by James Spurr
Perry was acknowledged by the crew of his gig, so the lad turned and knuckled his obedience. Perry asked, “Are you, Mr. Leech, a Macedonian? “
“Aye, Sir, that is, or rather, was correct.”
Perry nodded, then inquired somewhat surprised, “Here, on deck of United States?”
The lad nodded and explained, “We’ll be taken ashore any moment. Your Captain, Sir, split our crew so to reduce any chance of us retaking Macedonian.” He shrugged and observed, “A wise cove, that, he is!”
Perry boarded his gig and his crew found the stroke. Although wrapped in his cloak, he suddenly shuddered as he thought, and not from the cold. He may never be able to manage that which Hull and Decatur had proved possible, but still, he would rather fail than never try. He landed, walked home with few orders or directions to pass on to Mr. Goodman other than to, “Carry on.” After packing some food in a satchel, Perry took not to a deck, but to saddle. He informed Elizabeth that he must make haste for Boston.
Elizabeth assumed he had orders and assured him of her love. Orders? Only from his heart and soul; a mandate from his conscience to prove himself a man. He must have a command. He must be tried under fire. He must resolve if these pangs of self doubt were real or would evaporate when the iron began to fly, as so much sea smoke on a winter’s row across Newport harbor. Perry must come to know at least all of that about himself before he could ever consider his worth among others.
Chapter Eight
Oliver Williams and William Lee stamped their boots free of snow, removed their hats and allowed their eyes to adjust to the tavern interior. It was thick with smoke from a poorly drafted hearth fire and numerous patrons enjoying clay pipes. There was the instant rush of noise: conversation, laughter, mugs and tableware rattling, scuffing chairs upon wide plank oak, and Oliver in particular found the high level of background noise difficult and uncomfortable after his prior months of near solitude and the morning’s quiet ride through fresh snow amid brilliant sunshine.
William had coaxed Oliver away from his family home in Roxbury for a day trip and a closer look at the ships in Boston harbor. They had basked now for three weeks in the flood of love and relief washed over them since the late one evening when Oliver raised the latch of his boyhood home and surprised both his immediate and extended family with his release from imprisonment; the result of William’s good efforts. His children leapt upon him, bringing him to his knees in what seemed an extended hug lasting not nearly long enough. Both Oliver and William were overjoyed that Mary and Be-Mo-se had received William’s note, posted from Black Rock, encouraging them to make the journey from Detroit to Roxbury.
Oliver would be forever indebted to William for his precaution and good sense. Mary was with child and the privations of occupied Detroit with the uncertainties of native restraint had caused him many sleepless nights while respecting his parole in Kingston. Mary and Be-Mo-se had arrived just four days before them, well rested and in excellent health. William would, in turn, be forever indebted to his more senior friend, Samuel, who abandoned his inn, ‘The Pontiac House’, which had been essentially confiscated by British officers in Detroit, insisting that he accompany and assist the women and Mary’s children in traveling east.
Finding no open table, Oliver and William found two chairs at the corner of the bar. They ordered and as their ale was poured and delivered, Oliver asked, “William, what did you make of the ships in harbor?”
William shook his head, quenched his thirst and offered sadly, “Nowhere near the number as last I was here before moving to the Northwest. Certainly, the recent blockade is having an effect.”
Oliver noted, “The war, of course; so many of the merchants must be in some real distress.”
William agreed, “Just as on the Great Lakes.”
Oliver suddenly recalled he was, in every respect, describing his own situation. As a loaf of warm bread was torn in half and his share handed him by William, he said, “I have reported the loss of Friends Good Will to my creditors here in Boston by letter last week. I have heard nothing in reply as yet, but really should meet with them next week.”
“What will happen, Oliver?” William sounded genuinely concerned for his best friend, and genuinely curious. With respect to business and commercial matters with which his familiarity with the sea held little relevance, he had no idea what Oliver could expect.
