by Bob Brown
Two raggedy dressed boys scuffled in an alley. One of them had strips of heavy wool wrapped around his feet instead of shoes. A sad looking woman with an arched back pushed a cart loaded with old clothes she was peddling. The cart rattled and shook in spasms on the cobblestones.
The buildings were three and four stories high with curls of black smoke rising from their chimneys. Spencer rolled his eyes upward and frowned as a cloud of soot drifted down over him. The address he was searching for had a sign over it, DESSIE MAE’S HOUSE OF ENTERTAINMENT. A less determined person might have abandoned his task then and there without even knocking on the door. But if nothing else, John Spencer was persistent. He could hear talking and laughter inside. No one came to the door when he knocked, but a woman’s voice called out, “It’s open.”
Spencer stepped in, removed his hat, and took a second for his vision to adjust to the lamp lit room. There was no natural light for the only window was covered with a dull rose colored velvet drape. He formed an instant, and unfavorable, opinion of the three women sitting in chairs and dressed haphazardly in robes. Very inappropriate attire to be in public, he thought. A man was sprawled back in a stuffed chair with his eyes closed and breathing deeply. Narrow stairs at one side of the room ascended into a dark hallway. Talking and laughter stopped. Spencer self-confidently knew that he was different from the kind of men that they normally associated with.
A buxom woman embellished in extravagant amounts of power and rouge, stood up, straightened her robe and patted her hair. Her voice was husky, “Can I help you, sir?”
“Is this where Mrs. Samuel Cromwell lives?”
“That she does, sir. She’s busy entertaining at the moment. Can I be of service?”
“You may not, madam, I can only speak to Mrs. Cromwell. Will you please summon her for me?”
“The woman glanced at the youngest woman of the three and said, “Lucy, go fetch Ora Lee for this gentlemen. She’s been with one man too long anyway. Please have a seat, sir.” She turned around and lightly kicked the sleeping man in the leg. “Get up Isaac, let the gentleman have that seat.”
The only life that the man displayed was a weak grunt, “Huh?”
Spencer said, “Do not bother the man. I will stand, thank you.”
Lucy sashayed in front of Spencer, smiled prettily at him, and climbed the stairs. She was back in a minute and said, “She’ll be down shortly, Mister.”
“Thank you,” Spencer said curtly. He spent the next few minutes examining the room and intentionally avoiding the gaze of the women. A Franklin stove warmed the side of his body that was turned toward it, while the other side was noticeably cooler. He found an old violin and banjo leaning beside the stairs to be more interesting than the Roman orgy painting on the wall.
A heavyset middle-aged man with rumpled hair lumbered down the stairs. He removed a jacket from a peg near the door and walked out without a word.
The buxom woman called after him, “Come again, Mister.”
Spencer asked, “May I go talk with Mrs. Cromwell now?”
Before the buxom woman could answer, a voice at the top of the stairs said, “I’m Mrs. Cromwell.”
“Madam, I’m John Spencer…”
Ora Lee Cromwell shrieked and rushed down the stairs and hugged Spencer’s neck. The sleeping man raised his wobbly head with mouth open and groggy eyes, then laid back again.
Spencer’s nose wrinkled at the overwhelming combination of powder and sweat. He ducked down and extricated himself from Ora Lee. Not an easy task since she was a head taller than he, and quite massive in the chest and arms.
“Oh, you dear man. I’m so glad to meet you. We lost our dearest loved ones to that dreadful Captain Mackenzie.” Ora Lee wore a heavy cotton robe and appeared to be about 30. Her yellowish hair was in disarray. Like the other women, she wore excessive facial coloring that had been carelessly applied.
Ora Lee beamed, “Look everyone, this is the Honorable John Spencer, the Secretary of War, from down in Washington.”
“Mrs. Cromwell, we must talk in private.”
“Of course we must, there’s a room upstairs. Follow me, Mr. Spencer.” Wishing to impress the other women and succeeding nicely, she said, “Pardon us, ladies, Mr. Spencer and I have important matters to discuss in private.”
