Old Glory

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘You have shown this … this infernal machine to the Hopkins brothers?’ Paul demanded.

  ‘Well, Captain, John Hopkins is Commissioner for the Navy, and his brother commander-in-chief. I deemed it best to start at the top.’

  ‘And what was their reaction?’

  ‘Well, sir, as I say, they seemed quite unable to grasp the principles involved. They merely kept repeating that it was a machine no civilised gentleman could consider employing.’

  ‘And they were absolutely right,’ Jones declared.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Propelling oneself through the water out of sight of man, and affixing an explosive charge to the hull of another man’s ship, why, sir, that is as dishonourable a thing as I have ever heard.’

  Bushnell opened his mouth and then closed it again.

  ‘Did Shakespeare not write that all is fair in love and war?’ Harry asked.

  ‘I do not take my ethics from some itinerant poet,’ Jones growled.

  ‘But as you have yourself recently said, John, our task is a simple one, if stark: beat the British or hang. If the choice is as straightforward as that, can we really afford to treat them as gentlemen? Will they treat us as gentlemen when they place the nooses around our necks?’

  ‘Harry, you are all set up to be a confounded sea lawyer,’ Paul declared. ‘I do not, in any event, expect that this device will work. Why have you brought the matter to us, Mr Bushnell?’

  ‘Why, sir, I seek support. And I seek a crew.’

  ‘Ah,’ Jones said. ‘You will not manage this … this submersible, yourself. You have more sense.’

  ‘I have the utmost confidence in my design, sir,’ Bushnell said with considerable dignity. ‘And I have already demonstrated, at least to my own satisfaction, that it works. Alas, gentlemen …’ he glanced at Harry. ‘I am a medical student, not a man of choice. My experiments have also convinced me that I lack the physical strength to propel the craft more than a few feet, and obviously she will have to be armed and launched some distance from her target to be effective.’

  ‘You mean you seek someone like myself,’ Harry said.

  ‘Harry, you are utterly mad, and I absolutely forbid it,’ Paul said.

  ‘Alas, Captain McGann,’ Bushnell said. ‘You would be the ideal man for the task, except that there is no way I could fit your frame into the hull. I need a strong man, certainly, but he must also be a small one.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Paul Jones said. ‘Well, Mr Bushnell, I am flattered that you should have come to me with your proposal, but I must refuse to assist you. Not only do I regard it as a suicide mission for the man involved, and I would ask no man to commit suicide save in defence of his own honour, but I also regard your proposals as amongst the most dishonourable I have ever heard. When men fight, Mr Bushnell, they should face each other, and know what the other means to do. I do not always agree with Mr Hopkins, but on this occasion I must do so. Good day to you, sir.’

  Bushnell gazed at him for several seconds, then he looked at Harry. Who could do nothing more than shrug.

  The little man gathered up his plans and left the cabin without another word.

  ‘Now there is a pity,’ Harry remarked. ‘To sink that frigate in New York would be a very desirable occurrence.’

  Paul grinned. ‘You’re not still hankering after your Tory beauty? If you are, Harry, you’ll get her, in the course of time, but by honourable means. Step one will be regaining control of the Chesapeake. Whenever our famous commodore decides to put to sea.’

  *

  ‘There you go, Mr McGann,’ said Captain Biddle. ‘you may set the ensign.’

  Harry took the rolled bunting, handed it to the waiting boatswain. The halliard was attached, and the ensign slowly unfurled as it climbed the mizen mast, while the crew, assembled in the waist of the brig Andrew Dona, broke into cheers.

  The flag consisted of thirteen horizontal red stripes on a white background, cantoned with thirteen white stars on a blue background, the numbers in each case representing the Thirteen Colonies. Harry supposed this moment could be called the birth of the Continental Navy. Which was rather a contradiction in terms. But then, the whole war had so far been largely a contradiction in terms.

