by D P Prouty
Dominica was a welcome sight. The crystal clear water and bright green hills overlooking the white beach had a calming effect on my spirit. The ship dropped anchor in the harbor as the captain and some of the officers went ashore on the ship’s boat. I was observing the Norfolk as it passed by and anchored when I heard Charlie shouting at Frank on the other side of the ship. I walked over to them as they were looking up at the rigging and Frank said, “No, that’s stupid!” Charlie said, “Look, Frank, I’ll do it, and you’ll owe me a month’s wages.” I said, “What are you going to do?” Charlie explained that he dared Frank to swing from the mainmast to the foremast on the rope line connected from the mainmast to the topsail yard on the foremast. Since the topsail yard was considerably higher, they figured that if they loosened the end near the platform on the mainmast, they could swing over and land on the top of the gaff where it connects to the foremast. “If you fall, you’ll break your neck on the deck and if one of the officers sees you, we’ll probably be scrubbing the deck for a couple of months!” Charlie was wild with excitement and challenged Frank and I in this test of fortitude. Foolishly, I agreed, but only because Frank consented and I could not cower to their dare. We climbed up to the stand on the mainmast and Charlie loosened the rope and tied on a deadeye, a block of wood used to secure the ropes. Then Charlie swung across from the mainmast to the foremast just as he said he would and swung the rope back over to me and Frank. I looked down, but really did not want to do it, but didn’t want Charlie to think I was scared. I gathered up my nerve, grabbed the rope tight, and swung out pushing off the mast as hard as I could. I made it to the foremast on top of the gaff and acted as though it was no concern. Then Charlie prodded Frank to have a go. Frank waited a few minutes, then swung out. As he grabbed the cords protruding down from the foremast, he slid down on the rope he was swinging on and burned his arm. He gave out a holler, attracting the attention of Mr. Edwards, who was on the deck. He yelled up at us, “This ain’t no playground! You chuckleheads get down from there or I’ll tan your hides and throw you to the sharks!” We pulled Frank up to the platform and Charlie leaned in and said, “Sally’s upset, we better get down.” “You’d better not call him that or he just might throw us overboard,” I told him. We scampered down as Mr. Edwards scolded us, then we set off to avoid further confrontation.
That evening Charlie and I stood on deck taking in the cool air and admiring the stars in the clear night sky. “Do you think we’re doing right by doing harm to them Frenchies?” he asked somberly.
“What do you mean?” I replied. His blond hair covered his eyes and pale complexion as the wind began to stir. He said, “Well, they didn’t do harm to me.”
I thought on it for a moment before responding, “But they certainly would if they could.” I paused, perplexed by his assertion and said, “What’s wrong?”
“I think I killed one of them,” he said.
“What?” He explained that during the fight he was near the marines as they were shooting into the corsair and he saw a pistol on the deck and decided to take a shot. The smoke was thick, but he took aim as the ships got closer together, then he fired a ball into the men across the void. “I saw a man shot, then fall back through the smoke and I think I did that to him.” He went on to explain that he felt invigorated at first, realizing he had contributed to the fight, but later, after the fight was over, his thoughts turned to the man he had killed. What of his family? A life had been taken and he felt sick with remorse that stayed within him. I did not know whether to console or encourage him, so I remained silent. I thought, We all have regrets that torment us, the best we can do is limit the number of regrets and forget them as much as achievable.
14
Farewell Retaliation
Before leaving Dominica, we spent a considerable amount of time bringing on supplies which included a lot of six-pound cannonballs. Loading all those supplies made my muscles ache and I was dripping with sweat and my eyes were burning from the salt. I was getting bigger and stronger over the past year and although my muscles smarted, it was a good pain, one that I knew was necessary.
Mr. McCall was overseeing the loading from the boat of supplies brought alongside the Eagle. Frank and I were standing in the boat lifting up the cannonballs to Charlie who was on the deck of the Eagle, while several other men were loading larger supplies using ropes. Suddenly, Mr. McCall seemed to be doing some sort of dance. He was shuffling about the deck with his arms flailing about. Everyone stopped and looked at him, amazed by this abrupt activity which broke the monotony of the afternoon. After a few moments, he stopped, looked at the crew, and told us to get back to our duties. Mr. Freeman came up from behind him and was straining to keep from busting out a laugh.
He said, “Bees again, sir?”
“Those damn bees! You’d think they would stay on the island,” Mr. McCall asserted. As I was told later, Mr. McCall had one very noticeable weakness; he was once stung by a bee and almost died after getting very sick so he was terribly afraid of them. Probably the reason he decided to become a sailor, I thought.
Over the next several months the Eagle supported convoys along with Montezuma, Norfolk, and Retaliation, from the islands of the Lesser Antilles to the Florida coast. We sailed as far north as Boston and as far south as the Leeward Islands along the South American coast. We pursued and captured several corsairs during those months. Some got away, few had the will to fight once ensnared, most struck their colors quickly. The brig Le Flambeau and schooner La Flechette eluded an engagement. We knew they were out there somewhere in the vastness of the Caribbean sea and they were still capturing merchantmen systematically. The French frigates were also out there patrolling, looking for us.