As Spencer walked down the dark upstairs hall, he wondered if he should simply give Mrs. Cromwell his condolences for her husband’s death and then leave. The wisdom of contacting her was fading fast. He ignored Ora Lee as she rattled on about why the hall is so dark. Spencer maneuvered around a chair full of clutter that Ora Lee said was just there temporarily.
She led him into a room and closed the door. The cold windowless room was barely large enough for the unmade bed, a dingy dresser that had once been bright green, and a small chair. A shelf contained a washbowl and pitcher. The walls were covered with rose velvet, obviously the same material as the drapes downstairs. She pushed the chair forward for Spencer, but he did not sit.
“Mrs. Cromwell, I intend to have murder charges brought against Captain Mackenzie.”
Ora Lee said, “I don’t understand. Captain Mackenzie is being tried now?”
“That is a court-martial which is being conducted by the Navy. I don’t trust the Navy to punish their own. If they acquit him, then I intend to see that he is brought to justice in a civil court.”
Ora Lee’s voice cracked, “I don’t understand about courts, but that horrible man took Cromie from me and hanged him, and all for no reason.” She began to cry. “I lived and breathed for that man, the love of my life, and I cry myself to sleep every night. I’ll do anything to see Captain Mackenzie swinging from some yardarm thing.”
Spencer had a vision of Ora Lee Cromwell testifying before a jury and suddenly became very depressed. He instantly abandoned this as a possibility. He decided to find out if she knew anything useful, and then leave. “How long did you know Samuel Cromwell before you married him?”
“Actually, just one night, but that was enough to know that he was he was the man I’d waited for all my life. It was love at first sight, you know. He was so strong, so brave…”
“Has Captain Mackenzie or any of the officers from the Somers talked to you?
“Yes, a Mr. Oliver Perry came one night and told me of my dear Cromie’s untimely demise.”
“Tell me all that he told you?” Spencer asked.
“Oh dear man, I was so overcome with grief that I fear I lost my head and ran out into the street. I don’t remember anything that he said.”
“Have any other men from the Somers talked you about the hangings?”
Ora Lee replied, “No, all I know about it is what Lucy reads to me out of the Herald. I just cry and cry.”
“You’ve been a big help, Mrs. Cromwell. If I need any more information, I’ll visit you again.”
“Oh, you do come back any time Mr. Spencer. I want to see that basta… man die, just like my Cromie died.”
On Spencer’s way out, the buxom woman called out in her best sugar-coated but husky voice, “Come again Mr. Spencer.” Lucy giggled.
As Spencer walked out of the neighborhood he kicked the dirty snow and uttered an oath. The sky was darker, the air was colder, and the entire scene seemed to be in black and white and shades of gray.
**********
The court-martial would be held on board the North Carolina for it was a much larger ship than the Somers. The Somers lay at anchor close by and the comparison of the two ships caused many to wonder if the Somers was large enough to face the open seas by itself, or should it be on board the North Carolina as a small boat. The knowledge that 120 men had lived for prolonged periods on the Somers seemed inconceivable.
After some speculation in local taverns about where the three men were hanged, a pool of coins was collected to bribe a seaman on board the Somers to make three hangman’s nooses and display them in their proper positions on the yardarm. Mackenzie failed to see the humor in this and
had them brought down promptly. The guilty seaman was severely flogged. Mackenzie made sure the flogging would be visible for the amusement of observers on shore.
The wharf became very busy as the court-martial date approached. Curious visitors, some from many miles away, came to see the Somers anchored a short distance out in the bay. Most of them were surprised to find that such a small ship could enflame the emotions of the country the way it had. Vendor’s raspy barks mixed with sea gull squawks as they hawked their candied apples, roasted peanuts, pirate flags, effigies, and miniature hangman’s knots. Little boys shined shoes when they could convince a visitor that his muddy footwear was not proper attire for a big city. Any appearance of an officer on the Somers’ deck would bring visitors to the edge of the wharf to see if it was Captain Mackenzie. A visitor considered himself fortunate if he were there in time to observe one of the daily floggings. Captain Mackenzie would always be present for these.
