The Greater the Honor

by William H. White

  “Yes, Mum. A boy here, in some kind of uniform, he is, is asking after a reading primer. Have we such a thing?” She raised her voice to answer, making it sound very much like her mother’s.

  Some kind of uniform, indeed. A midshipman in the United States Navy, you dolt!

  “Of course, girl! Should be right on the table there, in front. Can you manage on your own or must I come down?” The voice, no less shrill, had an edge to it and did not sound as if coming down was likely.

  “I shall look, Mum. Do you recall the price?” This conversation between the upper floor and Rachel continued at a level just below screaming. I tried to busy myself with looking at the volumes whose titles I could make out through the grime.

  A few pence bought a very worn volume with most of its pages intact, and I escaped into the waning sunlight with the dusty volume held away from my clean white breeches. I blew at it, raising a small cloud of dust that swirled and shone as the individual particles caught the slanting light.

  Hunter’s English—Vol. 1. That ought to get James started. I hope he was serious about this. Wonder if I will be able to actually teach him?

  I opened the book, reading bits and snatches of it as I walked down the hill. I bumped only a few people, mumbling “Sorry” as I continued scanning the pages, hoping I would find a clue about how to use the book. I could ill-recall my own need for such a volume, so many years ago it was that I had learned my letters.

  By the time I reached the docks, it was quite dark. I looked around for some familiar landmark that might lead me to a boat landing.

  Was this the place where Judd and I had started? Maybe over there a ways. Yes, I think that way, there. Do I remember that building? Seems different, somehow. Maybe just the dark . . . There was a pile of rope and spars right by the dock. Somebody must have moved it. But there’s nary a soul to be seen. They all can’t have left!

  I looked out at the harbor. The lights of the ships anchored there glowed a warm yellow, showing disembodied details of the furnishings around them and making the dark places seem even darker. I studied the shapes carefully, trying to pick out Argus or at least one of the others I might recognize.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir. Are ye lookin’ for somethin’ particular out there?” The voice behind me started me almost out of my shoes. I turned and came face to face with a young man of about my age.

  His dress was not military, at least not any military I had ever heard of. He wore a plaid shirt of rough cloth, torn in several places and faded throughout. The sleeves came only to the middle of his forearm, allowing swarthy wrists and hands to hang out like stick arms on a scarecrow. His canvas breeches were similar to a sailor’s and held up with a length of rope secured around his middle. Hanging on the make-shift belt was a knife of notable dimension in a well-worn leather sheath. He wore no shoes. His shaggy hair fell across his forehead, nearly covering wide spaced eyes which, I noticed, were assessing me quite as thoroughly as I assessed him. Thick lips over a jutting chin, just showing the start of a few wisps of beard, completed the picture. I wondered idly what he might look like in daylight! Surely like nothing military; a denizen of the docks, perhaps, and probably seeking a handout.

  Not from me! My financial condition was so desperate that I could use a handout my own self. Stay calm and don’t encourage him.

  “I was trying to determine which of those vessels might be mine. And where they would land a boat were one to come to the dock.” I held his gaze as I answered his question.

  “And which one is your’n, sir?” He shot back.

  “Well, did I not say that was what I was attempting to discern?” This boy is a dolt!

  “Sir, what I was askin’ was what is the name of yer vessel?”

  I should have guessed that. No harm in telling him. “Why, it would be the brig Argus. We came in earlier. American. But I reckon you knew that.”

  “Oh, sir! Argus is over to the other end! You cain’t see her from here. And I don’t reckon they’d be likely to send a boat way ‘round to this side.” He pointed in a generally western direction.

  How did I do that? I must have walked right past the place where Judd and I came out of the dockyards! Had my nose in that book I bought for lames! No wonder I missed it.

  “Very well, then. I shall just walk back to the other dock. I imagine there will be boats coming in there from the American ships. One will carry me out to Argus, I should think. Thank you.”

  “I can show you a short cut right through there, if you like.” Again he pointed vaguely toward a dilapidated building.

