by James Spurr
Oliver knew his good friend was suspicious and considered for some moments before offering, “He seemed most interested in Friends Good Will. He toured her with Mr. Kinzie and Captain Heald late the following day. And no, he seems a bit polished for a trader. Then again, I suppose I am a trader as well. I hardly tread into the wilderness; that is for certain.”
Captain Lee considered and conceded the point, complaining, “He seemed to lurk about most awkwardly when after dinner I attempted to have a private conversation with Captain Heald about the documentation I have compiled.”
“What was Mr. Richard’s reaction?” Oliver asked, handing the starboard vang to James, who came aft so to retrieve both and lead them forward for hanging near the boom jaws.
“He does not know. I had just started to hint at my purpose in hushed tones when he approached, seemingly wanting to hear. I thought it rather rude.”
“Did you later reveal your purpose to Captain Heald?”
“Oh, yes. The following morning I showed Captain Heald my notes and we discussed details on the porch of his office. He seemed very appreciative and his clerk made a copy. The originals are again on board, which I will deliver to Lieutenant Hanks.”
Oliver nodded as he considered. In an effort to ease any concerns, he said, “I shall endeavor to engage Mr. Richard these next few days and see what more I can offer.”
Captain Lee reminded, “Mr. Richards is bound for Mackinaw, not Detroit. Mr. Graversa may be with us to Buffalo, if we can arrange a cargo east when we arrive in Detroit.”
The passage had begun with pretty work getting underway on a gray summer morning but with a fair breeze and smooth seas. Oliver yearned more for his family with each mile he sailed closer to Detroit. William treasured his time spent with James, having missed him mightily through the winter and, given the length of the voyage, was grateful for Bemose, whose knowledge of the native tongues had been invaluable among the many tribes encountered outside Fort Dearborn along the banks of the Chicago River. Bemose was relieved to be underway, sensing more tension and a deterioration of relations between the Potawatami and any person or symbol representing the United States.
Captain Lee largely followed the western shore near straight north from Fort Dearborn. The southeasterly wind upon which they departed remained steady and the broad reach it presented was effortless for a shorthanded crew. The wind shifted the second afternoon with Friends Good Will more than half way up the length of Lake Michigan. The new northeast breeze was moderate, but the afternoon presented a hot, humid and hazy mid-July summer’s day.
With the wind now coming from the precise direction Friends Good Will desired to sail, Captain Lee, with the resignation practiced frequently by mariner’s making the most of whatever was given, struck the topsail, sheeted the fore and aft sails close hauled and tried to make as much north’ing as was possible, all while watching closely to the west for thunderheads. The billowing clouds built ever higher as the sun descended and their anvil tops were most impressive. While presenting a beautiful sky, the sailors aboard recognized the potential for danger. As evening wore into dusk the oppressive heat lingered and the wind remained constant.
William consulted the chart, stepping around Mr. Richards who seemed to be standing awkwardly by the wardroom cabins with no apparent purpose. Friends Good Will was returning to Detroit by way of a different route to Mackinaw than she took near two weeks before. James confirmed from the masthead the large island now some miles off the starboard bow was that which they had been advised to round but for their discovery of the channel. Rounding to starboard while sailing north would mean more miles logged, yet the wind presented no other option and William admitted, at least to himself, he was not so anxious to get as close to shore as he had in sailing between and among the islands when southbound. Another forty miles and Friends Good Will could turn east for Mackinaw.
Just after dusk, the wind increased and lightning began to appear with great frequency from the southwest. With Friends Good Will sailing north’ard, the race was on. She carried all fore and aft sail until well after dark, when until the change of the evening watch, Captain Lee called Mr. Adams up from his bunk to assist in reefing the mainsail. Throughout the half hour of hard work, they all witnessed an incredible light show with ever increasing and closer strikes, now to the south and west as well. The reefed main did not slow the ship, however, so much as did striking the outer jib, just a half hour later. The wind and seas were building and despite the heat, Captain Lee ordered all hatch covers battened down tight and lifelines led on deck so to assist the crew during what would be a dangerous night. The orange, yellow and bright white of the strikes illuminated the cloud formations, revealing layers upon layers of violent peaks and valleys with the only hint of stars far to the east.
