“What of the others, then, lads? ‘Ow many of us’re still around? Mister Blanchard an’ Mister Ludlow – what of them. Did Cap’n Lawrence make it? I recollect ‘e was sore wounded in the shootin’, ‘e were, an’ me an’ Mister Cox took ’im below to the surgeon while we was still fightin’. Come back up on deck, I did, an the whole quarterdeck was full o’ Shannons an’ a Red Coat, damn ‘is eyes, stuck me with a bayonet quicker ‘an ever I could get outta the way. Went down like a sack o’ fine Irish potatoes, an’ they left me alone after that. Figgered I wasn’t no worry then, I reckon. Just carried on all ‘round me. Cutlasses swingin’ over me ‘ead, pistols goin’ off, people yellin’, an’ them damn sharpshooters in the foretop sprayin’ balls at everything that moved. They was blood flyin’ everywhere, an’ more ‘an once, I seen some go down, theirs or ours, just from slippin’ on that bloody deck. Some cove in a fancy uniform fell on top o’ me – didn’t know whether he just slipped or was shot ‘til ‘e was on th’ deck an’ I seen th’ blood on ‘is ‘ead. Deep cutlass wound it was, an’ ‘is brains was comin’ out th’ side o’ ‘is ‘ead. Decided ‘e was an officer, I did, from the look of ‘im, an’ then I musta passed out, cuz the next thing I can recall was comin’ to below – on Shannon, it was, an’ I ‘ad manacles on me wrists. Recollect you was there, Robert, and Tingley too. Didn’t see none o’ the others o’ you coves, though ‘til we took our little walk through the woods, an’ precious little o’ that comes to me mind. Don’t recall seein’ any o’ the officers either.” Conoughy stopped, and looked around at his former shipmates, obviously glad to be back in their company, and anxious for news. His eyes fell on Jack Clements, and he frowned. “What ‘appened to your ear, Jack? Ain’t natural, ‘avin’ but one.”
“Well ain’t that just so. Reckon the same thing what happened to your leg, ‘ceptin’ mine come clean off.” Clements filled in the details of his wound for the Irishman and finished his tale with “…but I don’t pay it no mind; got me another what works just fine, long as people talk into that side o’ me head!” He laughed ruefully and sat down in the dirt. “As to the officers, well, I guess you ain’t heard that Cap’n Lawrence been dead since afore we come to anchor in Halifax. Didn’t hear nothin’ from any o’ the lads ‘bout buryin’ him at sea, so I reckon they took him ashore to bury. Seen Mister Blanchard an’ Mister Cox goin’ ashore from Shannon ‘bout the same time as the rest of us, but I got no idea what happened to ‘em then. They ain’t here, though, I can tell you that. Heard Mister Ludlow was cruel hurt; he’d likely be in the hospital at the dockyards in Halifax – or dead.”
“Zee ‘ospital sends out anozer, eh? An’ zees one, he ees alive, not for zee, em, ‘ow you say, bury on la petite island, oui? Georges strolled up to the group and stuck out his hand to the Irish gunner. “I am called Fragard.”
Tim looked up at the Frenchman, smiled, and took his hand. Johnson spoke up for the first time. “This cove’s Georges, Tim. Speaks English pretty good for a Frenchy an’ he’s been some helpful to a few of us, what with showin’ us the ropes an’ all. Been here a while, so he knows most o’ what’s doin’.” Johnson held up the piece of bone he had been whittling on. “Showed us ‘bout makin’ gewgaws for the bazaar they hold ever’ Sunday. Ain’t sold nothin’ yet, but these Frenchies ain’t doin’ bad at it, near as I can figger.” He smiled at Fragard, who nodded.
“Mai oui. In time, mon ami, you will be selling to zee peoples from Alfax too. When you ‘ave something to sell, I think.” He looked back to Tim and continued. “I esplain you. Most of my countrymen ‘ave been ‘ere since zee beginning. After all, consider; les Français ‘ave been at war wit’ the British for many more years than les Americains.” He puffed up a little, and continued. “I myself ‘ave been ‘ere after one year an’ more on zee – how you say, les bateaux – zee sheeps without zee masts in Bedford Basin – oui, zee ‘ulks. Thees island was still zee fish factory when first I bring ‘ere, you are un’erstand me? I think my Anglais ees not so good.”