  “Oh, thank you. But I think I might find the proper pier on my own. I am grateful you told me where I should be.” I smiled and started off on what I hoped was the correct course. I noticed my heart was beating a trifle faster than normal.

  Just follow the edge of the pier, Oliver. He said it was this way. So all you have to do is walk along the water until you get there. Don’t even need to go back up to the road. Simple as that.

  He followed me, keeping up a steady chatter about this and that, most of which I missed completely, the rest I simply did not understand. I found my path blocked by a building which protruded right to the edge of the quay and turned to starboard to go around its landward end. Picking my way over loose stones, bricks, and bits of rubble, I moved slowly, carefully, as I followed the looming side of the warehouse which appeared only as a darker shape in the darkness of the night.

  I noticed that I no longer heard my companion and his chattering. As I stopped to feel my way around something large in my path, I realized he was no longer in my wake.

  “Just as well he’s gone.” I spoke quietly, but aloud, enjoying the comforting sound of a human voice, even my own, in this dark, unsettling place. “Made me a trifle nervous, he did. Had a look about him.” I noticed that I still seemed to be breathing a bit faster than normal, maybe even faster than I had been before.

  Just because you’ve been walking quickly. No reason to be nervous. No reason at all.

  When I at last came to the end of the warehouse, I discovered a gap between that building and another. I turned to my larboard and walked confidently into the gap—and into an even darker passage. But one, I hoped, that would lead me to the far end of the pier, the place where I belonged, and where I would find not only the brig, but also American boats stroking between the fleet and the quay. I put a hand on the rough bricks as I moved, noting that the. ground was less littered with debris than before.

  Guess nobody comes back here, much. “Likely no reason to, being so far from the pier.” This last I spoke aloud, though it came out as barely a whisper.

  “Here now. You’ll be smart to fetch up there. I’ll be havin’ yer purse, if ye don’t mind, sir. And in the event you cain’t see so good in the dark, I’m holding that knife you was eyein’ when first we met.”

  That boy had returned. I knew there was something about him that wasn’t just so! Now what? He said he held a knife, a large knife, and from the look of him, I would not doubt his ability to use it. A wharf rat just like Mister Cutler had called that fellow in Boston.

  “I have no purse. I left it aboard the brig, where my messmates are awaiting my return. Likely wondering where I’ve gotten to and will be coming ashore to find me soon, I’d think.” That ought to give him something to think on!

  “We’ll be done here afore they would ever find you. Just hand over the purse, and you can go on your way. No harm done.”

  “I told you, I have no purse.”

  “Yeah, you do. You musta paid money for that book you got, and it hadda come outta yer purse. Give it here. Else I’ll be forced to gut yer like a fish!” I felt a hand prodding my midsection, whether for emphasis or in search of the purse, I knew not.

  My eyes had become accustomed to the deep gloom of the area, and I could make out my assailant standing just in front of me at an arm’s length away. He did hold the knife, I could make out the dull gleam of its blade, but it pointed down as
his arm appeared to be hanging at his side.

  Without thinking, I thrust out my arm and caught him squarely in the chest. As I did so, I stepped forward, adding more force to the shove and catching him unawares. I heard an explosive release of his breath as he fell back, lost his footing, and sat down hard. I heard the knife clatter to the stones—I hoped so, at any rate! I seized the opportunity to run as fast as ever I have run in my life, continuing in the direction I had started. I stumbled several times, catching myself and staggering for a few steps before regaining my stride. Then I saw some lights.

  They glowed in muted but welcoming yellow splendor, gaining in intensity and size as I rushed pell mell toward the safety I knew they offered. People, sailors, officers, and Americans! I couldn’t tell if the boy was pursuing me; I could hear no footfalls, but then I hadn’t before, either. And I was not about to slow down enough to take a look astern. I convinced myself that I would be unable to see him anyway. Then I thought that I could hear the soft plops and scuffs of bare feet close aboard, inspiring me to a burst of speed toward the growing yellow glow. I picked out, in silhouette, a pile of debris perhaps, and very nearly dodged around it; I could feel my stockings snag and rip as I ran. But mercifully, I kept my footing and never even broke stride.

