by D P Prouty
Anchored in the harbor at St. Thomas, it was not long before we spotted La Flambeau sailing into the harbor as well. The captain went ashore with Lieutenant Thorn and the boatswain mates making arrangements for repairs leaving Lieutenant Somers in command. Many of the crewman started grumbling, “Let’s fire them up and end this fight!”
Someone else shouted, “Let’s give ‘em a broadside, Lieutenant Somers!”
Mr. Walsh stood up and shouted, “Silence, this is a neutral port, lads, tend to your duties and keep your mouths shut!” Disgust of the unfinished fight permeated throughout the crew as we diligently repaired the ship for a chance at redemption. After returning, the captain studied La Flambeau from the short distance across the bay. He looked through his glass, seemingly looking for a weakness—undoubtedly Captain Michot was doing the same. Captain Shaw motioned me next to him and said to me, “You know this, Captain Michot?” I replied that I had met him once, on St. Eustatius. “He was arrogant and very unpleasant, but he didn’t seem rash,” I added.
That was when I first noticed the captain was sweating considerably around his face and neck. It was not a particularly hot day and it seemed odd to me. I asked the captain if he was fine and he said he was. Soon after, Mr. Walsh bellowed, “Captain, a boat is coming!” The Frenchmen rowed over to the Enterprise as our marines stood by muskets at the ready. “Sir, beg pardon, I have a message for your captain.” Captain Shaw went up to the railing so he could see the messengers clearly and replied, “I am Captain Shaw of the USS Enterprise, what is your message, sir?”
The man countered, “Sir, Captain Michot of La Flambeau wishes to finish the engagement started today. He challenges your ship to a test of strength tomorrow at midday just past the southern reef.”
“You tell your captain I accept his challenge—tomorrow at midday!” He snapped. The crew began to cheer as the French boat turned away and rowed back to La Flambeau. The crew conducted repairs through the night and into the morning. The captain saw to it that the crew had a good breakfast and prepared for action before he gave the order to sail out of the bay. La Flambeau remained at anchor as we sailed, they were apparently content with allowing us to wait on their arrival at sea. We waited for them to depart the bay, but still they had not sailed out to meet us by midday. Ensuring we were not in the neutral water of the Danish bay, the captain ordered a single cannon to fire toward the harbor to announce our intention to meet the challenge.
Still, La Flambeau did not come out. A wall of dark clouds began to form to our southwest. The captain again ordered a cannon to fire. Still the brig did not come out. The wind started to increase and rain began to shower the ship. The captain was mad with anger. When it was evident Captain Michot had no intention of honoring the challenge, the captain gave instructions to sail on through the storm.
The storm battered the ship into the night and subsided in the early-morning hours. After breakfast, a disturbance erupted near the bow. A man was being restrained by Mr. Richards as Green Gato ran down the ship and into the hatchway. The captain went forward to find the man was bleeding from his arm. Dr. Peters was summoned to look at the wound as the man began to explain to the captain that the cat had scratched him up. Mr. Duffy held Mr. Edwards in check as he was attempting to get at the man held down on the deck. The man exclaimed, “Sir, that cat has cursed this ship, we’ve had nothing but problems since it came on board!”
Another man said, “It’s true, sir, that cat has
cursed us!” Mr. Edwards cried out, “There’s no
curse!”
The captain stated, “Settle down! Let him up,
Mr. Richards. They’ll be no more of this nonsense!”
The man got up as Dr. Peters poured alcohol on the man’s arm and wiped it off with a rag. Mr. Duffy let go of Mr. Edwards and said to the captain, “Sir, with your permission?”
The captain nodded and Mr. Duffy continued. “There is no curse on this ship. Stop believing in superstition—whenever difficulties come you find an excuse to blame something. I have cruised many times with that cat and had success.”
The man grumbled, “This is not your concern,
Duffy!”
Then the captain said, “Mr. Duffy is correct. There is no curse. Do your jobs and I assure you we will be successful!” Then Mr. Walsh told the crew to go about their work.
The captain began to cough as the men moved away and Dr. Peters asked him, “Are you all right, Captain?”
