Peter Wicked

by Broos Campbell

  The taproom was too crowded with gentlemen drinking toddies and cobblers for quiet company, and no place for a lady, anyway. Calling for a pot of coffee and a cake, I showed her into the upstairs parlor, deserted at this time of day and unlighted except for a low fire burning on the grate. I lingered in the doorway until the colored girl had brought a tray and a pot, and then I couldn’t decide where to sit. I stood across the low table from Mrs. Towson as she poured two cups.

  “Will you take sugar, Mr. Graves?”

  “Yes’m.”

  She stirred the cups so gently that the spoon never clanked against the porcelain. She looked up as Greybar slipped into the room, hugging the wall but with his tail up. “Is that sticking plaster on his tail?”

  “Yes’m. He caught a splinter sometime during the hoo-roar around Birds Island. I heard him yowl, but I didn’t know till several days later it was him. He tends to make himself scarce during a fight, and for some time after as well.”

  “A wise beast.”

  He stood with his front paws on my knee and let me rub his head. “I felt some awful when I discovered he’d been wounded. I got half a mind to put him in for a Badge of Military Merit.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A little heart made out of purple silk. It says ‘merit’ on it. George Washington created it, but I don’t think it’s been awarded since the Revolution.”

  Greybar went to her and let her fuss over him. When I started around the low table, though, he thumpered through my legs and out of the room, the white plaster marking his progress down the gloomy hallway.

  “He actually likes me,” I said.

  “Oh, yes, I can tell.”

  I held up the flask of whiskey that I’d taken to wearing in my coat pocket.

  She gave a little nod and pushed her cup toward me.

  “I truly am sorry about Dick, Mrs. Towson. He was a brother to me.”

  “I know, dear, I know.” She stroked the damask of the sofa cushion beside her. “He was so happy to be called to the Insurgent. Said with you as master’s mate, the two of you were bound for glory.”

  “He was one for glory, all right.”

  “You must alight sometime, sir.” She patted the cushion again.

  I picked it up and sat in its place. We drank our coffee and whiskey for a while.

  “I will not pretend I was a mother to him,” she said, “but . . . one misses people.”

  Her chin trembled and I offered my handkerchief. “They never go away,” I said.

  She took my hand and kissed my fingers, gazing at me from behind tear-dewed lashes. “Ah, me,” she whispered. “My breast is filled with grief and longing, both. Whatever shall I do?”

  “Well, I guess I don’t know.”

  She continued to hold my hand, resting it in her lap. Her hands were smooth and soft and warm, and I could feel the heat of her thighs through the damp stuff of her dress. I examined the dregs in my cup.

  “What about Arie?” I said at last.

  “You don’t mean you still love her?”

  “I don’t know as I ever did. I think after all that it may have had more to do with . . .”

  “The compulsions of Venus?”

  My heart was scampering around like Greybar out in the hallway. “Pretty much.”

  “It is no sin.”

  I looked at her, and she looked back at me with a frankness that I found more alarming than guns. I leaned toward her and pressed the backs of her fingers to my eyes. “Mrs. Towson, I don’t know what to do.”

  “You have all afternoon to decide, Matty dear. Though I confess I am uncommonly damp.” She withdrew her hands and rearranged her skirts. “What will happen to your friend Mr. Wickett?”

  “How do you know about him?”

  “Men assume women are stupid, and so they tell us the most interesting things. And I know many men. Will he be hanged?”

  “Between you and me and the fireplace, I think they’ll let him get away, so long as he leaves the country. It’d be pretty embarrassing to hang him after the way he saved the Rattle-Snake in the Bight of Léogâne and all. Despite what that son of a . . . what Blair said, ain’t too many in the navy that believe him, I don’t guess. Listen, I really oughtn’t to be talking about it.”

  “Then don’t, darling.”

  Darling. Two little syllables that I felt right down to my toes.

  She’d been picking at her crumb cake, washing it down with sips of coffee. She brushed her fingers. “To go anywhere in public life, dear, a man needs enemies as well as friends. Perhaps your Peter Wickett aimed too low. You, however, you’ve made a good start of it. My husband knows many men in high places, which means they now know you too. I will not allow him to challenge you.” She held up her hand to shush me. “Nor will I allow you to challenge him. He and I are useful to each other, and there is a great fondness between us. But discretion is the watchword. If no public insult is offered, no offense can be taken. Happily, for the moment you cannot offend him further. But you must always keep in the public eye, now, as your best defense. I am speaking of your career, of course, not your private life. Though I dare say one can be accommodating in both.”

