by D P Prouty
Several other men began to laugh as well before Mr. Freeman appeared at the stern, looked at the ship’s boat, and then at Frank. “You’ll be patching that up, Mr. Hill,” he growled, “Gentlemen, I think that completes your shooting lesson for the day,” he declared.
8
Charleston
Anticipating that we would soon be in the harbor, Mr. Edwards instructed me to retrieve some of his cooking containers for preparing a hot meal once anchored. I did as he directed then waited until we arrived. It had been three months since I last set foot on American soil and I was looking forward to returning. It was still early in the morning when I saw the land to our west. Standing near the bow, I witnessed the sun shining off the rooftops like hundreds of tiny embers from a fire flickering as we sailed closer to the coast. To our north was another dock with four merchantmen at anchor. The small island had several rows of wood buildings and a long stretch of white sanded beach. Mr. Duffy leaned onto the gunwale and observed the same view. None of the ships in our convoy approached that area and continued sailing to a harbor further on. “What’s that port?” I asked Mr. Duffy.
He replied, “I don’t know, lad.”
“Slavers!” Mr. Edwards said as he shuffled up next to us. “They be black-hearted slavers there.”
We stood there looking at the ships in the distance for a minute or two before I found the courage to ask him, “Why are slavers there?”
“That’s Sullivan’s Island, a place you never want to see, boy. That’s where they take all them captured Negros for quarantine before they are sold into slavery.” I felt a coldness come over me as we passed by the island sure to be laden with people in misery. Their lives would forever be changed. Mr. Edwards stood in silence a minute or two before walking away. I turned to Mr. Duffy standing beside me, but before I said a word, he said, “I don’t know.” I was amazed he knew what I was going to ask before I asked it. He resumed, “I don’t know how men can enslave others to profit from their suffering. This country lacks very little— except workers I guess.”
“Gentlemen, I would offer my estimation on the subject if you care to hear a divergent opinion,” Doctor Batterton said as he stepped forward and leaned on the gunwale peering out at Sullivan’s Island.
“Sir?” I said.
“Please, call me Bat, young fellow.” Although Doctor Batterton often seemed informal, he commanded a lot of respect from the crew. He removed his hat to reveal his pale complexion, his blond hair looked almost white in the morning sun as he smoked a cigar. The cigar smoke twirled around his head like a halo as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I am a doctor,” he said in a southern inflexion, “and I can tell you there is no anatomical difference between a Negro and a white man.” He paused as if searching for a word. “There are those that will disagree, but I tell you there is no difference.” He puffed on his cigar, then looked at me and Mr. Duffy clearly and said. “However, countries are not developed based on the equality of her subjects, but rather the power of a country is determined by economic might.” He went on to explain that we should examine the merchantmen we have escorted safely to port. The floating giants loaded with cargo from the Caribbean are the fruits of slave labor. He asserted, “If I may be so bold as to ask, who do you think funds the exploits of our very ship?” Hesitating, he looked at us as if expecting an answer, “That my friends would be the very landowners that pay taxes based on the bounties of their plantations. You see, there are not enough men to work the fields, and certainly the Africans would not volunteer to be taken from their homes to a strange land only to work hard labor, even free to work at a wage they would certainly leave to return home or somewhere else like West Florida. I dare say, if it wasn’t for the slaves, we might not have been able to win our independence from England!” He told that he believed this to be the precise reason the British freed slaves they came in contact with and integrated them into the British Army. “It is regrettably a necessary evil, growing pains of a nation, lining the pockets of businessmen putting money in the coffers to pay for our countries’ defense,” he uttered almost apologetically.
Mr. Duffy sat quietly while Bat presented his assertion and then said to him, “When will their plight end? Certainly it cannot continue forever.”
The doctor replied, “When it is no longer necessary I suppose. The slaves will be freed and assimilated into society like they already appear to be doing in some states where slaves are no longer necessary.”