  And then I was out—out from the pitch darkness of the building and into the dim circle of light offered by a pair of lamps set on posts. I slowed my pace a bit, savoring the embrace of safety and familiarity. This was where Judd and I had come ashore. I knew for certain. I chanced a look back the way I had run, seeking some sign of my antagonist, but either he was gone or remained hidden in the shadows and out of sight. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my heart tried to fight its way out of my chest, but I had made it! Supporting myself with a hand on the light post, I bent over nearly double as I struggled to catch my breath, which still came in great sobs. Gradually, the pain in my ribs subsided. I could stand erect, breathe almost normally, and my heart had stopped its clamoring to escape from the confines of my ribcage. I looked around, still reluctant to leave the security of my pool of light. But I had to find a boat, and there were none close at hand.

  Necessity demanded I move. I walked cautiously along the edge of the quay, surveying the docks, the anchorage with its winking lights, the buildings farther ahead, and my wake to ensure my assailant was really gone. I stopped near a flight of steps that led to the water and happened to be right under a lamppost. Just a pistol shot away, I saw a boat bobbing alongside the quay, with its pennant affixed to a ring set into the stone. Quiet voices drifted to my ears and a closer look revealed a cox’n and four oarsmen, obviously waiting for someone to carry out to a ship. What a stroke of luck!

  Now if I could prevail upon them with better success than I had found in Boston.

  Taking several deep breaths in an attempt to regain my composure, I stood straight and marched quickly down to where they floated. After a moment’s consideration of my request, the cox’n agreed to carry me to the brig. Perhaps the mention of Captain Decatur’s name was helpful.

  “You got it! You didn’t forget! I thought when you and Judd went off together you would forget all about your promise to get me a reading book. Oh, Oliver! Thank you, thank you! Give it to me!” James had leaped to his feet the moment he spied me enter the cockpit and fairly snatched the book, none the worse for its harrowing delivery, from me. “You are going to stay and show me, aren’t you?” He suddenly looked up from the open book, his eyes big and his brow furrowed.

  I hadn’t really thought about it, nor had I more than a passing notion of how I would go about ‘showing’ him. Quite obviously, Thomas was not in evidence. “Of course, James. A promise is a promise! But what about Thomas?”

  In answer to my query regarding our comrade, James said that he thought Wheatley had gone ashore sometime after Judd and I did. Had not we seen him? No, we had not, and that was that. We sat side by side at the cockpit table, the book between us, as I explained the intricacies of letter sounds and their names.

  “I would have thought you lads would be ashore finding some mischief to get into with your colleagues, not sitting here reading books!” Cutler’s voice startled us both, and James made a move to hide the book. I knew he was sure his secret had been discovered; I was fairly sure of it, myself.

  “Cap’n Decatur wanted you to know that, tomorrow afternoon, the British are fixing a reception for the American squadron at some dandy’s house in town, and all officers and midshipmen are expected to, no, will attend. Shouldn’t be all bad; I hear they have no shortage of excellent food.” James’ eyes lit up at that. “And they’re entertaining us with a music recital or some such.” He stopped and looked from one to the other of us. “Where’s Wheatley and Devon?”

  “Oh, sir, Mister Devon went ashore. Something about dispatches or letters or some such, he said.” I did not mention that I had been in company, though I was sure Cutler knew it since Judd had asked his permission for the both of us.

  “I knew that, Baldwin! But he is not back yet? Did you not accompany him? I seem to recall he said something about you being with him.”

  “Oh, yes, sir. I did go. He delivered the dispatches and we had dinner. Then I returned aboard. Judd ... Mister Devon said he had other business to attend to.”

