“Thank you, Mother,” Diana said sincerely. “I would expect nothing less of you, but still, it makes me happy to know. What is the other weapon?”
“The other weapon is your father’s past. When he and I met, he was about the same age as Peter was when you two met. And when we were married, he was about Peter’s age, and I yours. So it would be rather hypocritical of him to claim that you and Peter are too young to get married when he and I were not. And I daresay that regardless of our ages when we wed, our marriage has turned out rather well.”
“Oh, it has, Mother,” Diana readily agreed. “Everyone says so. And Peter recognizes it as well. He speaks of you and Father with the highest affection and praise. Last evening, when he asked for my hand, he said that your marriage is one that he and I should try to replicate throughout our life together. I obviously agree with him.”
“That was kind of Peter, but as you two will discover for yourselves, no marriage is perfect. All have their ups and downs. But here’s what I want you never to forget: through all the years I have been with your father, there has not been a single moment—not one—when I questioned why I married him. Nor was there a single moment—not one single moment—when I wished I hadn’t. If you can say the same thing at my age, then you will have had a successful and loving marriage. I hope you will be able to say the same thing to your own children, as I pray Will and Jamie can to theirs someday.” Katherine paused, stabbed by the realization that she might not live long enough to see her grandchildren. She fought back a surge of regret. “So,” she said with forced gaiety, “have you and Peter settled on a date for the ceremony?”
“Not the actual date,” Diana said, the flower of her joy returning to full bloom, “but we are thinking of September. Jamie writes that he will be relieved of duty in Constitution in early summer, so he should be home long before then. Uncle Agreen will be here, and Uncle Hugh and Aunt Phoebe are planning to arrive in Boston sometime in June or July. You and Father will be home from Barbados in May, so that gives us the entire summer to plan the wedding. Peter says that he sees no reason why his family can’t all be here in September. It seems the ideal time.”
“It does indeed. Fall is a beautiful time in Hingham, and I’m happy to think that you’ll be married in the same month as your father and I were. I say we get right to it and start making a list. Those from far away will need plenty of time to plan their travel. I’ll get pen and paper.” She made to rise.
“Shouldn’t we wait on that, Mother?” Diana said, she the one now offering a cautionary note. “Might that not be pressing our luck? Perhaps after Peter has talked to Father and everything is official . . . I do so worry that something will go wrong. It’s not that I don’t believe every word you’ve told me. I do. But too often things go wrong just when it seems they shouldn’t.”
Katherine smiled. “Perhaps, my dear. But not this time.”
FOUR DAYS LATER, two days after Richard Cutler returned home from business in Boston, formal word was sent to Cutler family members in Massachusetts, England, and Barbados announcing the betrothal of Diana Cutler to Peter Archibald Sprague. Two weeks after that, details of the proposed wedding were sent to the society pages of local and city newspapers. The ceremony was set for Saturday, September 20, and would take place at First Parish, the Cutler family church in Hingham where Will Cutler and Adele Endicott had been married. Wedding banns would be published in the church for three consecutive Sundays beginning on August 10.
All of Hingham rejoiced over the announcement; the Cutlers and the Spragues were among the village’s oldest and most admired families. But if there was one person whose joy might have eclipsed even that of the newly betrothed couple, it was Lizzy Cutler Crabtree, whose husband returned home from sea at last on a crisp sunny day in mid-February.
Other than a brief conversation on the afternoon of Agreen’s arrival, Richard allowed thirty-six hours to pass before paying his first officer a formal visit, understanding Agreen’s need to be alone with Lizzy and Zeke. “Welcome home again, Lieutenant,” he said as the two sat in the snug little parlor of the Crabtree home on Pleasant Street.
