In Pursuit of Glory

by William H. White

  “Given, then, that you acknowledge the presence aboard your ship of seamen from the Royal Navy, did you not think you might be at risk of a boarding by the Royal Navy in an effort to recover what, in their perception, was their property?”

  “Mister Taylor,” Gordon was sounding more and more exasperated with each passing moment. “Our country was, and still is, at peace with England. And all others. Why ever would I expect to be fired on by a British man-o’-war? There are other ways, diplomatic ways, of handling things of that stripe.”

  “And what about seeing the Leopard getting under weigh with her gun-ports … uh … triced up? I believe that is the appropriate use of the word. Did not that kindle a spark of suspicion in your breast, sir?”

  “I thought nothing of it at all; it was quite warm and a common practice in both navies to open the gunports to improve the flow of air through the lower decks of the ship.” Gordon’s tone was stronger, more confident.

  “Surely, sir, when they ranged alongside with their guns run out, something must have gone through your head that all was not right with the world!” Taylor voice went up along with this eyebrows at this question.

  “Their guns were not run out until after Lieutenant Meade had returned to his ship. Nor did we observe their Marines bustling about taking up positions that could be interpreted as hostile. And then, if you will recall, Mister Taylor, I ordered the ship cleared and the men to quarters.”

  I felt an elbow in my ribs and turned to see Henry motion toward the door with his head. We were leaving.

  “This isn’t going to accomplish anything; we’ve heard all this before from all the others. He’s trying to east the blame all on Gordon and hope the panel will exonerate the commodore from any responsibility. I can’t listen to his attempts to discredit the captain any more and it ain’t likely they’ll be wantin’ to hear from us today!” Henry offered by way of explanation as soon as the door closed behind us.

  “I’ll see you later, perchance after supper for a glass ashore.” This was thrown over his shoulder as he hurried off up the gun deck. I watched him for a moment, then took the ladder down another deck to the cockpit.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Thirty days on the calendar passed, during more than half of which the court listened to endlessly repetitive testimony from essentially all the officers and midshipmen, and even several of the warrants and sailors. Mister Tazewell asked questions, Mister Taylor asked questions, and members of the panel asked still more questions. Many were called into the Cabin several times to clarify this or that issue or verify what one o the other witnesses had said. And still not a word from Commodore Barron in his own defense. The tension mounted as we all wondered when he would speak.

  Of course, not every day was filled with testimony; some days, the court was called to order with the sharp rap of Rodgers’ gavel only to be dismissed due to the failure of one or another of the witnesses to appear. A few of the several civilians who were called were particularly negligent in making a prompt response to the summons and created no end o delays, all of which were met with a quiet stoicism on the parts of both the panel and the civilian lawyers. Some still had not made an appearance, and likely would not, though what their testimony might add to the proceedings quite eluded me. And the other two accused, Marine Captain Hall and Gunner Hook, each testified either for or against the commodore as it suited their own purposes. Each was given the same right, as had Captain Gordon, to refuse an answer when they thought it might worsen their own situation, but I was as sure as I had been when Gordon testified that Decatur, Rodgers, and the others would recall which questions each had refused to answer (or been advised not to answer) when the other trials commenced. And, I expect, ask them again, this time without the benefit of avoiding self-incrimination!

  Adding to the ponderous process was the need to have the secretary read back to each and every witness their own testimony at the conclusion of their questioning so as to be sure what they uttered had been accurately recorded. And then the written version would be signed and the witness excuse Frequently, whole sections of the testimony from the original court of inquiry would be required to clarify this or that point. It sometimes appeared that there were notable differences as time, or memories, or individual needs, altered a participant’s testimony from the first hearing to this one. This confusion, of course, would cause no end of recalling witnesses to state that this or that happened, or “he said this” or did that. became quite dreary and tested one’s appetite for the processes of Naval law to the utmost.