  And at least they were at sea, after near a year in port. That in itself had been a contradiction, in more terms, for a Navy. If anything had been imperative last spring, it should have been haste, to hit the British as hard as possible before they had the time to marshal their enormous resources, especially at sea. And surely the only worthwhile course open to the Colonial Navy had been the harassing of all transports en route from England with men and supplies for the army in North America, as John Paul had suggested at the outset. To implement that, Harry had been prepared to accept Paul’s further argument in favour of seizing control of the Chesapeake, as a huge base from which to operate. That had made a lot of sense, last April. But it was now February, 1776, and the fleet was at sea for the first time. Ezek Hopkins, supported by his brother, had refused to let them out until he was satisfied that every last detail had been attended to. That might have made sense had they been about to embark on a vast distant campaign, which might have kept them away from any friendly port for several years. But they were intended to operate off their own shore, and they had needed to begin their operations, then. Instead, they had sat on the moorings, and painted, and varnished, and loaded supplies, and tried to make up their store of munitions to the level demanded by the Commodore, without ever succeeding, simply because there was not sufficent powder and ball to be had, if the Continental Army was also to be kept in being. Thus the ships were still only half armed.

  And while they had waited, the British had acted. Outside Boston they had stormed the American position at Bunker Hill, suffering a great many casualties to be sure, but achieving their objective — significantly because the Americans had run out of ammunition. An American attempt to invade Canada had failed. And if all the time, according to rumour, more and more men were rallying to the call in Massachusetts, and Colonel, now General, Washington was reportedly organising this force as best he could, it yet remained an undisciplined and inexperienced collection of individuals, their only virtues courage and marksmanship. While the British continued to pour men into both Boston and New York, as well as farther south — and the Continental Navy had done nothing to stop them.

  And Lizzie Bartlett? But he endeavoured never to think of Lizzie Bartlett. She had brought him disaster whenever their paths had crossed.

  But now at last they were at sea; eight little ships had left the Delaware over a week ago, although Harry could only make out six of them now. And all those present were breaking out the Colonial colours, having crept away from the coast under a variety of flags just in case they happened to encounter a British frigate. A single frigate, Harry thought bitterly.

  Yet they could still accomplish something. There remained a British squadron of little ships based on Norfolk and controlling the Chesapeake. They could still obtain that victory of which Paul Jones had dreamed. Poor Paul had grown increasingly morose and ill tempered as week had succeeded week and they had continued to sit in port; it had taken all of Harry’s powers of persuasion to stop him going off on his own, a deserter from the Continental Navy and a pirate to the British.

  Today Paul must be a happy man, Harry thought. He gazed at Paul’s own Alfred, then the Colombus, then the Wasp — flying the Commodore’s broad pennant — then the Cabot, the Providence, and beneath his own feet, the Andrew Doria. And there in the distance was the low green swamp of the island called Grand Bahama, most north westerly of the Bahama Islands, which had been appointed as their rendezvous in case they became separated. Not the ideal place from which to launch an attack on Chesapeake Bay, Harry would have thought, but at least well out of the way of any British cruisers — and far enough south to remove them also from the snow and ice at present gripping Pennsylvania, which more than one wag amongst the crews had suggeste
d was Commodore Hopkins’ principal reason for choosing it.

  The signals were flying to summon an officers’ conference. ‘You’ll accompany me to the flagship, Mr McGann,’ Nathaniel Biddle said. He was indeed a pleasure to have as captain, for apart from being an excellent seaman and navigator, thanks to his naval service, he had also managed to cram as much adventure and experience into his twenty six years as Harry had into his, although of a totally different sort. He was fondest of relating how he had resigned his commission as a midshipman to sail before the mast on an expedition to the Arctic, and was a fund of amusing and interesting stories of that remote part of the globe, especially enjoying telling of another lad, even younger than himself, and named Horatio Nelson, who had once engaged a polar bear several times his size in a battle on the ice before being rescued by his shipmates. Compared with John Paul Jones, Biddle was a totally relaxed man, and he ran a relaxed ship — but even he had chafed at the year’s inactivity.