“Aye, Georges, I understand you just fine. But ‘ow’s a cove get ‘imself off this island, eh? No interest ‘ave I ‘t’all in stayin’ ‘ere more time ‘an it takes to figger out a way off…and get me leg to work proper.” Tim grimaced as he shifted his weight on the little stool.
“You, I zink, will not be leaving soon, mon ami. Even if zere was – ‘ow you say, le rue – zee street to lead you over. Per’aps, when zee leg can walk, zen you get on zee work party, an’ maybe zen you see a way. You must have zee patience, you are un’erstan’ me?”
“Patience, aye. Got me plenty o’ that, by all that’s ‘oly. An’ me leg be ‘ealin’ right quick. Won’t be long afore I’m…‘old on there. Why ain’t you coves got your own selves on a work party?” He looked sharply at his former shipmates and was greeted with sorrowful looks.
“They ain’t givin’ the Chesapeakes any work parties, Tim. I reckon they figger we might try to escape. An’ they got us under they’s eyes most o’ the time – ‘ceptin’ at night and then we’re locked into the barracks. An’ there’s a long gun – eighteen-pounder I’d guess from the size of it – right outside the gate an’ aimed in. Heard it was loaded with grape, case anyone opens the gate when they shouldn’t. ‘Cordin’ to Georges here, ain’t no one ever got off the island without they was on a work party.” Jake shook his head. “Don’t mean we ain’t been thinkin’ on it, though. Couple of the lads got some ideas workin’, but no one’s tried to make it yet. One of them even thought o’ bustin’ the head one o’ the dandies what comes in on Sundays for the bazaar an’ takin’ his clothes an’ walkin’ right out with the rest of ‘em when they leave. Might happen, too.”
The conversation was interrupted by a commotion at the main gate. They watched as it opened, allowing a work party to return under the watchful eyes of three marines with muskets held ready. Through the opening in the palisades they could all see the Royal Marines outside on the mainland, attentively manning their artillery piece. Indeed, as Jake had mentioned, it was aimed right into the compound. At the end of the work party, a tall man, not in uniform, and obviously not part of the work gang, walked up to the turnkey, held a brief conversation, and entered the compound. The gate swung closed behind him and he stopped, as if getting his bearings. As he turned toward the Chesapeakes, his face broke into a smile and he walked confidently forward.
“By all that’s holy, lads, would you lookee there. Mister Blanchard, over here.” Clements was on his feet again, and waving his arms toward to approaching figure. Indeed, it was Midshipman – still Acting Lieutenant – Blanchard, and in civilian clothes. He looked older than any remembered him, even though it was something less than two months since they had parted company on the deck of Shannon in Halifax Harbor.
“Are you lads doing well? Do they take care of you? Bosun, how’s that head, eh? Tate, sorry about your arm, lad. Reckon you’ll be out of all this once we get ourselves home. Gunner, when last I seen you, you could barely walk, and no mistake there.” He nodded at the others. “I reckon you‘ll want to know that Cap’n Lawrence died from his wounds afore we got to anchor an’ they give him a captain’s burial, right in Halifax. Turned out a host of Royal Navy and Marines, an’ the senior-most captains in the harbor was his pall-bearers. Let what was left of the American officers an’ midshipmen march in the procession. Buried him with full honors, they did. Mister Ludlow too.” He saw the surprised looks and hastened to explain. “I reckon you know the first lieutenant was sore wounded during the fightin’ and, while he lingered for a week an’ more after we come in, he didn’t survive his wounds. The Brits gave him a fine funeral as well and buried him right next to the cap’n. Most o’ the townfolks turned out for it, well as for the cap’n. Had a church service an’ procession with honors befittin’ his rank all the way to the graveyard. I was right there with Mister Cox.” He stopped, as if thinking, for a moment. The bosun filled the brief silence and was joined immediately by the other Chesapeakes in a rush of questi
ons.
“Where they got you, Mister Blanchard, an’ why ain’t you locked up?”
“What happened to your uniform? They take it away from you, or what?”
“Who else ‘sides Mister Cox an’ you is still alive?”
“Can you get us outta ‘ere?”
“What of the ship, sir?”
