“Captain Gordon has testified that it would have been unlikely that our drum would have been audible on the British ship and further, that their firing commenced before the drum was sounded. In both of these particulars, he is contradicted by every other witness. I leave it to the judges, experienced sea officers, to determine whether or not a drum might be heard across the water at a distance of fifty or sixty yards. Should I be adjudged censurable for ordering the ship to quarters quietly, then so be it. But the system of conduct which made such an order necessary was injudicious and improper.”
The nods of agreement from the spectators seemed surely more universal and almost continuous, at least in my own mind. I could discern nothing from the expressions of those who bore the responsibility of judgment on Commodore Barron save interest and, from Captain Porter, a concern for the time; he had glanced at his watch more often than might have been considered appropriate by an impartial observer.
Barron was shuffling through his papers, perhaps seeking where he had left off in his defense. The spectators took the opportunity to mumble to one another, expressing their views of agreement or disagreement with his remarks. While I strained to pick out individual voices, I could make no sense of any, just an undercurrent of noise that seemed quite formless. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
Turning my head, I found myself nearly nose to nose with one of the Marine sentries who had guarded the Cabin for most of the past month. He withdrew in surprise at our proximity, as did I.
“Mister Baldwin, sir. You’re wanted on the quarterdeck, if you please. Sir.” His hoarse whisper was clearly audible to me and, I am sure, those near at hand.
“By whom?” I queried him, indeed puzzled that I should be sent for.
Were it Henry looking for me, he would have simply come into the Cabin and sought me out. Whoever could want me on deck?
The Marine simply shrugged and turned to leave, fully expecting, I am sure, that I would be close astern as he stepped out of the doorway and into the passage beyond. I was.
When I reached the quarterdeck, I saw only some of our sailors doing busy work or chores the bosun had set them to in an effort to occupy their time; there was very little needed doing as the ship had long since been put to rights.
And a good thing, too, I thought, as we have such a shorthanded crew. We surely will need to do some recruiting if ever we are to sail the frigate again!
A tall officer stood in the waist, his back to me. But even so, something about his carriage made him appear familiar. I studied him as I made my way forward; he appeared to be waiting for something or someone, and looked about him, seeming to take in all the details of the ship and her rig. A small valise stood by the bulwark, apparently his.
“Sir,” I said as I came near. “Midshipman Baldwin. I believe you sent for …” I was cut off in mid-sentence as Edward, my older brother, turned at the sound of my voice.
“Well, Midshipman Baldwin. You are looking fit, I’d judge. I’d reckon this sea duty and sailing the vast waters of Norfolk harbor agree with you. And how goes the court martial?” The smile that lit his face was matched only by my own.
I started to doff my hat in salute, but Edward stuck out his hand and when I took it in my own, pulled me to him in a brotherly embrace.
As he released me from his enthusiastic hug, I studied his face for an explanation of his presence. He was still smiling broadly.
“I am very glad to see you, Brother. But why are you here? Have you been assigned in Chesapeake?” I realized how silly that sounded as I heard it, but it was the only reason I could manage in my surprise. Nonetheless, I continued. “Your requests to be released from duty building gunboats in New York were approved?”
His smile at our reunion faded, replaced by a most somber expression. “No, Oliver. I come to fetch you. Father is not well; he had an accident in the shop or on a ship he was fitting with furnishings. I could not tell from the message I received from Mother. But she was quite clear about both of us getting ourselves to Philadelphia as quickly as ever we could. So I managed to arrange a ride for myself on a dispatch schooner leaving New York the day before yesterday and here I am. I am hopeful we can find another to get us to Philadelphia or we shall be forced to use the stagecoach which will delay us even further.” His earnest expression spoke more eloquently than did his words about his concern for our father.
