You will be most proud of your husband, I am sure. You know how I have pined for promotion to Commander and my own ship. Well, I have been given a command! To be sure, it is of a temporary nature, and I am surely not yet Commander, but I collect from Captain Winston it will lead to a permanent assignment if all goes well. Let me tell you the whole of it.
Some days after we arrived safely in Nassau, Captain Winston received word from a fast schooner sent from Antigua that we were to bring two of the French prizes to Adm. Lafory there. Apparently, McCray had got in and told him of the French fleet’s makeup and he’s taken it into his head to add to the ships under his direct control there. So Winston tells me to pick a few men from Orpheus and fill in with French prisoners who will sail with us and bring the larger of the merchants to Antigua, after a suitable length of time to repair damage to both the ship and the men. Well, my dear, I can tell you my joy knew no bounds. Even when I was informed that never would we have enough crew to sail the ship in any but the mildest weather nor to defend ourselves if attacked, I simply smiled and directed my midshipman, that fool Murphy, to employ an impress gang from the garrison here and pick us some prime hands to fill in. I should add that Orpheus was well depleted of crew, between the casualties of battle and the desertions which occurred soon after landing in New Providence, so there were several impress gangs working already to supplement her own dwindling ranks. Midshipman Blake was assigned the other ship, and I am officer in charge of the fleet, even if it is only two ships. We are two days at sea now with extremely moderate weather, though the northeast breeze seems to be holding for now allowing us to run our southing now and thence east to Antigua. I can be thankful that the wind and seas are moderate, as we have the most ungodly collection of hands aboard. I doubt there’s time to make a crew of them. Except for those from Orpheus, the ones who know ships don’t speak English, and the ones who speak what might pass for English don’t know a sheet from a gun tackle. I may have given young Biggs, a hand from Orpheus, more than he can manage with a quite inept crew at the maintop. They are extraordinarily slow in doing anything aloft and poor Biggs appears quite frustrated. The hands on deck are barely better, but there at least, a fall or misstep is not a deadly event. We shall sail on and pray for continued easy weather, and a shift in the wind more to the north, with no contact with any privateers, or, perish the thought, a French, or one of the few American, men of war. Hopefully, young Blake will be able to manage his ship, stay with me, and will arrive in due course at Antigua, still in company and still relatively intact.
I will try to write more as time permits during this passage so this brief chronology will find a ship leaving for home upon our arrival in Antigua. I may have neglected to mention the ship’s name – the one I am captain of, that is. Fleur it is, and it means flower in French. I suspect it will not be changed, particularly if Adm. Lafory is going to put her directly into service.
For now, my love, I will end as I feel I should be on deck. I am now and will always remain
yrs. faithfully,
Jos. Burns
July 30, 1812
on board Fleur, at sea
* * * * *
Dear Mother and Father:
I hope that you have not been too worried about my fate since last you heard of my whereabouts. I can only hope my letter explaining how I came to be on a British frigate arrived and caused you little concern. I have found that one ship is more or less like another, save the people aboard, and of course the floggings. The Royal Navy seems to spend a great deal of time whipping its sailors. So far, I still have escaped the lash, but I am sure I mentioned when last I wrote that one of the other men, a boy actually, who was pressed with me, actually jumped overboard rather than suffer a whipping. I can tell you, I do pine for the days in Anne with Captain Smalley. Even that Mr. Jakes, the third, wasn’t so bad, now I think about him. I imagine he would fit right in here in the Navy though. I am hopeful that I will be able to leave this ship soon – at the first opportunity, I’m thinking – as now I have or will have quickly I hope, some money, though I know not how much. My messmates tell me it will be a great deal. Men have left the ship with much less; in fact I hear that a dozen and more jumped while Orpheus was in New Providence, and the marines could only find about half to bring back. I am certain they do not wish to be aboard that ship now. Quite a few others came down with a fever they call the yellow jack and expired in what seemed like no time at all.