I thought of Captain Daquin, and I understood his passion to free Africans. Africa—why did so many nations capture Africans for slave labor? I didn’t know if it was because they couldn’t fight off their captures or if they were just easy to capture. I tried to imagine Africans capturing people from North Carolina and taking them to Africa to be slaves. How horrible it must have been for those left behind—not knowing what became of those taken. Captain Daquin has a ship and means to free some of them. But why would he befriend Captain Campbell and Captain Bainbridge? Did they not represent the same government that condones the slavery of those poor souls on Sullivan’s Island? Surely he was aware of the slave trade in America as well as the Caribbean.
We dropped our anchor in the harbor next to the Norfolk and Montezuma which had already dropped anchor. Retaliation soon joined us and we all watched as the merchant fleet went into port. One of the merchant vessels informed the port authority that we had survivors on board and they sent out a boat for them a few hours later. While at anchor, the captain received orders from the convoy commander, Captain Murray on the Montezuma. He soon informed the crew that the Eagle, along with the Retaliation would weigh anchor and dock. The Montezuma and Norfolk, being much larger vessels than our small schooners, would remain at anchor and allow their crews to be transported by boat.
It was almost noon when we sailed into the dock and attached lines to several small boats which pulled us next to the pier. The captain departed with Lieutenant Gross and then Lieutenant Potts, Mr. Freeman, and Lieutenant Baker all began to organize cleaning details after the ship was tied up. I retrieved the rice and beans from the galley as Mr. Edwards ordered and put the bags on the dock next to his cooking pots. Mr. Edwards was giving instructions to a couple of seamen, gave them some money, and they left. He began to set up a cooking fire on the dock and directed me to get water from the ship.
Mr. Duffy departed the dock with a couple of sailors, but shortly returned with some additional buckets and mops and dropped off a bucketful of soap cakes to Mr. Edwards. Upon his return, Captain Campbell instructed Mr. Freeman to gather the crew on deck so he could address them. “Gentlemen,” he said in a firm tone, “You will be given liberty in Charleston.” At this the crew gave out a vigorous hurrah! “Lieutenant Potts will coordinate the watch. I want you to represent our ship and crew while on shore leave, do not tarnish our stay by conducting yourselves in a drunken stupor that may cause harm to you or your shipmates. We will clean and organize our ship and then clean up ourselves before you are released tomorrow morning.” He went on to inform us that we would be given four days in port and our pay was forthcoming. This probably meant something good and bad for the good folks of Charleston. Good for the businessman making a living off of the sailor’s wage, but bad for the regular patrons of pubs and taverns throughout the town as trouble was sure to go hand in hand with alcohol consumption and revelry. The men aboard cleaned with vigor as they undoubtedly wanted to finish as soon as possible. All of the hammocks and blankets were taken off as well and laid upon the dock. A large tub was placed near the bedding and I filled the tub with hot water as instructed by Mr. Edwards. A detail began to wash the blankets and hammocks and laid them out to dry. The crew of the Retaliation berthed next to us on the dock and appeared to be conducting the same operation. The two men that Mr. Edwards had sent out, returned with a cart full of potatoes and chickens, it looked as though Mr. Edwards was preparing a special feast for our evening meal. A commotion on the dock near where the Retaliation was moored sta
rtled me as I was returning from getting some supplies from the ship for Mr. Edwards. Several men were running toward us shouting obscenities. As they approached I saw Green Gato run down the dock, over the plank and onto our ship. One man, half out of breath, yelled at Mr. Edwards, “Edwards—you old pirate! Keep that damned cat of yours on your own ship or we’ll have him for supper!”
Mr. Edwards looked at him puzzled. “What’d he do to you?”
“He was down there peeing on our blankets,
why’d you keep him round? It’s bad luck to have a cat on a ship anyway!” Mr. Edwards stood up to the man, clenched his teeth and got red faced as he snapped, “Bad luck to you maybe, but he keeps them rats off the ship, rats is bad luck I says!”
Mr. Freeman approached the gathering and said calmly to the men of the Retaliation, “You men have no business here, now go on back to your own ship.” I recognized one of the men—it was Mr. Richards, the boatswains mate who I met in Dominica. The crewmen of the Retaliation were slow to withdraw and grumbled among themselves. Mr. Richards noticed me, and I greeted him with a smile. He returned the smile and said, “I guess I should listen to my own advice about getting in trouble, right, kid?”
