Read Online Victory at Yorktown: A Novel by William R. Forstchen, Newt Gingrich - Free Book Online Page A

indulgence, gentlemen,” he said, coming to a stop and looking back at Allen, beckoning him to his side.
    He reached into his breast pocket and drew out several sheets of folded paper.
    “My friend, would you be so kind as to see that these are delivered. One to my parents, the other to a young lady,” he paused, and smiled. “Well, her name is atop the note.”
    He looked back at Peter.
    “If your duty requires you to examine them you have my permission.”
    Peter shook his head.
    “You are a man of honor, sir. I know the correspondence is private. I will not examine them.”
    “Thank you, Major. They are just simple sentiments of farewell.”
    Allen took them with shaking hand.
    “Good-bye, my friend,” John said, and grasping Allen’s hand he leaned over to embrace him.
    For Allen, it was the hardest moment of his life, struggling not to lose control. When he had laid his beloved young brother into the ground on that cold freezing day along the Delaware, that had been different, but at this moment, he did not want to let John see him weep, and perhaps unnerve him, nor would he let any of these Rebels see him lose control. They were about to see how two British officers would face what was to come.
    The captain opened the door. The guards stepped out, with John and the minister following, then followed in turn by Allen, Peter, and Jenkins. All awaiting him stood silent, a thousand or more men forming three sides of a square around the gallows, the officers of the court-martial the fourth side. John did slow at the sight of the gallows, as if even at this final moment hoping against hope that he would be granted the honor of a firing squad rather than a too often squalid death at the end of a rope.
    Two young officers now stepped to either side of him, each putting a supporting arm around his elbows, ready if need be to help brace him up if he faltered or, as had happened in more than one case Allen had witnessed, the victim began to struggle or try to turn away.
    “Why this emotion, sir?” one of the two asked, as John, having slowed, gazed at the gallows.
    Peter wondered if there was mockery or insult in the young officer’s voice, and he wanted to step forward and strike the man down.
    John simply smiled and looked straight into his eyes.
    “I am reconciled to my death, sir, but I detest the mode,” and he stepped boldly forward almost as if dragging along his two escorts. None could fail to notice, and as he passed his judges nearly all saluted him. It was obvious several had tears in their eyes.
    A high two-wheel cart had been backed up under the gallows, and Peter thanked God for that. Rather than be hoisted up to die by strangulation, chances were the fall would break his neck and end it quickly.
    Reaching the back of the cart, John broke free of the embrace of his two escorts and deftly mounted the back of the wagon unassisted and stood rigid. The executioner, an elderly sergeant, drew out a handkerchief, and, with trembling hands, wrapped it around Andre’s eyes.
    He then took the rope but fumbled, leaving the opening of it too small to get it over John’s head.
    Allen watched, wanting to scream out to just get it done right.
    John apparently whispered something to the sergeant, and then actually took the rope himself and drew it over his own head and slipped it down around his neck, reaching up to tighten it.
    This gesture sent a gasp through the assembled ranks.
    “Merciful God,” someone cried from the ranks. There was the clatter of a musket falling, a young soldier having collapsed in a faint.
    The officer directly in charge now stepped up to the base of the cart, drew out a sheet of paper, and read the findings of the court-martial with its sentence, ending with “May God have mercy on your soul, sir. Do you have any final words.”
    John, still with that enigmatic smile, actually reached up and raised a corner of his blindfold, looking out at those assembled, and Allen knew with aching