Give Me a Fast Ship

by Tim McGrath

  On September 26, 1783, Gustavus Conyngham visited Robert Morris, accompanied by Colonel Walter Stewart, an acquaintance who offered his assistance in getting Conyngham his money and rank restored. Stewart’s involvement in a plot to have Washington’s officers mutiny over their back pay did not place him high in Morris’s regard, but out of deference to Conyngham, Morris suggested the two present yet a more detailed memorial to Congress, and again include Franklin’s certificate.32

  On October 11, Conyngham’s memorial was read in Congress, which turned it over to a three-man committee for review, consisting of Hugh Williamson, William Ellery, and Arthur Lee. After two days, another committee referred it back to Morris, believing that if Conyngham was telling the truth, then the Agent of Marine should pay him and restore his rank. Three months later, Lee convinced Williamson and Ellery to deny Conyngham’s appeal: those commissions Franklin handed out in France, Lee claimed, were only temporary, and “not to give rank in the navy.” Yet another captain, championed by Franklin or Deane, became a pawn in Lee’s never-ending feuds with Franklin or Deane. Congress sided with Lee.33

  The man who risked his life at sea for a living, faced cannon fire, a death sentence, abusive treatment in prison, and eating dirt as he tunneled his way to freedom, had finally met an obstacle he could not defeat: the Congress of the United States. But he would not give in: year after year, he presented a new memorial, a new petition, a new claim—all refused. He would have clearly won his case if he only had that commission, signed by John Hancock as Barry’s and Jones’s were—and with no mention of his captaincy being “temporary.” It had to be lost—or destroyed—after the Reign of Terror took over France. As late as 1816, Conyngham made another effort, while admitting that one’s “word in poloticks [is] like sending Coals to Newcastle.”

  Nor did he give up on his country. When Congress passed on his offer to serve the new navy in the Quasi-War, Conyngham commanded two privateers, the America and the Maria. After his beloved Anne died in 1811, he volunteered again for service in the War of 1812, but at sixty-five had no chance of getting a ship.

  On November 29, 1819, a small notice was posted in a Philadelphia paper:

  Died on Saturday morning last [November 27] at one o’clock, in the 73rd year of his age, Captain Gustavus Conyngham, long a respectable inhabitant of this city.

  His connections and friends are respectfully invited to attend his Funeral . . .34

  In the early 1900s, General Horace Porter, Civil War hero and Medal of Honor winner, was with a group of Frenchmen exploring a dark tunnel underneath a French laundry, some carrying picks and shovels. In the dim lantern light, they found what they had come for: a coffin. A couple of them opened the lid. As the lid was pried open, there was a perceptible whiff of alcohol. Moving away the straw and linen, they found themselves staring at the captain of the Bonhomme Richard. An ecstatic Porter wired home: “My six years’ search for remains of Paul Jones has resulted in success.”

  Porter had no idea how successful his find would be, or how lucky it was that Theodore Roosevelt was president of the United States. Roosevelt had been enamored with the navy all his life, serving as assistant secretary of the navy in William McKinley’s administration and using all his influence to get the Spanish-American War started. He wanted the American navy to be second to none, and saw Porter’s discovery as a great public relations opportunity to sail his dream through Congress. After France gave Jones a funeral fit for a king, Roosevelt dispatched the USS Brooklyn and three other ships to bring the hero home.35

  On April 24, 1906, another grand ceremony honored Jones at the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis. Politicians, American and French naval personnel, the academy’s midshipmen, and thousands of spectators heard Roosevelt extol Jones’s courage and example. A handsome tomb was built for him beneath the academy chapel; his crypt rests atop four carved dolphins. Among the items and paintings along the circular walkway is his gold-hilted sword.36

  About the same time that Porter was searching for Jones, a catalogue announced the sale of autographs and documents collected by Charavay of Paris, including this item for sale:

  143 Hancock (John), célèbre home d’État Americain, gouverneur du Massachusetts, signitaire de la Déclaration de l’Indépendance—Pièce sig. comme président du congrés; Baltimore, I mars 1777, 1 p. in-fol. Obl. Rare.

