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

by William H. White

  “Just as you thought, Mr. Halladay.” Smalley gave his mate an acknowledgment of his earlier assessment. Since no one was currently at war with Holland, she presented neither a threat nor an opportunity. Watching the ship closely to smoke the ruse of false colors, Captain Smalley instructed his mate to continue to close, but keep the guns manned, ports closed, and watch for a trick.

  Now only half a league away with no sign of hostility, the Dutch merchant bore up and backed her tops’ls, clewing up her courses and furling jibs as she did so. Smalley brought his schooner to within a cable length of the Dutch bark.

  “You want I should heave to, Cap’n. ‘Appears he wants to talk to us.” Halladay never took his eyes off the other ship, and as Smalley agreed, he saw the Dutch captain climb up on bulwark with a speaking trumpet.

  “We are the bark Alkmaar, Dutch, but out of Naples, Italy most recently, and bound for St. Maarten. We are stopping in Port-au-Prince first. I am Captain Willem Van Aschwin. I see you fly the American flag. Where are you bound?”

  Smalley stood at Glory’s bulwark, cupped his hands to his mouth and replied, “We are working our way up towards Nassau. Have you seen any British shipping, Captain?”

  “Ya, we passed a British frigate, a thirty-six, two days back. She was headed south of here, my guess to Antigua. We did not speak her, and saw no others.”

  “Thank you, sir. We wish you God’s speed on your journey. Be careful in Port-au-Prince. Those port officials will try to take the very gold out of your teeth, and smile whilst they’re about it. Keeps a man on his toes, I’ll warrant.”

  “Thank you, Captain, for the warning. I have had the pleasure of dealing with those same officials in the past. And a good voyage to you as well, sir.”

  With that, the men of Glory could hear a babble of commands in Dutch emanating from the quarterdeck, and while the orders were totally unintelligible to the Americans, their meaning was immediately made clear when the tops’ls were braced around, courses let go, and jibs set on Alkmaar. She bore off, handled in a most seaman-like manner, and with sails filling, lumbered on her way toward the Windward Passage, and Port-au-Prince.

  “Too bad the Dutch can’t build a sweet-sailin’ vessel, ain’t it Cap’n? Those sailormen over there look like they know what they’ doin’, but that barky just can’t manage a fathom above seven or eight knots, even in this breeze. Those boys would like as not give an arm just to sail a day on Glory. ‘Course then they’d not likely get back aboard that barge.” Halladay had a fine eye for ship’s lines, and even though most sailors knew about “slab-sided, Dutch-built luggers,” the mate’s observation caused most within earshot to pause and watch Alkmaar slog off toward the narrow cut between Cuba and Haiti that would ultimately take her to St. Maarten, while Glory, Bill of Rights, and Freedom sailed smartly a little north of west in sharp contrast to the large, slow Dutchman.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Home

  “There it is, Isaac, Cape Henry, Virginia. I’d warrant there was a time not so long ago you’da never figured to see that – leastaways not this close.” First Mate Willard Halladay and Third Mate Isaac Biggs stood by the rail at the fo’c’sle watching the land grow larger on the larboard bow. By now, trees and different colors, denoting sand, rocks, and fields could be distinguished. Many of the crew had rushed to the deck when the Cape was sighted just as first light broke across the water. They had been gone for almost four months, and were as excited as children to be close to home again; their excitement was of course augmented by the thought of the payment they would receive when they cashed in their prize tickets which would be awarded by the owners. While this indeed was their native soil, they were another day or possibly two with a fair breeze before they would set foot on it.

  The two mates had been watching the land grow larger since Biggs had been relieved from his watch by Mr. Clements and Petty Officer Johnson. When Biggs remained silent, Halladay paused in the lighting of his pipe, and looked at him. The third responded in time.

  “Aye. That’s a fact. They was several times I figgered we’d none of us be seein’ America, let alone Cape Henry. When those two British fifth rates surprised us was one. I guess we should figger on seein’ some a’ them more and more, now we’re at war with ‘em. I never thought we’d get away from ‘em. I can’t help but think ‘bout those poor bastards on Bill of Rights; loosin’ her fore topmast to a parted shroud was a piece of bad luck. What do ya s’pose would a happened if Cap’n Stebbins hadn’a been able to out-sail that frigate? I reckon they’d only be two o’ us makin’ the landfall, huh?”

