Sworn for Mackinaw

by James Spurr

  But the analogy was more complex and apt than perhaps even Bemose was aware. She made the comparison to her father, a priest, the all-too-human ambassador of the Almighty, rather than to God himself, as the worst of Captains sometimes liked to believe and insist upon in their dealings, at least with all those aboard while underway. Thinking more deeply about Bemose’s father, her very existence forced the admission of imperfection; evidence of flawed humanity, Oliver mused. Similarly, recalling William’s apology and contrition of last autumn as an ambassador discharging a sacred duty, so too William had failed. As all do, Oliver freely admitted with respect to himself even as he indicted all others without malice and invoking no shame.

  Oliver resolved to give the matter more thought as the hundreds of miles yet before them would allow, divided, as was already established, into rythmic round-the-clock watches. A regular watch during the height of summer encouraged the best of conversation, the most profound reflection and a deep, if not prayerful appreciation for respective roles amid all creation. Such are the benefits of voyages at sea.

  Oliver was brought back to Bemose by her closing remark, “Further, not having known William for longer than but a few days before his injury, I do not really know whether his healing through those winter months formed in him what seems to now motivate him so consistently in his dealings with others. He cannot bear, it seems, to be unprepared. He somehow sees no excuse for it and never wants to be dependant again, I fear.”

  “Fear?” asked Oliver.

  “I do fear. Who can possibly know what will occur? Can one be prepared for all possible events? Of course not. Such is a self-imposed burden no man can meet, yet my William… he tries.” She looked at William, still at the helm calling out the fine trim. Her eyes revealed such a look of love and devotion so deep and sincere that if not for Mary, it would have made Oliver quite jealous. Suddenly, Oliver felt uncommon joy for his friend who for years struggled with difficulties and bitterness in near all aspects of his personal life.

  Time and again, the taffrail log trailed in their wake, the knots slid through their hands, the count was made, the contrivance retrieved, most often to their satisfaction. The skies remained clear and only whisps of clouds painted colored streaks across their dawns and dusks. The sloop slid along, near always north, most often just within sight of the Michigan shore though the land was but a smudge along the horizon to larboard. The breezes were light to moderate, just strong enough so that with all sail set the helm was easy, the mood grand and the log revealed, on average, four miles for each hour.

  For several hours, the land to the west sunk from view and William and Oliver speculated at the truth of what Bemose had been told by others: a great bay, large enough to sail down its length with no land in sight, mostly to the southwest, eventually narrowed to a river allowing access to the interior of what was largely a virgin Territory. William yearned to explore but knew that until a village was established and either people or material offered a reason to change course, Friends Good Will would in all likelihood for years to come sail ambivalently past its great entrance.

  The second night on the lake required careful preparations and some navigational calculations. William and Bemose were well aware and had been cautioned by those natives with whom they had traveled by canoe that a reef and shallow water extended well out into the deeper water along the western shore as they approached the northern reaches of Lake Huron. The difficulty was compounded by the fact that the reef extended southeast, with few warning signs, and they were approaching from the south. A ship, William worried, could be caught well within the clutches of its danger before any sign presented itself of the need to bear northeast early enough to remain in deep water. William had over the years taken careful bearings from the canoes in which they had traveled and estimated the distance from the St. Clair River. Friends Good Will was that early evening approaching the point at which a course change would be prudent.

  Captain Lee came up from the companionway at the change of the second dog watch. He began his watch with Trove, relieving Oliver at the helm. Oliver greeted cheerfully, “Good evening, William. Our course is North by Nor’west. I estimate we are still logging four knots, as we were when the log was last cast.”

  Captain Lee responded, “Thank you, Oliver. I have on that assumption made that plot and the watch is relieved. You may send James below, if he wishes. If you please, stand with me for some time, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  Captain Lee intercepted Trove as he was about to assume the bow watch. “Trove, pray, take the glass aloft and report as to if you detect any deep bay to the Nor’West.”

