by David O'Neil
Chapter twenty-four
The French connection
The schooner caught up with the other ships of the squadron at Charlestown. They had spent some days at Savannah in Georgia, following a visit to Columbia, the capital of the state. The Honourable Dominic Gordon in HMS Vixen, escorted by Sao Paulo, HMS Spartan, HMS Lively were en-route to North Carolina, specifically Pamlico Sound, with a view to visit the Governor in Raleigh, the new capital of the state. It entailed an overland journey, but Dominic considered it justified in the circumstances.
Martin transferred his flag back to HMS Vixen and the journey was continued.
The matter of the ladies, carried at present by HMS Hera, was of concern to the Commodore, especially since he himself had been the reason for their presence. It was therefore a simple decision, suggested by Dr. Mills, to have them taken on HMS Hera direct to Halifax, where they could re-join Julia Savage, at least until the squadron reached the city. There they would have the opportunity to rest and prepare for the lengthy voyage across the Atlantic to Britain, anticipated during the next three months.
Many of the men had been attended by the ladies when injured in the past few weeks and to the embarrassment of the ladies but the obvious pleasure of the men, the ladies were rowed around the ships of the squadron to say farewell before departing northward.
As HMS Hera sailed north, the remaining ships set sail for Raleigh Bay and Pamlico Sound beyond. They moored at the entrance to the Pamlico River, where the diplomatic party transferred to HMS Lively the smallest of the ships. She towed two long boats as she sailed up the river towards the distant city of Raleigh.
When they reached the limit of sailing, they still had nearly one hundred miles to go to the Capital. At Washington they hired two wagons and a carriage, plus horses for the Marines and others of the escort.
The others consisted of local militia, a body of men dressed in dark blue tunics, with black buttons. The major in charge had a small black star on his cuff. All wore a black stocking cap all wore moccasins and all carried rifles. They had horses, led by three of their number. Only the Major rode with the party. The other twenty-seven scattered through the surrounding woodlands. As far as Martin could see, they ran, easily keeping pace with the column, making little apparent noise.
At camp that night after a fifteen mile stretch, Martin, admittedly still recovering from his wound, was feeling the pace.
The Major, Aaron Jackman, of the North Carolina Militia, having seen the horses secured, dispatched three riders to scout the area, to make sure there were no marauders in the vicinity. Having eaten, the twenty-seven runners split into three parties. One party joined the marines in patrolling the area. The others slept or yarned with each other and the off-watch Marines.
Dominic searched out the Major and invited him to try the brandy he carried in his flask. In conversation, he learned that the country they were passing through was rich and fertile, but it was also periodically raided by bands of the native American tribes. Savages they were, though they could be friendly. Sadly, over the years their lands had been taken over by settlers, which had meant that the tribes were being pushed away into the unknown lands beyond the mountains, hunting grounds of other tribes who rode horses and hunted the wild bison that roamed the plains country.
Dominic studied the face of the man in front of him. “You, Major. Where are you from?”
“The name is Aaron Jackman, your excellency.”
“I am not excellent, and my name is Dominic Gordon, sir.” He held out his hand. After a moment, Aaron took it and shook.
“Howdy, Dom. Call me Ron.” He grinned and Dominic found himself grinning back at him.
“How do, Ron, what in hell do you do in the evenings here?”
Ron thought for a moment. “Well, in town there are things to do, I guess. There are socials, and folk do a little drinking, spooning and reading. That’s become more popular, now the schools are working. Out here!” He paused, breathed in and let his eyes drift around the area. “Out here, we either live with the land or we die! Life becomes a little more simple in one way, complicated in another.”
Dominic looked at his companion. “Complicated?”
“Take a look around you.” Ron swung his arm out, taking in the sky, the trees, the flickering fire, and the sleeping men. “These are things you can see. What you don’t see is the man sitting on watch half-way up that tree, two others laying-up in the woods, there and there.” His finger stabbed out twice in the direction where his men were on watch. “In the sky you see a million stars, a beautiful sight. Possibly the last sight you will ever have, if you look too hard. What do we do in the woods at night? We try to stay alive!”