How is the fishing, Father? Are you managing to avoid the British ships on the Banks? I do hope so. They seem to be quite uncaring about who they steal to sail their ships. I hope that all is well at home in spite of the war which I am told has begun against the British. I recall when I left on Anne so long ago (it seems) that many were saying a war would be the only solution to the problem. I remember Captain Smalley talking to our first mate, Mr. Clark, about it too. He said there were some what didn’t want to fight because it would cost them money, what with their trade with England and all. Seems to me they’re putting the cart before the horse. I collect none thought the war would be begin quite so soon, and surely it puts me in a fix, as I am on a British vessel. Hopefully I won’t be called upon to fight against my own. I have lain awake for many nights pondering what I shall do, and have so far come up with naught. I can only hope it don’t come to me having to fight Americans. Let’s hope it don’t come to that.
I should tell you that we have just come from capturing a French fleet – prizes they call them. When they’re sold, the crew shares in the money they get for them. That’s where the money I spoke of is coming from. We had some action, and quite a few men on the ship were killed. I can say with some certainty that never in life have I experienced anything quite so frightening, noisome, and yet exhilarating. The roar of the guns and smoke filling the air – screaming and shouting – splinters flying, and the blood. Fortunately less blood on Orpheus than the French ships we encountered, and while I was lucky enough to not get my own self hurt in any way, I think we buried twenty and more men, both French and British. There’s still some who’s missing arms and legs who won’t never sail again. God knows what will happen to them, being put ashore in a hot unhealthy place like New Providence. None of those who have been here before like it, fearing the ‘jack’ as they do with good cause. I will try to tell you something of our stay there.
About three weeks back it was, and several days after we escorted the French merchant ships into the harbor at Nassau (that’s the city here) I was ashore in a tavern and met a young lady. I know what you’re thinking – if she was in a tavern, she weren’t no lady. Well, let me tell you. She’s just about as nice as you could wish for. And pretty too. Her name’s Rebecca, but everybody calls her ‘Becca. She says she works for a seamstress making dresses for the rich ladies, but she spent most of the time with me, ‘cepting when I was aboard the ship, and some nights when she had to work late. She lives topside in the tavern, but just until she gets some money together and finds a better place. I gave her some money to help her – she didn’t ask me for very much, and I didn’t have much, neither, and I thought it the least I could do, what with her spending so much time with me. She came here from some place in
England – I forget where – I never heard of it anyway – and she has some friends which were already here to help her out. I met them too. Seem nice enough. They actually spent sometime with two of my shipmates from Orpheus. A fine sight we made, the six of us parading through Nassau. The people that live here are mostly Negroes, but they talk quite a bit different than the ones at home. Sometimes they’re real hard to understand, like they’re speaking a different language altogether. Even the white people talk different, unless they’re right from England and then they sound like the men on Orpheus, which I have learned to understand pretty well. We met a fellow in the same tavern ‘Becca lives in that was real friendly to us. He dressed real good and acted like he had a lot of money. Bought us all the drink we wanted and wanted to hear all about th
e ship and what were our plans. He’s the one what told us about the war starting. He came in again, shortly before Coleman and me left on this ship – Fleur – just to make sure we were doing good and didn’t need anything. We explained we’d be leaving soon for Antigua on this merchant ship with Lieutenant Burns – that’s where I am now, by the way, and that Orpheus was going somewhere else. A nice man, he was.
