Rescue me [Hamilton fanfic] (Complete)

Ch. 11

                    HAPPY BIRTHDAY
              ALEXANDER HAMILTON

                  *ALEX'S POV*

      I've been sitting on the cot for around 20 or 30 minutes. It sucks. I should be fighting. Then again, I can bearly walk without assistance. I could try though... No. You were given an order.  I should probably occupy myself. I don't want a repeat of last time. That wasn't too much fun... Ummm... I guess I could write. It looks like there's going to be a storm. Memories of the hurricane flash in my mind.
Writing should get my mind off of it...

     I wrote for around another hour. I had many pages done and then I condensed it on another page-

     I take up my pen just to give you an imperfect account of the most dreadful hurricane that memory or any records whatever can trace, which happened here on the 31st ultimo at night.
It began about dusk, at North, and raged very violently till ten o'clock. Then ensued a sudden and unexpected interval, which lasted about an hour. Meanwhile the wind was shifting round to the South West point, from whence it returned with redoubled fury and continued so till near three o'clock in the morning. Good God! what horror and destruction—it's impossible for me to describe—or you to form any idea of it. It seemed as if a total dissolution of nature was taking place. The roaring of the sea and wind—fiery meteors flying about in the air—the prodigious glare of almost perpetual lightning—the crash of the falling houses—and the ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed, were sufficient to strike astonishment into Angels. A great part of the buildings throughout the Island are levelled to the ground—almost all the rest very much shattered—several persons killed and numbers utterly ruined—whole families running about the streets unknowing where to find a place of shelter—the sick exposed to the keenness of water and air—without a bed to lie upon—or a dry covering to their bodies—our harbour is entirely bare. In a word, misery in all its most hideous shapes spread over the whole face of the country.— A strong smell of gunpowder added somewhat to the terrors of the night; and it was observed that the rain was surprisingly salt. Indeed, the water is so brackish and full of sulphur that there is hardly any drinking it.

     Writing didn't really get my mind off the storm but it was better than freaking out by myself.  I looked up to see how everything was going. "...My friends seem to be ok from here. Wait... Benedict Arnold?
What's he doing aiming that gun...towards Washington?" maybe he's just aiming for someone else- "Nope! He's aiming it at Washington!" He's a traitor! I need to help Washington! But he told me to stay here...but I have to help!

     I grabbed my musket, loaded it and ran out of the tent...although the pain was almost unbearable. I clenched my teeth tight.
As I was running towards Benedict Arnold, the adrenaline finally kicked in and I could just try to ignore the throbbing pain going through my body with each step I took. Screw "two weeks off," I'm saving Washington. Take that nurse!

     Oh no he's closer than before. I have to warn Washington before it's to late! "Sir! Sir, it's Benedict Arnold! He-He's about to Shoot you!"
"You bastard!" Benedict A. Yelled. I heard a gunshot. Washington's not hurt though. He's running towards me?

      I'm...I'm on the ground. Washington is yelling something. My name? I can't really hear him. My ears are ringing. Everything was a spinning wreck. Another gunshot sounds and I flinch. This time, Benedict Arnold was shot. Washington shot him. I've never seen that look in his eyes before. It was pure anger. He fell to the ground yelling and cursing before some soldiers took him away. I look down and I see that I was shot in my stomach. Uh oh...

     "Hamilton! Listen to me!" Washington yells with worry, sadness and Betrayal obvious in his eyes. Benedict Arnold was his best friend. He trusted him with his life. Washington did a lot for him. Then he tried to shoot him, but instead I got shot. It's better than Washington getting wounded. " Alex!" He yells again. "S...sir?" The wound suddenly kicks in and the adrenaline is gone.

     I groan in pain wishing it would stop. This is worse than before. "Stay with me son! You've got to stay awake!" I'm rushed to the nurse again and almost instantly, the nurse applies pressure of a wet cloth and the cold rush of water is pressed against the wound. I groan again trying not to yell. Washington is still by my side. (it must be nice 😆)

      After a few minutes, the nurse finishes. "Wow... you didn't even last a day." The nurse mumbled. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed." Said Washington.  "Worth it..." I manage to choke out. "What could have been worth risking your life while being injured? The nurse asked. She sounded kind of irritated.
"Benedict Arnold...tried to s-shoot Washington. I...couldn't just sit there."
"Well I can't thank you enough. You saved my life." "It's no problem sir."

    All of a sudden, my friends barged in. John's eyes were wide, full of alarm and Herc was breathing hard and sweating. probably from running fast to get to the medic tent. As usual, when something happens, Laf was rambling in French. Time for another lecture... Yay

Words-925

I didn't own the writing of the hurricane letter. From what I know this is the actual writing that Hamilton wrote.

I got it on this website 👇👇👇👇👇

https://en.m.wikisource.org/wiki/Letter_by_Alexander_Hamilton_on_the_hurricane_of_August_1772