  Fortunately, as Henry and I had already testified and been recalled once—well, Henry had; I had not—it was not through any need of the court that we endured so many days of mindless repetition, and when our initial curiosity was slaked, we could escape to see to our sailors, chat, or just get some fresh air. The others, Captain Rodgers, Captain Decatur, Lieutenant Lawrence and their colleagues on the panel were forced to suffer repeated descriptions of the pounding suffered by Chesapeake, the commodores spirit, recalled conversations, and actions of the officers and men of the frigate, all while trying to look and act as if they were hearing something revealing.

  Only Lieutenant Keane (he was called on day twenty-one) offered testimony that seemed to shed light on the touchy issue of how the British sailors, the very reason for Leopard’s unseemly attack on us, got into the frigate. I listened in rapt attention, recalling that I had earlier surmised the men had not come through my rendezvous.

  “Mister Keane,” began Mister Tazewell, “we have heard from both Master Commandant Gordon and Midshipman Baldwin that you were placed in charge of the rendezvous at the Anchor and Horn Tavern, seeking recruits for the frigate prior to her departure for the Mediterranean Sea. Were you, in fact, so assigned:

  “Aye, sir. I was indeed. Terrible difficult it was to attract sailors, what with the merchant fleet paying ’em—even a landsman—half again what the Navy does. We were right shorthanded, though, and could ill-afford to be especially choosy as to them we enlisted.” Keane spoke earnestly, shooting the occasional glance at Decatur and Rodgers.

  “And, sir, did you, in fact, enlist the four men later taken by force of arms from the frigate Chesapeake?”

  “I didn’t have any idea those four was deserters from the Brits, sir. Of course, I guessed they was English, but they weren’t likely to tell me they deserted the Royal Navy, now were they?”

  “So you signed the four into the frigate, thinking they were merely English immigrants with seafaring backgrounds looking for berths, correct?”

  “Aye.” Keane seemed to shift in his chair more frequently as the questions focused on his recruiting the British deserters. Now his glance had shifted to the commodore, who looked up from his note-taking only occasionally.

  Having proved that the men were, in fact, aboard the American ship but unknown as deserters, Tazewell abruptly ended his questioning of the lieutenant and surrendered the floor to his opposite number, Robert Taylor.

  Here’s where Keane is likely to get broadsided! I’d wager a fair piece that Taylor is going to try and shift the blame to him for letting the British sailors aboard in the first place, and causing the whole inhuman attack by the British. Just trying to get back what was theirs!

  Taylor rose deliberately, making the few steps from his table to the witness chair take much longer than necessary. Then he simply stood in front of the edgy lieutenant and stared at him. Whatever resolve Lieutenant Keane might have had remaining in him vanished like smoke in a fresh breeze.

  Keane knows what’s coming! Barron’s lawyer is letting him stew for a bit. Likely try to fluster the poor man . . . even more than he already is.

  Finally, he turned away from the witness and, looking at the panel, asked in a most restrained voice, “Mister Keane, did it occur to you that, for several months around the time under our scrutiny, there were three warships of the Royal Navy lying in Lynnhaven Bay or perhaps that desertion is quite common in the Royal Navy should an
opportunity present itself?”

  “Never entered my mind, sir. There’re always a few Brits there or in Hampton Roads.”

  “Did an officer of the Royal Navy have any discourse with you during the time you operated the rendezvous?”

  “Uh … yes. Sir. That would have been Cap’n Townshend. He had command of Halifax, I recall.” Keane looked from the panel to Barron and back to the panel again before returning his gaze to his inquisitor.

  Looks like a cornered fox lookin for a place to hide.

  “Would you recount your conversation with Lord Townshend, if you please, Mister Keane?” A smile had started to form on Taylor’s face. He obviously knew what was coming, but I didn’t and leaned forward to better hear Keane’s now much quieter voice.

