Home of the Brave

by D P Prouty

  Mr. Talbert replied, “Aye, sir, I’m passed.”

  “Very well,” the captain said, “Good to have you aboard.” We wasted no time in getting acquainted with the quarters and crew. Mr. Edwards let Green Gato out of the crate and the cat with half a tail ran along the deck and disappeared down the hatch. The men standing there were astounded. They looked at Mr. Edwards in disbelief as he looked around and said, “That’s Green Gato. He takes care of the rodents so leave him alone.”

  Just as with the Eagle, the crew included a couple of powder monkeys. Michael O’Neal and Robert Jones, both from Boston. Michael was thirteen and Robert was twelve. The captain pulled me aside and exclaimed, “Clyde, Captain Campbell speaks very highly of you. I’ll expect the same dedication as he. Is my accent a problem for you, lad?”

  “No, sir, I’m sure I’ll get used to it,” I said.

  “Well, if you don’t understand something, don’t guess, just ask me to talk slower,” he said with a smile. Mr. Walsh whispered to the captain and handed him a note. As he read it is expression changed to gloom. I didn’t know what it said, but it was surely bad news.

  Standing on deck, I noticed the Merrimack and Constellation already got under way out of the harbor and the Constitution had already departed. I didn’t see a convoy heading out which was surprising to me. Captain Shaw ordered the crew to muster on deck and stood up on a table. “Gentlemen,” he said to get the attention of the crew. “I have a bit of dreadful news to report. I regret to inform you that General George Washington has died of an illness. For many of us growing up during the revolution, his leadership solidified our strength and determination. God rest his soul.” The crew was quiet for a moment before the captain continued, “Now for some better news.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Our orders read as follows: from Commodore Truxton to USS Enterprise. Precede at best possible speed to the Windward Islands. Destroy or capture any and all French privateers or ships of war within our capabilities when the opportunity exists for best success. Good hunting and Godspeed!”

  At that the crew cheered and the captain gave the order to make sail. He stepped down next to his officers and declared, “Gentlemen, we can’t win on the defensive. It appears our leaders finally came to that realization and now have requested we attack to rid ourselves of our enemy—not just sail along and protect convoys.”

  Lieutenant Thorn affirmed, “It’s about bloody

  time!”

  Sailing southward we approached Jamaica at night and made our way toward the harbor at Port Royal when we heard cannon fire from the British fortress. Mr. Lewis rang the bell as the crew hurried to action stations. Captain Shaw appeared on the quarterdeck. He looked at Mr. Lewis, then toward the harbor, and said, “What time is it, Mr. Lewis?” Mr. Lewis replied, “Eight bells, sir, just after midnight.”

  “It’s a new year! Not just a new year, but a new century! That’s why they’re firing their cannon, Mr. Lewis.”

  Indeed it was. The crew secured from action stations and wished each other well before making their way to get some rest. Mr. Edwards and Mr. Duffy motioned me over to them and I wished them a happy new year. Mr. Duffy replied, “Happy new century, lad, something you only experience once in a lifetime. Perhaps your grandchildren will see the next century.”

  Mr. Edwards added, “Let’s hope our country is not crushed under the boot of the empire in this century.”

  Mr. Walsh approached us and stated, “At least we can be thankful for the French for keeping them busy—otherwise I think your right, Edwards, that fool King George would probably find a way to make trouble for us again.” The three of them bid me good night and departed to get some rest. The captain remained on deck as we anchored in the harbor. Several shots rang out from the town near the fortress, indicating the celebration had not stopped. The captain turned to me and said, “Go get some rest, lad, I’ll see you in the morning.” As I went down the hatch to the berth, I thought of Charlie. It had been a year since his death on St. Gabriele, it seemed as though it just happened, but time is steady and continuous, gradually drawing me away from memories of the Eagle and my friends I left behind.

  21

  Reluctant Courier

  The Enterprise sailed eastward through the Greater Antilles when a large storm overtook us. Great swells rocked the ship and threatened to sink us as we battled to shorten sails. The topsail on the foremast broke loose and the foremast splinted just above the gaff. The captain ordered the square sails cut to save the foremast from further damage in the intense wind. Throughout the afternoon and into the night the sea battered our vessel until the weather calmed in the early-morning hours. Improvised repairs were made to get us underway, but every man knew how vulnerable we were—impossible to defend an attack if engaged. The captain sailed a course to St. Kitts and by the grace of God we arrived without spotting a vessel in our path. We remained at anchor for a week making repairs and before heading back out to sea.

