A Press of Canvas: Volume One in the War of 1812 Trilogy

by William H. White

  A press of canvas carries us out,

  half gale from astern.

  We’re out to teach the British, boys,

  a lesson they must learn.

  1812 forebitter chanty

  anonymous

  A PRESS OF CANVAS

  a novel by

  William H. White

  Volume one in the

  War of 1812 Trilogy

  Second Edition

  © William H. White 2000

  ISBN-13: 978-1499381771 (Soft Cover)

  ISBN-10: 1499381778 (Kindle Edition)

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means – graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or information storage and retrieval systems – without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art: Pursuit © Paul Garnett 2000

  Illustrations © Paul Garnett 2000

  Graphic design and production by:

  Palazzo Graphic Design, Bradley Beach, NJ

  Published by: Sea Fiction Press, Red Bank, NJ

  E-mail: topsl@seafiction.net

  Second Printing, June 2014

  By the same author:

  1812 Trilogy

  A Press of Canvas

  A Fine Tops’l Breeze

  The Evening Gun

  Oliver Baldwin novels:

  The Greater the Honor

  In Pursuit of Glory

  Edward Ballantyne novels:

  When Fortune Frowns

  Gun Bay

  Non-Fiction:

  …our Flag Was Still There

  DEDICATION

  This effort is dedicated to my three sons to whom I taught, and from whom in turn, I learned, the art of seafaring. They are my most ardent supporters, and critics; and to Ann, my mate on the life voyage we chose together – my source of support, consolation, and the occasional course correction, each as needed. Thank you each and every one for your love and patience with me.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Without the help of a number of special people, this work would not have been possible; I am indeed indebted to the good folks at the USS Constitution Museum in Boston, especially Margherita Desy and Marianne Galvin for their help in using the resources of that great institution. Also, the librarians at Peabody Essex Museum in Salem Massachusetts. Bill Fowler, author and historian, provided wisdom and insight, as well as some most useful technical information.

  Justine Ahlstrom of the National Maritime Historical Society in Peekskill, New York, and editor in chief of the Society’s magazine Sea History, was unstinting with her guidance and help in that institution’s library, and Peter Stanford, President of NMHS, for not only his incredible knowledge, but also his friendship and inspiration.

  Carol Klein, noted biographer and teacher, provided some course corrections early on, and encouragement that the project was indeed viable.

  My sister, Linda Wiseman, an scholar specializing in the field of historical interior design and architecture, helped with some invaluable research, adding to the accuracy of the novel, and my three sons lent their names and a few of their character traits to my efforts.

  Donald Petrie, most likely the single most knowledgeable American in the field of 19th century prize law was always available for questions and provided wisdom to me and accuracy to the actions of the American privateers operating in the Caribbean.

  John Hattendorf, scholar, historian, and sailor, provided a read and some worthwhile suggestions for improving the historical accuracy of the manuscript, not to mention his graciousness in providing a Foreword for the book.

  Any errors that might exist in the yarn you are about to read are mine alone, and can not in any way be attributed to these most helpful experts.

  Last, but in no way least, my friend, sailing buddy, and co-conspirator, Joseph Burns lent me not only his name and personality for the character of similar name, but also his encouragement as the work progressed.

  If I have succeeded in making this story interesting, exciting, or historically accurate, it is in no small measure because these good folks were unstinting in their willingness to help. Thank you all for making me look good.

  William H. White

  June, 1999

  FOREWARD

  W. H. White’s evocative sea tale, A Press of Canvas, introduces a new character in American sea fiction: Isaac Biggs of Marblehead Massachusetts. Sailing from Boston as captain of the foretop in the Bark Anne, his ship was outward bound with a cargo for the Swedish colony of St. Barts in the West Indies in the autumn of 1810, a difficult and complex moment in American history.

  Ships on the sea lanes of the North Atlantic world had been sailing under the nearly constant threat of war for seventeen years during the series of conflicts that had convulsed Europe since 1793. The young American republic, in its attempt to avoid “foreign entanglements,” had tried to stand clear of the huge political issues raised, first by the French Revolution and, then, by Napoleon’s bid for hegemony in Europe. In the process, Yankee ship-owners discovered that there were great profits for neutrals to make in carrying goods to the warring countries, but it soon became clear that, in such a world, commerce – neutral or not – was part of war. It had been the cargoes of American flour that led to the first great naval battle between the French and British war fleets at The Glorious First of June in 1794. At the same time, both French and British privateers preyed on American commerce as it served each other’s enemies. Such attacks finally forced the young republic to establish its own navy and to fight its first battles in the Quasi War with France.

  In these same years, the British faced as ever increasing demand for seamen to man warships in the own struggle for survival against France. As many English seamen deserted their own service for the higher pay and better conditions in the growing number of American ships, the British government increasingly stopped American ships and impressed British-born seamen from them. In response, the American government issued certificates of citizenship to protect its citizens, but the British officials found that they were too often forged or too easily negotiated to be believed and the practice continued to the increasing anger of Americans. Despite these continuing irritations, American maritime commerce boomed through the war years up to 1806.