He assured him he was, but he did not look well. He pulled away from the doctor and went back to the quarterdeck.
The officers were talking with the captain when I came back to the quarterdeck. Lieutenant Thorn was speaking, “Perhaps the brig was more damaged than we thought or Michot saw the storm building.”
Lieutenant Somers affirmed, “Or he didn’t think we would call his bluff and had second thoughts about fighting us on equal terms.”
The captain absorbed the words, covered his mouth, and coughed. He said, “Well, what we do know is that Captain Michot is not a man of honor, and that, gentlemen, is good to know. I will not be fooled again.”
The lookouts reported sails as we cruised near St. Croix. Quickly running up on the vessel, the privateer attempted to flee. She was a sloop with four cannons, no match for the Enterprise, but her captain refused to surrender. The captain steered the ship in position for a broadside and we fired our cannons at close range inflicting considerable injury to the vessel. The enemy ship returned fire and the Enterprise again let loose a devastating blast. The smoke began to clear and the French commander struck the colors. Half of the enemy crew lay dead or injured and the rigging was in disarray. The corsair, La Cigne, was tied alongside, her captain injured in the foray. Dr. Peters reported to the captain that we had sustained three wounded in the action. I had seen this type of carnage before, the deck of La Cigne was horrendous—men began to separate the dead from the wounded. The familiar odor of blood, sweat, and gunpowder made me feel ill, I could never get comfortable with it. Lieutenant Thorn took command of the prize crew after enough repairs were made to the vessel to sail her, we cruised together to St. Kitts. The damage to La Cigne was severe enough to make her vulnerable should a storm arise so the prize crew was prepared to abandon the craft and leave the French crew to their fate should a storm overtake us.
All talk of a curse on the ship stopped and Mr. Duffy proclaimed that prayer works as he and many of the crewmen had been asking the Lord for his divine protection upon our ship. Confident that Mr. Duffy was right, I felt ashamed that I had not been praying with him. I felt a regret as though I didn’t do my part. I confronted him and told him of my regret. He pulled out a Bible and handed it to me. “Clyde, I should have given you this some time ago. It is my only Bible, so please take great care. There is strength and power in the Word. Read the Psalms when you can, they will encourage you to persevere through the trials—the Lord speaks through his Word.”
“Aye, I will,” I replied.
Before departing he said, “Think on Psalm 29:11 when it says, ‘The Lord will give strength unto his people; the Lord will bless his people with peace,’—even in a storm,” he added.
St. Kitts was striking when we arrived. The sun was bright and the water was crystal clear. On a day such as that it seemed war was so far away. But danger lurked just beyond the harbor, like a school of sharks waiting without being seen for an unsuspecting prey. We retrieved the prize crew and I went ashore with Michael O’Neal and Robert Jones to assist Mr. Edwards in acquiring staple provisions. Robert was agreeable, but I didn’t care much for Michael and I had a hard time understanding their Bostonian accent so I didn’t talk with them greatly. Mr. Duffy retrieved the mail that had caught up with our travels. I had three letters from Charlene and I was excited to read what she had written. She wrote that her father had been overseeing the refit of the Eagle, but he had been home twice since I transferred to the Enterprise. George was completing his college studies in the spring and was go
ing to work for his father following graduation. She also wrote that she discovered Mr. Pettigrew wanted me to work for him as well and she suggested how wonderful it would be for me to work in Charleston. I liked Charleston, but the thought of staying their permanently did not agree with me, maybe Mr. Freeman was right; maybe I was becoming the moth to the light. I couldn’t imagine working the land as a farmer or working hard to increase Mr. Pettigrew’s wealth. I didn’t know what the future might bring and I didn’t know how Charlene fit in. Mr. Duffy told me on more than one occasion not to worry too much about the past or the future. He’d say the past cannot be changed and the future will be a bridge you cross at the time you cross it. We cruised northeast near St. Martin before turning east toward Barbuda when a corsair came into view, another sloop exhibiting six cannons. The setting sun began to disappear in the ocean projecting a red glow in the water to our west, a race to close with the privateer before sunset soon ensued. Lieutenant Somers proclaimed, “She’s trying to keep her distance until darkness. We’ll lose her after the sun goes down.” The captain nodded as we quickly ran up on the ship—her stern had the name La Citoyenne. Our speed had permitted us to catch her before she escaped into darkness. Getting alongside, we fired a broadside into her as they returned fire. The Frenchmen put up a gallant fight, but their captain struck their colors only after losing one of their cannons on their port side and half their crew. In the struggle, they managed to wound several of our crewmen and Dr. Peters along with the loblolly boys went to work as soon as they were able. The Enterprise sustained the loss of one of our marines and we had six wounded, including Lieutenant Scott, our marine commander.