Oliver shrugged, “I am not certain the contract I negotiated with the underwriters would even cover the cost of the hull, and certainly not the cargo of furs purchased in Chicago. They are a total loss to me. Many have suggested insurance would not cover the risk of being taken as a prize in war in any event. With my store in Detroit essentially closed, I have little left to lose; from my creditor’s view, little to offer. Who knows in what state we will find our homes should Detroit ever be retaken. Perhaps the creditors will wait until the war is over or I can offer some repayment.”
Hot stew was placed before them, steaming about their faces as they took in the aroma. William breathed deep, thought for a while, but with little hope to offer, changed the subject. “The letter we received yesterday from James certainly lifted my spirits.”
Oliver noticed the gentleman sitting next to William, on the other side of the corner, seemed to overhear, but as he showed no ill intent and was alone, Oliver took no offense. He agreed, “All of our spirits, to be sure. To think of James and Trove on Constitution! Do you know where they were bound after stopping at Norfolk?”
“Truly, I have no clue. He made no mention and I simply noticed the mark from the post,” but then William smiled a bit, more to himself as a father would when his measures, taken sometime before in Black Rock, had unfolded far better than he could have hoped.
The gentleman seated to his left, around the corner of the bar, now interjected in a most friendly manner, “My friends, this crowd keeps me from being able to distance myself from your conversation. Let me add that if someone you know is serving aboard Constitution, you and they are fortunate, indeed, and have good reason for some pride.”
William startled, not having noticed the patron had been listening for some time. He turned and asked, “Do you know her well?”
The gentleman was perhaps forty years of age, well dressed, and looked like a merchant. He spoke with a soft confidence that assured and relaxed. “Let me introduce myself, Sirs. I am Edmund Blunt. I am a cartographer and sell nautical instruments; often to our Navy. I have sold both charts and instruments to Constitution, ordered by both Captains Hull and Bainbridge. She is a fine frigate.”
“See there,” interjected Oliver, “the boys will be as well as any now serving the cause!”
William nodded and Mr. Blunt continued, “Certainly better than having to follow those fools commanding our Army. The Niagara campaign this past summer was some show of incompetence, to be sure.”
Oliver, sensing he was speaking with a well reputed expert in his field and a merchant at that, interjected, “Mr. Blunt, I am Oliver Williams, a merchant from Detroit and, well, until this past summer, a ship owner, until both fell to the British last August. My friend here, William Lee, is a merchant master of considerable skill and knowledge, lately of the Great Lakes.”
Mr. Blunt, seeming to be in no hurry and appreciating the company, summoned the attention of the landlord and called, “My good man, three more ales, on my account!” He then turned to Oliver and offered, “I am also a merchant, Sir, having opened my first nautical bookshop in Newburyport, some years back. Later, I moved to New York to be closer to major shipping interests, but aside from my shops, I have always first loved my years spent underway, charting for the benefit of our mariners.”
William thought carefully back to the years following 1805 when for three years he served as a merchant Master of coastal vessels along the east coast, shipping from Philadelphia, “Why, Mr. Blunt, I believe I am familiar with some of your work. Indeed, I relied on your charts heavily some years back. I say, you do fine work; most reliab
le.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Blunt beamed. “And tell me, how are the charts of the Great Lakes? I have always wanted to experience the inland seas but, alas, I can not fathom how to find the time.” With a new round before them, all relaxed and settled in for a pleasant afternoon.
“If ever you do find the time and opportunity, Mr. Blunt, should this war conclude in such manner as leaves us with a reason, please come to Detroit and I will make myself available to you for your convenience,” William encouraged.
Mr. Blunt grew more serious, “Tell me, am I correct in assuming the fact that the both of you, frequenting a tavern in Boston, speaks to the fact that the war goes poorly amid your homes and communities?”
