O'er the Ramparts

Though Bret recognized the sound of men alerted for battle, his mind was very much on getting Laurel to safety. He turned to the doorway to impatiently invite her outside. He heard her stirring about inside the room, so he called again for her to hurry. "I’m coming, Bret," she answered. Then she stepped through the doorframe adjusting her straw bonnet. "I’m ready to go." Seeing her in the daylight sent rivers of regret through his body. She was beautiful, even after a night sleeping in an army bunk. Her dark chestnut hair was only somewhat tousled. She had apparently straightened it as she put on her bonnet. The gray sky overhead seemed to accentuate the deep blue of her eyes as she gazed up at him. Those dark sensuous lashes teased him. For a moment, he was breathless in her presence. Then he remembered that she had chosen another man. He sighed and turned toward the gate to lead her to her father’s carriage. "Bret, wait," she called from behind him. He turned to see that she had apparently slipped and fallen in the dirt path. He hesitated a moment, then strode quickly to her side to help her. He reached down and took her hands to pull her to her feet. They stood just a heartbeat away from one another. He could tell she had tears in her eyes, but he didn’t have a clue as to what may have caused them. Maybe she had skinned her knee when she fell, he thought. Then he offered her his arm, and she slowly wrapped her slender forearm around his, leaning against him to catch her balance. They had barely taken two steps toward the fort’s gate when Bret caught a glimpse of something terrifying arcing overhead. The high-pitched screech that accompanied the sight was instantly recognizable to him. The British were firing Congreve rockets. Laurel screamed when she heard and saw the missile leaving its fiery trail in the sky. Immediately, Bret grabbed her to shield her from the possibility of flaming debris that would fall down upon them. Her hands flew up to her ears to muffle the noise as the first rocket was followed repeatedly by so many more there was no counting them in the sky. The noise was so overwhelmingly deafening that he could scarcely hear Laurel’s screams. He pulled her tightly to his chest, and she nestled there shivering in terror. Then all of a sudden, the rockets were answered by the fort’s own cannonades. The resulting booms and thunderous explosions were familiar to Bret. But Laurel was horrified. She dug into his chest as if she thought she might climb inside him for safety. The cacophony that followed was war. The retorts of the cannons firing all around the star-shaped fort, the echo of large artillery from the massive British ships of the line out in the bay, the screeching of rockets, the explosion of bombs bursting overhead followed by the screams of men to look out for the molten debris, and the bugler sounding various calls which could just be heard above the soldiers yelling out as they first loaded and then fired cannons—all this happening at once. Acrid smoke combined with flying dirt that had been blown to the sky by falling bombs. The smell of burning wood stung his eyes. This was what Bret had feared. The sounds and the smells were familiar to him. He shook his head with regret. Laurel was caught in the midst of the worst experience he could imagine, and there was little he could do to protect her. Then it occurred to him: she needed to be back inside the hospital. At least there, she might be safe from falling shrapnel. Not waiting to get her approval, he lifted her in his arms and rushed back to the doorway. He had just gotten her inside when a bomb exploded on the ground where they had stood moments before. Dirt, smoke, and metal filled the air like a fine dusting powder. Still holding her in his arms, Bret quickly leaned against the door to shut it. He wished he could likewise shut the heat of battle outside the walls of the hospital. When the door was closed, he realized Laurel was still clinging to him, her face wet with tears. For a moment, he cradled her in his arms wishing with all his might that he had gotten her to safety before the attack. Then he set her down gently, and she ran crying to her father. Bret turned back toward the door, considering what he should do next.