We once escorted a convoy into Charleston, but unfortunately we were not allowed shore leave so I was unable to see Charlene. Getting letters took some months, but I did receive several from Charlene. Mostly she wrote of daily activities such as her schoolwork, music, and undertakings with her mother and sisters. Emanating through her words was a subconscious worry for her father. She always completed her letters by telling me keep watch over the captain. She wrote that she thought her mother may be aware of her writing me, but she wasn’t sure. One afternoon in the late summer of 1798, while anchored in the Jamaican harbor of Port Royal, I was reading one such letter when the crew suddenly began to holler and cheer. I stood up to see a very large American warship. I had seen large British frigates before—but this one was American! Following alongside was an American schooner about the size of the Eagle. The crew of the frigate returned the cheer as they passed. Mr. McCall was standing nearby and said, “That’s the Constellation and the schooner is the Enterprise, now let’s see those Frenchies come out and scrap!”
It was mid-November as we made our way through the Lesser Antilles. Departing from Dominica, we had orders to escort a convoy of merchantmen to Boston. The winds were good, and the sea was calm, making for a quiet journey, almost too quiet. We hadn’t spotted any vessels approaching the convoy until we were just south of Nevis. The Eagle was signaled to sail ahead to St. Eustatius to identify any privateers that may be anchored in her harbor. As we approached we saw the two corsairs, both schooners, one was La Flechette. In addition to the French privateers, two merchant vessels were at anchor, presumably prizes captured by the corsairs. Captain Campbell thought it best to go ashore to gain information on corsair activity in the area.
The captain ordered a shore party of twelve men as well as me. As we docked, the captain told the crew, “We don’t want any trouble here, but just the same, be cautious and prepared for action.” We walked down to Twilla’s Tavern to discover the place bustling with activity. There was a large group of about forty men standing in front of the tavern. A man looked at us as we approached and shouted sarcastically. “Look men, our American Navy approaches!” The agitated men stood blocking our path as one man stepped forward, “Where was our navy while these privateers boarded our ships and took us captive? Now
you arrive here? A bit too late, don’t you think?” The captain said nothing, then another man stepped forward and said, “Sir, I am Captain Goff, please accept my apologies for my crewman, they have had a rough couple of days.” His weary eyes were sunken with deep circles. Desperation in his voice, he explained that they were American merchantmen who had been captured by privateers and brought to St. Eustatius. The prize court was sure to award their ship and all goods aboard to their captors. They had no means to make the voyage home and requested passage on board our vessel.
The captain signaled Mr. Freeman and the two walked away from the crowd as he quietly gave him instructions.
He then said to the men, “Mr. Freeman is the first mate for the USS Eagle, he will take down your names and discuss a solution to your situation, please be patient.” Then he walked toward the tavern. Just before entering, he turned to Lieutenant Potts and said, “Thomas, please ensure those men have what they need, we can’t take them with us and it might be a few weeks before we can get a ship to pick them up.” Lieutenant Potts acknowledged and joined Mr. Freeman as they took down the names and information for the merchant crews. We were greeted by Twilla just as we entered the tavern.
It had been a just over a year since the last time we had seen Twilla. “Gentlemen, it is good to see you, I trust your doing well.” She said, and then added, “Why, Clyde, you’re certainly growing at a fast pace, why it won’t be long before you’re as tall as I am.” Then she smiled, took Captain Campbell by the arm and led us to a table. The captain exchanged pleasantries and then asked for the news. Since Eustatius was neutral, you could count on getting news spread from many counties. She told how the Irish rebellion had been crushed by the British, a slap in the face to the French who supported them. Then she informed the captain of an uprising in the southern Netherlands against the French. The citizens grew weary of constant conscripting of their young men for war and a revolt broke out. It spread throughout the region and it’s known as the Peasants’ War. She seemed very concerned and said, “I know the brutality of the French, they will repay their audacity with horrible violence.” She said the Austrians had brokered peace with the French and only the British now stood against them.