“I shall seek permission from Mister Rowe at once, Edward. Will you come below to wait? Or would a look about topside be more to your liking?” Even though the weather had moderated greatly and could almost be thought of as warm, I had no idea how long it would take to secure the permission I needed to take leave of the ship, nor how quickly Edward might find us a vessel heading out of the Bay, up the coast, and into the Delaware. There was no reason he should stand out on the deck when he could be more comfortable below. Privately, I hoped he would want to see some of my ship as we had not been together on a ship’s deck since I had received my warrant.
Besides, I thought, this is my ship and I should act the proper host!
“I think a look about would be very much in order, Oliver. I would like to see where Leopard their shot, in any case. Lead on!” Edward smiled, perhaps sensing my desire to show off my home a bit.
Recalling that our first lieutenant had not been in the spectators’ gallery in the court martial, I kept a weather eye skinned for him as I led the way around the spar deck. I also, as he had requested, explained as we walked, the damage done us by Leopard last June. He seemed genuinely surprised we had sustained as much as I described, even though I had written him in some detail about it and again described it to him and our parents just two months previously when we both celebrated Christmastide in Philadelphia. I answered his questions about the progress “Decatur and Rodgers were making in hanging James Barron” with veiled comments designed to hide what he would surely construe as my youthful naiveté in thinking that perhaps Barron had not been as much to blame as some thought but was being east in the role of goat at the behest of his many detractors. Henry Allen not with standing.
It was as we turned about on the fo’c’sle to again head aft that we came across the same Henry Allen directing some work being done to the larboard side bow chaser. He looked up at our approach.
“Mister Allen, may I present my brother, Lieutenant Edward Baldwin, late of the Philadelphia frigate and currently building Mister Jeffersons gunboats in New York.”
“With all I have heard of you, sir, it gives me great pleasure to finally shake your hand.” Allen, seeing that Edward had extended his own hand in lieu of a salute, responded in kind, a broad smile across his face.
“Aye, and thank you for that, sir. Oliver has told me on any number of occasions of your heroics in the face of Leopard’s attack. I would add my own congratulations to the many I am sure you have already received. It must have been a dreadful experience, the whole episode, and one that I can well imagine, having been in a not dissimilar position in the late war.”
“What brings you to Norfolk, Lieutenant, if I may inquire? Would it be an interest in seeing our illustrious commodore get his just desserts? I would offer, sir, that should that be your want, you would be well advised to hurry below before the event is history. The commodore must be close to finishing his litany of exculpatory explanations of his scandalous behavior by now and I am sure there will be few further witnesses called to add credence; most to date seem to have offered little in the way of assistance to the man.” Henrys smile was gone, replaced by a grim expression leaving no doubt in the viewer’s mind as to his stance on the matter.
“As a matter of fact, Lieutenant…” Edward was cut off.
“Henry, please, sir. I would be much more comfortable with your using my Christian name.”
“Henry, then it is. And I am Edward.” My brother smiled to his new friend. “As I was saying, Henry, I am here not for the court martial, though that surely is of interest to me. I have come to fetch Oliver, here, to Philadelph
ia with me. Our mother has sent for us as Father has apparently suffered a serious accident which has the potential of taking his life. It would not do for us to linger any longer than necessary in responding to her call. I have already inquired as to the availability of a fast schooner with room for us which might be heading for the Delaware Bay and onwards. Should that not materialize, we shall be obliged to take passage in the stagecoach, a certainly less than speedy conveyance.”
“I seem to recall … yes, I do recall that a schooner with dispatches is leaving on the morrow for Philadelphia from Gosport, just across the way there. With a fair breeze on that vessel, you could find yourself in Philadelphia within three days, less should you find favorable tides in the Delaware. As she is a navy ship, I should think there would be little problem in securing a cabin for yourselves, especially with some help from our first lieutenant.” Henry stopped for a moment, thinking, then looked at me.
“Oliver, ask Lieutenant Rowe for a letter and permission to use a boat and crew. I am sure he will suffer you the cutter in light of the urgency. I will entertain your brother until you return.”
Henry spoke a few words to his gun crew about the work they had stopped doing while the three of us talked and, taking Edward by the arm, led him aft as he peppered him with questions about the Jeffersonian gunboats being built in New York. For my part, I hurried off in pursuit of my original mission, to find the first lieutenant, now with an additional request.