  “Yes sir. We passed on the street and spoke … just greetings of the day and the like. He seemed in great dudgeon, hardly answering my greeting and at first, didn’t stop. Neither did I. After all, he was a post-captain and had no need to talk to me, a mere lieutenant. Then he called my name after we had passed and I went back the few steps to where he stood in the street. He was barely civil to me, asking about me enlisting his boats crew, or some-such bilge. After he described the men he was after, I realized I had indeed enlisted his men and told him as much, but added that I didn’t know at the time they was deserters. And one of ’em was going by a different name than Cap’n Townshend mentioned to me.”

  “What subsequently transpired, Lieutenant?”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “What happened next, Mister Keane? Did Lord Townshend simply walk away and let the matter drop?”

  “Oh no, sir. He asked me to give ’em back. Said he couldn’t have his men runnin off to the American Navy every time they got the chance. I told him I had neither the authority nor the desire to turn his sailors back to him … and neither did the local magistrate. Then he said just to give him back one of ’em—Jenkin Ratford, it was he asked for—so he could hang him proper as an example to any other what might be thinkin’ on runnin’. The cap’n mentioned something about the man Ratford making open threats on his person and fairly demanded I turn him over. I said I couldn’t do that and he stormed off, even madder than he was when he started.”

  “Did you, in point of fact, Mister Keane, sign his man, Ratford? Hmm?”

  A silence had descended on the room and Keane’s pause before answering this damning question served to exaggerate it’s completeness. Even from behind the witness chair, I could discern Keane’s jaw muscles working, working as though he were chewing something, a piece of gristle perhaps. Finally, the lieutenant seemed to shake himself and looked at his tormentor full on.

  “At the time, I had no knowledge that I had recruited him. Sir.”

  “And why is that, Mister Keane?”

  “There was no one signed our articles going by Ratford or anything close to that name.”

  “But he was aboard the frigate, was he not, sir?”

  “Aye. We later smoked his ruse; he had used a different name when he joined the ship. John Wilson, it was.”

  “And how did you discover Wilson and Ratford were one in the same person, Lieutenant?”

  Keane looked away and wiped his mouth with his hand, effectively muffling his answer. The attorney raised his own voice and requested that the witness repeat his response so the panel and the recorder might hear it also.

  “The tattoo on his arm. ‘Jenkin Ratford,’ it was.”

  “You mean to tell me that this man, Ratford, came into your rendezvous seeking to enlist in the American Navy with his name tattooed on his arm in plain view, and yet you signed him aboard under a different name? Why on earth would you do that, sir?”

  “I don’t recall having seen a name or anything else tattooed on his arm at the rendezvous, sir. He gave his name as Wilson and that’s what I wrote down. Why would I expect a man to lie about his name?”

  “Why, indeed, sir!”

  Lawyer Taylor looked at the panel, exasperation plainly evident in his entire demeanor. It was as if he were asking the Court how it was possible our ships could sail with such imbeciles aboard as officers. I think everyone in the room might have pondered a similar question. Finally Barron’s attorney turned back to his shamefaced witness.

  “Mister Keane: let us put Ratford’s sudden appearance on the frigate”—a ripple of laughter was gaveled down by Captain Rodgers— “aside for the moment and return to your conversation with Lord Townshend. You recall, sir, we were discussing your conversation with him prior to the Ratford issue.”

  Keane nodded, looking quite miserable.

  “Splendid! Think back, if you please, sir, to the conclusion of that brief encounter.

  “Did Captain Townshend, perhaps, threaten to retrieve his sailors by force, should it become necessary, Mister Keane?” Taylor leaned in close to the witness, his voice menacingly quiet.

  “Well, he did say something like that, but I didn’t think nothin of it; everybody makes threats and I knew the Brits wouldn’t come on board of one of our ships by force.”

  “You knew, did you?” The caustic tone and Taylor’s raised eyebrows brought another ripple of subdued laughter from the spectators which was again quickly gaveled into silence by the president.

  Taylor pressed on. “Did you tell anyone, your captain, for example, that you knew you had British seamen—at least four of them, and who knows how many more—aboard Chesapeakei? And that a Royal Navy captain was most upset about it?”