  Increasingly irritated by British impressment of American seamen, Congress passed the Nonimportation Act in April 1806. With this Act, Congress was attempting to force the British to stop injuring American merchant activities by announcing America’s intention to ban imports of key British goods into the United States. Before U.S. diplomats could use this Act to exert much effect, the conflict with Europe overshadowed the American issues. First, Britain attempted to impose a blockade on French ports. Then Napoleon responded with his Berlin Decree, establishing full-scale economic war against Britain and blockading all trade to and from Britain with the “Continental System.” The British continued to impress American seamen, even in American waters. The most dramatic incident occurred in the summer of 1807, when HMS Leopard stopped the USS Chesapeake to search for British deserters just off the entrance to Chesapeake Bay, opening fire on her, wounding the commodore, James Barron, and seizing four crew members, only one of whom was, in fact, a deserter. In protest, President Jefferson ordered all visiting British naval vessels to
leave American ports.

  Meanwhile, American maritime commerce flourished as it had never done. In 1807, combined imports and exports reached a record value of $246 million, a figure it would not reach again for nearly thirty years in 1835. By November of 1807, Britain had begun to feel the pinch of Napoleon’s economic blockade and retaliated with the Orders in Council, requiring neutral ships trading in Europe to obtain a license in a British port. Those without a license, the British government declared, were liable to capture. A month later, Napoleon responded with his Milan Decree, declaring that any neutral that complied with the British orders were enemy vessels. America’s flourishing merchant trade, the largest among neutrals, was clearly caught in the struggle between two world powers.

  From this point in 1807, the situation worsened. Hoping to use the tool of economic coercion as a means of forcing the belligerents to recognize the mutual benefits brought by neutral trade, President Thomas Jefferson sponsored passage of the Embargo Act in Congress, prohibiting American Ships from trading with any foreign country. Legally, virtually all American overseas trade stopped, but naturally enough, enterprising Yankees found loopholes or merely defied the law in order to continue their profitable trade. While the embargo had relatively little effect on the belligerents, it quickly proved devastating to the American economy. Napoleon also used it to his advantage, claiming in his April 1808 Bayonne Decree that any American vessel that appeared in a French port must have fraudulent papers and was, therefore, subject to French seizure. The embargo remained in effect until nearly the end of Jefferson’s term in March 1809. Just three days before he left the office of President to James Madison, the Jefferson administration persuaded Congress to repeal the Embargo and replace it with the Non-Intercourse Act, opening American commerce to all nations, but retaining the prohibition on trade with France and England until one or the other (or both) abandoned policies that damaged American shipping.

  A year later, in May 1810, the American economy was suffering even more from the effects of America’s own policies than were either France or Britain. When the Non-Intercourse Act expired in the spring of 1810, Congress enacted in its place North Carolina Congressman Nathan Macon’s Bill Number 2, authorizing American ships to resume trading with both Britain and France. However, if one side would revoke its policies damaging American trade, Congress declared that it would then prohibit trade with the other, hoping to obtain some concessions for continuing American neutrality. Learning of the passage of Macon’s bill, Napoleon responded with a ruse, instructing his foreign minister to tell the United States’ envoy that the Berlin and Milan Decrees would be withdrawn after November 1, 1810, on the condition that the American government halted trade with Britain unless the British government withdrew its Orders in Council. In reporting Napoleon’s order to the American representative in France, the French foreign minister exaggerated by clearly suggesting that Napoleon had already withdrawn the Berlin and Milan Decrees. Unsuspecting, President Madison accepted the French statement at face value and immediately issued a proclamation reopening trade with France and declaring that trade with Britain would end in February 1811.

  Caught in the war between the two largest maritime empires, American trade remained under direct attack from the French, while the British continued to impress seamen from American vessels. The United States had fallen for Napoleon’s ruse and was on the verge of both cutting off trade with Britain and adding to the forces that were fighting Britain. This was clearly a French-manipulated threat that used the United States in Napoleon’s war against Britain, but it was also a dangerous and very difficult moment for America’s merchant ships and seamen.

  It is at this moment that Isaac Biggs left Boston in A Press of Canvas, and provides, through the art of historical fiction, a seaman’s viewpoint on the months that led up to the American declaration of war against Britain in June 1812.

