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RSSI just can't seem to get out of mood-writing. So, here's a story this time, instead of a poem. Jowy, I want you to know that I wrote this story long before speech class. :D First, here is a little background information:
Born on June 6, 1755, Nathan Hale received his diploma from Yale College when he was eighteen years old. He became a schoolteacher first in East Haddam and then in New London before joining the Continental Army when he was twenty. Hale showed himself to be both patriotic and brave and soon rose to the rank of captain. Meanwhile, General George Washington, desperate for information, asked for a volunteer to spy on the British. Hale was the first man to step forward. Posing as a Dutch schoolmaster, he mingled with the British and gathered information. The night of September 21, Hale was stopped while trying to return to the Americans. Incriminating evidence was found on his person, and he was immediately condemned to die the next morning. At the gallows, Hale is reported to have said, "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." On the morning of September 22, 1776, Nathan Hale was hanged, but his heroism has been remembered and honored by Americans ever since.
I realize that some of the facts in the following story are not historically accurate, but they have been changed for the sake of the story mood and imagery. Any comments you have would be greatly appreciated.
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The Night Wind Blows
The warm, fall breeze wafted softly through the room, rustling papers as it passed. The distant sounds of the sentries made their way in through the windows. The sounds of the sea were carried softly, yet always present, on the night air. On the smooth, shiny desk, a candle burned, sending forth a warm glow and flickering a little when its bright flame met the evening breeze. Working at the desk was a man, General William Howe, Commander-in-Chief of the British Army in America. His dark hair shone in the candlelight, and his brow furrowed in concentration. His pen scratched across the paper of his letter. The soldier outside his door stared ahead unblinking. Like the waves in the ocean, the gentle breeze flowed through the room, then receded.
A scuffle broke sharply across the peaceful night, and then suddenly a horse was heard galloping away at a great pace. Several sets of hoof beats joined it, and a shot rang out. Silence fell once more.
The general glanced up when he heard the sounds and ceased to write his letter. He stared hard into the darkness outside his window but was able to see nothing. The soldier outside his door blinked and wondered what had been the cause of the shot. The evening breeze gathered strength and swept into the room, shifting papers and threatening to extinguish the candle. The general rose and shut the window until only a small crack allowed the night air access. Striding slowly back to the desk, the general paused as a new sound caught his ear. Several horses stopped outside the door of the house. He made his way to the window and strained to hear what the soldiers were saying, but the night wind whistled through the window crack with an eerie sound that carried away the soldiers' words. Sighing, the general made his way back to the desk and sat down. His letter outlining his battle plans on Manhattan lay before him. He signed and sealed it and set it aside.
A knock at the door startled him, and the sentry at the door let in two soldiers with a young man. One soldier guarded the young man while the other stepped up to the general's desk with a packet of papers.
"We found him outside camp. He was carrying these papers, sir," the soldier said.
The general took the papers and glanced up at the young man. The breeze coming in the window ruffled his blond hair, and he stood straight and tall, his blue eyes gazing ahead with strength and resolution. A moment only the general paused and then fell to examining the papers found on the man. Nathan Hale he was and a schoolmaster with a diploma from Yale. The general tore open a carefully-sealed packet of papers and looked to see the man's reaction. No fear was there in the man's blue eyes, but still there was that same confidence and resolution.
The general started perceptibly as he read through the papers. On and on he read, his astonishment and confusion growing by the second. Hale's account made the letter he had just now signed and sealed seem like old news, like yesterday's newspaper. The precision and attention to detail of Hale's writing stung him when he thought of how carefully he had planned and how secretive he had endeavored to be. He gazed into the man's clear blue eyes and for a second, wavered. Hale was only twenty-one. He had served his country loyally. Was he now destined to give up his own life? Would he now sacrifice the greatest sacrifice of all for his country? Hale's strong, steady gaze shamed him. Had Hale gone to his death kicking and protesting his innocence as the general had seen many men do before, he would not have such doubts. Hale, standing before him, seemed to personify all the ideals he fought for, and those the general could not argue with.
He looked down upon Hale's papers with wonderment, and the hint of a smile curled the strong lines of Hale's mouth. He had done his duty to the very end, and now it was up to the general to do his. With resignation he addressed Hale.
"I surmise you know your fate?"
Hale nodded.
Assuming as business-like a manner as he could muster, the general instructed the soldiers, "See to it at dawn."
"Aye, sir," the first soldier said, and the two soldiers escorted Hale out of the room. Watching from his window, the general saw Hale striding between the soldiers as they turned the corner.
That night a terrific wind storm battered the town, and all night the general worked on revising his battle plans. However, as hard as he worked, he could not forget Hale, his confidence in what he had done, his clear, steady gaze. As the wind howled around the house, the general fought within himself, trying to justify Hale. In the early hours of the morning, he finally made up his mind. Hale had done his duty, and he must do his own. Of all men, Hale would not resent his actions.
At dawn, the general rose from his desk and stood at the window. Despite the strong breezes that still blew, he opened the window wide. He heard the drum roll and took off his hat, an indication of the deep respect he felt for Hale. A volley of musket fire echoed over the island.
The wind stopped, and all was still.
Cellphone Pictures 2011
12 years ago