Still, not a drop of rain fell. William, sensing their luck would soon run out, asked Oliver, “If you please, my friend, could you go below and bring up our tarred boatcloaks. I fear it just a matter of time before the deck will be choked in fresh water rushing for the scuppers.”
The deluge began even before Oliver returned. A large gust announced the new heightened violence of that night’s conflict and the ship heeled dramatically to larboard. Oliver slipped at the base of the companionway stairs, hit his head and drew blood and a large swollen bump. Delivering the garments and donning his own, a flash of lightning illuminated his face and James inquired, “Are you alright?”
The rain now washing the blood down the left side of his face as he nodded, Oliver assured, “Truly, it must look worse than it feels.”
James took his arm and led him forward to brail the main. The large gust was well past and, in the lull, Captain Lee eased the mainsheet until the sail was luffing. He balanced the helm between his legs while making certain to keep the staysail and jib full, and sufficient way on the ship, to render her motion rhythmic and predictable for his crew. James and Oliver took up the lifts, brought back the vangs, released the clew line, took in on the brails and wrestled to stabilize the boom along the centerline with quartertackles. While not pretty, it was effective and with what the night promised to deliver, much safer.
As busy as they were on deck, only Captain Lee noticed the lightning was now coming from the northwest as well. He shouted to his crew to join on the quarterdeck and for some time they cared for each other amid what seemed near solid water falling from the heavens with near as frequent strikes. James was certain the mast would be struck and William wished he had lowered the gaff so to eliminate still one more target. Oliver simply credited the grace of God each time there was a thunderous crack and the massive bolts landed near, but as yet caused no damage. Within the hour the heavens quieted even while the wind increased. The staysail was doused and Friends Good Will headed due north in what was now a gradually veering gale force wind.
All through the remaining night the three remained on deck assisting with balance, assuring of their mutual safety, sacrificing speed and grace in the unholy seas through a second, then a third wave of lightning strikes. Half through the midnight watch, Oliver noted some wedges used to secure the canvas tarps over the hatch covers gradually loosening. He and James made their way around the waist hand over hand on the lifelines, one holding the wedges while the other pounding them tighter with a heavy wooden mallet. The rain was so intense it was difficult to breath, and the scuppers, though numerous, could not drain quickly enough the flow of water accumulating on deck.
James and Oliver laughed aloud, slipping along in a motion more akin to swimming than crawling. Captain Lee, at the helm, heard the laughter, thought it odd, and regarded it as just another sign of youthful exuberance on the part of one of his crew, fatigue and surprise at the forces of nature on the part of his other. For that matter, he thought, why not? They were both likely joyous, with good cause, to as yet be alive.
Dawn broke late. Friends Good Will had made her turn westward and was now north of the large island. The seas were mountainous and confused by the new wind still cru
elly serving up powerful gusts. Yet somehow with daylight, all took heart and, though exhausted, drew upon some inner reserves brought forth from Bemose’s best effort at a cold breakfast. Few aboard had slept and near all down below were sick and near useless. Those on deck—Captain Lee, James and Oliver, appeared ever more catatonic as they went through their motions with little expression or reaction. Throughout the day, they would occasionally attempt to carry the staysail, enjoying the added speed and exhilaration when combined with the jib, but the gusts were maddening, rendering the crew discontent in the search for an optimum trim and set.
By mid afternoon, with Mackinaw barely looming on the horizon to larboard of the jibboom, the wind began to abate and the seas diminished from the protection of the now narrowing waters of the straits. The clouds cleared off to the east. The sun, well on the decline, shone from astern and that which seemed impossible just hours before began to gradually occur. The ship began to dry. First, just vertical surfaces, then horizontal patches appeared on hatch covers and the parts of the deck exposed to the wind. The canvas sails changed color, clothing became lightweight, and finally it seemed only ponding water remained as a reminder of their ordeal; small pools trapped in the loose furled sails letting spill occasionally at unexpected moments.