  Below deck in my hammock, I awoke and felt suddenly nauseated by a stench emanating from the crew berth. I felt a chill come over me as if death himself had passed by the men asleep in their hammocks. I could sense the unseen creature as it passed by me in the darkness. I needed to get some fresh air up on the deck. Once I got topside, I took a deep breath to clear my head in the night air. Standing on the port side next to the third gun, I heard a ruffling sound like that of a flag in the wind. I looked out into the darkness and saw nothing. A moment passed and I heard it again. I looked back at the watch crew, Lieutenant Thorn and Midshipman Lewis were on the quarterdeck, but it seemed only I had heard the faint noise. It was a dark cloudy night and I strained to see out into the darkness. The moon peaked through as the clouds began to split apart, then as if appearing from the depths of the ocean itself, a corsair silently approached! Astonished, I tried to yell out but could not muster a sound as I saw a man standing on the ships starboard, only yards away now. I thought, Oh my God, it’s happening again!

  I could see the privateer crew standing soundlessly on the decks of the ship. The man standing on the railing holding onto a shroud looked at me, lifted his hat, and smiled. I could hardly breathe as I gasped for air. The man lowered his hat quickly and without saying a word, all their starboard cannons fired simultaneously. The enemy guns ripped into the quarterdeck with grapeshot. Lieutenant Thorn, Mr. Lewis, and the helmsman were instantly reduced to a bloody mass of flesh and bone. I stumbled and fell as the tremendous blast of cannon fire engulfed our ship. I heard the buzzing of metal shards passing just over my head and tearing into rope, wood, and canvas. Grappling hooks banged on the deck, then pulled tight, attached to the gunwale as the enemy vessel pulled the ships close together.

  I ran to the other side of the ship, trying to find a place to hide. The crew began to stream out of the hatchway only to meet the privateers cutting them down as they came. I looked back through the smoke, in the moonlight I could see the bloody red flag of the privateer flying on her foremast. Grenades flashed on the deck and smoke billowed up from the hatchway as some of the grenades found their mark through the hatchway below the deck. I could hear the screams as I lay flat on the deck and tucked my head between my arms. A man grabbed me and stood me up. I was able to shake him loose and run a few steps before he grabbed me by the shoulder, I struggled to break free, yelling “Get off me! Let me go!” I heard a voice I recognized saying, “Wake up, boy! You’re having a nightmare!” I awoke in the darkness of the berth. It was Mr. Duffy grabbing my shoulder.

  Slowly my eyes adjusted and I could see Mr. Duffy and several crewmen looking at me with puzzlement. “It’s all right, boy, you’re safe.” I was covered in sweat. The dream seemed so real. I saw the wonderment in the eyes of my shipmates, so I told them of my dream. After finishing my story, I went up on deck to get some air. I was thinking of the nightmare, it truly unsettled me. Although I appreciated it was a dream, I still couldn’t discard the sense that death had called on us.

  I saw Lieute
nant Thorn and Mr. Lewis on the quarterdeck as I walked down the side of the ship. It was a black, overcast night. We had heard thunder in the distance several hours before, but still had no rain. Then I heard a knock on the starboard side of the ship, for a moment I thought maybe I imagined it. Lieutenant Thorn had heard it as well and sent Mr. Lewis forward to investigate. The ship hit something again. Mr. Lewis lowered his lantern to the water, “Debris sir, a lot of it,” he said in a loud voice. Lieutenant Thorn rang the ship’s bell to alert the crew and ordered lanterns to the starboard to probe further.

  The morning light was peeking over the horizon as the men got to action stations and the captain came up to the quarterdeck. The men hooked several pieces of wood, but nothing identifiable until a large piece of carved wood about four feet in length was hooked and brought up on deck. It was a figurehead of a dragon. It was the Cetus! Captain Shaw came forward and examined the object. Clearly the thunder we heard earlier in the evening was not thunder at all, it was cannon fire.

  We searched for survivors throughout the morning. We found only pieces of the wreck, along with eight bodies, but no survivors to tell what had happened. The bodies were all burned in some capacity as if they went through a fire. The crew whispered that they must have exploded. None of the bodies had any identifying marks or belongings—they each were given a proper sea burial.