A thoughtful Dominic went to his blankets that night. The words of the Major had made a deep impression on him. Any doubts he may have had over whether the Americans wished to remain independent or not were resolved by the short conversation with Aaron Jackman. He slept soundly that night, secure in the knowledge that the party was watched over.
***
Martin was impressed by Major Jackman and his men. Lieutenant Bristow, in command of the Marines, was also. “Sir, had I known there would be an escort like this I would have been less concerned about the security on this journey.”
Martin eased his seat on the saddle, “I know what you mean. There is an air of quiet competence about the entire company. They move through the woods like shadows. I understand how it was possible for them to defeat our troops here during the rebellion.”
The Marine looked thoughtful. “Would you be bothered if I asked the Major to instruct me in the use of the rifles his men carry?”
Martin smiled. “I would be worried if you did not. The accuracy of their shooting has only been experienced by our soldiers in the field. In action on a ship, such accuracy would be devastating to an enemy. I am impressed by the job the marines do with their muskets. You may take it that I will willingly purchase any rifles needed to reinforce our marine contingent in this way.”
***
Over the next four days the column progressed, finally reaching the capital city of North Carolina.
The contingent of militia under Major Jackman melted away as the party reached Raleigh. Martin was assured that they would be in place once more for the journey back to the coast. Security was, meanwhile, undertaken by an honour guard from the state Regiment of Cavalry.
The Marine contingent was reduced to four men on duty throughout the four-day visit. Their commander, Lieutenant Bristow, appeared and disappeared by arrangement over the next four days.
As Martin remarked afterward, “As a diplomatic exercise the visit was pointless, as an exercise in friendly relations it was a triumph.”
***
Martin noticed on the return journey that the marines were now in possession of two cases of weapons, in addition to the rifles which had replaced the muskets they had carried on the trip inland.
At every stop the marine contingent practiced loading their rifles. On two occasions they were actually permitted to fire at targets, placed by the Major Jackman’s militia.
By the time the party had returned to the waiting boats, the marines were comfortably loading three times in a minute. Major Jackman predicted that they would achieve four, in time.
Before the party moved off down river, the Major had a quiet word with Martin.
“Commodore Forest-Bowers, a word before you depart.”
Curious, Martin stepped away from the others with the Major.
“Well, Sir. You have looked after us well, I believe. How can I be of assistance?”
“Sir, I have news that there are dissidents in the area. I have reason to believe they will assault your party before you reach the safety of your waiting ship. I would be happy if I could leave four of my best riflemen with the party on the boats. You may be assured the remainder of my men will be combing the banks until your party are safely back aboard your ship.”
“Major, I am disturbed at you
r news. I appreciate the trouble you have taken to see us this far. I would be happy to accommodate four of your riflemen, and I am most re-assured to know your men will be scouting the banks of the river. While I hope this is a false alarm, I will ensure my own men are aware and prepared to look after themselves. If you decide to leave this great country of yours, my door will always be open to you.” He held out his hand, and shook that of Aaron Jackman.
When the party boarded the boats for the downriver journey two extra trunks were loaded and, with the complements of Major Jackman, consigned to Lieutenant Bristow.
So the final stages of their long journey began. The current, assisted by the sails, sent the longboats sliding down the river. The portage at the upper rapids was the scene of the first attack. As they approached the shallows, two of the scouts came out of the woods and reported an ambush ahead.