  John B. Hattendorf

  Ernest J. King Professor of Maritime History

  U.S. Naval War College

  November 1998

  Newport, Rhode Island

  Sail Plan of a Square Rigged Ship

  1. Spanker

  2. Mizzen Topsail

  3. Mizzen Topgallant Sail

  4. Mizzen Staysail

  5. Mizzen Topmast Staysail

  6. Mizzen Topgallant Staysail

  7. Main Course Sail

  8. Main Topsail

  9. Main Topgallant Sail

  10. Main Staysail

  11. Main Topmast Staysail

  12. Main Topgallant Staysail

  13. Fore Course Sail

  14. Fore Topsail

  15. Fore Topgallant Sail

  16. Fore Topmast Staysail

  17. Fore Topmast Outer Staysail

  18. Jib

  19. Spritsail

  PART ONE

  On Board

  ANNE

  1810

  CHAPTER ONE

  A Storm is Brewing

  “Biggs, find Mr. Clark, if you please, and ask him to step aft.” Captain Jed Smalley continued his pacing of the quarterdeck of the bark Anne, casting the occasional glance at the sails hanging limply aloft, reflected almost perfectly with the image of the ship in the brilliant, but dead calm sea. Isaac Biggs, Captain of the Foretop, had been taking his ease with some of his fellow topmen in the scant shade offered by the vessel’s deck house when Smalley sent him to find the First Mate.

  “Aye, sir.” He said aloud, and to himself, Something must be gonna happen. Maybe the cap’n figgers we gonna get a breeze o’ wind. ‘Bout time, I’d reckon. He stood and walked forward, squinting as he left the shade, and the full force of the Caribbean sun, low in the sky and bouncing off the quiet sea, hit his eyes. He noticed with pleasure, and some relief that the deck no longer burned his bare feet as he made his way forward, and the tar caulking the seams no longer oozed from between the long leaf pine boards.

  As he gained the fo’c’sle, he could smell that Cook was getting close to having the evening meal prepared; Isaac could only imagine how hot the galley must be, and the air around the Charlie Noble stack shimmered as the cooking heat rose from it. First Mate Sam Clark was sitting with some of the foredeck hands on the butt of the bowsprit, and Biggs watched for a moment as the jib boom on its outboard end described lazy circles in the air from the gentle rolling of the ship.

  “Mr. Clark. Cap’n wants you on the quarterdeck, if you please. Sent me to get you.” The mate looked up at the young topman. He stared for a moment at the curly dark hair, the earnest penetrating eyes, and the easy smile that always seemed ready to expand into a full grin. The mate smiled in spite of himself and stood.

  “He say what he wanted?” There hadn’t been anything requiring the mate’s attention for the two days they had been becalmed, and even though he knew it would be unlikely for Captain Smalley to have shared his thoughts with a foremast hand, his curiosity got the better of him. He could see the tall, whip-thin form of the captain some 130 feet away, still pacing his domain, and he wondered how he stood wearing the black frock coat he habitually wore at sea, regardless of the weather.

  “Not to me, sir. But then I guess he figgered it wasn’t none o’ my business. He ain’t been off’n the quarterdeck since the breeze quit, though, ‘at I’ve noticed. Probably concerned ‘bout gettin’ into St. Bart’s afore someone else gets our cargo for the return.” Isaac watched the sails overhead as he spoke; they still showed no signs of life, not even the t’gallants some 140 feet above the deck. Not a breath of air was stirring.

  The two stopped as they passed two of the bark’s longboats, lashed down tightly, and covered with taut canvas, bleached white by the tropical sun. Isaac, seeing his friends still taking their ease, rejoined them in the shade as Sam Clark continued to the quarterdeck.

  “Think we’re gonna get us some breeze, Cap’n? The men been scratching the backstays and whistling until they’s lips hurt. You’d think we’d have more wind ‘en we could handle from all o’ th
at. I cain’t recall them nor’east trades droppin’ fer this long down here. Might be gonna change. Mebe get some weather.”

  Smalley had stopped his pacing, and stood at the starboard rail staring at the horizon to the east. He continued watching the horizon, while his first mate stood patiently behind him, waiting. Clark could see the sweat running down the captain’s neck and the queue in which he habitually wore his gray hair was damp from it, the black ribbon drooping. Hatless, the tall, almost gaunt skipper suddenly turned, squinting at his mate with deep-set pale eyes that most took as blue, but were in fact gray, in a weathered face that had seen the sea in all her moods over the nearly forty years he had been at sea. His jaw line showed a stubble of white bristles – not from slovenly habits, but from an inability to see close at hand without his spectacles. And he did not feel that wearing spectacles while he shaved was appropriate. He had been captaining vessels for twenty-five of his forty-eight years – everything from small coastal vessels to a few brigs, schooners, and this bark, Anne, his favorite, and also the largest.

  “Yes, Mr. Clark, I think we might get a breeze this night. And from the look o’ them clouds startin’ on the eastern horizon, mebe even some rain inta the bargain. You can let the men enjoy a song after supper if they’s a mind, as I figger we’ll be workin’ with no time for gaiety and cavortin’ soon enough.” Smalley’s baritone voice was quiet, as always.

  Underscoring his words in an ironical counterpoint, the silence of the day was broken only by the slatting of sails and the slap of unstrained sheets and halyards as Anne rolled in the gentle swells. Sam Clark knew better than to doubt this man’s sea-sense; he had sailed with him for five years now and had yet to see him err when it came to anticipating the weather.