“Aye,” I said.
He responded, “Better to spend your time ashore than locked up aboard ship over some blasted cat!” Lieutenant Baker walked over to the crowd accompanied by two of his marines just as the men of the Retaliation began to depart and said, “Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?”
Mr. Freeman stepped in between Lieutenant Baker and the retreating men of the Retaliation and said, “No trouble here, sir, these men were just leaving.”
Strangely, he looked at me, winked, and said, “Pity,” then walked away with his marines in tow.
“There is something very irregular about that officer of marines,” Mr. Edwards uttered.
Mr. Freeman, standing next to him watching the marines walk away, put his hand on the shoulder of Mr. Edwards and said, “I believe your right, Sally, thank God he’s on our side, he seeks out trouble and thrives in turmoil.”
Sally! I thought, what kind of name was that? Charlie and Frank would indeed enjoy that bit of gossip and I giggled to myself which drew the attention of both Mr. Freeman and Mr. Edwards. When they looked at me, I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing.
Mr. Edwards snarled. “There’s nothing funny here, boy.
Go get those spices I asked for!”
“Aye,” I said, not wanting to tell him I already got them and they were next to his pots. I quickly departed before incurring another task. I spent some time walking about appearing as though I was busy before returning to Mr. Edwards and pointing out the spices.
Mr. Talbert appeared in a wagon with two men from Charleston. In the wagon were bundles of cloths and a large chest. A small table and chair was brought out next to the cart and a ledger was placed on the table. Mr. McCall conferred with Mr. Talbert for a few minutes and then began to direct some of the men to fill three tubs that were brought out on the dock with hot water. A large wood frame was carried out and placed near the tubs and a blanket was nailed on the frame. Mr. Freeman directed the men into three lines and then charged each man to come forward, take off their shoes, and strip their clothes behind the improvised curtain. The clothes were piled up, but the men were to keep their shoes. A bucket of water was poured over each man and a bar of soap was given to him to scrub off the months of caked-on salt and sweat before another generous measure of water was poured to rinse off the soap. The air was chilly, and although the water was warm, the crisp condition made the men progress swiftly as though they had just sat on an anthill, desperately attempting to get the ants off.
Frank and Charlie had finished their duties and were standing in line with the men. Mr. Edwards told me to go clean up as well, so we were standing in the line talking when the captain saw us and said, “You boys will be my guests tomorrow, so get cleaned up good.”
Although I was somewhat embarrassed at my nakedness in the open when it was my turn to strip off my clothes, it was amusing to see the men scrubbing with such vigor. In the brisk air, we were given a towel to dry off and moved to the cart to get clean clothing. Each man quickly donned the clothing and put on their shoes before being herded over to the table where Lieutenant Gross was now sitting. Lieutenant Gross marked the ledger and the cost of the clothing would be deducted from their wage. The large chest contained currency and each man was given his pay. When it was my turn, Lieutenant Gross said, “Clyde, you have earned four dollars in wages and your share of the privateer prize comes to eight dollars. Two dollars deducted for clothing.” He counted out eight coins—two half dollars, four silver dollars, and two quarter eagles, and said, “Here is your ten dollars, don’t spend it all at once, off you go now.” I was astonished! Ten dollars, I had never seen so much money! I was so excited and I was thinking what I might spend it on, when Mr. Edwards shouted at me to get over and help him ready the meal for the crew. I was so giddy, I didn’t care what insults spewed out of his mouth as I happily did as he asked.
The crew of the Retaliation was doing the same thing.
The mood on the dock was pleasant and all were in good spirits. A couple of sailors from the Retaliation began to play fiddles, the atmosphere was festive and cheerful.
9
The Campbells
The following morning I awoke early as did the entire crew, anticipating a joyous day. I didn’t sleep much as my thoughts were occupied by what I might find in Charleston. The captain had departed during the evening and gave us instructions to wait on his return in the morning. The crew was given their duty assignments and those not on watch were released after breakfast. The captain arrived soon after and gave some directives to Lieutenant Potts before signaling us to his side. “You boys ready to go?”
