by Michael Aye
“Be a damn big rush for nothing, if we don’t,” Lieupo replied. Yawning, he looked at his cigar and sent it over the side. “Tastes terrible,” he groaned, “keeps the skeeters away, but it tastes awful.”
Chapter Forty-Four
The road into Washington was a mess. Jonah had used his letter from the President to obtain three horses. It was better than walking but not much faster. The road was virtually choked by people in a panic: refugees with carts, bedding, and livestock; infantry soldiers and artillery pieces heading toward the city. A mass of frightened humanity.
“I guess the word got out the British is coming,” Lieupo stated.
“It would appear so,” Jonah replied.
“Humph,” Moses snorted. “I’d be headed to the woods, not trying to use some bogged down road.”
Jonah nodded in agreement and eased his horse off the side of the road, and in single file, the three made better time. Once in the city of Washington, it got worse. There were far more people in uniform, but uniformed or not, the people moved around aimlessly, with looks of disbelief and fright on their faces.
Pushing their way through the crowd, braving angry looks and curses, the three made it to the government buildings, one of which housed the secretary of war. Out of concern for their horses, Moses waited outside with his long rifle in his arms.
Looking back as they made their way up the steps, Captain Lieupo said, “It’d take a brave...or a foolish soul to think he could steal our horses with Moses standing guard.”
Jonah smiled but continued up the steps. He’d never known anyone to take something from Moses that he’d not been willing to give.
Inside the building it was a beehive of activity, uniformed soldiers issuing orders and instructions to junior officers. Jonah and Lieupo shoved their way up to a desk where a regular army major seemed to be controlling the entry for the main offices.
“We need to see Mr. Armstrong,” Jonah said, getting straight to the point.
“And so do half the people in Washington,” the major said, not looking up.
“I suggest, Major, when you’re speaking to a presidential agent, you at least show a degree of courtesy,” Lieupo stated in a firm military manner.
Hearing this, the major stood up, not at attention but showing a degree of deference. He eyed Lieupo for a second and then looked to Jonah. “You have some identification, I suppose,” the major questioned.
Jonah had been prepared for this, having seen all the urgent activity inside the building. “I do,” he replied, handing forth the envelope with the presidential seal emblazoned on it.
The major, seeing the envelope, didn’t even open it. “Well, sir, you won’t find the secretary here. He left, headed toward the president’s house, not thirty minutes ago.”
“Thank you,” Jonah said as he turned and hurried out of the building. “Do you know where the president’s house is?” He asked Lieupo as they descended the steps.
“It’s not far,” Lieupo said. He paused, putting his arm on Jonah’s shoulder. When Jonah stopped, Lieupo pointed off, down Pennsylvania Avenue. The nation’s capital was under construction. The unfinished building rose up above all the other structures in the area. “It is to be a grand building,” Lieupo said. “The capital of freedom and democracy, built on the backs of free and brave men who were not afraid to risk their lives for liberty and independence. Now, not even forty years later, we’re fighting the battle all over again.”
Jonah felt a lump in his throat as he looked at the sad face of his friend. Captain Stephen Lieupo had fought hard and bravely for his country. He had been wounded and would bear the results of those wounds for his entire life. But there was no backup in the man. He’d do to stand in the line of battle with. As Moses would say, ‘And that’s the gospel.’
Continuing down the steps, Lieupo asked, “Do you reckon it’ll be there tomorrow?” Jonah didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. They both knew the answer to that.
-
The three men pushed and bullied their way to the president’s house. Just before they got there, they had to stop while a cavalry detachment rode by, followed by a regiment of infantry. Bringing up the rear was more artillery. The sound of horses’ hooves and jingle of trace chains was immediately replaced by the rumbling sound of wheels of the gun carriages.
Watching the group go by, Lieupo turned to his friends and with a concerned voice said, “Damn, Jonah, they are headed in the wrong direction. They are headed toward Fort McHenry and Baltimore.”