  She glanced around the room, taking in the cracked paintings and scuffed gilt furniture from Colonial days. “Will you take up permanent residence in this house?”

  “As permanent as a naval officer can hope for. Assuming I’m kept on, now the war’s over. But if Congress decides to award head and gun money for La Flamme, I’ll have enough for a little house in Washington. Maybe someplace well away from the government buildings. Lots can be had for as little as eighty dollars, I’m told. And there’s also a passel of valuable cargo at a certain out of the way place, which I can claim a significant amount of—I’ve got a list. I thought of going back to Phillip’s for a while, but . . .”

  “But there is no freedom of movement under his watchful eye.”

  “Right.” I took her hands again in mine, turning her soft, slender fingers under my calloused, flattened ones. I ached to kiss the tapered nails. “The way he thinks of it, the way his Pacific Brotherhood does, I’m free to do whatever I want so long as it don’t hurt anybody and I’m prepared to accept the ‘consequences of my actions.’ He’s big on consequences. Though the most painful consequence is usually having to listen to one of his lectures. I’m babbling. I’ll shut up.”

  She laughed softly. Her breath ran over my skin like a caress. “I owe you a painting, darling. I promised I would give it to you once you had a home of your own.”

  “The one of the plums? I’d be honored to receive it.”

  “I also finished that portrait of you. It came out well, I think. Pity, because Elver is sure to throw it in the fire when we return to White Oak. So I should like to paint another—a proper portrait, in the heroic tradition.” She had dimples busting out all over. “In the classical tradition.”

  “But Mrs. Towson, classical figures—”

  “Are undraped, yes.”

  She was pretty as a wildwood flower when she smiled.

  AUTHOR’S HISTORICAL NOTE

  This isn’t much of a historical note, as such notes go. I made up pretty near everything except John and Abigail Adams, and even them I stretched a bit. However, it will come as no surprise to the astute reader that they were real people. So was Benjamin Stoddert, now that I think of it, whom I know only through letters and a single portrait; Captain Thomas Tingey, late of the Royal Navy, about whom I know even less; and the unfortunate Mr. Brown, whose accident while carousing in Fell’s Point allowed Dick Towson to take his place in the Insurgent. I’m nearly sure I manufactured everyone else, though it’s possible I borrowed someone out of a history book and forgot to put him back again.

  The locations in Peter Wicked are also real, including Isla de Aves or Birds Island, although it has changed drastically over the past several centuries. When I first began writing this book I had a beautiful map of the Caribbean, printed in London in 1797, with
notes on it indicating that Birds Island was considerably larger than it is today. It mentions the scrubby vegetation that still covers parts of the island, and the stumps of trees that had become extinct on the island even then. It describes the Aves Bank and what the bottom is like and how deep it is. I wish I still had that map, but I moved twice while writing this book and a box of papers somehow went by the boards. At any rate, coral and sand have built up Birds Island again since Hurricane Allen reduced it to a pair of islets in 1980, but at less than four hundred yards long and fifty yards wide, it’s still much smaller today than it was two hundred years ago. Taking an eighteenth-century mapmaker’s word for anything is a dicey proposition, of course; but apparently the island was even larger when Père Labat accidentally spent a few weeks there in 1705, and he says it was dotted with guava and custard apple trees. Regardless, the Venezuelan scientists and military personnel who occupy the Simón Bolívar naval base at Isla de Aves today, to bolster claim to a broad exclusive economic zone surrounding the little blip of sand, have had to retreat to a platform raised on pilings. This may give some comfort to Dominica and other island countries that dispute Venezuela’s sovereignty.

  Some of the naval vessels in Peter Wicked were real, including the Constellation, the Pickering, and the Insurgent. (It was just as well that Dick Towson left the Insurgent when he did, as she vanished with all hands soon after.) The Columbia is a fabrication, but not a complete one; a forty-four by that name was commissioned in 1838 and saw action against Sumatran pirates the following January. The U.S. Navy had to wait till the twentieth century to get a Tomahawk— and a Choptank, too, for that matter—but the first was an oiler and the second was a tug. The General Greene served on the San Domingo station under Christopher Perry, with his son Oliver Hazard aboard as a midshipman; she was laid up in 1801 and burned by the British in 1814. There were two aircraft carriers named Croatan (CVE-14 and CVE-25) during World War II, but the General Greene’s sister ship Croatoan, named for the cryptic message left by the lost colony of Roanoke Island, is imaginary. The Breeze (or La Brise or Suffisant) never was, but the minelayer Breese helped sink a midget submarine during the attack on Pearl Harbor.

