“The English have a reputation of being fair-minded, particularly when it comes to prisoner exchange, and I would be most surprised should they not honor the flag of truce the vessel will be displaying.” Key spoke up for the first time. “I witnessed their actions at Bladensburg, and I can assure you, they were most honorable in their treatment of any who were captured; civilians who were not involved were, for the most part, left alone as well.” He paused. “Except for Doctor Beanes, that is. I can not for the life of me, understand why they felt it necessary to take him prisoner. He was not only treating Americans who fell at Bladensburg, but many of the British soldiers – and officers – as well. And the enemy used his home as a headquarters for their march on our capital. Their refusing to leave him to his task doesn’t answer. No sir, doesn’t answer at all!”
“And you figger that just acause you show up on their doorstep, hat in hand, and askin’ nice and proper, they’re gonna just doff they’s hats and turn him over to you and Colonel Skinner here. You got one of their officers to trade for him? Don’t reckon they’d be much likely to make an exchange without they get somethin’ into the bargain.” Talbot remained skeptical of the likely outcome of the mission – one in which he was being asked to risk a vessel and crew.
The agent for prisoner exchange answered his concern. “As a matter of fact, Captain Talbot, we do have several British officers in our custody. Some were left behind, wounded at Bladensburg, and others fell, apparently from the heat, on their march out of the capital, and were left in Upper Marlboro – originally under the care of Doctor Beanes. Since most have fully – or nearly so – recovered from their various ordeals, I would expect they would be right glad to have some of them returned. So in answer to your question, no. We are most assuredly not going out to them empty-handed.” Satisfied that he had successfully removed any doubts from Talbot’s mind, Skinner sat back, finished his ale, and smiled at the flotilla commander.
“Well, that does put a little different slant on the wind most likely. How about it, Isaac? You reckon you could get these coves out there and not get you own self took back into the Royal Navy?”
Isaac nodded and glanced at Jack and his one-armed mate. Both offered nearly imperceptible nods of agreement. Carronade remained sleeping next to Jack, oblivious to the noise in the tavern and the conversation and its implications.
“You mentioned you was at Bladensburg, Mister Key. Were you part of a militia unit there, or what?” Isaac focused on the lawyer with a look of innocent curiosity. Jake smiled inwardly, suspecting what was coming.
“As a matter of fact, Captain Biggs, I was assisting – in a civilian capacity – General Walter Smith’s First Columbian Brigade. We consisted of over one thousand volunteers and militiamen and, while we were desperately short of both muskets and flints, many of our men fought and acquitted themselves honorably. When we finally had the opportunity to fight, that is.” Key shook his head at his recollection of the confusion that had reigned supreme during the time immediately preceding the confrontation at Bladensburg. “We had been positioned at the Eastern Branch bridge in Washington by General Winder when his orders were countermanded by Secretary Monroe and the men were marched straight to Bladensburg.
“General Smith and I rode ahead to survey the fields and map the deployments of the units already there. But the battle had begun; advance units of the enemy’s forces were already engaged with our army, under direct command of General Winder – who was quite obviously retreating under the assault.” Key scowled and continued. “Many of our soldiers cut and run as soon as they took sight of the British regulars marching toward them. They were concerned about the well-being of their families outside of Bladensburg – some say rightly so – and felt their responsibility was to be with them. Others did stand and fight, but with the paucity of muskets, flints, and ball, were unable to hold for long against the apparently overwhelming force opposing them. One can not imagine the strength of the enemy at that battle without having experienced it first-hand.” Key shook his head and made a sweeping gesture with both hands.
“General Smith and I were called back to Washington and reached there – I went to Georgetown, to my offices there, to safeguard my papers and personal property – shortly before the British marched into the city. By that time, most all had left and there was naught to do save move to safer ground.”