  Sailing westward, the lookouts reported a large frigate on the horizon. We approached the southern end of Mona Pass and discovered the vessel sailing southwest was the Constellation. Captain Shaw hailed them and received instructions to accompany the Constellation to Port Royal. Alongside, I observed that she had been in a fight and took a lot of damage. The captain stood next to Lieutenant Somers and he said, “Her foremast is splintered and the sails of her mizzenmast are full of tears. She must have been in a pretty good scrap.” I was in awe of the sheer size of the Constellation. I had seen her from a distance, but never sailed so close as we were now. She was twice our size and had over forty cannons. The mightiest ship we had in the Caribbean. What could have damaged her so much! The reality set in that we hadn’t won yet—out there somewhere in the vastness of the ocean were powerful ships aimed at doing us in. Mr. Lewis startled me as I stood by the gunwale in deep thought. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, Clyde,” he said. “Just look at her,” he said as we gazed at the Constellation. “The ship that confronted her must be very large!” Truly she was in a heated fight as we found out upon our arrival in Jamaica. They had engaged the French frigate La Vengeance of which Commodore Truxtun reported he sank. It was a month later before we heard that La Vengeance did not sink, but was badly damaged. Aboard the Constellation, fifteen of her crew lay dead and twenty- five wounded—many gravely injured.

  Rumor spread throughout Jamaica that the General Bonaparte led a successful coup and replaced the French Directory with a Consulate, he himself being the First Consul. The Consulate ordered several frigates into the Caribbean to counter the emerging American naval strength to enable the corsairs to prey on convoys with great success once again. We also heard that La Flambeau had destroyed a pirate ship operated by General Toussaint on Hispaniola. There was no doubting that the ship in questions was the Cetus. La Flambeau was rumored to have taken several prizes. The cunning Captain Michot had fared well to avoid the British warships as well as those of the United States and yet he still managed to take merchant vessels seemingly without great effort.

  Dr. Peters and several of the loblolly boys went over to the Constellation to help with the wounded as soon as we anchored at Port Royal. Captain Shaw met with Commodore Truxtun on the Constellation along with Lieutenant Somers and Mr. Walsh for the better part of a day as we remained at anchor the next day. Returning in the late afternoon the captain was emotionless. He was half the age of Captain Campbell and normally had a cheerful disposition full of youthful enthusiasm, but not today. He gathered his officers at the quarterdeck as soon as he boarded and Mr. Walsh told the crew to make ready to sail as soon as the loblolly boys returned with Dr. Peters. Lieutenant Somers appeared incensed and he began to shout something at Midshipman Lewis while handing him a case. Mr. Lewis took the case and hurriedly went below deck. I didn’t know what happened on the Constellation, but whatever it was, it frustrated the officers.

  The doctor arrived and the ship’s boat was secured as the captain gave the order to sail. I reluctantly approached the captain and asked if he needed me to do anything. He told me he didn’t and instructed me to help Mr. Edwards with the meal. Just before dusk, all hands were ordered to the deck. The captain addressed the crew and stated how we were ordered to transport important dispatches to the nation’s capitol in Philadelphia. The crew remained silent as every man knew what was implied—we were no longer in pursuit of corsairs but couriers for the commodore. It was clear why the officers emitted such frustration as we would sail the better part of a month before getting back in Caribbean waters. The officers and men had been eagerly awaiting our chance at earning some prize money in addition to ridding the Caribbean of those that mean us harm, the fresh task may be important but it didn’t diminish the sting of disappointment as we sailed ever northward toward the cold American coast.

  A bitter February storm engaged us as we sailed into Delaware Bay. I had never sailed into Philadelphia and struggled to see out into the bay as the swells rocked the ship. Mr. Lewis pointed out Cape May as we turned westward into the bay and up the Delaware River. It was midday, but the gray overcast sky darkened the expanse inhibiting my ability to see the city from a distance. We sailed into port and tied up on the dock. Captain Shaw departed with Lieutenant Somers and left instructions that no one was to leave the dock. His manner was direct, the disappointment of our ship being reduced to a courier did not agree with him. We took on food and water provisions and awaited the captain’s return.

