Sworn for Mackinaw

by James Spurr

  First, as he made his way across to starboard, Oliver hoped William, James and Trove taught him well. He considered the action of a wind vane, such as on his carriage house in Detroit, and the effect of sails carried aft on any ship as contrasted to the effect of those carried forward. He thought it through carefully and was … well, nearly certain he recalled the lesson correctly. His plan depended upon the lesson of the wind vane. He also tried to judge whether the ships were now more propelled by the current or the wind. He remembered this was tricky as a ship sailing downwind rarely felt much wind at all. Still, he perceived that the sails seemed really quite slack. It could go very badly for James if his judgment was faulty.

  Next, as he made the turn at the corner of the cargo hatch and began to walk forward, he considered his shame for not coming to the conclusion sooner, for not recognizing the importance of the time, place and the ideals surrounding him on that stage upon which he played out his life. The pangs of doubt for his company, his stores, the growth of his community were all well beyond him at this critical moment. It was not that such concerns were misguided. Indeed he would yet, for certain, prefer those as priorities to the course now purposely chosen. Rather, he realized these past weeks he was not in control over the times in which he lived and must, if he were to retain any honor, simply resolve to contribute to what he knew in his heart was best for his family and the destiny of his nation.

  Lastly, he glanced over his shoulder to Erie just as he began to duck under the foresail. He hoped she was in an ideal position and would react quickly so to redeem at least one dangerous potential consequence of his reckless act.

  The foot of the foresail slid over the top of his straw hat, the boltrope caught on the back of his right shoulder and slid down his back as he straightened. He made his greeting to the young man near half his size in a relaxed and friendly manner, “Good evening, lad.”

  “Aye,” said the young sailor. For just a brief moment he looked concerned over his solitary presence on deck with a prisoner, out of the view of the helm or anyone else on deck but for yet another young prisoner poised, it seemed, for some action at the larboard cat-head. Before concern could translate to thought, much less action, Salina rolled just a bit to starboard. Oliver reached his right hand and drew the youth’s rigging knife from its leather sheath worn on his left back hip. The young lad corrected for the roll, leaned to larboard and Oliver, with all the density and mass of a pile of ballast, shifted his weight precisely to counteract the sailor’s correction for the roll. As Oliver bumped him, he said calmly, “Free Trade and Sailor’s Rights!”

  The force of the well-timed impact rolled the lad right over the low bulwark, leaving behind only a half exclamation of his utter surprise that could hardly be considered a cry for help, a straw hat floating to mark his point of immersion, and a very sharp knife held inconspicuously in Oliver’s capable hand.

  Oliver called loudly for all aboard Erie sailing nearby to hear, “Man Overboard, Starboard Shrouds!”

  As calls came from Erie, from the lad now just breaking the surface, and from the helm of Salina and everyone down below making their way to the deck, Oliver heard a splash from the larboard bow and set about to assist James the only way he could. He took one stride aft and sliced the foresail peak halyard. The peak of the gaff collapsed, the trim and shape of the foresail ruined until a new halyard could be rove. In the next two seconds with mass confusion at the helm, though with no one as yet calling out for him as the culprit, he strode calmly to the outer jib halyard, sliced it, and as the sail, not drawing, slid down the stay, he calmly crossed to larboard and sliced the inner jib halyard as well with the same effect, even as crew now rushed forward to subdue him. Someone from aft called out and pointed to James, “Prisoner escaping!”

  Oliver dropped the knife in the river from behind his back, feigning surprise as crew rushed him and grabbed him and found him unarmed. Erie quickly took up on its course and topsail and managed to throw the unfortunate lad a line and haul him aboard, no worse for the dunking though unable to locate his knife. It would be some hours before his story could be relayed and considered aboard Salina.

  Lieutenant Dunlap was one of the first on deck after Oliver’s call, having taken his dinner at the wardroom table near the companionway hatch. Together with the bosun he was directing all others as to how to keep Salina in control, now sailing downwind on a narrow river with only the mainsail effectively set and drawing. Dunlap, a good seaman, understood instantly that Salina, with no forward sail set, could only effectively continue with the current and light wind sailing on its present course and he ordered for all who might be tempted to pursue James, “Helm, Hold you course! Continue South’ard! Do not round up!”