Oliver attempted an answer, but looked around and lowered his voice, not wishing to invite any controversy, “Truly, Mr. Blunt, it could not have begun any worse for us or the nation. Why just last summer and before word even reached us that hostilities had begun, we lost Mackinaw, which serves as the choke point for three of the upper lakes. A short time thereafter, Detroit fell without firing a shot, I am ashamed to say, thus providing the British a choke point for a fourth upper lake. William, here, informed me just weeks ago that at the same time, although I was unaware, serving time as the guest of King George, Fort Dearborn fell, located at the southern reaches of Lake Michigan. It seems as things are going as badly on the Lakes as they did on the Niagara peninsula.”
William nodded. Mr. Blunt looked crestfallen, but then added, “Our navy boys have had their successes, but…,” his voice trailed off as he stared in deep thought.
William, ever the mariner, encouraged, “Come, Mr. Blunt, what are you thinking?”
Mr. Blunt returned to his present company and offered, “You see, we build fine ships and have available much talent, learning as we did from the English and obviously with a great many miles of coastline to encourage the best of practices. But we are so young. We have few sizable ships and we lack uniformity and training, not yet having formed that discipline that is the hallmark of the Royal Navy… . It seems our tradition is as thin as the ice on Back Bay. In short, we need to mature, which is difficult to accomplish with anything but time; the one requirement of which we are in short supply.”
With so many new, interesting and important topics now before the trio, Oliver summoned the Landlord for what would that afternoon become a predicable request.
Perry sat with William Jones, Secretary of the United States Navy, in the latter’s hotel room. As he had ridden from Newport to Boston just the day before he had rehearsed for his most important interview thus far in this conflict. He thought a great deal about the number of letters that preceded this visit, all failing to produce an adequate appointment. In his rowing back from Macedonian, he recalled Secretary Jones was in Boston, mentioned to him in his last disappointing reply and he reflected on his conversation with Captain Decatur in the great cabin of United States. Perry appreciated the rare opportunity of having to travel only to Boston instead of Washington, and upon his arrival, pressed his superior for some small amount of time.
Having stated his business and made his appeal, first leading with the wonderful news now just starting to appear in the nation’s newspapers of United States capturing Macedonian, Perry wondered whether he had wasted his time and how many similar appeals Secretary Jones heard each week, if not each day.
But finally, in his hotel room, Secretary Jones simply lowered his eyes, thought for some minutes, went to his desk and then scanned over some correspondence, all without saying a word. Perry was becoming uncomfortable with the silence and was not quite certain his reluctant host was even concentrating upon anything Perry had uttered. But Perry remained cautious and was careful not to annoy, for once exercising a trait for which he was often ill equipped: patience. Some minutes passed. Secretary Jones sat at his desk, then looked up and asked, “Perry, could you persuade those in your command to follow you?”
Perry thought to ask where, but excitement got the better of him. He admonished himself, Do not, for God’s sake, quibble with such details. Where could he possibly send me worse than my present station? and quickly assured, “Of course, Mr. Secretary, all of my men are anxious for meaningful service.”
Secretary Jones asked, “And how many would that be, Captain, following you, that is?”
Perry, of course, had in mind the Macedonian and knew well of its manpower needs. “I am certain, Mr. Secretary, once repaired and ready for service, all 50 I now have in my command! That would certainly be a good start for a Ship’s Company requiring near 400.”
Secretary Jones quickly replied, “I have no idea to what you are referring, Captain.” Perry’s heart sank. Jones continued, “But I have here letters from Captain Chauncey. Do you know him or his mission?”
Perry shifted nervously in his chair, “I do not, Sir.”
“All the better,” Secretary Jones affirmed. “I do not need anyone with preconceived notions.”
Perry was now much confused. “Notions of what Sir?” He was beginning to think, indeed, Newport’s gunboats were perhaps not the worst place to while away the present conflict.