“It’s damn good t’ be home, Richard,” the wiry and wizened man of forty-five years replied. He and Richard had become fast friends during the war with England while serving together in the Continental navy, first as midshipmen in the sloop of war Ranger and then, after their escape from Old Mill Prison in England, as acting lieutenants in Bonhomme Richard, both vessels under the command of Capt. John Paul Jones. Their friendship continued after the Peace of Paris in 1783. Richard had hired Agreen as sailing master in the Cutler & Sons vessel Falcon to accompany him to North Africa to try to ransom Caleb Cutler and his shipmates from an Algerian prison. At the onset of the Quasi-War with France almost a decade ago, Agreen, now married to Richard’s first cousin Lizzy Cutler, had joined the fledgling U.S. Navy as a lieutenant in Constitution at the same time Richard was serving in a similar capacity in Constellation. Together they had spearheaded an attack against a privateer base on the French West Indies island of Marie-Galante. When war with Tripoli erupted two years later and Richard was given command of the 36-gun frigate Portsmouth, he never considered anyone other than Agreen as his first officer.
“I’d almost forgotten the simple pleasure of just sittin’ in this room,” Agreen said with a contented sigh.
“While being waited on hand and foot by a beautiful woman.”
Agreen grinned. “You’ve got that right, matey. And it’s a damn sight more than my hand and foot that’s bein’ waited on.”
Richard grinned back at him. As if on cue, Lizzy Crabtree entered the room bearing a tray with two mugs of coffee and slices of sweet bread she had baked for the occasion. As she bent forward to place the tray on a table set between the two chairs, Agreen touched her hip and began gently massaging it. She carefully set the tray on the table and then turned her head to meet his gaze, holding it as silent messages flew between them, back and forth like a pendulum. Then she straightened, kissed him on the forehead, smiled at both men, and left the parlor.
Agreen watched her go. “You’ve got that right,” he repeated softly. After Lizzy closed the door behind her, he shifted his eyes back to Richard.
“Tell me about Katherine,” he said. “Liz tells me she’s feelin’ like her old self again.”
“Very nearly,” Richard acknowledged. “Dr. Prescott tells us her recovery is really quite remarkable.”
Richard summarized the details of his wife’s ordeal, going back to before the surgery. Although he had related much of this information in letters to Agreen, as had Lizzy, Agreen was hungry for details. When Richard finished talking, Agreen said ruefully, “Damn, Richard, I wish I could have been here to help. For her and you and your children. And for Lizzy. She was devastated, and I felt so helpless down there in Virginia.”
Richard shrugged. “You’re here now. And Katherine and Lizzy understand that duty to country comes first.”
“So despite what the good doctor says, there’s no real prognosis?”
“No. He really can’t offer predictions. All we can do is make every day count. And we can pray.”
“This may come as a shock t’ you, but I’ve been doin’ quite a bit of that lately.” After a pause Agreen added, “and I’ve been givin’ some serious thought t’ another matter you and I need t’ discuss.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I’ve made a decision, Richard, and it’s not been an easy one t’make. I haven’t even told Lizzy about it yet, so you’re the first t’ know. I owe you that courtesy as my commanding officer. Not t’ mention my closest friend.”
Richard braced himself for what he sensed was coming. “Pray continue,” he said. “I’m all ears.”
Agreen did not blink. “I’m resignin’ my commission in the Navy.”
Richard allowed several moments to elapse. Then: “Why, Agee?”
Agreen pointed across the room. “You just saw one reason walkin’
out that door. The other reason is upstairs in his room. I’m not gettin’ any younger, Richard, and bein’ away at sea for such long periods has finally gotten t’ me. Hell’s bells, you and I have fought side by side in three wars over three decades. An’ that don’t count our little escapade to Algiers and France. In this last war we were away for comin’ on three years. Three years is a mighty long time, my friend.
“Now don’t get me wrong,” he was quick to add, “I’m not complainin’. Not by a long shot. I love the Navy and I love my country. But you an’ I have had enough gut-swigglin’ adventures t’ last us both two lifetimes. Servin’ as your first in Portsmouth will always be the greatest honor and thrill of my life. But it’s time for me t’ step down. I want t’ watch Zeke grow up. And I want t’ make love t’ my wife on a far more regular basis. I know you understand. We talked about it often enough of a night in your after cabin.”