  With his eye for detail, Ezek Hopkins knew the right protocol with which to greet his subordinates. A boatswain’s whistle cooeed as they gained the deck, and a guard of honour of sailors waited to be inspected. Most of the other captains had already assembled, and there was much hand shaking and good natured chaff before they all ascended to the poop, where Hopkins and his nephew awaited them, before a table spread with charts.

  ‘Well, gentlemen,’ said the Commodore. ‘So far, a successful cruise.’

  The captains waited. There was nothing especially successful about having sailed from the Delaware to Grand Bahama, and on even that short cruise they seemed to have lost two of their number.

  ‘They will be along,’ Hopkins asserted, in answer to the unspoken question. ‘And if not, why, we will proceed without them. Because now I intend to act. You will be awaiting, anxiously, I am sure, to hear my dispositions. And it is for this purpose that I have summoned you here. I am well aware of the delays and frustrations that have kept us penned into port for near a year, that could, indeed should, have kept us inactive much longer, but for my determination to begin our campaign. Now all those frustrations are behind us, and we must strike, and strike hard, for the glory of this flag we today for the first time so proudly wear.’

  ‘It must be a night attack.’ Paul Jones said. ‘The British have mounted a battery on Cape Henry. But I will pilot the fleet. I know those waters as I know the deck of my own ship. The fleet has but to follow the Alfred.’

  Hopkins waited until he had finished, then he coughed. ‘I assume you are still considering an assault upon Norfolk, Virginia, Lieutenant Jones.’

  Paul Jones frowned at him. ‘Is that not our purpose in being at sea? Is that not the plan laid before Congress, and approved by them?’

  ‘The plan was laid before Congress, and approved by them,’ Hopkins agreed carefully, ‘providing it proved practicable on reconnaissance, and providing also no superior objective hove in view by the time of our sailing. I have to tell you that indeed circumstances have changed. As Captain … ah, Lieutenant Jones has reminded us, the British have constructed a battery on Cape Henry, which commands the entrance to the Chesapeake. I am afraid we do not have the power to engage this battery with any hope of success, and to attempt to feel our way past it in the dark, however accurate Lieutenant Jones’ navigation, would be to court disaster. I would indeed be guilty of dereliction of duty were I to hazard our entire fleet upon so desperate a venture. Fortunately …’ he tapped his maps.

  ‘Fortunately?’ Jones shouted. ‘You mean to abandon our plan? What is fortunate about that?’

  ‘If you will listen, you will learn, Lieutenant,’ Hopkins snapped. ‘We have the means at hand to achieve a much greater blow at British power and prestige. Over there.’ He pointed at the land, and beyond to the south east.

  ‘Over there?’ Biddle inquired. ‘Over there is only a mass of uninhabited Bahamian islands, and Nassau.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Hopkins said.

  ‘Nassau?’ Jones cried. ‘A run down fishing village?’

  ‘The capital of a British colony, gentlemen,’ Hopkins declared. ‘And, I have learned, the centre of a vast store of munitions which our cause badly needs, which this fleet badly needs. Nassau, gentlemen, that is our objective. There we will both twist the lion’s tail and make him howl, and rearm ourselves, and many a good ship besides. Nassau, gentlemen, Nassau!’

  CHAPTER 8 – Bahamas, New York and France, 1776-77

  ‘There is a battery mounted here,’ Ezek Hopkins said, prodding his map. ‘This commands the western approach to Nassau Harbour. This is the only practical approach, as the eastern entrance is encumbered with reefs, and is also protected by a fort, called Montague. Up here, behind the town on this ridge, is another fort, Fincastle, which commands the harbour. But it is the western battery that concerns us. This is not actually a fortress, but it is certainly manned at all times, and as I have said, it totally commands the entrance. Therefore it must be dealt with before we can attempt to seize the town.’

  ‘A landing party,’ Paul Jones said. ‘I will lead it.’

  ‘You will not, sir,’ Hopkins told him. ‘Captains stay with their ships.’

  ‘Then allow me to volunteer, sir,’ Harry said.

  ‘The entire force will have to be volunteers, Lieutenant McGann. This is a dangerous mission.’

  Harry nodded. ‘I will see how many I can muster, sir.’