  The storm picked up strength and it began to sleet as the crew went below to get out of the cold. The captain returned before nightfall and met with the officers. I took the evening meal to the officer’s mess and the captain appeared cheerful once again. The word spread that we would be sailing south after the storm passed. The morning air was brisk but still, the next morning as I came up on deck before daybreak. I had another nightmare and didn’t sleep well, although once on deck I couldn’t remember what it was about. Mr. Edwards must not have been able to sleep as well since he was already up and preparing to light the cooking fire on the dock. He waved me over and said,

  “What do you make of the Enterprise, boy?”

  “It’s all right I guess,” I replied, “But we don’t seem to be fighting much, just sailing.”

  He lit the fire and asserted, “I have a sense that’s about to change.”

  The sun began to gleam over the eastern skyline and the crew soon made their way to breakfast, as Lieutenant Somers instructed the crew to prepare to sail. After breakfast, I helped Mr. Edwards put out the fire and stow the cooking pots onboard. Once everything was prepared to make way, the captain gave the order to cast off and drop the sails. The ship began to move away from the dock when a loud shrill cracked the morning air. “Stop!” was the cry from Mr. Edwards frantically pointing to the dock as the ship began to pull away. He was pointing at a cat left on the dock, it was Green Gato who must have gotten off the ship in the morning hours and didn’t get back on. The ship was already several feet from the dock and some of the men started laughing at Mr. Edwards. Furious, he turned to the laughing crewmen and declared, “You’ll be eating hardtack and dried shark meat, you bastards!” Next to the captain I watched as he looked out to starboard seemingly ignoring Mr. Edwards. He looked as though struggling with the idea of stopping the ship for the cat. He pulled out a cigar, and without lighting it, started to chew on the end and he looked at Lieutenant Somers standing next to him. Mr. Edwards again pleaded loudly for the captain to stop the ship. Then the captain calmly told Lieutenant Somers to drop anchor and put the ship’s boat in the water. The captain walked down am
idships and said, “Damn it, Edwards! Go get your cat.” He gladly ran down to the ship’s boat and soon acquired the cat aboard the vessel. The ship’s boat secured, the captain declared, “All right, if we’ve had enough nonsense this morning—let’s go after some corsairs!” We weighed anchor and sailed toward the Caribbean.

  22

  Crimson Sheets

  The Enterprise sailed down the American coast and into warmer air before Captain Shaw again addressed the crew. He pronounced, “Gentlemen, again we sail to hunt our foe. It is my intention to regard all unknown ships as a threat. The Enterprise is a formidable weapon, and it is my intention to destroy or to compel surrender on whomever we encounter.” The crew cheered with vigor and our determination once again appeared unrivaled.

  Sailing northeast of Hispaniola, the lookouts reported sails in the distance heading for us. The captain ordered action stations as we prepared to engage the unknown vessel approaching. Captain Shaw looked through the glass and told that it was a brig, and she was making no attempt to hide her French colors. The corsair closed on us quickly. I put cotton in my ears and crouched down next to the captain as the crew passed out the cutlasses and the marines readied their muskets. The brig had greater strength and the wind at her advantage, so the captain turned the Enterprise away, then hard to port. The corsair fired first, still a half-mile away without effect. Getting closer, I recognized the ship, it was La Flambeau. The captain steered us hard to starboard taking us around the bow of La Flambeau and then close in on their starboard. The two ships exchanged broadsides in an eruption of fire and smoke. The enemy fire ripped into our rigging damaging the gaff on the mainmast and ripping the gaff behind the foremast. Again we exchanged another volley. I couldn’t see through the smoke and Lieutenant Somers was shouting something at the captain. After about twenty minutes of intense fire, we pulled away from the brig and they did not follow. I pulled the cotton from my ears when it was clear the captain did not intend to reengage. The boatswain, Mr. Richards approached the captain and gave a damage report. We had sustained heavy damage to both gaffs and needed refit. After studying the map, he told Lieutenant Somers sailing to St. Thomas was our best course of action. St. Thomas was a neutral Danish port where we could make repairs. Dr. Peters reported to the captain and said, “Sir, we have two wounded, not serious. Pretty fortunate for the amount of fire we received.” The captain nodded then asked Lieutenant Somers what damage he thought we inflicted on the brig. He stated that he observed damage to their mizzenmast through the smoke, but wasn’t sure of the extent. Then he added, “She must have sustained significant damage causing them to break off the attack as we did.” The captain concurred and we sailed through the night till morning at best possible speed.