Richard did understand. He understood and sympathized far more than Agreen realized. But he decided that this was neither the time nor the place to confess his own doubts about his future as a captain in the U.S. Navy. Katherine’s illness had sparked those doubts. He could not possibly deny that, nor would he ever wish to; but his doubts were also tied to what he had said to Horatio Nelson in the San Anton Palace in Malta two years earlier. George Hunt was correct: war drums were once again pounding out their ugly beat. And if war were to come, Richard had long ago concluded, it would be fought for control of the seas, and it would be fought against England. Even before Trafalgar, France had lacked the means to effectively challenge U.S. neutrality at sea. And war could not be far in the future. The war hawks in Congress were already demanding satisfaction against England, but for what Richard considered to be relatively minor issues. Impressment, Indian raids on the frontier fomented by British agents, and American merchant vessels detained in British ports were violations of neutrality, treaties, and maritime law, and might be viewed as egregious acts. Richard himself had been a reluctant eyewitness to several such violations. Britain was fighting for its very survival in a global war that was not of its making. In any case, such trespasses did not justify a war that in all probability would be an act of suicide for the young republic. He had also told Lord Nelson that if such a war were to come about, he would have no role in it. He would never again fight against his own family; nor would he fight against men like Nelson, whatever the matters of national honor or political expediency involved. His resolve remained unchanged.
Aloud he said, “I was hoping you might want to step up, Agee, not down. You know that I have put in your name for promotion. Lord knows you have earned your own command. I am quite certain that Mr. Smith concurs.”
“I do know you did that for me, Richard, and I thank you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. But whether or not the secretary of the Navy and the Navy Department concur, it doesn’t change anything. Five, ten years ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity. But not today. Sure as hell I can sit here as merry as you please and draw half pay until I’m recalled; but because I will not accept that call when it comes, such a thing just don’t sit right with me.” He took a drink of coffee and then broke into a grin. “Besides, if I resign now, I’ll not only have a clear conscience, I’ll make out a lot better in the long run. Unless, of course, you’ve promised my former position in Cutler & Sons t’ that highfalutin’ ex–Royal Navy post captain brother-in-law of yours.”
“That would be Caleb’s decision, not mine,” Richard said, smiling back at him. “But I wouldn’t fret if I were you, Agee. Cutler & Sons will certainly welcome you back, assuming you’re rock-hard in your decision to resign your commission in the Navy.”
“I am, Richard. Rock-hard.”
RICHARD SPENT the latter part of February and into March catching up with family business and disposing of his ship and crew. With peace declared, Portsmouth was to be laid up in ordinary, meaning that she would be taken out of service and her guns, stores, and masts would be removed, leaving only her shell intact until the clarion call to duty forced her reactivation. The petty officers and topmen who had been employees of Cutler & Sons and had signed on for the duration of the war against Tripoli to serve under Richard Cutler returned comfortably to their former civilian jobs, as did most of their shipmates. George Lee, the second lieutenant, volunteered to go on half pay and sailed home to Cape Ann. Eric Meyers, Portsmouth’s third lieutenant, did no such thing, however. He was, as Agreen put it, “a Navy man from the hair on his head t’ the tip of his toenails,” and Richard had been pleased to recommend his services to Navy Secretary Smith. Two days earlier, Smith had replied in a dispatch sent by a military packet boat to Boston and delivered to Hingham by the newly introduced “flying coach” mail stage operating between Boston and Plymouth. Smith’s message confirmed that he had secured a second lieutenant’s berth for Meyers in USS Chesapeake, Capt. Charles Gordon in command.
“Well, that sure as hell should please the lad,” Agreen commented when informed of the promotion and of the ship to which Meyers had been assigned. “I heard rumors in Virginia that Barron’s up for command of the Mediterranean Squadron. As I recall, both his father and his brother served as commodores too. That’d make three commodores in one family. Can you imagine that? Jamie may have occasion to meet with Barron over there if that appointment goes through anytime soon—Excuse me. I forget myself. I should have said, Lieutenant Cutler may have occasion to meet with him over there.”
Richard shook his head in mock dismay. “An understandable error, Lieutenant, but don’t let it happen again.” Confirmation of his son’s promotion from senior midshipman to lieutenant had accompanied the same dispatch from Washington. By now word of the promotion had spread throughout Hingham.