CHAPTER SIX
“Ah. Mister Baldwin. Welcome back. I trust you left your father well … or at least on the mend?” Captain Decatur’s greeting as I stepped onto the frigate’s deck caught me quite unawares. I did not know that he knew of my departure and, even had he known, I was quite sure he had many other, more important things on his mind than the comings and goings of one midshipman.
He responded to my unfeigned surprise, though he seemed to err on what had surprised me. “You recall, Oliver, that your father and I are old friends. Mister Allen told me of his accident and I was sorry that duty prevented me from paying him my respects in person. I am also sorry to have missed seeing Edward. He was well also, I collect?”
“Oh sir. Yes, sir. And thank you for asking. My brother is quite well and likely back at his post with Commodore Chauncey in New York by now. And Father is up and about, mostly through his own cussedness, and hobbling about with the assistance of a stick. The surgeon is of the opinion that it will take some considerable time to replenish the blood he lost. Father is still very weak, but determined to ‘get back to normal’ as he puts it. It was a cruel hurt he suffered when the head flew off his assistant’s adze and he lost a fair measure of his blood on top of it. Razor-sharp, it was and gave him what might have been a mortal wound. But he will surely mend and, I am sure, return to his shop in the fullness of time. I know my mother is in fervent hope of that happening sooner than later; he is like a caged bear in the house, as you might imagine, sir.”
Decatur laughed at the image of Edward Baldwin senior, cabinetmaker of some note and provider to the Navy for furnishings of many of their ships, unable to spend his usual twelve to fourteen hours daily at his profession. A large man, with a natural gusto for life and the voice to go with it, he would be overbearing as a captive in his own home and most demanding of his keeper, in this instance, my mother. Nor is he known for his patience, save when bringing to life his marvelous creations; in the shop, we have known him to spend an entire day shaping and reshaping the arm of a chair so that the curve of the arm will satisfy his craftsman’s eye. I am sure that even Edward shared my feelings of relief at being allowed to return to our own duties, he in New York, hated though his duties are, and me here in the Chesapeake frigate.
“I am sure his clientele wish him back to work sooner than later, too, Oliver. I imagine that, should a better cabinetmaker exist in all of Pennsylvania, it is a closely guarded secret! I trust he still will continue to craft furniture for the Navy? When he is able, I mean.”
“Oh yes, sir. I expect he will indeed. That has always been among his more satisfying commissions, I know. Of course, President Jefferson doesn’t appear to be seeking new warships, only the gunboats my brother, Edward, and Commodore Chauncey are building in New York. And they don’t seem to require the furnishings of a brig or frigate.” I was unable to hide the feelings I had acquired during the month and more I was in Edward’s company.
“Well, Mister Baldwin, I suspect our amity with Great Britain will grow less as they seem unwilling to quit harassing our ships for their supposed runaway seamen. This incident which has been holding all of our attention—indeed, the attention of the nation to judge by the newspapers—is only the most notorious.
“There continue to be others, though thankfully, not involving our Navy vessels. No, I fear that we may quite possibly be facing the might of the Royal Navy once again. But that remains to be seen, and surely is not something for a mere ship’s officer to pontificate on. We will leave that issue for our diplomats and politicians to resolve, hopefully, without the need for shot and powder.” Decatur looked ruefully around him, taking in the spar deck, seamen, ship’s boats, and deck battery. Then he added, albeit much more quietly, “Though should it come to that, I expect some of us will not be unhappy!”
Then louder, ending my attendance to his comments, “I expect Mister Rowe will want to know of your return, Mister Baldwin. I am sure he will have much for you to do as we will be sailing within a fortnight under orders to enforce the embargo. I am glad you made it back to us.” The commodore then turned and, without a further glance or, likely thought, in my direction, stepped aft, toward the quarterdeck and the hatch leading to his Cabin. For my part, I went in search of the first lieutenant to report my return aboard.