“Hell’s fire,” Jonah swore and kicked his horse into motion, knocking bystanders asunder.
“Sorry,” Moses yelled, looking back at the people rising from a muddy street.
Once at the president’s house, Jonah swung down and bounded up the steps. Two army guards blocked his way. He pulled his letter out and shouted, “Out of the way, this is an emergency.” The guards didn’t move and the metallic click of musket hammers being pulled back added meaning to their determination.
Slower, but just as determined, Captain Lieupo mounted the steps as fast as he could. “At ease,” he bellowed. Military experience by the guards had its desired effect. Huffing and puffing, Lieupo ordered, “Go get your officer now, we’ll wait here.” Turning to Jonah, Lieupo said, “Getting shot on the steps of the president’s house won’t solve a blasted thing.” Seeing the truth in his friend’s words, Jonah gave a sigh and managed a smile.
It didn’t take long for the guard to return with an officer, who after introductions and a quick glance at Jonah’s papers, admitted the men in the house. They were made to wait in the foyer while the officer hurried off. In less than a minute, John Armstrong himself came to collect the two. “This way,” he said after a quick handshake.
Armstrong led them into a room where President Madison stood by a window. His wife, Dolly, sat in a chair and Captain, no, now Major, Hampton, stood.
Without waiting for the usual greetings, Jonah said, “The British aim to attack and burn Washington.”
Immediate silence. Not a word was spoken as the room’s occupants stared at Jonah in disbelief, if not outright horror.
Finally, Hampton spoke, “Are you sure, Jonah, you have evidence of this?”
Jonah took the document out. Untying the strings and unrolling the leather, he handed the document to Hampton.
“You are certain of this,” Hampton said, after reading the document and handing it to the president and secretary of war.
“Captain Clark is, sir. British agents shot and wounded the captain trying to get it back.”
“Damnation,” Armstrong swore. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, I was certain Baltimore was the target.”
Two things then happened. The president’s butler announced that dinner was ready and another officer rushed into the room. The officer, a colonel, was in charge of the president’s security detail.
“Mr. President, a dispatch rider has just arrived. The British are almost at the mouth of the Potomac. It’s a whole damn fleet, Mr. President, including troop ships. We have to get you and Mrs. Madison out of the city, sir. It’s very possible the Redcoats could be in the city before nightfall.”
Turning to his wife, President Madison told her to get together a few things and go with the colonel. He then called for his aide and ordered him to collect anything vital to the country and go with the colonel as well.
“What about you, sir?”
“What about me?” the president repeated the question. “I’m going to fight the British.”
Chapter Forty-Five
As the group made ready to leave, a messenger arrived to inform them that Brigadier General William Winder, who had been put in charge of the defense of Washington, called for an emergency meeting. Soldiers were dispatched to round up key members of Madison’s cabinet. A quick meeting ensued in which Winder met with the president, secretary of war, and members of the president’s cabinet that could be found on short notice. At the meeting, it was decided the first line
of defense had to be Bladensburg.
Pausing, the president looked at the men around him. “If the battle is lost, if Washington is taken, we will meet at Frederick.”
Seeing the questioning look on Jonah’s face, Lieupo leaned over and whispered, “Maryland.” Jonah nodded but didn’t speak.
As the group mounted, another dispatch rider rode up. Seeing the president, he was not sure whom to address. He’d been sent to give his message to the adjutant for the secretary of war.
Impatiently, President Madison ordered, “Speak up man, we haven’t got all day.”
“Yes, sir.” He handed the president a folded paper and blurted out, “The British have moved up the Patuxent to upper Marlborough and towards Bladensburg. General Stansbury plans to take up a defensive position on the western bank of East Branch River and try to keep the British from crossing the bridge.”
“How many men does he have?” Madison asked.
“Fourteen or fifteen hundred I’d say, sir, and it’s said Commodore Barney is coming with four hundred of his sailors.”
