Reflections in the Wake

by James Spurr

  James nodded and flicked the reins. He said no more and she was left for a short time with her racing thoughts. James soon turned the carriage off of the cobbled lower Thames and headed west down the dirt lane along harbor’s southern shore. The setting was more rural and private.

  As they proceeded, Marie resolved to say nothing more. She was growing physically ill. She was not afraid for herself; she was both independent and capable. But the breach of what she perceived a promise made to her combined with her all too scarce trust in others once again having been revealed as being misplaced left her feeling as though she had been kicked in the stomach. She focused on maintaining her breathing, controlling her hurt, and fighting back tears while wondering who really was seated beside her.

  James reined in the horse and with the carriage stopped overlooking the harbor and John Adams at anchor, he began. “The Secretary did not call this morning only so to inform of that news I relayed to the crew. He requested I take on another mission, post haste. I am not going to tell you I had no choice. In fact,” he looked into her eyes, “while I had every intention of telling the Secretary I was resigning my commission, when I learned what he had in mind, I relented.”

  Marie, while hurt, could at least appreciate his honesty. She remained quiet as James continued. “I could not tell you aboard the ship, with so many surrounding,” he explained. “I needed to find a place for us, alone, so we could talk. I was going to drive us out to the Sound, but this will do. I put off our talk not to deceive but so that we could be alone.”

  Marie remembered her also having postponed a talk, during the storm, until the time was right and gave him, for just a few moments, the benefit of many doubts.

  James looked at their packages, “I know now how this must look. Like I am feeling guilty and trying to sooth my feelings with gifts given you. But that is not what I was going to say when I would have told you, had you not first guessed.”

  He paused and looked out at the harbor with so many vessels at anchor. “You know I will continue to pursue a career at sea. Even if I take off this uniform I will likely hold a merchant command and it will entail time at sea. Even on the Great Lakes, voyages can take some weeks. Captains always have and I suppose always will, care when ashore for those they care about when they are at sea. I have seen my father do the same. That is what men bred to the sea do when ashore. That is the intent of our errands this day… me caring for you, now, because while at sea, I will be unable to do so then. These errands are my way of taking care of us, together, even when we will be apart.”

  Marie’s breathing calmed. She began to understand his intent, but still wondered if James could ever leave the Navy.

  “Marie,” he admitted, “I know the timing is terrible. I am sorry for the timing, truly. I have no right to ask you to wait. But if you will wait, you will not have to wait long.”

  Marie looked over at James, into his eyes and he seemed to promise, yet again, “Three months at the most; not three years. Most likely ten weeks, if all goes well. I will return by October, with plenty of time for us to winter in the Michigan Territory.”

  Finally, she spoke, “Where are you going?”

  He answered, “To bring Captain Perry home.”

  She looked at him, shaking her head.

  He admitted, “I suppose, with him already dead and he having been so for years, it is not a national emergency. But the Secretary has a sloop of war, newly launched, well found and ready to race to Venezuela.” James filled in the details, “Captain Perry died on foreign soil. He is from Newport and the Navy wants to bring home his remains.” James dropped his voice and added, “He deserves as much, does he not?”

  Marie replied, “I rather think you are not the only Captain in your Navy with a chart of the South American coast.”

  He nodded and granted, “You are correct. Captain Perry will come home with or without me.” Some time passed and then he admitted that which was in his heart when he relented to the Secretary, “I need to do this.”

  Marie nodded and knew him well enough to admit to herself he may well be correct in his assessment of his needs. The question remained as to hers.

  They talked for some time. They talked calmly, quietly, with deep affection and recognition of needs and concerns, of strengths and weaknesses, of how each of them could help the other, all without any promise or indication if Marie would be waiting upon his return. James had no right at that moment to ask. Marie had no answer to offer, at that moment, had he asked. They held hands a short time. Marie even placed her head on his shoulder at one juncture. The simple fact was obvious. Marie knew no one, had no place to stay and no employment. James offered to cover all expenses, but neither warmed to the implication, as to either the morality of their relationship or the commitment such an arrangement, if honorable, would signify with no such words exchanged between them, were there even the time. His offer went ignored. Neither could see the future.

  But Captains plan: whether when ships are at anchor or underway, whether for distant horizons or with just lengths before the reef.

  It was time to make one more stop.

  James and Marie proceeded back down the entire length of Thames Street, to the north. The carriage clattered past on the cobblestones of the working wharves, chandleries, shops, public houses, historic sites, from a district of low rents and questionable pastimes to the respectable part of town and waterfront. “Just over there,” pointed James to the harborfront, “alongside Greene’s wharf, an old collier sank known to you by her former name.”

  Marie asked, more to prompt distraction than with genuine interest, “Which ship?”

  “H.M.S. Endeavor, of Captain Cook fame,” James revealed, then commented, “ended her career here in Newport and lays there still, such history rotting away just a fathom or more beneath our wharves.” For but a moment, they both thought of Captain Perry and the similar effect of the upcoming mission as to one of Newport’s favorite sons.

  As they passed Trinity Church, stately positioned deep into the green, or public square, and presenting a quintessential New England scene, James commented, “Our President Washington worshipped there while a General during the revolution and likely in meeting with Rochambeau.”