  “Don’t give Cap’n Stebbins all the credit for gettin’ away. If Cap’n Smalley hadn’a come ‘round when he did and take on the frigate, I ‘spect Rights would be sunk or burned, one. When yer old shipmate Conoughy took off the Britisher’s bowsprit and jib boom with our ‘Long Tom’, I ‘spect that they’s cap’n thought again ‘bout tryin’ to catch some small fish like us – found out we had some sting in our tail, he did. That Irisher earned his keep that day, by my eyes. And the only reason Rights could outsail that frigate was the English cap’n couldn’t go to weather without which his foremast would go by the boards – with no for’ard stays at all. Cap’n Stebbins showed real good smarts in headin’ up to wind’ard. Outfoxed them Britishers good, he did. Course, them not bein’ able to hit much with those twelve pounders helped a lot too. I guess we won’t never know why the other man o’ war didn’t come after us. God Awmighty, that would have been a trial.”

  Halladay shook his head at the thought, as if to clear the image from his mind. He continued. “But I wasn’t thinkin’ so much ‘bout that little set-to as when you was on one o’ them Britishers yerself. You’da not been seein’ America again for a long time, I’d reckon. I heard ‘at they send ‘em back to England after they’s finished a tour in the Leewards. They might not get back to this side o’ the pond for a couple o’ years.”

  “Aye, that’s a fact. I recall Orpheus was s’posed to be goin’ home to get refit this summer. But I had figgered a way to get my own self off’n that ship with my prize shares from Fleur and the other Frenchies we took. Then you come along. Worked out anyway, it did. I got off, but never got my British shares. Cap’n Smalley told me I’ll be getting’ shares from those three we took after we left Port au Prince. So I got some money on top of it. I aim to head up to Marblehead and surprise my folks. They must think I’m dead by now, what with the war and all. I writ to ‘em, but I don’t ‘spect they ever got any o’ my letters. You figger Glory’ll be in Baltimore for a while – long enough for me to get up north and back?”

  “No tellin’ what’ll be going on. That merchant out of New York we spoke only last month said they was more an’ more Brit men o’ war sailin’ along our coast tryin’ to close down the ports. One thing ‘bout war, Isaac, you never know what’s comin’ over the horizon. I collect from talkin’ to the cap’n that you folks up in New England got no stomach for fightin’ the British…’ceptin’ he don’t seem to feel that way. Said somethin’ ‘bout another revolution to prove the first.”

  “I heard from some of the men on Orpheus that there was more American sailors in the British Navy than there is in the American Navy. And the most of ‘em got there same way I did. Either picked off’n a ship at sea like me and poor Tyler and Pope, or else grabbed ashore by the press gangs. That don’t sit right with me, Willard; I’m in this war now, and I aim to see it through. If Cap’n Smalley ain’t got a berth for me, they’s bound to be a berth I can fill on some other ship. My feelin’ is that helpin’ take British ships evens the score a little, but they’s still a lot o’ Americans sailin’ in the Royal Navy, gettin’ flogged for no reason and killed fightin’ against some Frenchies they ain’t got no fight with. Now with us at war with England, well…” He stopped and looked hard at the first before continuing. A tiny line of spittle had formed at the corner of Isaac’s mouth; he ignored it and gave his anger and frustration free rein. “How ‘bout t
hat, Willard? Americans on British ships bein’ made to fight against they’s own. I can’t quit now; I aim to make ‘em pay…for me and ‘specially for poor ol’ Tyler.”

  Cape Henry slipped by to leeward, and the three schooners hardened onto the wind, leaving Cape Charles to weather as they moved gracefully up the Bay. The mates’ conversation ended as their attention was needed to handle the schooner as she leaned into the breeze, her bow knifing cleanly through the short chop of the shallow water. Land passed by gradually, and Halladay, when he had time, pointed out landmarks to the third mate; this was all new to Biggs. He had only sailed out of Salem and Boston, passing these waters well off shore. He was surprised by the size of the Chesapeake, but could not believe that it might take them two or even three days to sail to Baltimore if the weather turned on them. A fair breeze and no mishaps would put them into Fells Point by supper-time tomorrow, but the Chesapeake in November can conjure up conditions to try the patience of anyone. Dead calms, howling gales, and thunder storms, even the occasional early snow, can cause a delay for as long as Mother Nature wants.