“I hope Tobias can hold them off,” the president said, using General Stansbury’s first name.
“To hold the bridge would be good,” Armstrong volunteered. “But if not, it must be burned.”
“That’s a ninety-foot bridge,” Hampton said. “It would need to be blown apart, not burned.”
-
The village of Bladensburg was a ghost town, abandoned. Not a person stirred. Not a farmer, merchant, man, woman, or child. Worse yet, Jonah thought, not a single soldier. They finally spied a cavalry detachment, and with orders from Madison, they fell in behind his group. They encountered a few militia stragglers who fell in as well, but being on foot they were soon left far behind.
A few hundred yards from the bridge, Stansbury’s cannons came into view. Fresh dirt embankments marked the position of each gun. Seeing the president, a group of Maryland militia stood up and began to cheer. Madison waved and soon General Stansbury made his way over to the president’s group. He handed his telescope to President Madison, who scanned the surrounding countryside. An unending line of Redcoats was marching toward the bridge. If the bridge fell, so would Washington.
“Your orders, Mr. President?”
Looking down at Stansbury, Madison said, “Fight the British, General, don’t mind me, just fight the damn Redcoats.” Stansbury saluted, did an about face and hurried away.
“Mr. President, there’s an old barn over there, sir, that will offer a good view and afford a degree of protection.”
“I’m not here as a spectator, Major Hampton. I’m here to fight.”
“I understand, sir, but the general can’t fight his fight if he’s worried about you.”
“You also have to think of the country, sir,” Jonah said, not sure if he should speak. “Take a moment to think, Mr. President, if you are captured by the British, it will be an end to the war. All will have been for naught.”
A whistling sound passed overhead and followed by a large bang. “What the devil?” Armstrong questioned.
“It’s those new rockets the British have. They’re called Congreve rockets.”
“Thank you, sir, Commodore.” Barney had approached the group without being detected, as all were intent upon the enemy.
“My pleasure, Mr. President.”
“Commodore,” Major Hampton said, “this is Mr. Jonah Lee, a good man and a dear friend. Next to him, looking as fearsome as ole spit himself, is another friend, Moses. And last but not least is Captain Stephen Lieupo. Captain Lieupo is on assignment from the war department.” In other words, Jonah thought, Captain Lieupo is a spy.
The sound of cannons roaring and the crackle of muskets and pistols began to fill the air, followed by more of the whistling of the Congreve rockets.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. President, I fear I hear the call of duty.”
“Of course, Commodore…Joshua, take care.”
“Thank you, Mr. President, I will. And you take care as well.”
The firing picked up, but even over the sound of gunfire, the beat of British drums could be heard. And with the sound of drums, a sinking feeling engulfed Jonah. There was no way they would defeat three or four thousand trained British troops. Maybe with someone like Jackson in command, or even Joshua Barney, but the battle was lost…Washington was doomed. They’d fight, but the end results would be the same.
“Better to fight like the Indians,” Moses whispered. “Hit hard but run before the British can recover, and then hit them again on another day.” Lieupo raised his eyebrows but didn’t speak.
Round after round roared from the big guns on the American side, only to be answered by the British. Soon, a haze of spent gunpowder drifted on the slight breeze. Men sweated as they fired, and their faces were blackened by the smoke. Thirst dried out their mouths but there was no time to quench it. No canteens were available, only powder and shot. Then, with a bugle blaring and the tempo of the drums increasing, the Redcoats charged…with a bone-chilling roar they charged.
Sitting on a skittish horse, Jonah watched the battle unveil. The American cannons roared, spewing a fiery hell at the Redcoats. Jonah noted some of the guns were naval guns from Barney’s emplacements. Still the Redcoats came, their flags flying, bayonets shining in the late summer sun. On they came, when another deafening roar came from the American guns. This time the entire British front line fell. Brave men down and dead from the hell belched forth from the American guns. The line began to stagger and fall back, but British officers made their way to the front, braving a hail of certain death from musket’s fire. Men continued to fall, and the advance slowed but didn’t stop, didn’t retreat. As soldiers fell, others would fill the gaps. The line was widening as more of the British were sent to the front. They couldn’t hold for long. The Americans would be outflanked and surrounded.