  Marie only wondered if Newport had a Catholic Church but did not wish to even ask the question as would suggest she would remain in this town, her first landing upon a continent where within hours she would be alone.

  Soon thereafter, James announced the name of a small district not far from the water at the northern end of Thames Street, “Here we are, in Washington Square.” It reminded Marie of a small piazza, though more open than those in Europe. He stopped the carriage in front of a very fashionable and well cared for federal style home and reached down under his feet for the box he had taken such care in bringing with them.

  Perhaps it was her dark mood. Perhaps it was an extension of her now reinforced lack of trust. Marie guessed for a second time that day and her heart fell once again. “Dueling pistols,” she said quietly. Was James really about to conclude his ’singular purpose’ in her presence, on their last day together?”

  James could not be unaware of her mood, evident in her tone, but he confirmed, “Aye.” He presented himself next to her footstep, weapons under one arm, asking for hers with his other.

  Marie challenged him, feeling as he deserved that and more, “You certainly do not think I will participate with you in ‘an affair of honor’,” she mocked.

  Her eyes dared him to even suggest she trust him, but even he, given the circumstances, avoided any such words or connotations. He hesitated, considered and just asked, “Please?” Then he made a point, not at all reassuring to her, but which the logic was undeniable, “I have obviously no second on hand, in you or another, have I?”

  Marie took his hand and stepped down to the sidewalk, thinking only that for all James saw fit to inform her, a second could arrive and men could be pacing off the distance any moment. Her thought remained
unspoken.

  James and Marie ascended the three well worn limestone steps, Marie, despite herself, admiring the architectural detail in the ornamental iron rail with brass knobs and shale foundation, laid in careful pattern highlighting the variation in color of local stone. James rapped on the knocker and a servant answered, an African American. James nodded but did not search his memory. He merely announced, “Captain James Lee, if you please.”

  The servant smiled, but remained standing where he was, demanding further attention. James wondered why he was not being announced and considered the man once again.

  The man grinned more broadly, James finally, as with Marie upon their introduction, made the connection. He sighed, smiled and quickly offered, “I am sorry!” and both men half embraced, the heavy box under his arm presenting some complications to their heartfelt greeting.

  “It is wonderful to see you, Captain,” the servant offered.

  “And you, Mr. Fleming!” Captain Lee returned, formally, as a compliment among former shipmates. Then, more personally, “How are you, Benjamin?”

  “I am fine, Sir! Assisting with the children and they are growing so fast!” he observed.

  “You can handle five, I am certain. You handled Barclay and far more, as I recall,” James complimented.

  “Aye, Sir,” Benjamin nodded, “but that was a long time ago…” Then his expression changed and he made to correct, as he regarded Marie, “… only four now, as we lost the youngest boy.”

  “I am sorry to hear, Benjamin,” and following his gaze, offered, “This is Marie Lapointe, from Brittany. John Adams arrived just last evening, from the Med.”

  “I saw her at anchor this morning and those that really know ships have already guessed” Benjamin offered proudly. “But I did not know if you were still in command.” Realizing Captain Lee called to visit with another, Benjamin added, “I will call the lady of the house, right quick. Wait here, please.”

  With just moments alone, James made to explain, “Benjamin was a former Lawrence, also having served aboard Java and John Adams.”

  But before Marie could ask upon whom they were calling, having just begun to appreciate the close relationships found through Navy circles, it was confirmed that had she guessed, she would have been correct yet again.

  A lady in her mid-thirties appeared in the hall from the drawing room, walked toward James and with her smiling, James offered, “Mrs. Perry, thank you for seeing us.”

  “Captain James,” she said with the utmost pleasure, “Benjamin told me last evening that John Adams lay at anchor in the harbor. Such a nice surprise! Please, come, let us visit.”

  Mrs. Perry turned to Marie. James made the introduction and Marie felt instantly comfortable. They proceeded into the drawing room and took some cool refreshment. After polite inquiries of ships, children, voyages, and changes witnessed in Newport, James turned the subject to the box he had placed on the floor next to his chair.

  “Mrs. Perry,” Captain Lee began respectfully, “John Adams departs tonight for New York.” It hurt Marie to have him announce it so casually. “I have held on to this box of your husband’s for some years, hoping some day I would call upon you here in Newport. I have no need nor reason to keep that in which he took such pride in beauty and craftsmanship.” Captain Lee was trying to be delicate. While Captain Perry did admire the pistols for both of those reasons, Captain Lee simply had no need for dueling pistols and to keep those of his mentor, a national hero, seemed to exploit his death and reputation.

  Mrs. Perry gestured for him to open the box. He picked it up from the floor, opened the lid and displayed the contents. Indeed, even Marie was forced to acknowledge to herself the beautiful work: a combination of wood, metal and artistic detail almost convincing admirers that their sole purpose was other than to kill another human being.

  Still, before Mrs. Perry could react, Marie felt relief and pride in James. If this was his ‘singular purpose’ for keeping the weapons, she felt perhaps she had judged him too harshly through the storm and its aftermath.