I had to relieve myself and asked to be excused to go outside to the latrine. As I left the latrine, I was walking and buttoning my pants. I did not notice a man standing in my path and accidentally bumped into him. I looked at him and immediately recognized him as the blond-haired man who was with Captain Michot the last time I was here. He looked at me for a moment and said nothing. I hoped he did not recognize me. I said, “Excuse me, sir,” and quickly made my way around him toward the tavern. Then he spun around and said with the thick French accent, “Stop, don’t I know you, boy.” I stopped and turned as he walked toward me. “You’re that little American brat that spoke so boldly when you had your shipmates by your side. Where are they now?” I froze, realizing I made the mistake of speaking English to him. He then grabbed me by my collar and pulled me close. “Maybe I should just throw you in that mess of a latrine so you can wallow in the filth, you little weasel.” He began to drag me toward the latrine door as I did my best to lower my weight and prevent the inevitable embarrassment. A large figure appeared behind him and spun him around and struck him with his fist, thrusting him to the ground as well as I. It was Mr. Freeman. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” The blond man drew his sword as did Mr. Freeman. “Get up, boy,” Mr. Freeman barked. Several privateers arrived and drew their weapons on Mr. Freeman. Lieutenant Potts and some others arrived and did the same. I moved over behind Mr. Freeman just as a young boy appeared pulling Ms. Twilla by the hand followed by Captain Campbell. “This is not the place for such nonsense, lower your weapons!” Twilla shouted, “If you bloody this ground, you violate the neutrality and none of you will be welcomed ever again,” then she again added, “lower your weapons now!”
All began to lower their weapons, and then the blond man looked at Mr. Freeman and said, “We’ll meet again, out there,” he said pointing to the ocean. The groups separated and I walked over to the captain. After explaining what happened, the captain asked Twilla who the hothead was, she said, “That’s Michelle Reneau, captain of the La Flechette, you met him before I think.” The reputation of the La Flechette was well known as a ship with little mercy. “Reneau sails with Michot, so he is sure to be near Eustatius somewhere with Le Flambeau.”
A few days later we rejoined the convoy on a gray morning with a soft easterly wind, a brig was spotted on the western horizon. The Montezuma signaled that they, along with the Norfolk, would pursue the brig. The unknown vessel, presumed to be the French corsair Le Flambeau, turned south as the two American warships gave chase. When they had sailed for almost an hour, the brig was no longer visible and the Montezuma could only be seen by her masts on the distant horizon. That is when our lookout reported sails from two vessels approaching from the east.
The captain stood on the quarterdeck and peered through his glass at the eastern skyline. The rising sun was burning through the morning mist and made it a challenge to identify the vessels sailing with the sun at their stern. As I stood by the captain, he reasoned with himself, “Why would two corsairs attack a convoy with escorts in tandem from the same parallel course? They’re not even attempting to outflank us and maybe get us away from the convoy. That makes no sense to me.”
Then Lieutenant Potts said, “Sir, the Retaliation is sailing on an attack course, should we come about and intercept as well?”
The captain continued to gaze at the open water and said to himself, “Unless, unless…,” he paused a moment, then he turned pale and shouted, “Damn it, Bill, those aren’t corsairs! Potts, fire a cannon shot quickly to get the attention of the Retaliation, send the signal of enemy warships, let’s get to full sail as quickly as possible.” He then peered through his glass again as a shot rang out warning the convoy of the enemy presence. The merchantmen began to turn southwest as we continued on course northwest. The captain said, “Warships! Both are four- masted frigates, probably about forty guns apiece. They are unquestionably French, otherwise they would not be pursuing us!” The Retaliation, realizing that these were not corsairs, but rather French frigates, turned away from the approaching ships in an attempt to escape. After several hours of sailing we spotted the Montezuma and Norfolk also sailing northwest in an attempt to avoid an engagement with the powerful vessels.
By noon, the two vessels were within range of the Retaliation and Captain Bainbridge appeared to have surrendered his ship without firing a shot. The Retaliation had no chance of survival in a fight against the two behemoths. We continued to sail at best speed and led the Montezuma and Norfolk, however the two enemy frigates were gaining on them.
We waited patiently for the inevitable contact as the enormous sails of our enemy pulled the large vessels ever closer. The Eagle was very fast and light, but the Montezuma and Norfolk were sure to be overtaken. In the late afternoon, it was evident that a grim decision rested squarely on the shoulders of Captain Murray aboard the Montezuma. If he decided to surrender his ship along with the Norfolk, the resulting loss would be devastating in our war to protect the merchant fleet. If however, he decided to fight, it would take the might of all three vessels and the result would likely be the same—minimal damage to the French warships and a greater chance that many of us would not survive the encounter. His only other option would be to split the fleet and hope that the two warships stay together, enabling either the Montezuma or the Norfolk to slip away unscathed. Every man battled his own demons, deep in thought as the anticipation grew. There was no movement or sound aboard the Eagle, only that of the sails flapping and the crash of the ocean against the bow as we cut through the Caribbean. The air was thick with anxiety. Every man could now see the large sails approaching on the horizon, it was akin to a condemned man in a prison cell, watching the gallows being built outside a prison window. Then someone yelled from a mid-ship, and a sho
t rang out! “What the devil is going on?” The captain snapped. Mr. Freeman ran down the deck to investigate. The sudden noise gave me a stir and I felt my blood pump with a sudden vigor. Mr. Freeman was yelling at someone and soon escorted a sailor back to the quarterdeck with Mr. Edwards also in tow.