“Well, Mister Baldwin. You decided to return to your duties at long last, I see!” Henry Allen’s unmistakable voice stopped me in my tracks as I made my way from the gun room, where my return was acknowledged by Lieutenant Rowe, to the cockpit to ensure my chest had been delivered by the sailor to whom I had entrusted it.
“Henry … uh …Mister Allen, sir, I mean.” He frowned at my formality and I realized that he was only feigning an air he did not mean. “Yes, I am back only just now. I collect all is well? And I would assume that the court martial was brought to a satisfactory conclusion?”
I had immediately, upon approaching the ship, checked aloft for the court martial flag; the empty t’gallant mast where the yellow and blue pennant had become tattered and frayed, snapping in the winter gales daily for nearly all of January and a week into February when I had left for my father’s bedside, told me the trial was done. How agreeable was its outcome would depend, I reckoned, on who was doing the telling.
“Well, I would reckon that might depend on ‘satisfactory’ to whom.” Henry’s warm smile retreated for a moment, as his words echoed my own thoughts, then returned. “Our illustrious commodore, while not hanged … or even cashiered for that matter, was suspended without pay for five years. A small price to pay for so great an offense as he committed, I’d warrant! And as we agreed … well, I predicted and you didn’t disagree, the other two officers—Gordon and Hall, got off with reprimands. Private reprimands, in fact. Of course, I had to testify at both of their trials. Same questions, almost to the letter, as I got in Barron’s trial. Reckon the judges on the panel already found out all they needed to know during Barron’s trial and the others … well, they had to do something, but it didn’t seem all that momentous. Gordon’s trial took only seven days and Hall’s two.
“Gunner Hook chose not to hire a lawyer to defend himself, preferring to act as his own counsel. I don’t have to tell you how that went! His trial lasted barely one day and the verdict was delivered almost immediately the testimony ended! Guilty! And out he went. Tossed to the wolves and good riddance, I say. Man was a fool and incompetent to boot!”
I could not believe my ears! The commodore thrown out of the Navy for five years! And, for not preparing his shi
p for sea and being ready to fight on a moment’s notice, Captain Gordon got a reprimand, and a private one on top of it. Hall, the Marine captain, I neither knew well nor cared of his fate and Hook; well, from my own experience with the gunner during the attack, I could only agree with that sentence. But the commodore! I was astounded.
“I can not believe that, Henry. Five years suspension?”
“Hah! You do agree with me, Oliver! I was most certain you would see the error of your earlier position. It certainly was little more than a slap on the wrist for so heinous a crime. Surrendering one’s ship without a fight, indeed! Should have been hanged, as I have said all along. Or tossed out permanently with that useless gunner! I would have thought Decatur and Rodgers and the others would have seen to it that that sentence would be a fit one and ordered it done. Course, the sentence they did order has not yet been approved by the Navy Secretary, so there’s a chance he, or Jefferson, might see fit to stiffen it a bit. Aye, we can only hope.”
My friend and superior had completely misunderstood my shock at Barron’s sentence and I felt it prudent to leave the subject alone for now. No sense antagonizing him, friend or otherwise, unnecessarily There would be ample time for that during long dull watches once we were at sea.
I quickly fell back into the shipboard routine that I had left some six weeks previously and turned to with a will, performing all the duties assigned me and helping to forge our mismatched crew into a fighting force. All under the watchful and practiced eye of our commanding officer, Stephen Decatur, but more often under the scrutiny of the first lieutenant.
Lieutenant Rowe was a quick study and had learned his employment with great alacrity, becoming a stern disciplinarian in the process. The contrast to his predecessor, Mister Smith, (and even that of Captain Gordon) was a constant topic of conversation among the midshipmen who, as might be expected by all but the most raw among us, felt the brunt of Mister Rowe’s desire to excel, especially in the wake of our immediate and generally unsupervised and, some might even say, unruly, past.
In Pursuit of Glory Page 12