“Aye, Mister Key. Isaac and Jake and me was there. Right at the bridge outside of the village. Fact was, the men of Commodore Barney’s gunboat flotilla was about the only ones what stood they’s ground and fought. Wasn’t ‘til the teamsters run off with our ammunition wagons – followin’ close on the heels of the militia and most of the army coves – and we was down to our last barrel of powder that the commodore ordered us to fall back. And he was shot, though some say not mortal, and we had to leave him to the mercy of the British. So, aye, sir. You can bet your boots that we knowed what was actin’ there. And the way the militia performed they’s duty.” Clements fairly spat out his final words, his disgust at the rout ringing in the ears of the lawyer and agent for prisoner exchange.
The latter spoke up quickly, attempting to disarm a situation that had all the earmarks of undermining their quest for Doctor Beanes’ release. “You lads were in Barney’s flotilla? Down on the Patuxent? Why, the capture of those vessels was the very reason the British came so far up the river. You fine fellows and your gunboats surely had the British tied up in knots, by God! They risked a great deal by sailing into the Patuxent to destroy that fleet.
“Of course, had they not already been so close, they would never have marched on Washington. I know that from the very lips of General Ross himself, with whom I spoke concerning an exchange only a few days after they left the capital city. It was Admiral Cockburn, second-in-command of the naval forces, who convinced General Ross to march on to Washington. But they did not capture and burn the flotilla, and for that we are thankful, you may be assured.”
“No, Colonel, it surely weren’t them what burned the vessels; we done it our own selves! On the commodore’s orders, and just to keep them bastards from capturing ‘em – and…” Isaac was cut off by Clements who had jumped to his feet. He raised his voice substantially above the din to ensure the two gentlemen could miss none of his words.
“Heave to there! You tryin’ to tell us it was Barney’s – and us’n’s – fault what made the damn British go burn down Washington? That just acause we let ‘em chase us up the river? Is that what you’re sayin’? First you try an’ tell us the militia at Bladensburg was actin’ good and proper and now this? If’n you coves’re hangin’ on to them ideas, why, you can march right outta here quick as ever you like. Barney’s men was the only ones what stood and fought, after all them what was s’posed to, run…” Jack started sputtering, he was so vexed. Both Skinner and Key remained seated, but clearly this was not going the way they had hoped. And suddenly the ale house seemed awfully quiet. Tate noticed more than a few of the flotillamen studying them intently.
Talbot had put a restraining hand on Jack’s arm. “Ease her up there, some, Jack. These coves ain’t accusin’ the flotilla – or the commodore – of setting the enemy on Washington. They know that ain’t the fact at all. But I reckon everybody ‘tween here and there knows full well about Bladensburg. The militia run off so fast the folks is callin’ it the ‘Bladensburg Races’, by the Almighty. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.” He studied both Key and Skinner with a look that had made grown men whimper; his hand had eased around behind his back. “Now let’s us just all settle down and get back to the business of gettin’ you gents out to the British fleet.”
Clements sat as ordered and the noise in the ale house immediately returned to the level it had attained prior to Jack’s outburst; the sailors realized there would be no fight – no excitement – and returned to their own shouted conversations while Talbot returned both his hands to the table and his tankard.
“I reckon we could get under way tonight �
�� or first light tomorrow – if that’d suit, Colonel. I’d like to get some stores aboard, but I think we might get that done afore dark tonight with some help from the others.” Isaac looked at Talbot for confirmation and received a nod of concurrence.
“That would answer splendidly, Captain Biggs. The sooner the better, as far as we are concerned. And let me apologize for any misunderstanding that might have been the fault of either Mister Key or myself; there was no intent to suggest that the British attack on our capital was even remotely the fault of your excellent flotilla – or Commodore Barney. The very fact that you all held out so long – and caused them so much trouble – speaks eloquently of the bravery of you fine men and your leader. And I am sure, should the need arise here in Baltimore, Captain Talbot’s gunboats will sail to the fore and meet the enemy with equal fortitude and resolve.” Skinner looked from Isaac to Jack smiling his acquiescence. And the matter was over.