“Aye sir,” we said in unison and he gestured for us to follow him.
Charleston was pleasing in the fall. The streets were crowded with sailors prepared to spend their money. The shops near the docks were just as anxious to accommodate. It started to rain softly but it did not deter anyone as music seemed to flow throughout the city as workers were busy unloading cargo and stocking shops.
As we approached Captain Campbell’s house, I noticed the bricked path leading to the front porch, a wooden fence enclosed a modest yard which included a garden. The porch was surrounded by a flower bed that must look beautiful in the spring. The house was painted white with blue window shutters and a red roof. Walking up onto the porch, I noticed a basket next to a rocking chair full of knitting yarn and a doll. The captain saw me looking at it. “I have three daughters, so you boys be on your best behavior,” he said as though giving instructions to the helmsmen. Mrs. Campbell came through the door and approached the captain and sweetly said, “So these are the young gentlemen working for my dearest captain.”
“Aye, ma’am,” we replied.
“A simple yes would suffice around here, gentlemen,” she said. Two girls soon appeared from behind her apron. “Boys, these are two of my daughters, Mary, who is nine, and Laura, who is six.” We nodded as they gave a curtsy, then we walked through the door and the captain called for his third daughter. She walked through the kitchen door and instantly I felt as though I knew her. Her red hair swayed upon her shoulders and framed her angelic face as she came into the room. I had never seen a girl as beautiful as her, she immediately captured my attention. I stared at her for a moment and Frank nudged me with his elbow. I looked at him with intent to shove him back when he motioned me with his eyes to look upward at the captain. I looked up to see the captain admonishing me with a glare. I quickly attempted to regroup myself, although I know he saw me looking attentively upon his eldest daughter. I said, somewhat stumbling my words, “Sir, you have a very beautiful family.” Charlie began to laugh a little, which irritated me to no end. “This is my daughter, Charlene, she is twelve,” the captain said. “Ladies, this is Frank Hall, Charlie Best, and Clyde Carter
. Charlene, please show the boys to the guest quarters.”
Mrs. Campbell was a very handsome woman. She had brown hair pulled up above her head in a swirl and bright green eyes. I had never seen that color in her eyes ever before or since, it was very unique. The captain seemed very relaxed at his home, he had not been there in some time and his daughters showered him with attention. I suspect that he spent the first evening at home getting reacquainted with what his family was doing while he was away, as well as answering their questions about his sea exploits. No doubt his answers were somewhat vague and probably not as exciting and graphic as what actually occurred. The captain once told me that it was custom not to talk of things that might cause additional anxiety to the ones they loved the most. To fellow seamen in taverns and pubs around Charleston, the opposite was undoubtedly occurring. Exaggerated tales of adventures, stories of extraordinary feats to entice a sense of gratitude, feeding the pride of men that desire to have their ego’s stroked. The truth was always somewhere in between, known only to the men who participated in the event and would probably not be recorded in any great detail in the ship’s log.
Charlene showed us where we were to sleep. The guest quarters, as the captain called it, was actually a carriage barn near the main house where he had put a couple of bunks with mattresses stuffed with straw. It was dry and had some blankets to keep us warm during the chill of the evening. I liked everything about Charlene. She had a delightful smile, blue eyes, and dark red hair. She had on a blue dress and wasn’t wearing any shoes. She was not shy, she looked straight at me when she spoke and I looked away, not knowing why, I guess looking back, I felt as though she might know my thoughts if we connected with our eyes. I was afraid she would discover that I had taken a fancy to her and might reject the notion. I was looking at her feet when she noticed and said, “I didn’t want to get my shoes dirty after the rain since tomorrow is church and all.” Church, I thought, I almost forgot today was Saturday. I wondered if the captain was going to make us go to church! “I know what you mean,” I said reluctantly. “No sense cleaning up if you don’t have to.” She raised her eyebrows and looked somewhat bewildered. What was I thinking? “I mean, having to clean your shoes if you don’t have to,” I said to quickly retract my earlier statement.