Spake As a Dragon Read Online Free PDF Page A

wounded British
Redcoats. His feeble, old hands gently holding on to the hands of
the dying provided them comfort during their last few minutes of
life. Because of John, they did not meet their maker alone. At
times, he could be seen praying with a dying soldier, not worrying
whether he was a Whig or a Tory, to John he simply was a frightened, dying young man.
    John Scarburg was not the only person who supplied first-aid and comfort to the
soldiers who fought at the Scarburg Mill .
His entire family was involved, including two of his sons, his
daughters and his wife.
    The following morning, the
15 th of April, Easter Sunday, the creek was again
covered in a dense fog as the British drummer boy played “Assembly” to the remainder of the British soldiers. The
Redcoats fell into formation and watched silently as John Scarburg along with his two oldest sons, William
and Isaac, were led from the Mill. All three had their arms bound
behind their backs. Neither of the three had fired a shot during
the entire battle, so it was a surprise that the British had them
imprisoning.
    Thomas, John’s youngest son, stood crying in the doorway of the mill.
He clutched his mother’s apron as she tearfully watched her husband
and two sons being marched from the Mill.
    Colonel Wilcox led the three men to
the huge oak tree. Usually the oak was a place of laughter and tall
tales, but not today. The proceedings this day was somber. There
was no amusement here.
    The assembled soldiers, who had been
standing in a perfect military formation, slowly began to form a
semi-circle around the men at the tree. Three ropes, tied with
nooses, were thrown over the largest limb closest to the ground. John, wearing a hat with a black ostrich
feather along with his two sons was ordered to step upon the
bench, and their British guards placed the nooses about their
necks. The three men offered no resistance.
    John directed
a question to Colonel Wilcox. The assembled soldiers close to the
bench heard the exchange. John requested a
few words with his young son Thomas. Colonel Wilcox, an
accomplished adversary, was not without compassion. He granted John’s request.
    Motioning to one of his red-coated
soldiers Thomas was brought to his father.
    “ My son, you have to be
brave, you will now be the man of the family.” As his father
talked, Thomas whimpered and sniffled trying hard not to cry. “Come
close son, I have something to tell.”
    Thomas walked forward, stepped upon
the bench beside his father. John bent
over placing his mouth close to Thomas’ ear. He spoke softly. Young
Thomas would nod his head and answer, “Yes, Pa, I hear you, but I
don’t understand. Is it the big Bible?”
    “ Yes, but don’t worry my
son, someday it will make sense to you. Promise me you will never
forget. Keep this black ostrich plume to remember me by, and
someday you will find it will be most valuable.”
    For a moment, he hugged his father’s
leg and refused to let go. A redcoat stepped forward and removed
the small lad from the hangman’s bench.
    John watched
helplessly as Thomas, head bowed walked slowly back toward the Mill
to his mother. He stopped, turned and said in a voice loud enough
for all to hear, “Yes, Poppa, I promise, I will remember. I
won’t ever forget!”
    A wet tear slowly filled the corner of
the old man’s eye, and slowly rolled down his cheek, and dripped
upon the dirt where so many happy tales had been told. From this
day forward, the pleasantness would forever be tarnished by the
act, which is about to unfold.
    The young drummer boy, not much older
than young Thomas, hesitantly but obediently, began to beat his
drum slowly, ‘Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat’ ...
    Addressing the prisoners, “Dost any
request a last word?”
    John looking upward toward the heavens
said, “Resurrection Sunday, how fitting!”
    The Colonel gave the signal, a couple
of Redcoats kicked the bench, now the three Ingram men dangled at
the end of their ropes. A