The marines filed ashore and took off their red coats. From the trunks sent by Major Jackman, they took buckskin jackets and donned them. The same stocking caps used by the militia covered their hair, and boots were replaced by moccasins. The uniforms went back in the trunk. While the marines disappeared into the woods. The boats were pushed the rest of the way to the portage area. As the two boats were lifted onto the wheeled frames for the short journey around the rapids, a spatter of shots was heard in the woods. There were several war whoops to be heard. The crew members and the four militia-men prepared to repel boarders. About a dozen savages burst out of the woods, screaming and waving war axes. The four militia men coolly shot the first four men. Martin shot the nearest man with one of his prize pistols. Peters swept his cutlass across the face of his attacker, taking his raised arm off at the wrist. The hand and the axe it held fell to the ground. The four rifles spoke once more.
Out of the woods came the marines three dropped to their knee and took aim and the last of the savages dropped.
Curious, Martin examined the nearest dead man. He was big man, golden brown, well-muscled.
“A fine looking man.” He muttered.
“Unnoticed, the Major was by his side. “Indeed he is, sir. I am sad to see him here in this state.”
“Why, Major? What brought him to attack us?”
“Unscrupulous men, sir, as you will find everywhere. Men who see a profit in murder, or political advantage. There are always such people to be found. Obviously somebody thinks there would be an advantage in removing you from the coast. It’s difficult enough to sink a ship, but not so hard to mount an ambush on land in these circumstances, especially when you have the means to hire savages to do the job for you.
“All the blame therefore lies with the savages, and all it can cost is a few axe heads knives and the odd handful of gee-gaws for the squaw. By the way, Commodore, there may be a clue in the fact that currently there are two French ships lying in Raleigh bay, more or less covering your way north from Pamlico Sound. I guess they do not realise that the channel at Oregon Island will be deep and wide enough for your ships to go through. They will learn, of course, though, I suggest, not until too late to give them advantage. One of the French ships has two decks of guns, her name is Lorient. The other is smaller but 40 guns, called L’Empereur.
“Major Jackman, my thanks for the hospitality. Presuming we are not yet at war, I hope we meet again. If we are at war in the future, you will understand why I would prefer not.”
“A pleasure, sir. My men will leave at the river mouth. With a salute and a wry smile the Major disappeared into the woods.
***
Re-joining HMS Lively was a relief for the landing party. The remainder of the journey was accomplished in more comfortable circumstances.
Lieutenant Keats, in command, had news of the French ships, including a frustrated raid attempt by the French using their boats to sail through the island chain between Raleigh Bay and the Pamlico anchorage. Commodore Ramos had arranged for watch boats to be stationed for just such an event. The surprise hoped for by the French was not achieved. In the event the boats were repulsed with heavy losses.
The two boats attacking HMS Vixen were surprised as they came alongside, carronade balls were rolled into the boats smashing them before they had managed to hook-on and the swivel guns wrought terrible havoc among the survivors struggling to climb aboard.
The French officer in charge was wounded and captured along with seven survivors from that party. Spartan and Sao Paulo both moved as soon as it was dark and in effect ambushed the other two boats. One, only, survived to return to the anchored French ships.
Martin conferred with Antonio Ramos and Lieutenants Keith and Marlow.
That night, as darkness fell, the anchor lights were transferred to hastily constructed rafts, to act as a decoy, while the four ships sailed north to the Oregon passage through the island chain and out into the Atlantic. Having elected to make a final call on Washington, they turned west into Chesapeake Bay and anchored at the entrance to the Potomac River. There the diplomatic party took to the longboats and sailed up river to the Nation’s Capital.
Their visit was politely received but, with a heavy heart, Martin realised that the feeling in Washington was not interested in promises, broken in the past and likely to be broken in the future.
The departure from Chesapeake Bay was un-resisted but did not auger well for the future. The sight of two of the new frigates was hardly re-assuring.
In Halifax, their arrival was greeted with a celebration. The ships were taken into dock for attention and additional repairs following their battle damage from the action against the pirates. As the year end approached, Martin realised the news was of growing unrest with reports of further harassment of American shipping. The impressment of American sailors and the imposition of trade embargos were exacerbated by attempts to raise the Native tribes against the forces of the young nation.