  By the time the hands were piped to dinner, they were beginning to feel the whim of the Lady as the breeze died, and to avoid being carried back on the tide from whence they had come, Smalley ordered his vessel anchored. The others followed suit, and with sails still set, the three privateers floated above their reflections in the mirror-like Bay, anchor hawsers held taut only by the force of the current as it parted before their sharp bows on its way to the Atlantic.

  With the turn of the tide later that afternoon, the wind returned, riffling the surface. As they once again began to sail up the Bay, the lookouts called out that two schooners were bearing down on them. American flags showed at the mast head of each of Abrams’ vessels, and while there were no colors visible on the two newcomers, their hulls and rigs made then not only American, but sisters to Glory, Bill of Rights, and Freedom. Abrams sent up a signal calling for his little squadron to heave to, and the two south-bound schooners, their hulls gleaming black, rounded up and hove to along side.

  “Is that you Abrams?” The voice that floated across the water was gravelly and carried easily to all three ships. “Jack Lockhart here. Headed out to see what you left us out there. Did you have good success?”

  “Aye, that we did, Jack. Those are mighty fine lookin’ vessels. You’ll do well. You might keep your eyes open when you get out there; we had a run-in with a pair of fifth rates. One might be a little wary of taking you on – we did some damage to her, but none-the-less, I’d keep a weather eye peeled. What’s happenin’ at home?” Abrams voiced the question on everybody’s minds, and the good-natured chattering going on between the ships stopped while several hundred sailors listened for the answer.

  “Things are going quite nicely for us on the water; back in August, you might have heard, one of our heavy forty-fours whupped a British frigate pretty well – Constitution it was, and Cap’n Hull did such a good job on the Brits he had to sink their ship, Guerriere; wasn’t enough left to sail in. I’m afraid things aren’t going quite as well with the folks on the frontier, though. The damn Brits massacred everyone in Fort Dearborn, then took Detroit. I guess Constitution’s victory helps even the score a little, but I fear there’s to be more trouble out west. Josh Barney, on his privateer Rossie, has sent in nigh on to eighteen vessels, mostly to Boston and Newport, and Tom Boyle on Comet done pretty good too. Fact is, more an’ more sharp-built schooners are clearing every month to have a go at ‘em. They been having such good success, seems like everyone wants to join the action. I surely do hope they’s some left for us!”

  “I’m pleased to hear that the Navy is doing well, and that the good citizens of Baltimore are helping out. I ‘spect we’ll be into Fells Point midday tomorrow, if the breeze holds. Don’t know if we’ll turn around or not; maybe we’ll be a-joinin’ you sooner than later. Good luck to you, Jack; keep your eyes open.” Abrams waved his hat and called for Freedom’s sails to be trimmed. She bore off and headed north again, leading her two sisters smartly up the Bay, as Lockhart’s schooners headed south for the open Atlantic.

  Darkness fell, bringing the November chill with it, and the schooners continued to make their way up the Chesapeake in the still flukey breeze. The wind, what there was of it, seemed to be playing games with the homeward bound sailors; it would blow strongly then die down, or shift to cause the vessels to bear off in order to maintain even their limited speed. As the hands were piped to supper, the rains started, with all the fanfare associated with a November squall – high shifty winds blowing the rain horizontally in sheets accompanied by brilliant lightning and thunder that put one in mind of crashing nine pounders firing at point blank range. Smalley, as well as his fellow captains, shortened sail, knowing as sure as the water was salty, that they’d be shaking out reefs again in no time.

  By the time the hands were called for the midnight watch, Mother Nature had again shown her fickle side. While both watches were on deck, Smalley returned to full sail, and when Biggs went below to catch a few hours sleep before being called again at four, he saw the captain smiling as he felt her again driving through the waves and chop left from the sudden squall.