  ‘Then go to it, and God speed. I estimate we will lie off the harbour by dusk tomorrow, if this wind hold steady. The forts must be destroyed just before dawn on the following morning, that we may enter at first light.’

  ‘Aye, aye,’ Harry said.

  Paul Jones followed him on deck. ‘Ever the man for action, my fighting Irishman. How I envy your inferior rank at this moment.’

  ‘How I look forward to seeing your ships sweep into the harbour, John, at dawn the day after tomorrow.’

  Paul Jones squeezed his fingers. ‘We shall be there. I shall be there, at the least. But mind you are alive to greet me.’

  There was no problem in obtaining volunteers. Each captain took the plan back to his ship with him, and soon every rigging was crowded with men eager to take part. Harry decided on two boats, a total of forty men, and took six from each ship, with ten from the Andrew Doria, as he knew them best. During the day, while he was accumulating his force and making sure every man knew what he was about, the squadron sailed up the Western Providence Channel in a light south easterly breeze, and altered course past the Berry Islands to beat down towards New Providence itself, on which the capital of the Bahamas, Nassau, was situated. They passed but one fishing boat, the crew of which waved at them cheerfully enough, obviously unaware of what their flags stood for.

  Before dusk they were in sight of Hog Island, the pine clustered sandbank which guarded Nassau Harbour itself and made it one of the safest in the New World. To Harry’s surprise, but not apparently to Hopkins’, this island was deserted and undefended. The town beyond, on the larger island, could be seen in the distance beyond the harbour, but the batteries were hidden from view, and the squadron dropped anchor in the shelter of the pine trees so as not to be overlooked from the shore. Undoubtedly the Nassauvians would know there were ships at anchor, but not why or from where, and apparently they were content to wait and find out.

  At midnight the raiding party was assembled on board the Andrew Dona, when each man was issued with a musket and a brace of pistols in addition to his cutlass, while the carpenter carried iron spikes and mallets to drive them into the touchhole of each cannon, and thus render them unusable until the spikes could be extracted again.

  ‘Your signal?’ Captain Biddle checked.

  ‘A single cannon shot,’ Harry replied. ‘Then God speed, Harry McGann. Be sure this night will not be forgotten.’

  ‘We shall tell our grandchildren,’ Harry promised, his face twisting as he realised that he was unlikely now ever to have grandchildren. But this was his first independent action, a
nd he was in command. He felt a tremendous sense of exhilaration as he boarded the lead boat, and his men pulled away from the anchored fleet, steering parallel with the dark bulk of the island to their south; there was no moon and the night was utterly dark. But soon they saw the ripples of white marking the reef which extended from the western end of the island and formed the northern arm of the entrance to the harbour. This was the passage the battery commanded, and at which their lookouts would be staring, with every gun no doubt already loaded and certainly trained to fire exactly into the centre of the narrow waterway, thus effectively barring it to hostile vessels. And the battery was certainly manned; as the boats pulled out of the lee of Hog Island Harry could see lights. Farther east, there were lights glowing in Nassau Town itself, but the entire community was clearly still blissfully ignorant that there were any enemies about.

  He led his two boats to the west until he had calculated they had gone about a mile; now the lights were well behind them, and New Providence was a dark mass to their south, a solid forest of casuarina pines fringing the beach, which gleamed dull white in the gloom. Now they were beyond the end of the Hog Island reef, but New Providence was itself fringed by a reef, and this had to be crossed before the beach could be reached. Fortunately the tide was high and the sea calm; Harry did not know if there was a passage through the coral, and he certainly did not have the time to look for one. ‘South,’ he whispered, and himself went forward to lean over the bow, peering down into the darkness as he tried to see the coral heads. Eighteen inches of water was all he needed, but he knew it was probably more shallow than that in places. And soon there came a crunch, and then another, and the boat was jarred left and right. He realised how fortunate they were that what breeze there was came from the south east, and was therefore blowing the sound of their striking away from the land.

  ‘Keep pulling,’ he commanded, as the instinctive reaction of the seamen was to back oars on touching a rock. ‘But easy now.’