I mentioned I’m now on Fleur. That’s one of the French merchant ships we captured and Lieutenant Burns (he’s the first lieutenant from Orpheus) is in charge of this ship and the one Mr. Blake, one of the midshipmen from Orpheus, is on sailing with us to Antigua. I hope we don’t have trouble with weather or the Frenchmen; nobody ‘spects we’ll be seeing any Americans yet since they only went to war a month and more back, and my shipmates tell me, don’t have no warships yet – leastways, none to speak of. We hardly got enough men to sail the ship. Most of them are either French and can’t talk English, or landsmen pressed in New Providence who don’t know the difference ‘tween a jib boom and a spanker. Lieutenant Burns took me as captain of the maintop, and my friend Bob Coleman came as captain of the foretop. He’s got the same trouble as me; trying to teach the Frenchies how to work aloft without they don’t speak English. The landsmen we got are so scared about being aloft they won’t let go of the jackstays to do their jobs. Puts me in mind of poor Tyler when he first come aboard. I doubt they’ll ever turn into seamen. We been two days out, now, and Coleman and me pretty much got to do everything ourselves. They ain’t learning nothing. It won’t be pretty if we get into it with weather or enemy ships before we reach Antigua. This ship has cannons, but they look pretty run down. I doubt they’ll fire. One of the gun captains from Orpheus been working pretty much full time on them since we left Kingston and he ain’t so sure he can shoot them without which they’ll blow up.
I don’t know when you’ll ever see this, as it has to be carried by a ship England ain’t at war with, and it seems like England’s getting into a fight with more people than ever she should. God bless you both and your prayers for me will surely help.
Your faithful and loving son,
Isaac Biggs
July 31, 1812
PART THREE
On Board
GLORY
August – November 1812
CHAPTER TWENTY
Schooners on the Hunt
“‘Vast heaving there, you lubber. Ain’t you got eyes in yer head?” Mr. Halladay had no patience for ineptness, and the display he had just witnessed proved the point he made as often as anyone would listen, namely that farmers from Virginia made for poor sailors – even a farmer who had been at sea for nigh on to six months. Never mind the fact that the time was just before eight bells in the middle watch and it was darker than ever, the moon having set early last night.
The object of his attention was a Virginian who had left the farm and sought the excitement of life on a privateer. He showed up in Baltimore with high expectations a week after war was declared, and with the help of a sailor’s rendezvous in a Fells Point boarding house, wound up in a queue for signing on Glory shortly after she was launched. With a pressing need for men, the skipper, a Chesapeake waterman named Cressy, had signed the Virginian over his mate’s protestations. After the shaking down the vessel for about two weeks, Cressy left to take command of a letter of marque trader where there was more opportunity for riches. A former merchant captain was available in Baltimore and was engaged as skipper for the upcoming cruise. He had gray hair, though he was only approaching his fiftieth year, and had captained a variety of vessels in the Atlantic trade for over twenty-five years. Before that, he had sailed with the Continental Navy. His name was Jedediah Smalley.
Captain Joshua Abrams had put together a small fleet of privateers to harass British shipping, take prizes, and pay back a little of the misery the Royal Navy had dealt the American sea trades. Not only would his efforts enrich the crews and investors, but would assist in the war effort by reducing the ships available to the British for transporting goods as well as taking men of war from duty potentially damaging to the Americans and forcing them to escort their own merchants. He had found backing for three ships, all sharp-built schooners, and would add to his little fleet should additional backers turn up; when the word of their successes reached Baltimore, he knew the merchants would be clamoring for the opportunity to participate in the effort. For the most part, the Baltimore merchants, farmers, and gentry were eager to participate in the war, and the opportunity for profit. They had little time for the whining and anti-war merchants of Boston who lined their pockets daily with British silver despite the embargo of English goods. Because Willard Halladay felt the same way, he had sailed with Cressy as Mate, and had stayed aboard Glory in spite of potentially greater opportunity available if he went with his former captain. Halladay was glad of his decision in spite of having a number of landsmen, like the Virginia farmer, aboard, and he liked the new captain. He saw early on that Smalley was a fine sailor who likely would not blanch in the face of cannon fire, and had won the respect of his crew from the start with his bold tactics and skill at handling men.
Now Glory, under Captain Smalley, with Freedom and Bill of Rights, under Captains Abrams and Tom Stebbins respectively, raced through the night to put themselves in position to find fat British merchants unescorted by the Royal Navy. None of the ships showed a light, and unless seen from close aboard, they were quite nearly invisible; only their sails made a dim glow, reflecting the light from the star-filled Caribbean night. The whisper of their bows cutting the through the water was broken by Mr. Halladay’s voice, as it carried across the sea.