Within several miles of Mackinaw Island, Captain Lee mentally awoke from the routine and reminded all they would be making landfall soon enough. “Come now, Friends,” as he sometimes referred to the crew in a collective sense, “Let’s have some pride!”
Oliver and James dug deep, half smiled, looked to each other and about at their ship and admitted it reflected poorly upon them all. Bemose began by wiping windblown dirt from all exposed surfaces and Captain Lee roused them with “Let’s have the mainsail. What’s a clewline and a few brails, after last night!” he exhorted.
The exhausted crew set the mainsail, prominently announcing their approach, lowered the ship’s boat from the davits, towing it astern, and with excitement building at the thought of a landfall and the promise of a good long sleep tied to a dock, the staysail and outer jib ascended up the forestay. As the wind seemed to be on the wane, James actually suggested, in all good spirits, “What say we for the topsail? We shall never get there, otherwise!”
The passengers, in large part recovered, were on deck and cheerful at the thought of a landfall. The late afternoon sunlight shone upon the lush green of the island, revealing it as an emerald of the Great Lakes.
“One last task, my boy,” promised Captain Lee. “James, aloft to the cross trees and while you loose the gaskets, use my glass and offer us a report.” Though his voice was light, in the back of his tired mind, ever thinking ahead and always prepared, Captain Lee made to assure the world had not changed since he had last sailed these waters.
Soon enough, James hailed, “Deck there!”
Captain Lee replied, “Report.”
“All appears well. From the stars and stripes flying above the fort, our wind will hold right to the dock.”
While apparent from the report James was studying the set of the flag, Captain Lee was far more relieved to hear those details describing the flag. He sighed and directed, “Return to the deck. Hands to the clewlines, buntlines and topsail sheets!”
Early that evening, with a light south wind all but spent, Friends Good Will glided slowly under full sail into Lake Huron, turning north toward the only dock in the gradual indent that served as the Port of Mackinaw.
The dock was constructed of two large wooden cribs, vertically planked, sunk and filled with large rocks. Long planks, near the length of those majestic pines so prevalent on the emerald isle, extended from the pebble beach to the first crib, the top of which was planked with shorter lengths, with longer timber once again spanning to the edge of the second crib. The decking over the top of the second crib extended some six additional feet beyond the crib to altogether serve as a credible commercial dock, long and strong, for such a remote outpost.
A handsome schooner was anchored just to the east. William recognized Salina and commented, “Oliver, what luck; Captain Dobbins is in port. We shall have a gam!” Oliver was studying the two native canoes, each with three young men engaged in fishing just to the west of the dock hauling up a small catch.
As Friends Good Will made her final approach, lining up alongside the dock such that her track would put her starboard side to, William was speaking casually with Oliver in the waist. James was at the helm. Friends Good Will carried little way, the sails were largely limp and William indicated for James to remain at the helm and he would take in sail with Oliver. Raising the lifts, casting off the clewline and hauling brails together, the good friends felt deep satisfaction with a very long and important voyage. With the mainsail brailed loosely and no apparent breeze in the headsails, all were dropped within seconds and with no more than two ship lengths from the end of the dock, William and Oliver lowered the topsail halyard and cast off the topsail sheets, while casually discussing their departure for Detroit.
“I guessed in leaving Fort Dearborn we would be in Lake Huron heading downbound for home by July 18,” revealed Oliver.
Captain Lee responded, “Well, here we are, on the 18th just as you predicted. Would it ruin your estimate if we departed tomorrow? Come, let’s haul on the clewlines and bunts.”
“No, of course not, my friend. While we are not as yet downbound, with Mary’s birthday on the 27th, I feel quite confident we will share it together.” With the topsail now confined to the yard, the ship slid in slowly and easily alongside the dock.
