The Patriot ****UNDER EDITING****

Chapter 4

 *Hannah's POV*

Tensions were rising between us and the British, but I never imagined anything like this.

After Lexington and Concord, the newspapers picked it up immediately and the news spread to all thirteen colonies. I was very satisfied with the news, for the British had no right to confiscate what is rightfully ours.

I drafted an article justifying the event and handed it to our post rider, James Allen. He is an older man, but I know him to be a fervent Patriot. He also knows of my true feelings, but he does not know that I am John Bartholomew. No one does. 

"Treason! Hannah, do you realize what they have done?"

"Yes, Father."

"I hope the king sends many more troops over to put this rebellion to death. Have they any idea what they are doing?! They are committing treason against their king, who has given them everything!"

This is usually what is said in our evening sessions in his study. He speaks more about politics now, especially since shots have been fired. 

"Do you think this is the start of a war?" I ask. 

"No, they do not stand a chance against our military. It is a rebellion that our king will put a speedy end to. Hopefully they will capture Revere, both Adams, Hancock, and the fool who publishes articles in the paper, Bartholomew. They deserve to be hanged." Just then, my father gives me a suspicious look.

"What are your thoughts?" he asks. 

"What do you mean?"

"I want to know where your loyalties lie. You are true to your upbringing... correct?"

"Correct, father." 

"Do not get any ideas. No daughter of mine shall ever be... one of them." He says as he makes a disgusted face.

"They murdered two hundred and fifty of our men and I hear that they have created an army! The Continental Army, or something like that." He was quiet for a little while, then he spoke again. 

"I have been considering an idea, now I think I am going to carry it out. I want us to move to London. This is no place for us  and I want to be on the same land as our king. I will make all of the proper arrangements and we shall be able to leave in a few weeks." As soon as he says this, I open my mouth in protest. 

"I do not want to go, Father! This is the land where I was born and raised, I do not want to leave..." Suddenly, his whole temperament changes.

"We are leaving and that is final!" He shouts as loudly as he can, making me jump. I simply nod, and walk out of the study and back to my chamber. Anger begins to dwell in me. Even though I live with a Tory, there are many Patriots that surround me, but I could not bear to travel to a land where I am only surrounded by people like my father. Just then, an idea comes to mind. It would be an honorable thing to serve in the Continental Army. I would not have to leave, and people would be pleased to know that Mr. Bartholomew joined the army.

 After Father falls asleep, I gather food, water, and clothes that Father does not wear anymore, which he stores in an old trunk in his room, but thankfully he is a heavy sleeper. I begin to fix myself up to look like a man. I comb my hair back into a queue, dress in the plain clothes, even though they are a little big, but not by much.

It begins to dawn on me that I may possibly never see Father again. I am saddened for a moment, but I quickly get over it. He loves his beliefs more than he'll ever love me. I guess I get that from him. I decide to not write a letter saying goodbye.  I can not let him know my whereabouts. After I look at what was once was my home one last time, I flee. 

Fortunately, the town is still very busy, which means that enlistment is still going on at the tavern. I enter and stand in line. In no time, I am at the desk.

"Name please." says the gentleman on the right. 

"John Bartholomew." I say in the best male voice that I can do. Both of the men look up and a smile forms on their faces. 

"We know you! We have read your articles! I must say, you are an excellent writer and I am very inspired by your work." Says the soldier on the left. 

"Thank you. I am very passionate about what I believe and this is me proving that."

The soldier on the right speaks again. "We are very pleased to have you, Mr. Bartholomew. Now, what is your age?" 

"Twenty."

After he writes in the book, he tells me what I need to do. "You will be leaving with the rest of the company tonight. I know it is very short notice, but General Washington needs all of the soldiers he can get as quickly as possible. You and your company will join the army in Massachusetts." After the company is gathered, we head out, and I say goodbye to the life that I once knew.