  “Aye.” Trove approached the binnacle, slid the glass from its resting place, slipped the leather strap over his shoulder, the glass laying along his back and began to ascend up the shrouds, to starboard.

  Oliver, while off watch, appeared in no hurry to quit the deck on such a fine evening. The sun was just approaching the western horizon and the dusk promised to be long and enjoyable. Oliver asked as William looked aloft to Trove now extending the glass from his perch at the cross-trees, “Your calculations took some time. When you have a moment, I would enjoy learning more about our situation.”

  William nodded, “Of course. Let’s take some time in the morning. But actually, Oliver, I was also attending to some writing I wish to discuss with you.”

  “I am yours.”

  “I have these past few hours reduced to writing that which I should no longer retain in my head. I wish to present documentation of what I have committed to memory to Lieutenant Hanks when we reach Mackinaw.” Oliver’s expression seemed favorable so William continued, now at nearly a whisper, “I have considerable experience with and knowledge of supply routes along the shores of these Lakes and have, since meeting with him this Spring, been asking others and listening carefully to whatever could be learned secondhand.” Oliver grew more serious but remained silent. William continued, “If war comes, a thorough description of these trails, navigable creeks and rivers, areas of consistent ice, roads, and natural harbors, on both sides of the border, could be of significant advantage.”

  Oliver thought carefully for some moments, appreciating the fact that William was telling him what he could have obviously kept hidden without so much as a hint. “As you know,” he began, “I would prefer to not become entangled in politics and hope for, above all things, patience, cool heads and peace. Still, am I to understand you are detailing in writing only that which you have come to know over your years on these Lakes and that which could also be used by all merchant masters for the development of commerce?”

  Trove called, “Deck there!” The call bought William some moments.

  Captain Lee replied loudly, “Report.”

  “The shore appears to sink as it bends to the nor’west.” Trove sounded surprised and untrusting, although that is precisely as William had hoped and expected. He continued, “I will confirm that from the masthead,” and slung the glass across his back yet again.

  William suspected Trove was actually climbing more for fun than necessity, yet instructed nonetheless, “While there, see if you can see any land to the North or Northeast.”

  Trove faintly called, “Aye,” as he began his climb up the topmast shrouds.

  Captain Lee smoked Oliver’s suggestion instantly. His peace-loving friend was carefully rephrasing William’s own summary in such manner as could permit no objection. While unclear as to what prompted Oliver’s tolerance, his involvement not yet fairly described as cooperation, William instantly confirmed, “My friend, I assure that is the case; and nothing more.” Then, to make the point still clearer, “While Friends Good Will no longer carries arms, I cannot help but carry knowledge.”

  Oliver confirmed, “Of course.”

  William had not as yet come to appreciate that Oliver’s liberal attitude was the direct outcome of the trust William demonstrated in raising the topic to begin with, together with Bemose’s earlier observation
that William, as did perhaps all the better masters, strove for perfection in all preparations.

  William added, “On the frontier, the movement of supplies in war is critical; they are always in short supply and options for transport severely limited.” Oliver nodded, growing slightly less comfortable with the discussion of tactics. William concluded, “All documentation, including maps and names of persons who can be relied upon familiar with each trail, creek, harbor and landing is kept in that small chest at the foot of my bunk.”

  “Really, Captain Lee, must you impart such details?”

  William recognized he had pushed too far, offered too much, and the formality of Oliver’s reply, addressing William’s rank and position, was fully intended by Oliver to remind him that perhaps on such points, less familiarity between them as compared to every other detail of their lives, their pasts or even their intertwined future, was as yet much preferred.

  Trove called down from the masthead, “The western horizon fades to the Nor’west. Land appears, just a smudge, also to the North’noreast.”

  William called loudly so as to carry his voice near eighty feet aloft from his station at the helm, “Return to the deck.” Continuing in that volume and with that inherent authority practiced by those in command, “James, up from below on the instant. If you please, upon taking the deck and together with Trove, brace up the topsail and trim all headsails.” Then, he turned to Oliver and more softly suggested, “If you please, dear friend, could you step aft and trim the mainsail? I then ask that you steer for a moment.” Captain Lee slipped his watch from his waistcoat pocket, checked the time and muttered, “I must note the time on the chart.”