**********
In late December 1842, a preliminary court of inquiry had found sufficient cause to proceed with a court-martial of Captain Mackenzie. Secretary of Navy Upshur ordered the trial to begin on February 2, 1843. Captain Mackenzie was confronted with five serious charges. The first charge pinpointed the exact spot on the high seas that the alleged crime took place. It also included the following: “Captain Alexander Slidell Mackenzie, on the first day of December, A. D. 1842, did then and there, without form of law, willfully, deliberately, and with malice aforethought, murder, oppressively kill, exceed the limits of his authority, and cause to be hanged by the neck, at the main yardarm of the brigantine Somers, until he was dead, Philip Spencer, an acting midshipman, then in service of the United States Navy.” The second and third charges were identical except the names and ranks of Samuel Cromwell and Elisha Small were substituted where Spencer’s name and rank appeared.
The fourth charge accused Mackenzie of behaving in an un-officer like and unfeeling manner, and by addressing Philip Spencer in a taunting and un-officer like language. The fifth charge accused Mackenzie with oppression, cruelty and maltreatment of the crew, and having inflicted unnecessary punishments upon them.
Captain John Downes would be president of the court and twelve officers were selected to serve with any five of them empowered to act. William H. Norris, a young but able civilian attorney from Baltimore was retained to be Judge Advocate. Mr. Griffin would sit with Mackenzie as his legal counselor.
The wardroom of the North Carolina was large but, with barely enough headroom for standing men. It gave the oppressive feeling that if you sat down, the ceiling would come down also and escape might not be possible.
The notoriety of this case made it necessary to reserve a small space for the press reporters and a limited number of curious visitors. Admittance was on a first come, first served, basis. Sufficient guards were on hand to remove any guest who lost control of his emotions or became unruly. In the early mornings an iron stove on either side of the room was too hot nearby and not warm enough only a short distance away. As the day progressed the stoves were allowed to burn out because closely packed warm bodies generated more than enough heat. This happened even when the weather outside was blustery.
Throughout history some men wager their souls on high-risk games of life and would not wish it otherwise. It’s the game that consumes them, the greater the risk, the greater the exhilaration. The more likely that the next move will lift them in triumph or plunge them into oblivion, the more obsessed they become. Docile souls cannot comprehend pleasure in placing their life at stake for no more than the challenge of it. It seems crazy and stupid to peaceful people, but peaceful people never play these dangerous games. The risk takers have unbridled faith in their skill to play the game and they accept the outcome with a curious fatalism. They play their role the best they can and if they win they are fired up for the next game. If they lose, they accept it calmly for they reason that the outcome was predestined anyway. Misguided but brilliant despots, the Caesars, the Napoleons, play the game with the lives of their subjects and pit them against the lives of their opponents. They disregard that their own lives might be the ultimate price if they lose the game.
The game is no less challenging on smaller scales. Mackenzie’s lifelong obsession was the sea. He pitted his seamanship against a throbbing entity that had no heart and no soul. His opponent lurked in constant turmoil just beneath the foam. It might wake at any moment and foment a fury of waves and high winds. It was Mackenzie’s game to meet the sea’s malicious assaults and survive to meet the next challenge on some future day. Now, with murder charges hurled at him, the rules of the game were changed, but the parallel was unmistakable, and he would squeeze it for every drop of pleasure.
And thus Captain Alexander Slidell Mackenzie sat on the morning of February 2, 1843, in the ward room of the North Carolina waiting for the trial to begin, erect in his seat, neat in his full dress uniform, confident, calm, and serene. Let the game begin.
CHAPTER 33
Mackenzie was unmindful of the talking, occasional laughter, and scuffing of chairs that was going on behind him. Once he looked briefly from side to side to observe the people present. Although he had never met John Spencer, he was certain that the well dressed, stern gentleman, sitting near the front with two other less stern men was the Secretary of War. He felt pleasure that the honor of the occasion had brought such a distinguished visitor. He regretted that Mrs. Spencer could not accompany her husband so that she also could learn of the necessity of the death of her son, but ladies were not afforded such privileges in that day and time.