***
The business affairs of Julia Savage were progressing favourably. Dominic Gordon had grown up throughout the expedition, and was now being head-hunted by the Governor, to join his staff in a senior capacity.
Martin approved of his refusal of the opportunity in favour of the chance of preferment back in London. There would be chances enough for a young man of his talent during the years ahead.
Naomi and her maid were accompanying the Squadron upon its return to Britain. Since Julia had refitted the Mohawk, she was taking the opportunity to accompany the convoy with a cargo of Canadian native goods, in charter to the newly-reconstituted Hudson’s Bay Company. She undertook to carry the ladies and would captain the ship herself. Jackson Hobbs was now firmly ensconced in the trading office of the company, and had already organized travellers to collect and distribute trade goods throughout Manitoba and Labrador.
The convoy, now including two more merchantmen, Henry James and Bangor, was ready and departed Halifax on January 30th 1812.
***
The French ships Lorient and L’Empereur had left American waters on the 15th January 1812, with the intention of making landfall at Brest, weather permitting.
The captain of Lorient approached the Admiral with a certain amount of trepidation. August Treville was one of the reduced numbers of professional seamen in command of a line of battle ship in the Navy of France. His Admiral had been captain in the ferry running from Marseilles to Ajaccio in Corsica. A friend of the Little General, Admiral Jean-Luc Pasteur was without doubt the smallest, meanest, little pipsqueak of a man known to Treville. His so-called and often quoted expertise in seamanship was less than inspiring to the professional sailors aboard. It was now apparent to Treville that the Captaincy of the Marseilles ferry was one of those jobs passed on to favoured members of the clan, or whatever secret society prevailed on the island more renowned for vendetta than talent.
He knocked at the cabin door and a slurred voice bade him enter.
“Sir, you sent for me?”
The Admiral sat in his chair behind the desk. The bottle of Cognac and two glasses stood more or less steadily in the calm waters of the
Gulf Stream.
“If we are heading for Brest, why does my compass indicate North-East? Captain, I am as you are aware a navigator. I can read a chart. Explain why we are heading this way?”
“As a navigator, sir, you will appreciate that since the world is round the best course is a great circle, taking advantage of the push of the Gulf Stream we will make better progress in this way. As it pushes us north and east It helps us make distance across the ocean.”
The bemused face looked up at the impassive face before him. “Of course. I was just making sure that we were both aware of these things landsmen fin’ so mysteri..sss.” The slurred speech made it quite clear to Treville that the man was incapable, and should not be given command of a garbage scow let alone a pair of warships.
“I recall that damn frigate we met at Raleigh Bay. Cheeky bastard killed my flag Lieutenant. I suppose we may get the chance to meet him on this course?”
“It’s possible.” Treville shrugged. “But the ocean is wide. Who knows?”
He was thinking, God help us if we do. That English Commodore Forest-Bowers is a professional.
Pasteur took a drink and mumbled, “Keep your eyes open, man. That ‘Rostbiff’ needs a roasting.” He burst out laughing, pounding the desk.
Treville saluted, “I will keep my eyes open, sir.”
He left the cabin while the admiral laughed at his clever humour.
“Perhaps,” He murmured. “It would be good to meet this Englishman. A stray bullet could rid me of this idiot admiral.”
He spoke aloud, albeit quietly. Nobody heard what he said, but there were several on the ship who would agree with his thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-five
45 degrees N
The weather in the Atlantic played its usual games, two days of sunshine, cold and clear, and then the rising waves presaged an approaching storm. The squadron responded by making preparation for the weather expected. With extra battening of hatches, and the replacement of sails with storm canvas, the ships closed the doors to the coming weather. When the time came, the arriving storm flirted with the ships, tossing them on rising seas. The ships rode the waves with discomfort for the crews and passengers, but no real problems. The storm was concentrated to the south of the area, allowing the squadron to skirt the northern edge and continue to make progress on their homeward voyage.