  The catalog was mailed worldwide to renowned collectors, including Captain John S. Barnes (Ret.) of New York, a Civil War navy captain whose wife’s family tree included William Bainbridge and John Barry. Barnes had been collecting Revolutionary War documents for years, and arranged for its purchase. Several weeks later the package arrived. Looking forward to adding a Hancock signature to his growing collection, Barnes got more than he bargained for. There was Hancock’s signature, all right, but also a bit of Benjamin Franklin’s handwriting as well.37

  Gustavus Conyngham’s commission had finally come home.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As I write this I’m looking at a weather-beaten Roget’s Thesaurus, given to me by Mother Mary Ephrem (later Sister Mary Rose) of the Sisters of the Holy Child Jesus upon my graduating eighth grade. It was hardly used for the first thirty-eight years, but it’s been a lifesaver for the past eleven. Mother Ephrem was Katherine Hepburn in a habit—the kind of teacher you never forget, and hope that every student has at least once. A great lady.

  Luckily there were more educators like her awaiting down the road, particularly Jim Hilty, recently retired after decades of service to Temple University. He is always available for questions, and his encouragement, advice, and example will forever be appreciated.

  My interest in the Continental Navy began when I was a youngster and first saw where the Battle of Turtle Gut Inlet took place. I was taken there by Bob Starr, a World War II navy aviator, former North Wildwood lifeguard, and family friend. Bob personifies “the Greatest Generation”: his great love of family and country is not worn on his sleeve, but found deep in his heart.

  You would not be reading this if Bruce Franklin, the founder of Westholme Publishing, had not given me a chance with my first book on John Barry. Bruce’s passion for history and his business acumen make for a wonderful combination, and I am grateful for both the opportunity he gave me and his friendship.

  The stories of the Continental Navy have been told and retold every generation or so, but never more prolifically than by William Bell Clark. His books cover practically every character and event of the American Revolution, and he began the massive research that has thus far produced eleven volumes of The Naval Documents of the American Revolution, where so many of the firsthand narratives of the remarkable people in these pages can be found.

  The experts who have followed in Mr. Clark’s footsteps were once again generous with their time, knowledge, and suggestions. William Fowler of Northeastern University, Craig Symonds (Ret.) of the U.S. Naval Academy, and Dennis Conrad and Charles Brodine of the Naval Historical Center all provided valuable critiques and suggestions on parts of the text. James Nelson, a square-rigged sailor and exceptional writer, provided advice and encouragement. And I am very grateful to James Bradford of Texas A&M University, whose herculean accomplishment of harnessing the papers of John Paul Jones into a manageable and engaging resource was a huge help with this project, along with his time and kindness.

  I am grateful for the assistance of two biographers of John Paul Jones: Rear Admiral Joseph E. Callo (Ret.), who also helped with support materials, and Evan Thomas, who shared his thoughts on what made this complex man tick. This book also greatly benefited from the informative works of Michael Palmer and the late Nathan Miller. The books that all these gentlemen have written are terrific reads, and served as sound sources.

  When I first went to the local library as a boy and came back with Tom Fleming’s first book, Now We Are Enemies, about the Battle of Bunker Hill, I had no idea I would have the opportunity t
o review ideas and discuss this project with Tom, whose name alone on the spines of his books stretches from the top to the bottom of a bookcase. And what a storyteller!

  Source material came from stateside and Europe. In England, I was assisted by Roger Nixon, who unearthed Admiralty Records on many of the Royal Navy officers and ships in the preceding pages. Douglas McCarthy of the National Maritime Museum and Mathew Sheldon of the Royal Navy Museum took pains to answer various questions. French documents were translated by Dr. Maria G. Traub of Neumann University (my French has its limits), a Chevalier dans l’Ordre des Palmes Académiques, with a deep love of Franco-American history. Thanks once again to Dean King and John Hattendorf, whose Sea of Words and Harbors and High Seas were wonderful resources for terminology and geography.