BOOM…BOOM…BOOM…The air was rent with the thunder of big guns firing. It was Jonah who recognized the different sound, having served a short while with Perry on the Great Lakes. “Canister or grape,” he volunteered. “Someone, maybe the commodore, has ordered the firing of canister. It’s more deadly to the infantry than balls.”
“God, I hope he has a wagon full of it,” Hampton said.
This time the British line broke and the Americans advanced. A short, grim, hand-to-hand battle ensued. Men were hacked down by swords. Bayonets impaled their foes, a Redcoat officer’s face exploded as a musket ball hit him. Without thinking, Jonah kicked his horse forward, only to have a hand reach out and take the reins.
“No, Jonah. Today, you…we are spectators. I don’t want you down there in a battle we can’t win.” Jonah looked at Hampton. At first he felt anger, and then common sense took hold and he relaxed. He was not the only one who knew the battle was lost.
No sooner had the Redcoats been driven back, than a new column was formed and the advance was on again. American guns continued to fire, until one by one they grew silent.
“What in damnation is going on?” a frustrated Armstrong spoke out. “Why have they stopped firing?”
Jonah knew, as did Moses and Lieupo; Hampton also knew. “They can’t fire, Mr. Secretary, they are out of ammunition.”
“Send for more then,” Armstrong exploded.
“It’s no use, John,” the president spoke in a disheartened, but resolved voice. “There is no more ammunition. It’s been sent to Baltimore.”
CRACK…THUD…Moses yelped and ducked down. Without realizing it, the president’s party was now within musket range of the British. Lead balls thudded into the plank walls of the barn.
“It’s time to retreat,” Hampton said, his voice was stern and final.
The group waited while Jonah dismounted and looked at Moses’ arm. His muscle in the upper arm had been creased and slight ooze came from it. Madison handed Jonah a handkerchief to tie around the wound.
“Humph,” Hampton grunted. “If it’d been me the ball would have missed. My muscl
es and arms ain’t near as big as my friend here.”
Moses smiled, “At least I got a keepsake,” pointing to the handkerchief.
Epilogue
The road back to Washington was filled with those fleeing the battle for the first mile or two, and then it thinned out. President Madison sent a galloper to make sure his wife had heeded his instructions.
A smile crossed his face; a gathering had been planned for the evening. “Forty guests, as I recall. I suppose it will have to be postponed,” he said, getting the chuckle he knew his comments would bring.
When the group approached the president’s home, Mrs. Madison was handing a huge picture of George Washington to the butler to be put in the carriage. Jonah was surprised at how little the First Lady had packed.
Seeing his gaze, Mrs. Madison said, “Important things, Mr. Lee. In the end, you realize there is very little that can’t be replaced.” She then pointed at the painting of George Washington. “But that’s one of them. I’ll not let some Redcoat brag about taking it.”
A man came out with a basket of food. “I can’t think of anything else, Madame.”
A colonel helped Mrs. Madison into the carriage and then climbed into the driver’s seat. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Lee. Perhaps we can meet again in a more relaxed time,” she said.
“Thank you, Madame. I will look forward to it.”
“It’s Dolly, Mr. Lee, my friends call me Dolly.”
“Then it’s Jonah, not Mr. Lee.”
“I will look forward to our next meeting, as well,” President Madison said. “John said he was sending you to New Orleans to keep Jackson in line.”
“I will go if that’s your wish, Mr. President, but other than yourself, I don’t know anyone who could keep General Jackson in check.”
“Do you think it was wrong to give mad old Jackson command of the south?” Madison asked.