A Dishonorable Few (The Honor Series)

by Robert N. Macomber

  “The ship is in very good condition, sir, as you would expect. Our supplies are not topped up due to funding problems, and the locals ashore won’t take departmental credit chits anymore, say they’re worthless and they don’t want to deal with the bureaucracy up in Washington. I can’t get anyone ashore to help us, really, and this is our last American port.”

  “What are you short of?”

  “Everything on the provisions list, sir.”

  Wake had an idea on how to handle that. “What about coal?”

  Connery shook his head. “I thought we’d try to bluff some Spanish port into taking our credit chits. No one here will and the navy coal pile here has dwindled to almost nothing. We got the last of that yesterday. We have enough to make a Cuban port.”

  Wake was sure he had a remedy for that. That left ammunition. “Our guns and magazines?”

  Connery cheered a bit. That was his division. “Yes, sir. We are in good shape. Powder was new and most of the shells as well. I got to take our gunner with me to pick the good stuff at the yard in Washington. The gunner was an old shipmate of the yard’s gunner.”

  “Our gunner is Mark Durling?”

  “Yes, sir. You know him? A crotchety old salt, but looks like he knows his weaponry.”

  Wake laughed for the first time since coming aboard. “Oh yes, I know Durling. A very good man with a 12-pounder. I can’t imagine the damage he could do with our one-ten. We’re lucky to have him.” He held up a hand to the gunnery officer. “Which brings up the subject of the crew. Are we full to rated compliment?”

  “Yes, sir. In all divisions. Mostly veterans, too. The officers are all experienced, except for the new ensigns, of course. Lt. David Custen has deck division, with Ensign Kennard Moe assisting. My assistant in gunnery is Ensign Robert Noble. The chief engineer is Manfred Winter and his assistant engineer is Josie Cardle. I wrote out a list for you, sir. The petty officers, there’s a dozen of them, are listed by division as well.”

  Wake took the list and studied it. All in all, the ship seemed to be almost ready. Connery got his attention. “One more thing, sir. I got word this afternoon that we are having guests aboard for dinner, a formal dinner. The captain said that you would be in charge of getting it done, sir. His words, sir.”

  Wake nodded. “Yes, I was informed of that. No problem, we’ll handle it.” He pulled out his watch and saw the time. “Very good, Mr. Connery. I see we don’t have much time to get everything done we need to do, or even to have an officers’ call right now for me to get acquainted, so listen carefully. You will have to pass these orders along.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “First, regarding provisions. Have Bosun Rork take Ensign Noble ashore to Sally Walthrop’s store. Rork has known her for some time, probably better than he should,” Wake flashed a rueful grin, “and she’ll hopefully trust him still. She will be able to fill our provision list.”

  Connery, like the rest of the ship, knew that Wake had served in Key West during the war, but didn’t know he still had ties. “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “As for the coal, we’ll get some at Fort Jefferson. The army has a supply there. It’s not the best, but they do have to take a credit chit, so we’ll top off bunkers there. Let Mr. Winter know that.”

  Connery had never been in Key West or the fort at the Dry Tortugas. “I’m amazed, sir. I thought the fort wasn’t being used anymore.”

  Wake smiled and raised an eyebrow. “It’s not, really. There’s only a caretaker there—and the old pile of coal by the dock.”

  Connery was entering into the spirit. “Very good news, sir. I was really worried about that.”

  “And of course, the dinner tonight is at seven, in four hours.” Wake paused as he studied the list. “Have Rork take O’Malley the cook with him to Sally’s and get the makings of the dinner. Who is the treasurer of the officers’ mess?”

  “Ensign Moe is, sir.”

  Wake checked his watch again. “Very well, then he just got elected to lead the dinner effort. Once he is off watch he can make sure all is ready, clean, and squared away. I presume we have wine for the dinner?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well, Mr. Connery. I will now take a turn about the ship and see what’s what.”

  “Yes, sir. Do you wish me to show you around the ship?”

  “No, you have enough to accomplish, but there is one other thing, Mr. Connery.”

  “Sir?”

  “There will be a brief officers’ call tonight at six-thirty, in my cabin.”

  Wake left Connery to his work. He walked back into the wardroom, then stopped and contemplated what had been bothering him about the conversation with Connery. It was Parker Terrington. Wake realized that other than Connery’s brief aside about the dinner, neither of them had mentioned the man.

  It was as if the captain didn’t even exist aboard the Canton.

  11

  Good Impression

  Wake’s uneasy feeling about Captain Terrington was reinforced when he knocked on the captain’s door an hour later. He wanted to update Terrington on how they were going to overcome the fuel and provisioning problems. But Terrington refused to allow him to enter and muttered through the closed door, “Wake, I told you to take care of things. Now just do it.”

  Wake had never heard of such a thing. The normal relationship between a captain and his first officer was such that they could and would talk frequently—they would have to for the sake of the ship and crew. And Terrington’s rudeness in omitting the traditional title “Mister” before Wake’s name did more than anger the executive officer. It worried him.