However, as Isaac stood to take his leave, he noticed Jack had lost his easy smile and continued to scowl at the lawyer. “Come on, Jack. We got things to take care of afore we get underway.”
The young New Englander led his companions and Carronade out to the still-muddy street and Jared could hear him issuing instructions of preparation as they moved to the quaywall.
“You men got yourself one fine skipper there in that young man; I only knowed him a short while afore Commodore Barney sent me up here in case the British come here ‘stead of Washington, but what I seen – and heard from some what know him better – tells me they ain’t much he can’t get done.” Jared shifted in his chair and called for more ale for himself and his guests. He tipped his chair back, balancing it on its two back legs and spoke just loud enough to be heard over the din.
“He spent nigh onto two years in the Royal Navy – pressed he was, off’n an American merchant sailin’ in the Indies. Topman, and a right fine one into the bargain. Sailed with a Cap’n Rogers outta Salem in a privateer brig last year and had a fair run o’ luck.
“He was involved in some kind of rescue of American prisoners of war up to Halifax, I’m told – and so was Jack Clements and that one-armed cove, Tate – but none of ‘em talk much about that. Way I heard it, Clements and Tate was in the prison and Biggs went and got ‘em out. Never did smoke the way he done it, but I know the story’s likely true – or mostly so. Took some doing, I can tell you, sailing in there and getting them men out. So I reckon you gents got the right lads to carry you out there. Feel bad they ain’t goin’ armed, but I reckon you’re right enough about the Royal Navy bein’ less likely to shoot at a vessel what’s unarmed.”
“I believe I have heard of the Captain Rogers you mentioned from Salem. Asa Rogers is his name and he is – or was – one of the leading citizens and ship owners in that city. Converted his best vessel for privateering at the outbreak of the war, unlike most of the others in New England who preferred to continue trading with the British in spite of the hostilities. I was slightly involved with one of his friends – or perhaps a competitor from Salem – a George Crowninshield it was – who sought and received a letter of truce from President Madison to reclaim the body of James Lawrence and his first lieutenant…” Here Skinner paused and thought for a moment as his fingers drummed the table absently. “Ludlow! August or Augustus Ludlow. Don’t quite recollect the man’s Christian name, but assuredly Ludlow was his family name. He was the first on the Chesapeake frigate with Captain Lawrence when the British took her off Cape Ann. Just over a year ago, I think. Yes, now I recall exactly; it was the first of June last year. Terrible tragedy, that. What a dreadful loss. Folks’re still talking about it now – even down here on the Bay.”
“Aye,” Talbot acknowledged, nodding his head sadly. “That story kinda took the wind outta our sails down here for a bit. But then folks got they’s dander up and tried to fight back figgerin’ to try and even the score some, I’d reckon. British navy then was takin’ ships right here in the Bay and raidin’ and gen’lly raisin’ Cain up an’ down the whole length. Eastern Shore, mostly, but they didn’t miss much. Then they up and left – August or September, I think it were – and we thought we’d ‘em run out! Course, they was back. Showed up in April and started raidin’ and burin’ like they’d never quit!” He spat on the floor and grunted an expletive neither of the men caught.
“This then, assuming they do, in fact, attack Baltimore, will surely be the penultimate test of our resolve. I should think that should the British be successful here in Baltimore we would have little recourse but to capitulate. Especially after they proved the facility with which they virtually obliterated our Capital.” Key, seeking validation for his idea, looked questioningly at Jared who only stared back at him, slack-jawed. Skinner, sensing a need for translation, jumped in to avoid further difficulties with the flotillamen.
“I think you are quite right, Frank. Unless we can drive the enemy away here – and I do think they will certainly attack Baltimore, and very soon – they will likely realize that we can not stand up to their might and will take more of our cities and then work their way inland. Not just in New York on the lakes there, but further west toward the frontier where some of the earlier fights took place. Truly we are sunk if that happens.”
Talbot, now with some understanding of what the Georgetown lawyer had meant, nodded in agreement. And stood.