The young lieutenant laughed, and held up his hands. “Haul short there, men. I’ll tell you what you want to know.” He looked at the expectant faces around the group and tried to give nothing away with his own expression. One of the men jumped up and offered Blanchard his seat, and the lieutenant sat down. The men gathered around him; even Conoughy leaned forward, the better to hear his officer’s news. And Georges Fragard, after a brief introduction to the American officer, hunkered down with the others to hear news of the outside world.
“The Brits give all – ha, ‘all’, indeed; there wasn’t but two of us an’ a handful of mids still alive – or out of the hospital.” The young officer laughed ruefully and began again. “They gave Mister Cox and me our parole and took us across the harbor to a town called Preston. There’s a bunch of Frogs – pardon, m’seur – officers all, who been livin’ there for some years. Seems like that’s where they put all the captured officers, seein’ as how there ain’t but little chance to run off – and we all gave our parole on top of it. Anyway, the place’s just farms and poor folk who put the officers into spare rooms, or in their barns, I reckon, at times. The Agent for Prisoners gives us an allowance of half pay, most of which goes to the farmer for the room and what little food they can spare us. I borrowed some money from one of the French officers to buy some clothes so I didn’t have to wear the uniform all the time. The Chesapeake’s still to anchor in the harbor and when I come across in the ferry from Dartmouth just this morning, there was a passel of boats still around it, like they’d never seen a frigate afore. As to gettin’ you out of here; that’s…well, I don’t know…you see, there’s talk of exchanging the officers for some Brit officers bein’ held in Boston, but nobody has said anything about exchanging you men. I don’t know what will happen there, but I’ll speak to the Agent for Prisoners when next I see him, and inquire.”
Their faces, hoping for good news, fell, and even though most knew, or guessed before they heard it that they were here for the duration, despaired at hearing the words spoken aloud. They would be here until the war ended. Whenever that would be.
The conversation drifted on, with little of consequence being said, until the lieutenant stood, saying “Well lads, it’s back to Preston for me; wouldn’t want to get picked up by our ‘hosts’ wandering around the streets of Halifax. You watch yourselves, and I’ll get back when I can.”
With that, he shook a few hands, and strode purposefully toward the gate, which was opened by the guard. The Chesapeakes watched his departure silently; one lifted a hand and waved to the officer’s back, unseen, and then the gate was closed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Asa Rogers looked around the room; quite impressive, he thought. Certainly fancier than the meetin’ room in my place. Likely impresses anyone comin’ in to make a deal with the Crowninshields. He had been shown into the room by a mousy clerk, whose appearance was not in the least enhanced by the threadbare and dingy shirt showing above the equally worn waistcoat which lacked several buttons on its front. The young clerk had asked him apologetically to “Have a seat, sir, while I fetch the misters.”
Before he sat, however, he had a look around the room; surprisingly, Rogers had not before been entertained in this room by his sometimes friendly competitors. Must be something important, to be summoned here, he thought.
Around the room was a variety of paintings of men and ships; many bore labels on the ornate frames indicating the subject and the date. Some ranged back to the pre-Revolution days, he noted, and depicted the hard-eyed stares of former Crowninshields, obviously masters and deep-water men; no pallid paper shufflers in this group! He studied closely a brilliant image of a ship, a brig of some considerable draft; it looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. Well, I likely seen it more’n once comin’ or goin’ from the harbor. Guess it would be strange for it not to be familiar-looking. He was still studying it when he sensed rather than saw or heard a presence behind him. He turned, as George Crowninshield, Jr. spoke to him.
“She sails as good as she looks and I agree, she’s a handsome vessel, by all the stars! Hullo Asa, and thankee kindly for comin’ by.”
“Hello George. I didn’t hear you come in, so intent was I on this fine lookin’ brig. She looks mighty familiar; reckon I’ve seen her in person more’n once comin’ or goin’.”
George looked at his guest with a bemused expression. “I should hope; she’s young George’s command – the self-same one what met you t’other day when you was bringin’ in those prizes. You recollect the brig Henry, I ‘magine. Accordin’ to George, you two give each other quite a scare. Good thing neither of you turned out to be what the other thought – surely woulda come out different, I’d warrant.” The senior Crowninshield smiled, albeit thinly, and, while his eyes crinkled with mirth, his thin lips barely curled upwards to show a glimpse of yellowed teeth.