Captain Downes convened the court and after a few routine preliminaries he accepted a letter from one of the men who was sitting with John Spencer. He read the letter and handed it to a clerk to read aloud. It was an impassioned petition to have Spencer’s two attorneys participate with the Judge Advocate on behalf of his son, Philip Spencer. The petition requested that the attorneys be granted the privilege to interrogate all witnesses. Captain Downes huddled with the other presiding officers for a few minutes, then announced that the petition was denied.
Furious, John Spencer stood up and stalked out off the wardroom with his two attorneys trying to keep up with him. It would have been all right with Mackenzie if the request had been granted. He shrugged his shoulders and thought, “Pity.”
Captain Downes had Mackenzie stand and ordered that the charges be read. He asked Mackenzie how he pleaded.
“I admit that Philip Spencer, Samuel Cromwell, and Elisha Small, were put to death by my order, as Captain of the U. S. brigantine Somers, at the time and place mentioned in the charges. Under the existing circumstances, this act was demanded by duty and justified by necessity. I plead not guilty to all charges.”
Court-martial proceedings are not conducted in the same manner as civil trials. In this trial each member of the court is free to interrogate witnesses, as well as the Judge Advocate, the accused, and the accused’s attorney. Also, the tradition of “innocent until proven guilty” seems to be disregarded since the accused begins the proceedings by calling witnesses who will support his defense. Since Mackenzie chose to present his own defense he called the first witness, J. W. Wales, who was duly sworn in and asked to state his name, age, and rank. He stated that he was 17 years old and he was the purser’s steward.
Mackenzie asked, “Do you know of any intended mutiny on board the Somers, and if so, how did you find out.”
“Yes, Mr. Spencer informed me of it.”
“Explain the circumstances and everything concerning this disclosure.”
“It was on the evening of November 25th. I was standing forward by the bitts. Mr. Spencer approached me and made a few remarks about the weather, then said that he had something of great importance to discuss with me. He asked me to get on the top of the booms with him, which I did. He began by asking, ‘Did I fear death? Was I afraid of a dead person? And dare I kill a person?’ I was surprised at these questions and I looked to see if Mr. Sp
encer was in earnest. I found that he was very serious. I told him that I was not particularly anxious about dying quite yet, that I had no fear of a dead man, and that should a man abuse me or insult me, I thought I could muster sufficient courage to kill him, if necessary. Mr. Spencer said he did not doubt my courage, then asked if I could keep a secret. When I said I could, he asked me to take an oath that I should never communicate that conversation to anyone, so help me God. I took the oath as he directed and he commenced to say that he was in league with about twenty of the crew to murder all the officers, take the brigantine, and turn the Somers into a pirate ship. He said that he had the list of the men in his neckerchief tied around his neck. He had me feel of it and it made a crackle noise as though there was paper inside.”
“Did he explain how they would take the Somers?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yes, the affray would commence some night when he had the mid-watch. Some of those in league with him would get in a scuffle on the spar deck and he would call Mr. Rogers to pretend to settle the matter. They would seize Mr. Rogers and pitch him overboard. Spencer would station men at the hatches to prevent anyone coming on deck. He claimed that he could lay his hands on the keys of the arm-chest at any time. Once they were armed, he would proceed to Mackenzie’s cabin and murder him with the least noise possible. After that he would go with some of his men to the wardroom and murder all of the officers. This would be easy because the only arms the officers had were their cutlasses. He would then have two aft cannons slewed around so as to rake the deck. They would have the whole crew called on deck and select those who suited their purposes and have the rest thrown overboard.”
“What were their plans after taking command of the ship?”
“While in Monrovia, Mr. Spencer had obtained the name of someone experienced in pirating and they would sail to the Isle of Pines to take him on board. After that they would cruise for prizes. When they would take a ship they would murder all hands, as dead men tell no tales. They would strip the ship, then scuttle her, leaving no clues. If there happened to be females on board he would have them taken to the brigantine for the pleasure of his officers and men. When tired of them they would make away with them.”