The Incredible William Bowles: The True Story of One of the Wildest Figures in American History by Joseph J. Millard

Author:Joseph J. Millard [Millard, Joseph J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: indian, pirate, native american, history
ISBN: 9781479404551
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2014-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

Teeth chattering, his body shaking uncontrollably inside the blanket, Will stumbled around on half-frozen feet to gather wood. The flint and steel repeatedly fell out of his numb fingers but eventually he got the fire going and huddled over it in aching misery until dawn.

The first gray light showed the waters of the bay lashed into towering waves that would swamp his makeshift craft. The only alternative was to abandon it and strike out for Pensacola on foot, hoping to make it before he froze.

The journey was one long nightmare of agony. The score or more of streams he had to ford were covered with ice too thin to support his weight. Will could only thresh his way across, then break into a stumbling run to restore circulation while the sodden leggings and blanket froze on his body. He was almost at the end of his strength by the time he reached Pensacola.

The streets were deserted, but every chimney belched smoke as the shivering populace huddled around fireplaces. The only person abroad was a man, grotesquely bundled in layers of deerskin, trudging up the street with an armload of firewood.

Will was climbing the hill to ask shelter at the fort when he passed the town bakery. A wave of warmth and the smell of baking bread stopped him in his tracks. He managed to grasp the latchstring with numb fingers and stumble into a wall of stifling heat from a great brick oven at the rear.

A big, coarse-featured man in a white apron spun around and his jaw dropped. “Lord love me, a froze Indian.”

“Not Indian,” Will gasped. “English. Just—let me—get warm.”

In a daze he found himself seated beside the oven, a mug of steaming coffee and a roll in his shaking hands. He managed to mumble, “I’ve no money to pay with.”

“Forget it, boy. This is on Sim Armitage. Just get it down before you shake my oven to pieces with your shivering.”

The coffee was thin and the roll stale but it tasted like a banquet to Will. The warmth from within and without seeped through his body and gradually its violent trembling ceased. He got to his feet, wincing at the needle stabs of returning circulation.

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