Sister Power

I wrote this story for History and I thought that it was pretty good!

“Come 'ere Becky. Look at those ships, they don’t look like our ships. No, I don't think those are American ships” Abby said. Once again I was the one working and she’s the one gazing out into the harbor, daydreaming.

“Abby, would you stop lolly-gagging and help me get this floor cleaned”, she and I are supposed to sweep and wash the floors today in the lantern chamber of our Pa’s lighthouse. Well, it isn’t really his lighthouse, he’s just the keeper. Pa took Momma and my brothers and sisters (‘cept for Abby) on a trip for a few days. He said that Abby and I are in charge of keeping the lighthouse tidy and keeping the lantern lit. Of course, when he said that we were in charge he was puttin’ all the responsibilities in my hand, ‘cause Abby would lose her head if it weren’t attached to her neck, and I am the eldest.

“I’m serious, Becky, those ships look like them British ones that attacked us earlier in the summer. I swear they look just like ‘em!”

“Abigail Bates, we do not swear in this household, and it’s ‘those British ones’ not ‘them British ones’. Ever since we’ve been spending the afternoons over at the military camps, your grammar has become atrocious.” Pa lets us go down to the military camps after the noon meal when we get our morning chores done. I can tell that Momma doesn’t like for us to go over there, I can understand why, but Abby and I have so much fun learning marches and drills and such from the soldiers. It beats staying indoors and learning the importance of being a lady. Even though I am they say I’m practical one, I’d much rather be outside any day.

“Ok fine, ‘Miss Know-it-all’, those British ships. Would you please come look?” Abby responded impatiently.

“Yes ma’am! Good grief, Abby sometimes I wonder if you just-O Abby, those are British war ships!” Those were almost identical to ones that brought war in the summer.

“See, I told you. Instead of correctin’ my grammar you should’ve-”

“Ok fine, I’m sorry for not listening to you, but this is not good, we don’t have time to run all the way to the camp and warn the men, and even if we did, they’d never be ready in time. We have to think of something, quick!” The last time those ships came rolling through town, they burned or destroyed a number of our war ships. The last three times the British attacked, it turned out to be pretty bad. There’s no telling to what they have up their sleeve this time.

“Well, are you just gonna stand there or are we gonna do something?”

“I’m thinking...Hmm...You said last week that when you were getting up clothes to be laundered that you saw a fife in the upstairs bedroom?” Truthfully, I don’t think that Abby was just getting up the clothes, she was probably being nosey and going through our brother’s battle equipment.

“Not just a fife, there was a drum with it” Abby replied.

“Ok go upstairs and get both of them and meet me outside near the cedars. Hurry!” I thought that, maybe, the British were through messing with us. I hate all of this fighting and carrying on.

“I’ve got ‘em, Becky! Now what? Do you have a plan? Can I help? Why did you have me get this drum and-"

“Don’t ask questions! You remember some of the marches they taught us at the camp?” Of course she remembers, she was better at them than I was.

“Yea, Why?” Abby replied.

“You and I are going to play um…Yankee Doodle and try to trick the British soldiers. Maybe if we play loud enough, they will confuse us for the whole regime.” Oh, I pray my ‘plan’ works.

“Well, what are you waiting for, let’s start playing.” Abby said, and immediately began tooting out ‘Yankee Doodle’ on the Fife. I have never been so nervous in my life but I held nothing back. We played and played until Abby looked blue in the face and then we switched and she beat the drum.

“Becky,” Abby said in a raspy tone, “I don’t know if this is working. I’m scared. Where will we go if they try to attack Scituate?” Small tears filled Abby’s dark brown eyes.

As much as I wanted to comfort her, I felt like crying myself. I just kept on playing, and hoping for a miracle. It’s funny how a day will start out wonderful, and turn sour on you, just like that. As I stopped for a breath I peeked out over the bush that we were crouched behind. When I looked, I could not believe what I saw.

“Abby! Oh Abby, Look!” It was a miracle. “Them British warships are turning around! They’re retreating!”

“Well, would you look at that!” Abby said in her ‘soldier talk’, “I can’t believe it. Keep playin’ Becky, I ain’t never been so happy to see the back side of a British warship in my life!”

We played until I was out of breath and Abby was sure that her arms would fall off. And then we did a victory dance all the way back to the lighthouse.

“Becky, just wait ‘til Pa hears of our victory!” Abby said triumphantly as she put some tea to steep, humming ‘Yankee Doodle’ merrily.

“I can hardly believe in myself. We saved our lighthouse! I can’t believe that you and I were able to scare off the British regime. We could call ourselves ‘The American Army-Bates regime at Scituate’. Yes, I like the way that sounds.”

-The End-