service in America during King George's War. While he had had some success with his Mohicans, the battle in which he had been wounded had also seen the complete destruction of his warriors.

He still remembered the moment he had seen his friend Standing Wolf's scalp hanging from an Abenaki warrior's waist. He had been nearly sick to his stomach. When he realized that his friend's scalp had been taken by the man who had probably save his life, he had been sicker still. He understood that it was war, but the loss still rankled, both that of his unit and that of his friend.

But now he had been given a second chance. He had purchased a commission in a regiment of foot which had been raised back in '41 by a friend of his father. So once again his father's connections had helped in that regard. Though he was a younger son and stood to inherit nothing, his father still took an interest in his career. With war with France once more on the horizon, Jefferson was glad to be getting back into action. Besides which, it was better than being a vicar in some rural backwater, like his youngest brother Charles.

He saw his sergeant coming now, "Sergeant Duxford! How many?"

The burly sergeant gestured behind him, "Twenty lads Sir, sixteen of 'em are old soldiers, anxious to take the King's shilling once more, plus four lads as innocent as the day they was born. But they're keen Sir, awfully keen. They should make fine soldiers in the 44th!"

Jefferson looked at the men behind Duxford, he wouldn't use the word 'keen' to describe them, but at least they all appeared sober. Which made less of a dent in his company fund. "Very well Sergeant, get 'em aboard and settled. I'm told we sail with the evening tide."

(Source)

"Molly!" Captain Edward Rutland of the newly formed New Hampshire Provincial Regiment called out to his wife as he searched, in vain it would seem, for his gorget. He was about to go on duty and not wearing that item of vestigial armor was frowned upon.

Molly Rutland, née Henderson, walked into their sleeping chamber and pushed her husband aside. "Why is it so important Eddie? It's not like King George himself is going to inspect our little garrison."

"Rules Molly, an army lives by rules. If I show up on parade improperly dressed, what will the men think? What will Sarn't Major Jacobs think?" Rutland was only partially annoyed, he still loved his wife of eight years with a fierce passion. The woman had been held captive by the Abenaki, had seen combat in the forest first hand, she was no shrinking violet. Her personality suited him just fine.

"SIR!" came a bellowing voice from just beyond the door.

"Bollocks, speaking of the Sarn't Major..."

"Language Edward, you're not a sergeant anymore!"

"Yes love. Coming Sarn't Major!"

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