  I am also indebted to the following for their help: Bruce Gimelson of Garrison, New York; George Carpenter of Cold Spring Presbyterian Cemetery at Cold Spring, New Jersey; Gail E. Farr at the Philadelphia branch of the National Archives; Dr. David Winkler of the Naval Historical Center; J. J. Ahern at the University of Pennsylvania Archives; Sally Hastings at the Somers Point Historical Society; June Sheridan at the Atlantic County (NJ) Historical Society; John Mills of Princeton Battlefield State Park; John Anderies and Ann Upton at Haverford College; Nicole Joniec at the Library Company of Philadelphia; Heather Joyner of the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum; Adam Kane at the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum; George F. Nagle of the Afrolumens Project; Bill Troppman and Kim Szewczyk at Valley Forge National Historical Park; author Nancy Loane with the Friends of Valley Forge; Fran O’Brien with the Delaware River Port Authority; Beth Beatty, Executive Director at Fort Mifflin on the Delaware; Thomas Truxes and Anne Solari at Glucksman Irish House of NYU; Connie Cooper of the Delaware Historical Society; Professor Mark McIntire of Santa Barbara City College; Harvard College Library Reference Services; authors John Nagy, Glenn Williams, and Christian McBurney; the steadfast Ralph Day; Richard Latture, Eric Mills, and Liese Doherty of Naval History Magazine; Patricia Harty of Irish America Magazine; Jack Warren and Emily Schultz of the Society of the Cincinnati’s Anderson House; Francis P. O’Neill at the Maryland Historical Society; Kim Burdick of the Duling-Kurtz House and George Washington Society in Wilmington, Delaware; Jennifer Patton of Fraunces Tavern; Arlynn Greenbaum of Authors Unlimited; Rear Admiral J. Robert Lunney, USN (Ret.), and Captain Liam Murphy, USN (Ret.), of the Navy League New York Council; and author and Captain John Rodgaard, USN (Ret).

  John Kessler’s papers were found and sent to me by Jonathan Stayer of the Pennsylvania State Archives. William Berret Kessler, Jr., a direct descendant of John Kessler, picked up John’s trail where the documents left off.

  I am also grateful to Martin Levitt, Sandra Duffy, and Valerie Lutz for their kindness and assistance at the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. The David Library of the American Revolution is a treasure trove of resources, ably manned by Meg McSweeney, Brian Graziano, and the ever-helpful Kathie Ludwig. Mary Jo Fairchild of the South Carolina Historical Society unearthed eyewitness accounts of the Siege of Charleston and what became of Elizabeth Baker. Anna J. Clutterbuck-Cook, Dan Hinchen, and Tracy Potter of the Massachusetts Historical Society found everything from Boston Tea Party tales through documents substantiating the “Odd Couple” relationship between John Manley and Hector McNeill. Ted O’Reilly, Tammy Kiter, and Rob Delap at the New York Historical Society both helped with research and tracked down Gustavus Conyngham’s commission. Carolyn Catona kept me on the straight and narrow in organizing research.

  At Independence National Historical Park, Karie Diethorn and the resourceful Andrea Ashby were more than helpful with support illustrations, portraits, and long-out-of-print books both by and about many of the people in this book. Nick Noyes of the Rhode Island Historical Society helped track down diaries and letters pertaining to the Penobscot Expedition. At the Library of Congress, Bruce Kirby has been pointing me in the right direction for years. Jim Cheevers, Senior Curator at the US Naval Academy Museum, and Grant Walker came through with good suggestions and solutions in tracking down sources for both text and illustrations.

  Christine B. Podmaniczky, Bethany Engel, and Jane Flitner of the Brandywine River Museum helped locate artwork and documents. Further help came from Lynette Pohlman, Allison Sheridan, and Adrienne Gannett at Iowa State University; Pam Overmann, Curator, Navy Art Collection, Naval History and Heritage Command; Joan C. Thomas at the US Marine Corps Museum, Quantico, Virginia; Frank Arre, Tiffany Gwynn, and John Royal at the Naval History & Heritage Command, Washington, DC; and Emma Lefley at the Royal Museums, Greenwich, England. Thanks go to Jenny Grehan and Eden Betz, daughter and granddaughter of the late Nowland Van Powell, in helping locate his remarkable paintings of the Continental Navy’s ships.

  Thanks are also due to Elizabeth Oldham at the Nantucket Historical Association for background information on Shubael Gardner. William Baehr provided documents from the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Presidential Library on Barry, Jones, and their fellow captains. At Christ Church in Philadelphia, Neil Ronk and Carol Smith provided church-related background on Captains Barry and Conyngham and Messrs. Franklin, Morris, and Hopkinson. Linnea Bass, Don Graves, Donald Hagist, John Houlding, and Jim Kochan reviewed naval ordnance, while Paul Kopperman and Laurence Todd were generous with their knowledge of eighteenth-century military medicine. Dr. Susan Klepp offered her expertise on women in colonial times, which helped flesh out the shortage of documents on Anne Hockley Conyngham, Sarah Austin Barry, and Elizabeth Baker Holmes.