  He must be as happy as the rest of us to be gettin’ home, thought the third mate as he headed below. I wonder if I’ll be able to get up to Marblehead…I wonder how my folks are makin’ out… He was still thinking about going home when the easy rolling motion of Glory carried him gently and soundly to sleep.

  First light saw most of the crew on deck, those with the watch carrying out their normal morning routine, the rest watching the familiar shore slip past. Halladay grabbed Biggs by the elbow, turning him to look at the shoreline to leeward.

  “There’s Annapolis up there, Isaac. Capitol of Maryland. You can make out the sunlight shining off’n the top of the dome on the capitol building…there…there, do you see it? Looks like the top hamper of a frigate in there, too. Wonder which one it is. We’re nigh on to turnin’ Bodkin Point into Baltimore. At this rate, and if’n the wind holds like she is, we’ll be into Fells by dinner-time.”

  “A fine thought, Willard. It’ll be good to put my feet onto American land again…been a while, you know.” Biggs, having never been into Baltimore, did not share his shipmate’s excitement about each landmark they passed. He was also tired, and while he was sincere about his desire to be on American soil again, his first thought was a fine meal followed by a full night’s sleep. Then he would look into getting himself to Massachusetts and home.

  Smalley was again on the quarterdeck, and Biggs, not yet relieved for breakfast, stood silently by the helm while the captain surveyed his ship, the shoreline, and the sky. When finished, he spoke quietly to his third mate.

  “Mr. Biggs, you may bear off a point. We’ll head for that headland yonder, and bear off more when we’re past it. That’s home for most of these boys. Even with this breeze we should be at the dock in Fells Point by dinnertime.” The captain had obviously caught some of the crew’s excitement, and was himself eager to be again on American soil – even though, like his third mate, home was another five hundred miles further north.

  Having carried out Smalley’s orders, Biggs checked that all sails were pulling properly and the schooner was making her best speed in the wind they had. It would never do to delay his shipmates’ homecoming by even one minute; nor would it do any of them any good if they entered the harbor of their homeport looking like some rag merchant sailed by farmers. Obviously the bosun felt the same way. He was moving about the main deck encouraging his men to make Glory look as sharp as possible. With glances to windward and leeward, Biggs and Smalley could see similar activities on Bill of Rights and Freedom. They would make a fine spectacle sailing past Fort McHenry and into Fells Point.

  Several hours later, as Fort McHenry appeared on the lee bow, Biggs was joined by his old shipmate from Orpheus, Robert Coleman. For several minutes they watched in silence as the island with its star-shape
d fort grew larger. Finally, Coleman looked at his former shipmate, and shook his head.

  “I’d a never thought I’d be doin’ this, Isaac…I mean Mr. Biggs.” He corrected himself with a smile, knowing that their prior experiences allowed him the familiarity with his third mate, at least in private. “Me sailin’ into an American harbor, and on an American vessel on top of it. Wonder what ol’ Jack Toppan would say to that?”

  “Oh, I ‘spect he’d likely laugh some ‘bout it. But whatever he had to say, you can be sure you’d hear him! Seriously, what do you plan to do when we get in, Coleman? You gonna stay here on Glory or go ashore or what?” Isaac had been puzzling this same question himself, but had not voiced it since the night in Port au prince.

  Coleman toyed with his earring absently as he watched the fort slip by in silence; he had certainly given that very question some very serious consideration, but as yet had not come up with an answer.

  “I ain’t figgered that one out, yet, Biggs. I likely’ll stay at sea. Where, though I ain’t any idea. You figger Cap’n Smalley’ll let me stay with Glory?”

  Before Biggs could answer his friend, someone cried out from the foremast rigging, “There she be, boys. The dock at Fells Point. Lookee there, will ya? Looks like the whole town’s turned out to greet us in!”

  Naturally, everyone looked, and sure enough, the docks were crowded with people; some were standing in groups listening to someone speak while others seemed to be parading up and down the dock and the nearby street yelling and carrying on. There was a noticeable police presence as well. Suddenly, a few people on the pier noticed the three schooners sailing toward the Fells Point docks and yelled and pointed. The words were unintelligible to the men on the ships, but gradually, most of the men and women ashore stopped to watch the privateers come in. “Huzzahs” rang out as the vessels approached the pier.