  “No sir. Didn’t seem necessary and … well, nobody asked me. “Sides, I and everyone else—or most everyone else aboard—knew we had a passel of Brits aboard. Whether they was all deserters or not, I don’t reckon any among us knew for certain. But we all seen British sailors marching up and down the streets in the city waving our flag and shouting slogans aimed at getting British sailors to sign American articles. British officers hadda seen ’em likewise.”

  “Did it not seem somewhat odd to you that a captain in the Royal Navy, a lord, no less, would stop a lieutenant with whom he had a barely passing acquaintance and inquire about some common sailors? And that, despite having possibly witnessed British sailors marching as you say, he was quite angry about it? To the point of making threats about using force?”

  “Well, sir. I didn’t give it much thought. Either his remarks or the men. We needed them, they showed up at the rendezvous wantin’ to enlist, and I signed ’em up. I had heard that some of those we signed were Americans who had served on British ships but had been pressed by the Royal Navy off’n merchants. I forget whether the story had ’em in British or American merchants. Made no difference in the event; they were in the American Navy now.”

  “I see.” Barron’s counsel impassively studied the lieutenant for some time without saying a word; it had the effect of adding to Keane’s discomfort and he shifted his weight yet again on the hard chair. The creak it made was the only sound in the Cabin; even Barron had stopped his incessant scratching with the pen.

  “So you knew, sir, that there were British deserters aboard the frigate when you sailed from Norfolk. And so did the British. And that the commander of one of the English warships had threatened force to retrieve them, and you mentioned not a word of this to any. Is that not correct?” Without waiting for an answer, Taylor continued. “Small wonder the Royal Navy stopped the ship, then.” Taylor said this last most quietly as he was returning to the commodores table. As he sat down, he spoke again.

  “That will be all, Mister Keane. I have no further questions for you.” Mister Taylor turned toward his client and muttered something, his head close to Barron’s. I didn’t catch it, but I am sure we all heard Barron’s reply quite clearly.

  “Bloody incompetent rascal, he is. Just like all the others.”

  A brief muttered conversation then ensued between the commodore and his lawyer while members of the panel shuffled papers and spoke quietly to one another.

  Henry turned to me and, in barely audible tones, whis
pered, “Well, looks as if Taylor’s found his scapegoat, Oliver. I never thought Keane to be the tallest mast in the harbor by a long shot, but he done himself proud this time; his answers surely took even his mentals down a rung or two! I’d warrant that Keane is wondering if his name is to be added to the list of defendants, the way Taylor laid into him. Lambasted the poor bastard, he did! Still tryin’ to shift the blame off Barron, I’d guess. Give the Court something else to think on ‘sides hangin’ his client.” Henry’s whisper seemed positively gleeful!

  “I reckon all that’s left is for Barron to take the chair, Henry, and recount his own version of his trying experience! I would hope that will see the end of our trying experience.” I giggled at my intentional and clever play on words hoping that Henry would be equally amused; he remained unmoved by it and, with not even a smile, he pressed on.

  “We’re nigh onto a month of this and not a word has he offered, save having Taylor ask a few sharp questions to those called to bear witness to his disgrace. I can scarce wait to hear how he tells the tale!”

  I whispered back to him. “Get this over and done with. Try the others and go back to sea, where we belong!” At least we agreed on that!

  The one witness who I am sure the Court would have been desperate to hear was unavailable; our first lieutenant, Benjamin Smith, had passed over back in October from an illness. He had witnessed from the quarterdeck almost everything that had transpired and likely could have shed some light on some of the conflicting testimony the court had heard. He was, as well, the one Barron sent to Leopard with our surrender and, while Henry Allen had testified to that event, Smith might have added insight that escaped my friend on account of his emotional state. Of course, Mister Smith had been called to testify before the Court of Inquiry last summer, so perhaps what he might have had to offer was already in the record of that hearing.