  Oliver repositioned himself and began trimming the mainsail as James and Trove went to work in the waist. Captain Lee, with a half smile on his face and with all the confidence borne from months of preparation for precisely this moment, was pleased to announce, while pushing the massive tiller to larboard with his hips, sweeping the quarterdeck, “For the next four hours, we shall steer East by Nor’east.”

  Friends Good Will changed course that evening, recognized by all onboard as necessary to avoid a reef well known to Captain Lee to lie just ahead and confirmed as prudent by masthead sightings. Friends Good Will had also that evening changed direction, unbeknownst to all, unrevealed by her wake, as suggested only by the contents of a chest, at the foot of a bunk. She sailed from the sun, it having just that moment dipped the horizon.

  Chapter 14

  The morning watch changed quietly after a near silent night. Friends Good Will sailed a point north of east until 2400 hours, wore ship and turned a point west of north, slipping along at near three knots through the star studded night. Without a moon, the broad sheer scarf of the Milky Way wound across all creation, punctuated by occasional falling stars. The breeze filled in from the south by sou’west and increased slightly at dawn. Friends Good Will would make Mackinaw, with ease, sometime in the upcoming afternoon.

  William and Trove relieved Oliver and James. Oliver gave over the tiller to Trove, glanced back over the stern and set his gaze on what he thought initially was the result of fatigue. But there was no mistake. He called out as William made his way up the companionway hatch, having made the plot, “Captain Lee, there appears a sail, dead astern.”

  Trove wheeled round at the helm, his bare feet slipping easily on the deck wet with dew, nodded affirmatively and handed the long glass to William as he strode aft to the taffrail. William extended the glass, studied for some moments, snapped it shut, shrugged and announced, “Indeed, we have guests—late for breakfast; perhaps for the noon meal!”

  Oliver was not near so nonchalant. “Do you know her?”

  William confessed, shaking his head, “I do not.” While not yet hull up, he ventured, “I would guess she is larger than we, a brig, perhaps 90 tonnes.”

  “Is she wishing to catch us?”

  William considered how in the world he was supposed to know the answer, but recalling as Captain it was often best to play as though he did, speculated, with unjustified confidence, “I suspect not. She is overhauling us and has likely done so through the night, especially in light of our jog to the east for some hours. No, I would guess this just one of those chance encounters. In two more hours, we shall know more about her intended destination.”

  Oliver, sounding less concerned though certainly curious, asked “How is that?”

  “Well, Oliver, at that time we will bear at least 3 points further west. If our companion is bound for Mackinaw, so, too, will she, in all likelihood.”

  The morning progressed like all others, the sun warmed the cool fir deck and dew evaporated near as fast as Bemose could wipe it from near all horizontal surfaces. There was little other work for the crew. Trove, James and Oliver wagered on the time of landfall and whether the stranger was English or American, naval or merchant. William worked on his report for Lieutenant Hanks while Bemose repaired a cargo net frayed to the point of some concern.

  At four bells in the forenoon watch, with Trove at the helm, Captain Lee ordered Friends Good Will brought three points higher in the steady breeze. Her companion had gained considerably since first observed, the result of her having set stun’-sails, rectangular additional canvas raised from the deck to fly outboard of the square sails from spars stowed and run out from the yards, most often when the press for speed was urgent. The mystery ship was by then no more than a mile astern. She held course, however, sailing still further north and the ships gradually parted company as Friends Good Will sailed near westerly.

  With the mystery ship’s beam soon broad to Friends Good Will’s transom, William studied her closely. He offered to Oliver, “A snow; not a brig, perhaps 85 tons. I would guess Royal Navy, perhaps bound for Fort St. Joseph, though I have ne’er seen her before.” He no sooner spoke and the Union Jack snapped free from her foremast truck.