“Fine young man, young George is.” Rogers deflected the conversation away from his memory lapse. “Hadn’t seen him in some time, until the other day. Almost didn’t recognize him when he came aboard. Half expected you when he hollered across the water that he was ‘George Crowninshield.’ A competent seaman, I’d warrant, as well.”
“Aye, he is that. I gave him the Henry brig upon fittin’ her out as a privateer, and right pleased I am, indeed, with what he’s done with her. More’n a half dozen prizes he’s brought in, some with fine cargoes that turned the firm a tidy sum. But you ain’t interested in our successes. And that’s not what I asked you here for, either. Something more serious by half, I’d warrant, and something I’m bettin’ you’ll want join with, if I know you, Asa.”
Rogers looked hard at his friend. They were competitors and unlikely it was that George Crowninshield would invite his longest and strongest competitor to ‘join with’ anything of commercial benefit. Rogers’ firm was still considered by the Crowninshield family to be ‘upstarts’; it had only been in business for one generation, coming into the second with Asa’s sons, while the other’s history went back well into the days when Massachusetts was still only a colony. Even so, next to George’s enterprise, there was none with a longer history, nor more successes, than the Rogers’ firm. He sat down in the offered chair and George walked around the long table to sit opposite him.
The silence hung heavily in the room as Crowninshield collected his thoughts. He steepled his fingers in front of his face, his elbows resting on the highly polished table. Piecing blue eyes under bushy gray eyebrows stared at his competitor, his mouth a thin line. Suddenly, he dropped his arms to the table and folded in all but his index fingers; still steepled, they pointed at Rogers like a long gun poking out from a gun port.
“Young George’ll be with us in a moment, but I reckon we can start. Let me tell you some background and then I’ll lay out my plan to you.
“Two months past, back in June, the first it was – a dreadful day, by all the stars – Jim Lawrence took the Chesapeake frigate out to meet HMS Shannon right off the harbor down to Boston. I believe you mighta missed the horrible event, bein’ as how you had the General Washington at sea, if the memory serves.”
“Aye. That’s a fact. Come in the day after the battle – passed the two of ‘em during the early morning afore we made port. Found out later it was them we passed knotting and splicing and makin’ repairs afore they headed up to Halifax, I guess.”
“Well, as you read in the papers, Cap’n Jim was cruel hurt during the battle and died afore even they raised Halifax. The Brits, from all accounts, give him a splendid funeral with all the trappings fittin’ a captain – even a Royal Navy captain.” He paused again. Rogers nodded, his face giving not
hing away, and his friend pressed on.
“Problem is, Lawrence got buried up there in Halifax along with his first lieutenant, a Mister Ludlow, who passed on some days after they was in. Some of the folks hereabouts don’t think that’s right, an American frigate captain – a hero, in point of fact – bein’ buried in British soil. I aim to go get him – and Ludlow.”
At that point the door opened and young George strode in, his pinched face and close-set eyes darted around the room and took in Asa Rogers sitting opposite his father, to whom he spoke first.
“Sorry I kept you waiting, sir. Had some pressing matters that needed takin’ care of right quick. Nice to see you again, Cap’n Rogers. I collect you made the harbor without difficulty?” Again, his lips smiled, but not his eyes.
“That we did, George. And thanks in no small way to your well-informed advice on the blockaders. Woulda’ been mighty inconvenient to meet up with one or more of them, what with the General not totally fit and them other two jury rigged just enough to get ‘em home. I thank you again.”
The younger Crowninshield formed his mouth into what might pass for a smile and nodded once in acknowledgment. The pleasantries done with, his father continued.
“Sit, George. I was just about to tell Asa about my plan to bring Lawrence and Ludlow back to Salem and give ‘em a proper funeral and a monument right here in town.” He turned back to Rogers and smiled thinly; the tip of his tongue, startlingly pink against the pale skin, poked out and wet his bloodless lips. “I got a letter of truce signed by Mister Madison down to Washington which I ‘spect’ll let us sail to Halifax without bein’ bothered by the Royal Navy; and should they wish to board, the letter’ll likely provide us with passage into and then back out of Halifax Harbor. I aim to sail the Henry brig right up to their Dockyard and get the two of ‘em and then sail back out again. I reckon that what with them Brits bein’ civilized folk, they oughtn’t to have any difficulty with us carryin’ home our dead. What do you think?”
A Fine Tops'l Breeze: Volume Two in the War of 1812 Trilogy Page 24