  As Oliver was taken by a crewmember aft and presented to Lieutenant Dunlap, he had James in his sights the entire time. James, rather than swimming leisurely and allowing the current to take him along with the ships well to the south of his dive, was instead stroking with all power possible as directly for the shore as his strength would permit. This tactic, suggested by Oliver, put as much distance as possible between James, upwind, and the ships, as each was particularly unable and poorly situated to sail any point but directly south, keeping their transoms to the current.

  Apparently only Lieutenant Fleet misjudged the situation. Oliver was presented to Lieutenant Dunlap, who was at that moment distracted by the responsibilities of coordinating his small squadron, made particularly challenging by the foolish reaction of his incompetent cohort. “Damn his eyes,” cursed Dunlap. “Whatever does that fool think he is doing?” he asked his First Officer.

  Lieutenant Fleet, jealous and resentful at not having command of the squadron and of its largest ship, determined to distinguish himself and demonstrate to Dunlap his superiority. He saw James swimming, heard the cry that a prisoner was escaping, and as James was less than a ship’s length to larboard of Friends Good Will as she slid past abeam, James presented altogether a too near target to let pass. Impulsively, Fleet ordered, “Helm, turn to larboard; Hands to Braces, Haul the topsail ‘round to starboard; Hands Cast off brails, set the mainsail and headsails; on the instant!”

  All of that might have been possible with ten more crew aboard stationed at the appropriate lines and expecting the maneuver. Indeed, it might have been pretty work and a demonstration of superb seamanship, teamwork and a symphony of motion. But, alas, there were only four then on deck.

  With the commands unexpected, the crew shorthanded and not in position, the risk of such a turn in a narrow river with a swift current and slackening wind apparent to all, barking such orders caused only chaos and demonstrated not the inability of crew, but rather the incompetence of command. Friends Good Will slid sideways, the sail handling poorly coordinated, badly timed, and ineffective at controlling the vessel and she slid out of control. It was some minutes before Fleet, in a rage and blaming every one in sight, gave up on his self-imposed mission and, after managing to embarrass himself before the squadron, finally gained control of Friends Good Will once again.

  Lieutenant Dunlap beheld Oliver as the crisis with Friends Good Will abated. James, Oliver noted, was just crawling ashore, well astern of all three ships. Dunlap, angry at Fleet, transferred his anger and accused, “Sir, I figured you for a man of honor! I regret my misjudgment but it will be my last! Bosun, confine him—”

  “Honor!” interrupted Oliver with a sincere tone of astonishment. “Whatever do you mean, Sir?”

  Dunlap, recognizing Oliver was a civilian, took the time to explain, “Your parole, Sir! You gave us your word!”

  “Indeed,” confirmed Oliver, “I promised in writing not to escape and I stand here before you, having let pass every opportunity.”

  Dunlap was incredulous. “That is all Lieutenant Fleet exacted from you upon Captain Robert’s orders? What about that of your nephew? Were you not required to remain a neutral, to take up no arms until exchanged?”

  Oliver shook his head and calmly reca
lled, “Lieutenant Fleet spent nearly the entire time examining me as to documents he believes Friends Good Will was transporting. I tell you truthfully now as I swore to him—I do not know of their whereabouts. At the end of the interview, I swore in writing, which parchment, I trust, is on board, that I would not escape. He considered James as just a boy and did not request a parole of him. James made no promise and signed no document.”

  Lieutenant Dunlap sighed, looked to the First Officer and Bosun and all just shook their heads in shocked disbelief. Dunlap looked over to Friends Good Will, now tracking well astern and confessed inwardly he was relieved that his view of both Oliver and Fleet was entirely correct. Oliver was an honorable and capable man. Fleet was a fool, whose incompetence was more dangerous to the Crown than had so far been its declared enemy.

