Damn the Aristocracy
Chapter 10

Copyright© 2017 by aubie56

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Join Jacob Stellinski of Georgia as he goes from free citizen to slave to greatness as the first president of Haven. Jacob is an accomplished gunsmith and inventor, as well as unintentional politician as he leads a secession of a section of Georgia, one of the Confederate States. Of course, Georgia does not want him to succeed in his rebellion, so there is a local war that taxes everybody's resources. There is too much war and too much sex as far as Jacob is concerned. 18 chapters.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   mt/Fa   Consensual   NonConsensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Military   War   Incest   Father   Daughter   First   Politics   Violence  

We wound up rescuing 27 people, and that meant that we needed four more wagons. As it turned out, we managed to liberate nine wagons and 18 mules. We did not bother with the horses that the Butlers had reserved for themselves. We just opened the stalls and the doors to the barn and let the horses figure it out for themselves.

We did go into the house to make sure that all of the serfs and slaves were outside. We used some of the space in the wagons to take every bit of the food that was stored in the various pantries. The house staff was very helpful with that and also helpful in finding the household safe and key to it. We came away with almost CSA$3,000 in gold and silver bars and coins. That was going to carry us for a long time! We had not made much of a dent in the gold and silver we had taken from the Winthrop plantation, and that was about one-third of what we found at the Butler plantation.

We also picked up a number of guns that I could convert. I was curious as to what I could do with the shotguns. The women also found a large collection of women’s clothes that they wanted to take back to Maudville. We had the room, so why not?

By the time we finished taking what we wanted, including a forge for Thomas, we had filled all nine wagons and could have filled a couple more if we had them handy. It took us two days to get home because the wagons were so heavily loaded, but it was all worth the effort.

Albert Smith was the name of the man whom we had originally rescued, and the Smith family consisted of his wife, Emily, and his children Charles, Sarah, and Alice. Charles had been one of the men in the line to be burned, as had been Emily, Sarah, and Alice.

The other four families were all Black, as were the four bachelors. It appeared that the Butlers did not go for serfs. Was that because they were White?

We had looted so much stuff from the Butler plantation that we had a party the next day sorting out and giving away anything that anybody wanted. The women’s clothes went first, and that was followed by the cooking utensils. The guns went to me, and the forge went to Thomas, our blacksmith. The wagons and mules went into the common pool, and the few other things were picked up as toys for the children.

We had picked up 17 men who could be trained to fight, and we now had a respectable little army of 32 men. That was more than rumor had it than could be found in any other outlaw band. We were probably the strongest military force in the county, and we would probably need that power very shortly. The aristocracy could not stand to have the word get out about the Butler plantation and the perpetrators going unpunished. We could expect a visit from the militia within the next few weeks.

We decided that what we needed was a fort! If we could build a wall of cypress logs, we could withstand almost any cannon barrage that could be brought against us here in the swamp. The ground was not stable enough to support cannon of much more than the 3-pounder size. That size shot was dangerous over open ground, but we could survive it behind walls of cypress logs. The problem was going to be getting enough of those cypress logs.

We had now cleared a significant portion of the pine forest we were living in because we needed the logs for our homes. That worked to our advantage because it reduced the amount of cover an attacking army would have to hide behind. Of course, it was also a disadvantage because we were hauling in firewood from a greater distance, but that was a nuisance that we were willing to put up with.

Thank God, one of the new men, Elbert Rosen, another Jew, was an experienced logger. He took over the job of getting us enough cypress logs for a fort. All of the men volunteered to work as axmen, and let me tell you, that was a hard job on cypress trees for us older guys!

We planned to build a structure 120’x150’, and that would give us about 600 square feet for each family. Some families would be cramped by that amount of space, but we did not plan to live in the fort until we had to. We had no cannon, but we did not expect to need any, so that was not a burden.

Naturally, the militia showed up long before our fort was ready, but we had expected that. In fact, we planned to ambush the militia long before they got to us. We were pretty sure that they did not know exactly where we were, so we could hit them several times while they were still fumbling around trying to find us in the swamp.

We had so impressed the Indians in several towns when the word got around about our rescue of Albert Smith that we had plenty of warning when the militia headed our way. The militia obviously did not know how many fighting men we had because they sent only 48 men, three sergeants, and four officers after us. Ah, they were trying to kill us off on the cheap! Well, we would surprise them with what we could do with the number of men that we had.

We got word that they were on their way while they were still north of Albany. That was well away from our familiar swamp, but we had three excellent scouts on our side: Henry, David, and Albert. I don’t know just how they did it, but they found the militia and recommended that we hit them in a forest that they had to march through just north of Albany. The best thing about hitting them at that specific point was that it would be toward the end of a day’s march and everybody would be tired, even the officers on their horses.

We all lined up in the trees on one side of the road. That was so that we would not accidentally shoot each other in the excitement of battle. We had an idea of the approximate length of the column, so we set up with me at the head and Henry at the rear end. Henry was to yell as the last man in the column came even with him, and that was when we were to start shooting.

The officers were the target for me and another man, one of the new guys. We were going to follow the column if it were strung out more than we expected so that we could be sure of eliminating the officers. I didn’t consider them any more dangerous that any other man in the militia column, but I thought that it would be a great psychological blow if the officers were killed very early in the battle.

Finally, here they came. All four officers were riding close together and passing around a flask of what had to be liquor. Certainly, no Southern officer would be caught dead drinking water! Just about the time they were exactly opposite us, we heard Henry yell out. Our rifles were already aimed at the first target and we were just waiting for the call to fire. Our first shots hit the men we were aiming at. We knew that because we saw the sudden splash of red on their chests.

The other two officers knew that their companions had been shot, but they did not know where the bullets had come from. There was no loud report of a gunshot and there was no powder smoke. They were still looking around in confusion when they were hit by our minie balls. The result was the same, and two more militia officers bit the dust, permanently.

The militia was divided into three platoons of 16 men led by a sergeant, and the sergeant of the first platoon was just behind the officers. He was not on a horse, but he could easily see what was going on. He had one chance to shout “AMBUSH!” before he was cut down by my companion. I was still looking to make sure that the officers were dead: probably a bunch of foolishness, but I was still new at this game and I think a little bit of a pacifist at heart.

Anyway, I woke up and began shooting at any target that I could find. We had planned to fire only a few shots before running back to our horses, but we were so successful in this ambush that we continued to shoot. The militia was using the Enfield rifle with the minie ball, and they were not getting off shots nearly as fast as we were. Not only that, they had no way of knowing exactly where our shooters were so that they were shooting somewhat blindly. Furthermore, some were shooting at the wrong side of the road, and that cut even more into the effectiveness of their return fire.

 
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