The lubberly farmer-turned-sailor was properly chastised, the situation rectified and the three ships continued silently on their way south, making good time through a moderate sea with a favorable half-gale broad on their bows. Halladay heard his name spoken quietly from astern, and turned to look toward the small quarterdeck.
“Mr. Halladay.” He heard it again, recognizing the speaker as Captain Smalley, virtually invisible in his black coat, and moved at once to join him by the schooner’s wheel.
“I probably needn’t remind you that we don’t want to make our presence here too obvious; please keep your voice and your men under control. I think it would be helpful to our success if we let the men know what lies in the offing. With the war so new, and this our first cruise, many of them don’t have an inkling as to what we’re about, save taking prizes. I don’t doubt their performance when we fight; I have seen that now twice on the way here.
“The two vessels we took off the Carolinas did not offer much of a fight, and, if you recall, their captains were mightily surprised when we told ‘em of the war. I don’t ‘spect any vessels we encounter down here’ll be better informed, but there might be a frigate nearby. We are in their waters now, and might could meet up with one quite without warning. We shouldn’t be caught all ahoo, and the men need to be alert. After they’s had their breakfast we will assemble them amidships and tell them what we’re about. Have the petty officers alerted for that, if you please.” The captain, having shared the thought with his First, turned his attention back to the helmsman and his ship, leaving Halladay to return forward and see to the watch on deck.
The morning watch would be called soon to start the day’s routine; eating their morning scouse and fruit, swabbing down the decks, recoiling halyards and sheets, and ensuring the guns were ready for use. They would also assume the responsibility for the handling of the schooner while their shipmates went below to eat their own breakfast and swab out the berthing deck. The day’s routine continued after the hands were fed, with guns drills and instruction in hand-to-hand fighting with pikes, cutlasses, and muskets. Maintenance, repairs to the ship and rigging, knotting and splicing, and a little horseplay followed. While this was not the American Navy, Joshua Abrams insisted his ships be run in a smart, organized, and seaman-like manner, and engaged captains who felt similarly. Other privateers
in the rapidly growing fleets were slovenly by contrast, and Abrams felt that their future successes would likely not measure up to his.
The mate moved around the schooner in the pre-dawn darkness with the easy familiarity born of having been on the vessel even before she had finished building; he knew every rope, pin, hatch and spar as well as his own wife’s body, and had trained, in the scant time available, most of the hands to be equally comfortable with the ship so that thought would not be necessary in an emergency. Halladay and Smalley had talked often enough to convince the mate that they shared the same ideas politically as well as the feeling that a war with England had been inevitable. The two men also shared similar backgrounds, having sailed in the Continental Navy, Smalley as a mate then captain, and Halladay as an able seaman.
“Where’re we headed, Mr. Halladay?” The question came out of the darkness and at first the mate didn’t recognize the voice.
“What’s that?” Halladay sought time to put a name on the disembodied voice.
“Where are we goin’ in such an all-fired rush? We don’t usually carry this much sail through the night without we’re headin’ somewhere in a hell of a hurry.”
“Oh, Johnson, it’s you. I didn’t smoke your voice right off.” Johnson, a lanky young waterman from the Eastern Shore of Maryland, was captain of the starboard watch and had come on deck early to see what was going on before he relieved his counterpart, captain of the larbowlines. “We’re headin’ down towards Antigua, where the Brits got most of their ships. See if’n we can catch us a fat merchant what ain’t been told about the war yet…like them two back off the Carolinas. Captain plans on telling all hands about it this morning. I guess you’ll hear more then. You know Captain Smalley; he likes for the crew to know what the plans are so they can act smarter if the balls and splinters start flyin’. Should be a fine opportunity, you ask me. We’ll all be richer – a lot richer, less’n I miss my guess – in a few days’ time.”
A Press of Canvas: Volume One in the War of 1812 Trilogy Page 20