  “Hmmmm. I’m sure he did. No matter. Tell him of our obligation tomorrow, if you please. And Wheatley? He is ‘attending to business,’ also?” Without waiting for an answer, which neither of us could offer, the first lieutenant delivered the rest of his message. “Four bells in the afternoon watch, dress uniform, ready to go ashore.” Then he nodded, satisfied we understood our task, and left.

  James looked at me, waited a few heartbeats, and pulled out his book from where it had disappeared under a rumpled shirt close at hand.

  “Oh, Lord, Oliver. I thought for sure I had been found out! Thank God, it wasn’t Thomas! I don’t reckon Cutler might care, but Wheatley would make my life even more unbearable!”

  I smiled at my student and remarked, “A dinner reception on the morrow; that sounds interesting. Might even be fun!”

  “Oh, I doubt that. Except that part about ‘excellent food.’ That sounds interesting to me!” James almost drooled at the thought of the vittles he would find. If listening to some music was the price he had to pay, so be it! We got back to work on the book. His appetite for letters was even greater than for food, and it was not until the lantern guttered and flickered out that he would hear of stopping.

  At muster the next morning, it was discovered that several of our men had not returned to the brig from their leaves. Their absences were duly noted, a petty officer and two seamen sent out to find them (or secure their releases from the local jail), and the day preceded without missing a beat. To my joy, none of the missing were mine, nor the did they include my two colleagues from the cockpit. Both Judd and Thomas were in attendance; the former smiling and talkative, the latter, quiet, scowling, and somewhat worse for the wear. A few chores to do, some work on the guns that we oversaw, and then it was time to get into our finest and go to the reception.

  On the quay, when we disembarked, were the officers and midshipmen of several of our ships, and we marched more or less in company to the address above the town where the party would be held. Hardly had Captain Hull pulled the bell when the door was opened by a liveried servant. He acknowledged our presence and led us through a vaulted hall with well polished dark walls, then through an enormous double set of doors into a cavernous hall. The room had been fitted with a long table down its center, laid out with sparkling glasses, cutlery and plate. Paintings hung around the room depicting ships and men in naval garb. A few flags were draped high on the walls, and I was pleased to see an American flag displayed prominently among the British ensigns.

  I could hear a sharp intake of breath as James took in the trappings of the establishment. I shot a glance at Thomas; he was dull-eyed and seemed to notice little of the splendor before us. Judd was chatting with Mis
ter Morris as he took in the room; I suspect he would have us believe his being dined in this manner was not an unusual event. But, to my satisfaction, I did see his eyes become bigger and his attention to the officer waver as he viewed the opulence.

  Candelabra placed down the length of the table—there must have been ten or a dozen of them, each fitted with six long white tapers—caused reflections of their flames to dance in the glasses and bounce off the highly polished plate. Around the walls of the room, sconces held more candles and, in combination with the sunlight filling the room through beautifully glazed windows and the candelabra, provided a bright and warm atmosphere for the festivities. James was overwhelmed.

  “Oliver! Have you ever seen such a place in all your life? Look at the candles; they even got ‘em lit in daylight! Ma would never do that at home. Candles were for night! What a place! Do you think someone actually lives here?” His hoarse whisper hid none of the excitement or awe that both he and I felt.

  “Now aren’t you glad you came? This is going to be better than anything we’ve done before, and I’d warrant the food will be better than anything either of us has eaten before!” I whispered back to him, still staring at our surroundings.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” The voice came from the doorway behind us, and we turned as one to glimpse our host. “I am so glad so many of you were able to attend our little gathering. I am sure you are all consumed with your various duties and eager to be off to confront the heathens of the Barbary Coast, but we could not let our great friends escape without offering a small reception of welcome to you. I am only sorry your commodore—Preble, is it not?—is at sea and unable to join us. Likewise our own Admiral Nelson, currently en route to England.

  “We are continuing a grand tradition this evening; we were privileged to offer our hospitality to Commodore Morris and his officers a year and more ago. 1 know some of you were here then as I recognize a few familiar faces. Which of you would be Captain Hull? . . . Captain Stewart? . . . Captain Decatur?” Each of the American captains nodded in turn.