The Second War of Rebellion
Page 19
FOURTEEN
The carriage rocked like a ship on rough seas, jostling the riders. Stephen sat with his back to the horses, too wrapped up in his monologue to notice the discomfort. It was evident from his features that he had been through an ordeal, made worse by a boorish Englishman. An air of exhaustion clung to him, the fatigue relieved by his recollections of an incredible adventure on the coast of Africa. Maddie hugged her stepfather’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder. He had not failed her. No words could express her emotions, her gratitude, her relief.
“If not for Mr. Eason financing this operation, I am certain that President Jefferson would not have agreed to it,” Stephen said. “I volunteered at once, along with four other men. My good friend Stephen Decatur was a godsend, speaks fluent Greek and managed to convince several Greek sailors to sign on. Natural allies, in this case. The Greeks despise the Turks.”
“How did you reach Tripoli? You say you began in Cairo?” the Admiral asked. “I had no reports on your movements.”
“I walked,” Stephen said. He rubbed his eyes, as if the recollection put him back on the grueling march. “Mr. Eason bought the services of the Greek mercenaries, but it was his alliance with the brother of the Pasha that attracted four hundred Bedouin tribesmen to out mission. Not one of them would put foot on board a ship.”
“That must have taken weeks,” Maddie said. In her mind, she traced the route in an atlas, tabulated the miles, and divided by the complexity of moving a small army.
“Our force increased as we added local tribesmen. Attracted by the glint of Mr. Eason’s gold. And the emerald in my sword. Whatever it took to meet their demands.” Stephen closed his eyes, squeezed the lids as if he meant to shut everything out. “The notion of flogging is anathema to me but I learned of the benefits to be derived from the cat.”
Picturing her brother in dire straits, Maddie clung to her stepfather as if he were the mooring line that kept her from being swept away. She could not believe that her blood kin had engaged in a mission so dangerous and a bit mad. Something inside her cheered, however, at the notion that Stephen had been part of a difficult operation requiring precise coordination between land and sea forces. The thrill of battle colored Stephen’s words as he described the strategy used, a carefully choreographed assault on an enemy fort coupled with a naval bombardment that demonstrated the might of America’s fledgling navy. To be the sister of such a brave man was the greatest honor she might ever have.
“Never in my life could I have anticipated the sensation of watching my country’s colors rise over the enemy’s parapet. The elation,” Stephen said. “After the weight of our metal took its toll, watching through the smoke and there it was, the Stars and Stripes flying over the enemy fort. Victory. Success.”
“To capture one’s objective is often indescribable,” the Admiral said. “For those of us who have experienced it, there is no need for words.”
“Our reward was the release of three hundred of our countrymen, the kidnapped crew of the Philadelphia,” Stephen said. “And then President Jefferson stabbed us in the back and twisted the knife.”
“Surely not,” Maddie said.
“When the Essex makes port, the country will hear of his treachery,” Stephen said. “We set off from Cairo with the Pasha’s brother, promising to help him gain his throne. Without his help, our force would have been too small to be of any use. And to have a friend in our debt, ruling the very country that has plagued us. We held that fort at Derna, waiting for word to bring our ally to Tripoli. Waited while Mr. Jefferson conducted negotiations with the usurper.”
“Once the hostages were released, the objective was met,” Maddie said. “Without regard to the consequences.”
“Just so, baby girl,” Stephen said. “And one of those consequences fell on your big brother who had to ship the would-be Pasha back to Cairo. No funds came from Congress, and we had to slip out of Egypt in the middle of the night like thieves because we could not pay our mercenaries.”
“Such is the way of diplomacy,” the Admiral said. “A bruising lesson for you, but a most valuable one.”
“For all that, sir, for no good reason, I turned down a furlough and missed Ethan’s wedding,” Stephen said.
“As did I,” Maddie said.
“The far-flung Beauchamps,” Stephen mumbled, his eyes drooping.
“All that went awry will soon be forgotten,” the Admiral said. “No one speaks of the myriad disasters that befell the Royal Navy before our victory at Abukir Bay. A brilliant success is like fresh paint on an old canvas.”