Captain Lee drew his attention to the shore and then to a single soldier standing on the dock gesturing his willingness to assist with docklines. Was something odd or was he understandably tired? No one else was in sight. Mr. Adams threw his coil from the bow lazily onto the dock. Oliver tossed the after spring line to the soldier and James, the stern line. Captain Lee asked himself what was troubling him, reminded himself he had never before made such a deserted landfall at any inhabited port. He strode aft in the waist to larboard, was just about to step up to the quarterdeck when he heard James direct the soldier, “No, not that piling, further aft.”
The admonition caused Captain Lee to look carefully at the soldier’s shoes. The soldier bent down to retrieve the dockline, not yet made fast but wound around the wrong piling. Instantly a second glance at his clothes announced the danger. The soldier was British! He was half disguised by dressing in a United States Army coat but with little attention to detail. After a moment of confusion, and another of dread, William turned and noted a party of British soldiers striding quickly down the dock.
Oliver, standing between William and the dock, noticed the party of soldiers dressed in red and was puzzled. He looked at William, his expression posed a question to his close friend; his Captain. William felt sick in the pit of his stomach, looked again at the soldier who looked back with a smirk.
The party of British officers and regulars were approaching just a half length from the tip of the bowsprit. The senior among them began to announce in a loud voice, “My name is Captain Charles Roberts, commanding his Britanic Majesty’s forces on this island and—”
Captain Lee glanced up to see the British flag rise above the fort. He was aware Oliver was close alongside at the companionway hatch and Bemose stood on the second step of the companionway ladder. He studied the approaching officers more closely. As though not yet having enough to comprehend, he was shocked to recognize the smug expression and arrogant walk of none other than Lieutenant James Fleet.
Captain Lee said in a hushed, urgent tone intended for Oliver alone to hear, although also overheard by Bemose, “Good God, it’s Captain Fleet!”
Oliver, recalling the name William revealed and the promise Oliver made to him at the Pontiac House the very day he offered William the position as Captain of Friends Good Will comprehended instantly. He assumed Fleet was the officer who had not yet spoken and stepped directly so to block Fleet’s line of sight o
f the companionway and said under his breath, “Go below, now!”
Bemose moved to the side to permit William to squeeze down the ladder. She ascended also to hide from view and she grabbed and squeezed his arm. William caught her utterly horrified look as she determined to face a ghost from her past. William urged Oliver, “Buy me some time!”
William dashed below and instantly felt trapped. His instinct to flee from certain prosecution as a deserter and death by hanging left him as a very conspicuous presence in the cramped interior of a very small ship.
Oliver stepped to the rail, took the spring line in one hand, gave it some slack and told Mr. Adams to do the same. James, yet on the quarterdeck, was quick enough to follow suit and before those on the dock were aware, the ship had drifted back from the dock a couple of additional feet making the step from the dock to the ship dangerous, if not impossible.
Oliver gathered all of his skills and addressed Captain Roberts, pretending great confusion, “Captain, it is good to make your acquaintance. Visiting our garrison, I assume?”
“Hardly, sir! This island is English territory, it having surrendered to our forces just yesterday. You may notice my soldiers have lowered their muskets. I assume, as you are unarmed, you will surrender your ship?”
Oliver began to laugh, “What is that you say? Why sir, do not joke about such matters. Just moments ago we confirmed our colours flying proudly above the fort.”
Captain Roberts replied coldly, “Look again.”
As Oliver did as suggested, feigning poor eyesight and asking for confirmation from James, Captain Roberts was losing patience, suspecting a trick and growing ever more nervous. He ordered his soldiers to take up on the docklines. As they did so, James and Mr. Adams slackened theirs from the ship. Captain Roberts, infuriated at this silly game, threatened, “Sir, I do not know who you are, but make fast those lines on the instant or I will shoot you dead. You will be the first casualty of this campaign.”