  Perhaps I am just nervous and imagining all this, Wake thought as he made his way to his own cabin for the officers’ call scheduled a few minutes hence. I hope I am imagining it, he brooded. Two years could be an eternity under the wrong man’s command.

  ***

  The cabin was hot and humid with the five men crammed inside. It was unusual to hold meetings there, but Wake wanted to see them all before the formal dinner.

  “Gentlemen,” he started as he looked into each man’s eyes, “I want to compliment you on what you have accomplished with this crew in such a short time since commissioning. As I took a turn about this afternoon I could see that they are experienced and morale is good. Their efficiency is a reflection on all of you, particularly Lieutenant Connery, who has done a fine job as acting executive officer prior to my arrival. Congratulations.”

  This had his desired effect upon them and they loosened up a bit. Wake continued. “I understand that each of you has been told of our mission. It will require initiative and decisiveness, for we will be alone in a hostile part of the world. We must know and trust each other—for there will be no one else to call for help. Remember that when times get difficult.”

  He let that sink in. Several of the officers nodded in agreement.

  “Over the next few days, I will be spending time with each of you, discussing your division and your men. I look forward to it and to serving aboard this great lady.”

  Wake allowed a smile. “But for now, this evening we will dine with our guests and impress our local civilian leaders with how their tax money is being spent.” He paused while they laughed. “So let’s all have a nice dinner, for tomorrow morning the mission starts in earnest. Any questions?”

  Wake got the impression that several did want to ask something, their eyes shifting from him downward, but no one spoke up. “No? Well, if you do, you can ask me at any time. Let’s go spend a nice evening together.”

  With that Wake led them into the wardroom. The steward and Ensign Moe had arranged things in a neat and orderly naval fashion, complete with names at the place settings. Wake looked around, but didn’t see the captain. Probably will come in last, for effect, he surmised, then turned his attention to the
arriving guests from shore. Mayor Mahoney and his wife, Judge Whitehurst and his wife, and the Episcopal rector were shown to their seats by very nervous ensigns Moe and Noble, and afterward the officers began to sit down. Finally the door opened, but instead of the captain, it was their distinguished passenger, Don Pablo Monteblanco. Monteblanco walked straight up to Wake.

  “You are the new assistant captain, no?”

  Wake bowed slightly. He didn’t really know exactly what to say or do around diplomats, and replied, “Yes, sir. I am Lieutenant Peter Wake, the executive officer, the position just below the captain of the ship. It is a honor and pleasure to meet you, Don Pablo. I hope you will be comfortable while aboard.”

  Monteblanco shrugged. “We shall see, Mr. Wake. Is the captain attending tonight?”

  “Why yes, sir. From our conversation about the dinner this afternoon, I believe he is looking forward to seeing everyone tonight.”

  Monteblanco seemed surprised. “Have you known the captain long, Mr. Wake?”

  “Not at all before I reported aboard this afternoon, sir. I am looking forward to serving under him.”

  The Venezuelan eyed Wake closely. “Yes, well, the mission from your government is very important. I wish you success.”

  Wake wondered if he should offer condolences, and further wondered how much the foreign diplomat knew of the Canton’s orders. He decided to stay on a safer subject.

  “Thank you, sir. May I introduce to you our guests from the island?”

  Wake saw the diplomat spread a courteous smile as he turned to the others, obviously experienced in social matters with politicians. “But of course, Lieutenant. I am looking forward to making the acquaintance of these respected leaders of your civil society. And so very lovely, too,” said Monteblanco as he gazed into the eyes of Mrs. Mahoney, who was old enough to be his grandmother, causing her to become flustered and whisper to her husband, “Oh Danny, these Latins are charmers, aren’t they?”

  The captain never appeared, even after Wake sent Moe to remind him he was late. Moe returned, clearly frightened to tell Wake the reply. “The captain said he was sick, sir, and wouldn’t make dinner.”

  Wake tried not to react, burying the anger, and turned to the others explaining that the captain was unfortunately ill and sent his regrets. And so the evening went on in the way those affairs always did for Wake. By the end his facial muscles were tired of smiling and his ears thought they would burst if he heard Mrs. Mahoney compliment Monteblanco on his manners another time. He missed Linda. The two of them could have had a good time together, enduring the excruciating event with humor and flirting.

  Later, as the guests were leaving, Monteblanco told Wake he wanted to have a word with him about the situation into which they were steaming. When Wake suggested they go to his cabin and talk, the Venezuelan said no, the next day would be fine and that he was tired from the evening. Wake got the impression that Monteblanco also was exhausted by playing the role expected of him. In fact, Wake decided, the only person who looked like they were having an enjoyable time that evening was Mrs. Mahoney, who was probably still talking Mayor Mahoney’s head off about “that Latin charmer.”

  Wake fell down onto his berth feeling totally drained of energy. It had been quite a day, and tomorrow would be the first day of this strange mission.

  12

  Distant Horizons

  The captain was in his berth when Wake entered. Knocking on the door had gotten no response, the captain’s steward reported that he had been told repeatedly to stay out, and Wake finally decided to just go in. By the light of a lantern turned low, Terrington could be seen sprawled half on and half off the berth, a bottle of British White Duster rum empty by his side. Wake touched the man’s shoulder.