“You gents will have to ‘scuse me now. I got to see about a few things yonder.” Without further comment, or waiting for agreement, he left the agent for prisoner exchange and the lawyer sitting in the still boisterous ale house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was under a darkening sky, made even darker by the still threatening clouds scudding through it, that the handy little sloop recently acquired by Talbot’s flotilla won its anchor and headed for North Point, Jake Tate’s steady hand on the tiller. Isaac stood close by while Jack Clements, assuming the role of first mate, supervised Frank Clark, Sam Hay, and Clive Billings as they set, first the stays’l, and then the flying jib. They all recalled what Isaac, only moments before they embarked their passengers, had expressed to them.
“We got no time to tarry here lads; haste in gettin’ out there and back is the orders. These coves got to get they’s business done and we got to get our own selves back here afore the damn British start they’s fightin’. No telling what’ll be actin’ then. So don’t make problems for us; we’ll have plenty of ‘em if’n we’re caught out there with the whole fleet when they’re attackin’ Baltimore.”
“Who are these coves, Isaac, that they’s so important as we got to carry ‘em yonder – into the middle of the British fleet?” Clive Billings, his distinctive voice grating as usual, was quick to question their commission. Isaac and Jack tried patiently to explain – again – what they were doing, and Billings moved off to stow the gear and provisions so recently brought aboard, grumbling, but doing his work quickly and properly. The other men merely nodded at the explanation and set about taking care of the myriad details necessary to prepare the vessel.
When Skinner and Key were rowed out to the sloop, they both stopped on deck before even they had been shown below to stow their personal gear and surveyed their new surroundings.
“John, I am most assuredly not a seaman, but this vessel…it’s certainly not of significance. Do you think it will answer? We may have to travel beyond the mouth of the harbor to find Admiral Cochrane’s flagship. This weather certainly doesn’t appear to be improving. Are you comfortable with it?” Key spoke quietly to Colonel Skinner as he took in the fifty-foot long deck of the sloop, her tall mast and the diminutive deck house.
“I don’t imagine that Captain Talbot would have sent us out in this ship unless he was confident of both the ship and the crew. I am not a sailor either, but I suspect that with Captain Biggs and his crew we will be taken where we need to go to find Tonnant and brought back in safety. We should perhaps concern ourselves with how we will approach the admiral when we do find him.” Skinner was more use
d to dealing with the military – even seamen – than was the lawyer, and led his companion below following the sailor who showed them the way.
The two emerged from the cramped space they would share as the sloop responded to the fresh breeze and pushed her shoulder into the chop of the outer harbor.
“I collect you have brought the flag you mentioned – the truce flag?” Isaac spoke to Skinner as the passengers stepped aft onto the tiny quarterdeck.
“Indeed we have, Captain. It is downstairs with my bona fides and other papers. Do you want it now?” Key answered the query quickly before the agent for prisoner exchange could utter a word.
“I think on a vessel they call it ‘below’, Frank. It would likely be appropriate to hand it over to Captain Biggs now so he can hoist it when he deems necessary.” Skinner cast a glance at Isaac and received a nod of concurrence. Without further talk, Frank Key, the attorney from Georgetown, went quickly back ‘downstairs’ to fetch the white flag.
As the sloop came within sight of Sparrows Point, the men could see several men-of-war anchored in the stream off North Point; a pair of frigates and two smaller vessels. British battle colors were flying at the truck of each.
“Ain’t none of them big enough to be a flagship, Isaac. I’d reckon the admiral would likely be on at least a two-decker – mayhaps even a second-rater. And they surely ain’t none of them yonder.” Jack Clements stood at the midships rail with a longglass to his eye. Key and Skinner we close at hand and looked questioningly at one another as the former bosun spoke.
“Aye. Looks that way to me, too, Jack.” Isaac nodded at his friend and turned to Tate at the helm. “Let her come off a point or two, Jake. We’ll bear off some and head more southerly. See if we can find the rest of the ships comin’ in.”
The Evening Gun: Volume three in War of 1812 Trilogy Page 24