Other, more disturbing dispatches were soon to follow. As Jack Endicott had feared, the British had impounded one of his ships. The Royal Navy had intercepted Orient, a C&E Enterprises merchantman bound to Rotterdam from Java with her hold laden with spices, as she stood into the English Channel between Finistère on the Breton coast and Land’s End in Cornwall. Details were slow to reach Boston, but it appeared that Orient was not only being detained, but her cargo had been impounded as well. It had been off-loaded and was being thoroughly examined for contraband. C&E Enterprises’ agent and legal representative in London warned that the British Admiralty Court had become involved, a sure sign that the situation would not be quickly resolved. Even if the Court ultimately ruled in Orient’s favor, which it most likely would, it could take months to have all the legal issues sorted out and the ship, crew, and cargo restored.
“And by then,” Endicott groused in his office on Long Wharf, “we will have lost the entire cargo.” He pounded his desk in frustration. “Hell, we’ve already lost our cargo. It’s stacked up on a quay somewhere and will rot long before this matter is settled. In God’s name, what do they think we’re doing? Smuggling weapons to France in barrels of nutmeg and ginger?” Answering his own question, he roared, “No, that’s not it at all. Orient is nothing more than a sacrificial lamb to underscore Britain’s determination to block all American trade to the Continent. All trade! All of it! Jesus Christ, what an abomination! We stand to lose everything. Everything, do you hear?
Caleb Cutler and George Hunt had no difficulty hearing Endicott. Neither man put any stock in Endicott’s prediction of a pending financial catastrophe; annual revenues and profits for both Cutler & Sons and C&E Enterprises were climbing toward record levels. Yet Endicott refused to be consoled.
THE VESSEL assigned to convey Richard and Katherine Cutler from Boston to Barbados had joined the Cutler fleet just two months earlier following sea trials under the watchful eye of her captain, Frank Bennett, a burly, no-nonsense Hingham native whose services had recently been acquired by Cutler & Sons. Launched at Fell’s Shipyard in Baltimore—the same shipyard that gave birth to the superfrigate Constellation, in which Richard had served as second lieutenant in the war with France—she belonged to a new breed of two-
masted schooners and brigantines called “Baltimore clippers,” both because of their Maryland heritage and because many of them were actually built in Baltimore. Prized for their exceptional speed with or against the wind, they were normally 100 feet at the waterline and featured a heart-shaped midsection with a short keel and strongly raked stem, stern post, and masts. The low-sided, sharp-lined, sharp-bowed hull permitted minimum freeboard. Typically, these sleek, jaunty vessels boasted no figurehead, headboard, or trailboard, and most were painted black.
The schooner Dove carried no square topsail on her mainmast as some clippers did. Instead she carried a large quadrilateral fore-and-aft sail on her taller mainmast and a larger quadrilateral sail on her taller mainmast. Adding in her three headsails, her sail plan was designed for maximum maneuverability and sail-handling efficiency. She also carried four 6-pounder guns, two on each side on her weather deck, plus six 3-foot swivel guns mounted three to a side on y-shaped brackets bolted to the outside of her hull—all there to ward off pirates and other maritime miscreants.
Speed was a clipper’s primary asset, but it was also a bit of a liability. Because of their speed and maneuverability, Baltimore clippers were fast becoming the vessels of choice for pirates, privateers, and slavers. Thus the need for Dove’s naval-style guns, the cost of which, though not insignificant, was minimized thanks to a long-standing business relationship between Cutler & Sons and the Cecil Iron Works of Havre de Grace, Maryland. It was a relationship first forged by John Rodgers, who had served with Richard in the French West Indies and whose father was a close friend of Stephen Hughes, the proprietor of Cecil Iron Works. Hughes had supplied the guns for Constellation at government expense, but he had subsequently agreed to a generous discount on the cost of guns supplied to vessels of Cutler & Sons and C&E Enterprises that were paid for from family funds. It was the promise of such steep discounts that had prompted Jack Endicott, who had supplied the majority of the startup capital for C&E Enterprises, to offer the Cutler family a 50 percent share in the Far East business venture.
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