The deck of La Citoyenne was littered with the dead and dying. In the rigging, a man was swaying in the main sail upside down, his foot caught on the ropes. The wind was blowing the drops of blood onto the sail, spraying the canvas like a painting. Lieutenant Somers commented, “Look there, it looks like a picture of a bird—a crimson bird on the sheets.” He was right. The blood had made the form of a bird in flight with streaks flowing down the canvas. I watched as a crewman climbed up the shrouds to cut the man down, reflecting about the man that I did not know hanging from a rope. I thought how strange it was that the final act of his life was creating a picture of a bird with his own blood in the middle of the sea. How could he have known his life would end today? I wondered about my own mortality, would my end come in such a way to make others remember the day?
The captain ordered Mr. Richards and some of his boatswain mates aboard La Citoyenne to assess her ability to sail. The enemy crew was contained below decks as the crew worked to get her seaworthy. In the morning, Midshipman Talbert had convinced the captain to allow him to pilot the corsair to Dominica. Glowing with pride, Mr. Talbert assumed his first command of a prize. Mr. Richards along with twelve seaman remained aboard the prize to help sail her safely to port. The Enterprise cruised alongside La Citoyenne until midday when the lookouts reported seeing sails on the horizon.
After studying it a while, the captain said, “It’s a lugger flying the French flag.” He hailed Mr. Talbert on La Citoyenne and told him to continue to make way. “I’m going to pursue the corsair, we’ll meet up with you in Dominica.” Mr. Talbert acknowledged the captain’s orders as we sailed toward the Frenchman. We pursued the corsair for several hours, losing sight of Mr. Talbert and getting closer to our objective. A large vessel, she had three masts and twelve very large cannons. She turned to get a good firing position just as we got within striking distance. The French fired first at close range. The intense blast of her cannons seemed to suck the air right out of my lungs and I struggled to catch a breath as the captain ordered a return volley. The corsair turned away and we came back around firing again before the corsair struck her colors. Among the prisoners were a French major general and his staff officers. The ship was La Guepe and was cruising back to France when we caught up with her. Lieutenant Thorn took command of the prize as we sailed toward Dominica.
After supper that evening, I walked back toward the quarterdeck when I saw Dr. Peters having a stern discussion with the captain. I couldn’t hear what was said, but the two of them made their way down the hatch below decks leaving Lieutenant Somers at the helm. I asked him if he thought the captain need anything and he replied that he just needed some rest is all. I knew the captain was not feeling well and he was pushing himself intently. I feared he would not make it back home if he didn’t get better.
The following day, we spotted what looked to be La Citoyenne. The captain was summoned to the deck and he seemed puzzled as he looked through the glass. “They should have already arrived at Dominica by now!” He looked again and without putting the glass down said, “Lieutenant Somers, get the men to action stations.” Still studying the ship, he continued, “She still flying the American colors.” He then ordered our cannons to prepare to fire if needed and had the marines stand by with their muskets. He hailed Mr. Talbert as we came alongside but there was no reply. Again, he hailed her, this time informing the corsair that we were preparing to fire. The vessel struck her colors and we pulled the ships together after throwing lines. A French commander was on the deck and the prize crew was released after being contained below deck on La Citoyenne. Mr. Richards made his way on deck and over to the Enterprise to report the situation. “Sir, not long after we parted, we spotted a corsair in pursuit. Mr. Talbert did his best to prevent the capture, but the ship did not have enough in the sails to escape.” He took a breath. “The corsair was Le Flambeau. The French captain was infuriated and put us below decks, giving the privateers the ship back.”