  Trove inquired, “Shall we send up our colours, Captain?”

  William muttered softly, raising the glass once again, checking for any sign of gunports, “I think not, Trove.” Then, with his voice trailing off, “No need, really…”

  Oliver was relieved; James disappointed. Bemose, wrapping her blanket still more tightly round her shoulders, was acutely aware of her own intense apprehension as she looked at the flag with brightly colored sharp triangles, like spear points, under which she last sailed on Hope.

  Colonel Pye snapped his glass shut, turned to the Sailing Master and with some disappointment, commented, “It appears our sloop is bound for Mackinaw. Too bad; a pretty model and a swift sailor!”

  The Sailing Master grunted almost defensively, “Caledonia was, of course, overhauling. We could have backed a topsail by noon. Rather rude, no flag or ensign. Did you catch her name?”

  “Aye, Friends Good Will, carved on her transom. Pretty work. Do you know her?”

  The Sailing Master shook his head but added, “We shall make Ft. St. Joseph this afternoon. I will inquire of her.”

  The Colonel returned to his quarters to consider his orders and satchel of documents that caused him to board at Amherstburg and depart hurriedly, just hours after he met with Alexander Grant and Friends Good Will leaving Detroit. Calendonia, the larger ship, was by far more frustrated by the adverse current of the St. Clair River. She broke free of the current on the same Southeast breeze as did Friends Good Will, only much later that same day. Finally, Caledonia’s greater length and sail area told in her greater speed and she nearly outpaced the swift sloop when Captain Lee made the turn for Mackinaw.

  Upon making Ft. St. Joseph and anchoring in the lee of the island, shielded from the river current, Colonel Pye took a ship’s boat to the dock where he was met by the Captain of the Fort’s garrison of some fifty soldiers. After brief introductions, Colonel Pye asked directly, “Are Lieutenants Dunlap and Fleet available for interview?”

  Somewhat surprised, the Captain replied, “Yes, both are within the walls. Lieutenant Dunlap just returned last evening f
rom conversing with some native acquaintances.”

  Colonel Pye nodded encouragingly, noted the time on his waistcoat watch and directed, “Very well. Have both of them report to me in one half hour, in… er… shall we say, your offices?”

  The Captain nodded, “Certainly.”

  Colonel Pye, out-pacing the Captain easily up the gradual slope to the gates of the fort, adding to the sense of some as yet unexplained urgency, added “Muster the garrison, all personnel to attend, no exceptions, for my review and address in one hour.”

  Colonel Pye had his trunk brought up, washed, and shifted to his better uniform, thinking the entire time of Alexander Grant. He had been as impressed with him during his visit at his home on Grosse Isle, just prior to Caledonia’s departure, as he had been in Kingston the summer before. It was not easy to have informed him, after a remarkable career of more than fifty years, of his retirement and replacement, but circumstances required a more energetic presence among His Majesty’s far flung forces in such difficult times. He was most impressed that the Commodore agreeed entirely with Montreal’s assessment, took the news with all grace and, Colonel Pye sensed or perhaps liked to believe, relief. The most fascinating part of the interview, however, was that which then followed, which Colonel Pye was once again recalling in detail when he replied to the knock on the door, “Come.”

  Lieutenants Dunlap and Fleet entered the rough hewn, single story log building. Colonel Pye took his seat behind the Captain’s desk adjacent to the stone fireplace which seemed to draw poorly. He ordered both to approach and stand before him. They made their greeting and while still at attention, Colonel Pye started in, “Mr. Dunlap, I hand you a statement that has fallen to me to investigate and if appropriate, press before a Court’s Martial, on the instant.” Lieutenant Dunlap took the parchment, read the statement of Mr. LaRoux and flushed with anger. Colonel Pye watched Fleet closely through some uncomfortable moments as the realization came over Dunlap that he was accused of treason. Fleet’s breathing quickened, his eyes darted about and it was clear he was taken aback by this turn in the proceedings he, after all, began.