  Oliver remained standing next to Dunlap in the gathering darkness while he considered the events of the last glass and their implications. Dunlap looked at Oliver and observed with no malice and some respect, “This incident will likely, you are aware, extend your time as the King’s guest; your exchange now more than a mere formality.”

  Oliver nodded, feeling better than he had the entire voyage, and asked, “So, pray tell, Lieutenant, have you known Mr. Fleet for long?”

  As Lieutenant Dunlap and Oliver talked into the night, the wind diminished until its scarcity required the small squadron drop anchor. James made his way through the forests of Upper Canada, debating whether to cross over once again to the Michigan Territory on the morrow or continue on to Niagara and rejoin what he knew was but a small band of men with an already proud, though young tradition—the United States Navy.

  The small squadron comprised of the Schooner Salina and the Sloops Friends Good Will and Erie favored the east side of the Detroit River, trying to remain out of sight of the walled city for as long as possible.

  Lieutenant Dunlap would have preferred to place Friends Good Will in the van, as she was the only of his vessels armed with a great gun, but he simply could not trust that Lieutenant Fleet would react with any good judgment after the debacle played out in plain view on the upper St. Clair River just two days before. So he led with Salina and signaled Friends Good Will to follow closely behind with Erie some lengths back.

  The tension was high. Dunlap was acutely aware he was drawing very near to a major settlement fortified and held by the enemy which he would have to slip past so to deliver the squadron under his command to Amherstberg, just a few miles further downriver from Detroit. The sun was quite low, the early evening shadows no longer needed as a haven from the heat of the day on deck. He planned, if all went well, to reach Ft. Malden just after dark.

  Dunlap was fully prepared to receive fire for perhaps the next hour and had discussed with Fleet the previous evening while at anchor the likelihood of having to return the same. Despite all assurances, mixed with a high level of obvious resentment, Dunlap was doubtful Fleet would take any action on behalf of Salina. More to the point, he suspected Fleet wished he were dead and would be more than grateful were the Americans to oblige his desire.

  Fortunately the wind was moderate and from the Northeast, allowing the small squadron all possible options. With the wind favoring the current, Dunlap was prepared to maneuver if necessary, clap on all sail at the first hint of trouble and was confident they could, with the assistance of the current, sail past the effective range of the batteries placed near or within the walls in just minutes. If the Americans placed shore batteries along a much greater length of the west river bank, the sail to Amherstberg could well become very warm work.

  As Dunlap directed the helmsman, steering most carefully, he watched for shoaling water to larboard while playing all favorable angles with the island just upriver from the settlement in order to keep his squadron out of sight. He glanced back to Friends Good Will upon detecting the scent of slow match, or lit fuse, kept ready in the sand tub to ignite grains of powder in the vent hole of the nine pound pivot gun. All appeared well. The pivot gun was trained to starboard, the crew crouched behind the somewhat higher bulwarks provided by the iron stanchions, netting, and canvas hammocks stowed between so to give some protection from splinters. Oliver followed Dunlap’s gaze but certainly did not admire the look of his sloop cleared for action. Aboard Salina, all passengers and prisoners and most crew were below. Only the few hands required to maneuver the ship were exposed upon the decks until Dunlap could adjudge the nature “of what they were about to receive.”

  Oliver’s presence on deck was unusual. First, he appealed to Dunlap’s sensibilities. He was, after all, sailing past his home where his wife and children resided and were likely taking refuge. Second, he was well known to the community and if they saw him on deck, his sighting could, he argued, forestall violence. While Oliver did not really believe his reputation was anywhere near so high, Dunlap considered his feigned vanity a real possibility.

  More than any other reason, Oliver was permitted to remain on deck because Dunlap had come to trust him and genuinely enjoyed his company. Unless and until hostilities began, Dunlap saw no grave breach in protocol in allowing Oliver his wish and permit him to view Detroit from the deck of his command. Dunlap resolved, without having informed Oliver, that upon the first shot fired, he would be made to descend the companionway as quickly as the armed crew would ascend and take the deck.