  Mrs. Perry appeared to display mixed emotions. She was gracious and thanked her caller, her husband’s friend and confidant, “Captain James,” then turning to Marie, explained, “my husband called his father, ‘Captain William’ to keep the Lees in his life clear, valuing both immeasurably. He would not be the least bit surprised that you would guard his property for my behalf.” she returned her gaze to James. “Your integrity and loyalty are beyond question.”

  Marie could tell that Mrs. Perry spoke from the heart and was not merely being polite. The fact that she felt so about James, and indicated her husband had felt the same, somehow meant a great deal to Marie, though she had met one just minutes ago and would never know the other.

  Mrs. Perry continued, “As I am certain you can appreciate, I am not particularly excited to be recalling that part of his past.” Although she was speaking to James, she glanced to Marie for affirmation, and Marie felt an instant sisterhood with the other woman.

  Captain Lee came, once again, to his mentor’s defense, “Yes, I understand, but, please, as you consider these, recall the manner in which they were used. Captain Perry never had any intention to discharge the weapons at another human being. His accomplishments sometimes attracted controversy, despite his attempts to be generous in sharing the credit for his accomplishments and to my knowledge, he never issued a challenge.”

  Mrs. Perry nodded, “Thank you, Captain James, for that memory. I am sure you are right.” She then confirmed, “It appears Captain Elliott will just not let the issue fade. I still grieve for Captain Decatur. I still cannot believe Elliott stood by as a second while that scoundrel Barron shot our Stephen dead, as though another dishonorable deed can erase his conduct that day on Lake Erie.”

  Captain Lee agreed, explaining to Marie, “Captain Elliott failed to support the squadron during the battle. Captain Perry was most generous in his reports, but others having witnessed Elliott’s conduct called his accounts into question and Elliott first responded by issuing a challenge to Captain Perry, then by acting as a second opposing one of Captain Perry’s friends, a Captain Decatur, who regrettably, lost his life in the ensuing duel.”

  Mrs. Perry clarified, “My husband refused Captain Elliott’s challenge and instead filed charges for his court martial. Eventually, President Monroe swept the matter under the rug of the public eye, eventually sending my husband instead to the disease ridden rivers of Venezuela.”

  Instantly upon speaking, Mrs. Perry realized her indiscretion, “Oh, Captain James, I am sorry…,” glancing quickly at Marie and then back to James, she sought to cover her gaffe. “I am sure your experience will be far different. You have always had such a much stronger constitution than did my husband.”

  At Marie’s obvious surprise, James explained, “Captain Perry died of yellow fever.”

  Marie was stunned. She had never considered the mission would be dangerous. Mrs. Perry went on about her having had a dream of her husband’s death just months after moving into their home and how she had discarded it, not being a superstitious woman. She thought it odd that the dream had actually proved to be true. All the while, Marie considered all that she had learned in these last few hours.

  Captain Lee confirmed, “I take it, Mrs. Perry, you know of our mission.”

  “Yes, Mr. Southard informed me last evening after he learned John Adams had anchored in the harbor. I was hoping you would stop by, but did not want to impose on your time.”

  She paused briefly, her eyes dampening, “I want to thank you both from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea what it means to have my husband brought back to Newport, to allow myself and our children some peace, and to draw some inspiration from his presence among his family and friends.”

  Marie nodded, for the moment forgetting her initial feeling on the matter just an hour before. She broke from her thoughts to clarify, “Mrs. Perry, thank you for the sentiment, but I am not going. I have no official role
or attachment with, er,” not wanting to indicate James, finished with, “John Adams.”

  James added, “Although Marie and I are not married, our time together,” he looked at Marie, “all too short, has led us to believe we may have a future.”

  Mrs. Perry gathered all that was left unsaid. She looked at Marie. They exchanged glances, and then she recalled, “When my husband was given his orders to depart for the Great Lakes, of which I knew nothing and he little more, I was expecting and the nation was at war. We had but two hours to prepare for his prolonged absence and his established course straight into harm’s way.”

  Marie looked at Mrs. Perry thankfully for that anecdote.

  “Still,” Mrs. Perry continued, “we were married and secure in our being there for each other, and were among many we knew and counted on for support in each other’s absence.”

  Mrs. Perry put down her cup and announced, “It is clear to me this mission, so dear to me, has caused a difficult situation for you both. Captain James, I tell you without hesitation what my husband would order, were he here: remain silent while I discuss this with the only other woman in the room.” Turning to Marie, Mrs. Perry insisted, “My dear, you will stay here with me and assist with the children and we will keep you very busy through the ensuing weeks. Or, if you prefer, enjoy your time, passing it however you wish without obligation and with total freedom.”

  Marie was gracious, but independent and did not want to feel obligated nor treated as the object of charity, “Thank you, but I… well truly… I am sure I can find…” but then, considering it was growing late and there was not much time, assented somewhat, “perhaps for just this night, until I can…” Marie was strong but suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. The offer, very kind and a Godsend, really, made her all the more aware of the trust she had placed in another and of her consistent disappointment in such situations. Marie looked at her empty cup and recalled, “Besides, you have Benjamin for the children.”