Secretary Jones stood, walked to the window and as he took the view of Boston’s streets and looked out to the blockaded harbor, explained, “Captain Chauncey is appointed to command two fleets. He requires a subordinate commander for one of those two. His Lieutenant, whom I had hoped would serve, Samuel Angus, has regrettably embroiled himself in some sort of feud with Chauncey and, I am informed, is presently under arrest. Now, there exists a fleet of gunboats on the Delaware that may serve as a substitute command for Angus. I could transfer him and you would be replacing Angus, serving under Chauncey. You would enjoy a good deal of autonomy serving under Chauncey and even more responsibility and challenges. I underscore, Perry, you would be subordinate to Chauncey, but with your own fleet. What say you to writing Chauncey and offering your services and your men? Your friend in Washington, William Rogers, has already spoken to me on your behalf.”
Perry could not believe his ears. He trusted Rogers. He liked the sound of words that he clearly heard from Secretary Jones and for a few seconds, he swam in their intoxicating implications; ‘fleet’, ‘autonomy’ and ‘responsibility’. Challenges? Certainly, and he believed himself to be ready. Perry responded, excitedly, but instinctively, “It sounds perfect for me, Sir! Where does this fleet lie?”
Secretary Jones continued to stare out the window and Perry could swear he saw a slight smile form on his face, reflected back in the glass. “Oh, I neglected to mention. It does not yet exist. And your command would be on Lake Erie, one of the Great Lakes.”
Perry was stunned. It sounded perfect, but for its fictional aspect and location, which to anyone raised on the east coast having already sailed the world’s oceans sounded like nothing remotely similar to serving at sea. Still, having realized he had been played, somewhat, while being given exactly what he asked for, he bit his tongue, hesitated but a second and exercised his prerogative as an officer, “I will certainly consider it, Mr. Secretary, and will let you know very soon.”
Secretary Jones played his only remaining card, “I am departing tomorrow after breakfast for Washington, where many fine young naval officers have asked to see me upon my return.” The implication was clear enough.
“I understand, Mr. Secretary.” And he did. Perry left, nearly staggering and somewhat dizzy from the interview. He headed for the nearest tavern to collect himself and slip into deep thought about that nagging self doubt, the course of his career and his service to the nation.
Mr. Blunt had just finished informing Oliver and William about the rumor he had heard over breakfast, “… one of our frigates having taken a British frigate as a prize.” Just ten minutes before, a young naval officer had slid into the chair next to Oliver. He appeared troubled. The scowl on his face and intense stare into his brandy was as dark as his wavy black hair. With one epaulette, suggesting the responsibility of some command, Oliver
, William and Edmund Blunt had given him the wide berth his expression and rank suggested was his privilege.
Suddenly, however, the young officer confirmed, without even looking at them, “United States, 44, with Captain Decatur in command, slipped into Newport harbor just yesterday morning. I witnessed her anchor and with her a prize: Macedonian, 38. Certainly, sirs, the event represents one of the more glorious chapters for our navy yet this war.”
Oliver, William and Edmund had been at the tavern long enough wherein they celebrated the news most enthusiastically, perhaps out of proportion to its strategic importance. This caused the young officer to smile, his first since the interview with Secretary Jones earlier that afternoon.
Introductions followed. “Master Commandant Perry, United States Navy,” Perry offered. Upon Oliver and William indicating their permanent homes and experience upon the inland seas, Perry inquired, with all possible intensity, “Pray, tell me, Sirs, about Lake Erie and the present situation.”
Oliver and William described their experiences, their impression of the present balance of power, offering their knowledge of vessels, the story of the capture of Friends Good Will and William even related his lowly opinion of Lieutenant James Fleet. Edmund Blunt shared his views as to the need for training, uniformity of practice, consistent seamanship and discipline. Perry inquired about the building practices in such a remote region and he and William discussed all details surrounding supply routes, which information had been given Lieutenant Elliott, of whom Perry had already read in regards to the capture of Caledonia and Detroit.
As he talked, Perry became more intrigued with the Great Lakes and instinctively seemed to understand their strategic importance. William felt Perry’s opinion of the likelihood and need “for a decisive encounter, determining the fate of the entire Northwest,” was entirely well founded and inevitable. Perry was as sober as his three companions were certainly not, but upon all points having to do with the need, possibility and importance of a fleet upon the Great Lakes, they were unanimous.