  Dunlap ordered the helmsman to come up on the wind about two points and sail nearly west closer to the American shore. He did so to keep the island between his command and the walled settlement. While he would be closer to the enemy upon first being discovered, he would also be further downriver and able to sail out of range much sooner. Further, to the extent his stealth permitted the Americans less time to react, the surprise would also be to his advantage. At first, Fleet seemed unwilling to follow close behind. Dunlap purposefully trained his long glass on the quarterdeck of Friends Good Will so to signal to Fleet he was being closely watched. At last, somewhat belatedly, Fleet made the course, with Erie following precisely in Salina’s wake. It would be just moments before they knew what the day held in store.

  They passed the island and it no longer provided cover nor shielded their view of the armed ramparts now appearing off the starboard bow. Dunlap trained his glass upon the walled city and called, “Hands, prepare to wear ship.” He would have much preferred to be already sailing south to the far and more welcoming shore when the Americans first viewed his squadron.

  Dunlap viewed the settlement through his glass, not quite believing what he beheld. After making certain all other signs of activity and persons in view confirmed his first glance, a smile came over his face and he called, “Belay that, helm proceed to the commercial dock.” He took the glass from his eye while indicating with his arm the proper course and, handing the glass to Oliver, offered “A welcome surprise, for certain. I suspect you will be relieved as well.”

  Oliver adjusted the focus. Dunlap called, with some joy, “Raise the ensign. Signal the sloops to do the same.” As the Union Jack broke out from the foremast truck of Salina and from the peak of the gaffs on the sloops, his sloop, Oliver beheld the same flag flying from within the walls of Detroit. He lowered the glass even as he lowered his head and came to grips with the reality. Dunlap took the glass from him. Not only was Oliver and his sloop captured by the British, so, too, was his family and community.

  Dunlap attempted to ease the pain with sincerity and kindness. “Better, Sir, than to lose both family and community to violence. Many communities, I fear, to say nothing of innocent families, will not come off near so well.”

  Oliver nodded in agreement and tried to recall that while his dreams for his, no, their future, were broken, still it appeared as his family was safe and he offered a silent prayer of thanks.

  Dunlap was again training his glass upon the flags breaking out from the ships anchored off of the commercial dock. He read the coded symbols slowly, finding it rather difficult from the angle of the wind upon the flags, but spok
e aloud for the benefit of his first officer, “Senior Officer … report to… Commander… Fort.” Dunlap calmly directed his First Officer, “Signal our acknowledgment and prepare to anchor as close to the commercial dock as practicable. Then signal the Sloops to anchor above Salina upriver of the commercial dock, in line, with moderate scope for the depth.”

  The activity was furious for some minutes as crew left arms below and rushed to maneuver, round up, strike sail, anchor, and lower the ship’s boat. Word of Detroit’s capture spread causing excitement among them.

  Near a full glass later the sun was just above the tree line. Oliver asked permission to go ashore, “Recall, Lieutenant, I have now given my word and signed a proper parole. Would you be so kind as to allow me some moments with my family?”

  Dunlap was sympathetic and somewhat ashamed his approval was largely based upon another reason entirely. He was intrigued with presenting Oliver to whomever was in command for the British forces. Oliver’s stature as a leading citizen of Detroit had become apparent in their discussions as they sailed down the length of Lake Huron, and Dunlap now thought Oliver may be of some valuable assistance influencing the attitudes of the American citizens within the walls. He instructed, “You may come along, but remain nearby within my sight until I give express permission for you to do otherwise.” His armed boat crew was present and he glanced at them as he spoke to ensure they heard the limitation as well. Oliver understood the implication.

  They rowed the ship’s boat the short distance to the commercial dock. Oliver recalled Dunlap’s suggestion in their recent talks that some in Detroit were apparently cooperating with His Majesty’s representatives, even before the outbreak of war, and welcomed British rule. He wondered if those British sympathizers played a significant role, for he was shocked that Detroit had surrendered, at least to his untrained eye, without much of a fight. He was at a total loss and had much to learn since he last walked the planks of Detroit’s commercial dock.