“Ethan, I’m sorry, but one of the shots hit me in my right leg, and it hurts too bad for me to swim,” he said. “I’ll hide here in the brush and you can come back and get me when they’re gone. If I’m discovered, I’ll just surrender and take my chance as a prisoner. I know Colonel Prevost, and Newota will put in a good word for me.”

Ethan examined the wound, which was bleeding only slightly, and saw that the bullet had punctured the upper thigh and had not emerged. He thought the bone was broken and was doubtful that Kindred would be able to move.

“Come on,” he said, “I can help you through the water. It’s not too far to that big tree over there on the hummock.”

“No, I’m staying here. We both can hide better if we’re separate. I’ll be all right.”

Ethan had to make a decision and soon realized that he had no alternative except to continue on his own. Not only was he well aware of Kindred’s stubbornness once he made a decision, but it was highly likely that they would both be joining the other prisoners if they didn’t move quickly. He helped Kindred move under the low-hanging limbs of a young magnolia, which, even now, the wounded man called a “grandiflora.” After he partially covered Kindred with dead leaves until he was well concealed, Ethan eased into the water and breaststroked to the small island, where he crawled up on the land just as the Redcoats came into view. He lay flat on the ground, partially concealed by some fallen limbs. With mounting concern and uncontrollable guilt, he watched as the British approached Kindred’s hiding place. He prayed that they would not find him.

Then he was stunned to hear Kindred’s voice as he dragged himself out of the covering leaves and put his hands in the air. “I surrender. I am not armed. Just take me to Colonel Prevost.” The leader of the triumphant troops grabbed Kindred, pushed him down on his stomach, and tied his hands behind his back, where he lay without moving or speaking further.

“You’re one of the few left,” he said, “and we’ll soon have all the others who haven’t drowned themselves.”

One of the other men, who seemed to be in command, pushed forward. He said in an angry voice, “Corporal, have you forgotten what the colonel ordered and what I made clear to you? We are not to take any of these rebel bastards as prisoners. Anyone who forgets McAllister and brings one in alive will lose his month’s ration of rum.”

He kicked Kindred in his side and then thrust his bayonet deep into the captive’s back, put his boot between his shoulder blades, pulled the weapon free, and then plunged it even more deeply where he thought the heart would be.