Tales From a Revolution: Bermuda
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Hal didn't much pay attention to the brewing revolution among Britain's mainland American colonies. As its impacts on his tiny island community began to hit home, though, he found himself caught up in a daring plot to both take care of his neighbors and help the rebels.
For countless centuries, the surf had rolled in on this beach, with the steady rhythm of calm seas like tonight's, or the wilder crash and ebb of a storm. It would continue doing so for countless eons after his name was forgotten, the sea taking no note that anyone named Harold Cooper had ever existed.
READ MORETonight, though, something was different, and it had every nerve in his body on alert. Even though he knew intellectually that he should not be able to sense it, he was aware that somewhere out there beyond the surf, an American ship lurked in the darkness, its presence a rebuke to Royal authority on the island of Bermuda.
Harold -- Hal to his friends, and 'that accursed rascal' to his enemies -- had but a small part to play in this night's plans, but he could not help but think that it might secure his place in the annals of the island's history, if ever it could be spoken of.
At the moment, though, the only thing demanded of him was that he wait, and hope. He peered into the darkness, but could discern nothing other than the stars slowly wheeling through the sky into the inky murmuring darkness of the Atlantic Ocean, the moon glinting off an occasional wave in the distance.
He reflected on the strange and discomforting road that had led him to this desperate action, which was technically an act of treason against the Crown. He supposed that it had all started with Molly.
Tales From a Revolution:
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