The captain asked, “Where is Mr. Talbert?”
Mr. Richards replied, “Sir, the last I saw of him, the French captain took him aboard his vessel.”
The three ships sailed into Dominica and anchored in the harbor. We had a great sense of accomplishment as we took two prizes, but Mr. Talbert was not with us. The wounded were taken ashore and I stayed aboard the ship as I was told to do.
A few days later we sailed up to St. Kitts. The frigate Constitution was anchored in the harbor when we arrived and the captain went ashore with Lieutenant Somers and Dr. Peters. The following morning the ship’s boat returned with replacements for our dead and wounded. Among them was a face I knew well, it was Lieutenant Baker! He told me he had volunteered to transfer to the Enterprise. He was transferred to the Constitution when the Eagle began a complete refit. It seems the Constitution was a bit too proper for his liking and his marine captain didn’t give him as much latitude as he enjoyed as a marine commander aboard a schooner.
We were not at St. Kitts long before we weighed anchor and sailed southeast. Only a day had passed before we again engaged yet another corsair. This time the ship was L’Aigle, a ten-gun schooner preying on merchantmen passing Guadeloupe. The corsair was fast and elusive but not as fast as the Enterprise as we closed with her. Almost upon her, L’Aigle quickly changed direction and we fired on her stern before turning hard to starboard as well. The privateer shortened sail, coming alongside and fired a broadside into us and we answered with one of our own. In the smoke, their captain again turned to starboard. Captain Shaw steered the ship to port and came full around with L’Aigle on our bow. We came alongside and fired another broadside and threw lines over to the corsair to ensure she did not again attempt to slip away. Pulled tight, Lieutenant Baker led boarders onto the enemy ship. He shouted back though the smoke that the Frenchmen had went below the deck; the only men on the deck were dead or wounded. Capturing the vessel and crew, we discovered that all the officers had been killed in our last broadside, to include their captain. We had suffered three wounded in the exchange. Lieutenant Thorn took command of the prize as we sailed to St. Kitts once again.
23
Le Flambeau
Summer had arrived and it was abnormally dry. The water rations were consumed quicker than normal and although I hated storms, a little rain would have been welcome to cool the day. The Enterpris
e had done well and I looked forward to the prize money I had accumulated over the past several months. We had not received any information on Mr. Talbert, but the captain displayed outward optimism of his safe return.
Cruising leeward of Dominica on a cloudy morning, the sails of a brig were spotted on the skyline. Steering toward her, the Enterprise was struck by a strong breeze causing us to close the gap quickly. It was Le Flambeau and she had turned from us and was attempting to escape an engagement. The captain ordered a parallel course as the crew prepared to fire cannons and muskets once in range. Le Flambeau was a fast ship, but the Enterprise was closing, almost within range. Captain Shaw was glistening with sweat and began to cough almost uncontrollably for a few minutes. Lieutenant Somers summoned Dr. Peters, but when he arrived, the captain stated, “I’m all right! Capturing that ship is good medicine. I’m not letting him get away again!” Mr. Walsh approached the captain and declared, “Sir, we are within range and ready for your order.” The captain studied the enemy vessel and said, “No, I want to get close before we fire a volley.” Le Flambeau shortened sail and turned to port in our direction and began firing muskets as she closed. Captain Shaw yelled for Lieutenant Baker to commence firing and turned the ship to port to get a good firing position when the corsair fired her cannons. The blast splintered our forward railing and cut through the jibs on the bow. They fired too early, I thought, and were reloading when the captain came alongside and ordered our cannons to fire. The captain may be ill, but his mind was unmatched. He got Michot to fire prematurely and set him up for a close encounter. Lieutenant Baker and the marines continued to inflict damage and both ships again fired cannon at close range. The corsair trimmed her sails and pulled away to starboard in an attempt to flee but her foremast was heavily damaged.