  Is there a finer view from a library than the one at Independence Seaport Museum? I don’t think so. Nor have there been better hosts than John Brady, Craig Bruns, Joshua Fox, and Megan Good. If I have another project there I’m bringing a sleeping bag. The same holds true for the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, thanks to Lee Arnold, Amanda Dean, Sarah Heim, Rob Medford, and Dan Rolph.

  Few people possess the enthusiasm and dedication of Meghan Wren, Executive Director of the Bayshore Discovery Project, or have accomplished what she has in reawakening interest in the Delaware Bay and River. The best way to see those bodies of water is a trip upriver aboard the schooner A. J. Meerwald, captained by Meghan’s husband, Jesse Briggs. I had the pleasure of my dear friend Gary Dunn’s company on a trip to Port Penn and Reedy Island. And I will never be the sailor Larry Helmick is, but I appreciate the years of picking his brain on the subject while we’re out on the water. Our friendship has even survived spinnakers—so far.

  Years ago Megan Fraser introduced me to the Barry-Hayes Papers at Independence Seaport Museum. Now at UCLA, Megan is still a great sounding board, wise beyond her years. Michael Crawford, Senior Historian at the Naval History and Heritage Command, has answered every question and kept me from the shoals with his critiques and encouragement. Greg Urwin of Temple University read every word of the manuscript and served as both Henry Higgins and Father Confessor for this project. I am honored that all three of these experts are friends.

  My daughter, Courtney—the real writer in our family—was there at every instance of a late-night call (“How would you say . . .”), and always spot-on with her suggestions. The elegant maps and battle diagrams in this book were done by my son Ted, an award-winning artist whose work has supported articles in magazines and newspapers around the world.

  The cover painting for this book is by the renowned Patrick O’Brien. Once I learned that his painting would grace the book’s cover, I started praying that the text would live up to what Patrick’s talents promised.

  My thanks to all at New American Library/Penguin, especially Christina Brower, a calm voice no matter the crisis; Steve Meditz, whose talents in design are self-evident just by this cover alone; Loren Jaggers, a dedicated publicist with a keen sense of humor; and publisher Kara Welsh, for her belief in this book.

  It has been a privilege to work with my editor, Brent Howard. His talent, patience, and guidance are
resources any author would benefit by. He would make a great shepherd if he ever changes careers.

  Besides being a terrific agent, Jim Donovan is a good friend. A fine writer and historian in his own right, he dedicated one of his books to his dad, simply stating: He was a good man. So is Jim.

  On June 22, 2012, the sailing ship Bounty, a replica of the HMS Bounty built for the 1962 film Mutiny on the Bounty, sailed up the Delaware to participate in a “Tall Ships Weekend” at the Philadelphia waterfront. Once aboard, the first person I met was Claudene Christian. After a great “Cook’s tour,” I was told by Captain Robin Walbridge to come back in two days—I had permission to go aloft after the weekend festivities ended. With the assistance of Chief Mate John Svendsen and Second Mate Matt Sanders, I got to do just that. I remembered seeing the newsreel of the ship’s launching as a boy, and had seen both the movie and the TNT version of Treasure Island years ago, so climbing this ship’s ratlines was an extra pleasure. To learn of its tragic end, and the loss of Ms. Christian and Captain Walbridge, was sad news indeed. Their obvious love for what all of them were doing, and their hospitality to a complete stranger, will always be gratefully remembered.

  Finally, there’s Cyd—who read every word and edited every page. She is even open to another book—providing I write it in Portugal. Sailing through life with her is an honor.

  To all of the above, my thanks. The merits of this book are shared among you; its errors are mine alone.

  ENDNOTES

  List of Abbreviations

  AFP Adams Family Papers

  APS American Philosophical Society

  AWP Abraham Whipple Papers

  BFP Benjamin Franklin Papers

  BHP Barry-Hayes Papers