  “Captain, it’s Lieutenant Wake. Eight bells in the fore watch, sir. Sun will rise in about two hours. We’re fully provisioned and need to get under way for Fort Jefferson in the Tortugas. We can fill the bunkers up there, then head out, sir.”

  “What the hell are you babbling about, Wake?”

  Wake gritted his teeth and looked around. No one was close by in the companionway. Even so, he closed the door. The officers and men shouldn’t see Terrington like this, he knew, and wondered if they had already on other occasions.

  “Getting under way, Captain.”

  “So get under way, Wake. Do you need me to steer the damn thing too?”

  Wake ignored the sarcasm, deciding to try being positive one last time. He put his hand under Terrington’s shoulder and began to lift him up. “Captain, how about I give you a hand in getting up this morning, sir. You look like you’re recovering from your illness last night. Splash of cold water on your face, a mug of hot coffee, and some fresh air out on deck will make you feel even better. I’ll have the steward set up some breakfast, sir.”

  “Get the hell away from me, you damn fool!” Terrington came up off the bed and looked at Wake with crazed, reddened eyes. “I said to get her under way!” Then he slumped back down and grunted, “Now, get the hell out of here.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  As he was leaving the cabin he saw the captain’s steward, Morely, come up out of the dark. Morely looked startled to see Wake. “Good morning, sir. Just coming to see if the captain would like an early breakfast, seeing’s how we’re getting under way this morn.”

  “No, Morely, he doesn’t. He won’t be needing you for a while. He’s still feeling poorly and will stay in bed until later.”

  Wake watched Morely’s face for any type of reaction, as he must have heard the captain’s ranting, but the veteran steward showed none, his eyes carefully neutral. “I see, sir. Then I won’t disturb the captain and let him get his rest.”

  ***

  The sun was climbing up as they steamed south out the channel that was so familiar to Wake. At Sand Key they turned to starboard and ran westbound with the wind for Fort Jefferson, setting the mizzenmast spanker sail to assist the engine. As the sun rose, its illumination penetrated the waters and Wake could see the reefs sliding by below, the water so crystal clear that it looked like they were in a balloon sailing through the air over the colorful landscape below. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day and he let the glory of it all fill him and wash away the disgust he felt for his commander.

  An hour later Monteblanco arrived on the gently rolling deck and laboriously made his way aft to where Wake was breathing in deep draughts of the heavy sea air, enjoying the moment.

  “Mr. Wake, good morning. Would it be appropriate at this time to have our background talk about the area to which you are going? I am thinking that you should know as much as possible before you go there. I will not be with you then to help you understand these matters.”

  The morning’s fresh exhilaration evaporated for Wake as he said, “Yes, Don Pablo, now would be fine.”

  Wake listened as Monteblanco explained the current situation in Venezuela, New Granada—also known recently as Colombia—and the Central American countries. It was not simple. There were many shades of nuances and meanings, and many relationships among the major figures, but Wake’s orderly mind distilled it all into a pattern that he understood and could use as a foundation for the mission.

  Monteblanco’s country, the Estados Unidos del Gran República de Venezuela, was in the midst of a civil war between the conservative sitting president, General José Tadeo Monagas, and the liberals under General Antonio Gúzman Blanco. Monteblanco thought the liberal reformers would probably win eventually. His father had been a personal supporter of their cause, even as he carried out his duties as a professional diplomat for whatever government was in power. Monagas was not in favor of having European navies come in and clean the pirates out of the area; the liberals were in favor of much closer ties with the Europeans as a way to thwart North American hegemony.

  The United States of New
Granada was now going by the name Colombia, but many people still used the former. The central government was very weak, and the Caribbean coast, where many outlaws and pirates were based, was currently under the power of a liberal local government that was anti-American, but that could change at any time. The government had no control outside the main cities anyway, and sometimes not even there. Cartagena was a center of lawlessness, where everyone was paying someone to allow them to do almost anything.

  The American Transit Company unofficially controlled some of the Caribbean coast of the Isthmus close to Aspinwall and Porto Bello by way of a concession to operate the railroad between the Caribbean and the Pacific that it obtained from the Colombian government in 1855. Monteblanco thought perhaps the American company was paying off the local bandits to allow it to operate its lucrative inter-oceanic transshipping relatively unmolested. The French were appearing in that area with surveying parties, looking for a canal route.

  Costa Rican president Jesús Jiménez was in a power struggle with revolutionary reformer Colonel Tomas Guardia, and no one was in real control of that Caribbean coast. Monteblanco expected to read in the papers any day now that Guardia had won the day, which would increase that country’s interaction with the British, who had some trading settlements on the Moskito coast. Every few years the Royal Navy would patrol there, during which time the piracy would cease, so Monteblanco thought an increased British presence would be a good thing.

  In Nicaragua they were not in favor of Americans, for their memories of the Walker filibusterers were too vivid and recent. Conservative president General Tomás Martinez was in disagreement with the British about their settlements along the Nicaraguan part of the Moskito coast, and he was attempting to entice the French into a potential canal building concession, so perhaps the French Navy might be starting to show up in the area.