  A number of people helped me in the writing of this book. Some of them I have never met, including Paul H. Silverstone, Christopher McKee, and John H. Harland, whose books are a continuing source of pleasure and illumination. I am particularly indebted once again to Jackie Swift for her insight, patience, and humor; and to Walter Mladina and Simon Brocas for their help with French idioms. The inevitable mistakes are my own.

  B.C.

  Ventura, Calif.

  Glossary

  aback, a sail is said to be aback when the wind presses it against the mast, driving the vessel sternward.

  abaft, to the rear of a vessel.

  abeam, toward or from the side of a vessel.

  aft, after, toward, in, or from the stern.

  alee, away from the wind.

  amidships, toward or in the center of a vessel.

  Anacreon, a Greek poet noted for his songs about loose living. “To Anacreon in Heav’n” was a British drinking song, written around 1770 and popular on both sides of the Atlantic; Francis Scott Key later used its tune for “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

  Anegada, a low island lying northeast of the VIRGIN ISLANDS and surrounded by numerous CAYS and REEFS.

  astern, toward the rear of a vessel.

  athwart, across.

  avast, ’vast, given as a command to stop what one is doing.

  bein’t, be not.

  belay, to make secure, as with a LINE TO A BELAYING PIN. Also given as a command to disregard a previous command.

  belaying pin, a usually wooden dowel of about 18 inches long, fitted through a rail along the inboard side of a bulwark or at the base of a mast, and used to secure the RUNNING RIGGING.

  battalion, under the French military system at the time, one of the three constituent units of a DEMI-BRIGADE, with a strength on paper of about 800 men, consisting of a GRENADIER company and eight FUSILIER companies.

  bend, to attach securely but temporarily, as a sail to a SPAR.

  binnacle, a cabinet that houses a ship’s compass. It might also hold a lantern, a half-hour glass, a TRAVERSE BOARD, and a slate.

  bit, an eighth of a REAL.

  black vomit, YELLOW FEVER.

  boarding ax, a tool resembling a hatchet with a spike opposite the blade, with a straight shaft from about a foot and a half to three feet long.

  boarding net, a rope latticework meant to keep enemies from coming over the rail.

  boarding pike, a short spear used by sailors.

  boom, a SPAR to which the foot of a FORE-AND-AFT sail is attached. Also a pole used to push a hazard away.

  bosun, or boatswain, a senior WARRANT OFFICER charged with the care of a ship’s boats and RIGGING, and often with disciplining the enlisted men.

  bosun’s mate, a PETTY OFFICER who assists the BOSUN and flogs the men as required.

  bow, or bows, the forward part of a vessel.

  bowse, to lift or drag using ropes and pulleys.

  bowsprit, a heavy SPAR to which the foremast STAYS and HEADSAIL gear are attached.

  brace, a line attached to the end of a YARD and used to trim it fore or aft.

  brail, a line used to haul the foot of a sail up or in.

  brig, a two-masted square-rigger with a FORE-AND-AFT mainsail attached to the mast with hoops and extended by a GAFF and BOOM. See HERMAPHRODITE and SNOW.

  broadside, a vessel’s artillery considered as a whole, or the GUNS along one side, especially when fired simultaneously; also the side itself, above the waterline.

  Brother Jonathan, British seamen’s slang for an American sailor.

  bulwark, the sides of a vessel above her WEATHER DECK.

  cable, a heavy ROPE made up of several strands of HAWSER-laid rope, ten inches or more in circumference, used to anchor or MOOR a vessel. In the U.S. and British navies its length was calculated at 100 FATHOMS, which was conveniently close to a tenth of a nautical mile.

  cable tier, the place in a vessel where a CABLE is stowed.

  can, a tankard.

  canister, a projectile made of small shot in a metal case.

  Cap Français, also Le Cap, the principal city and capital of SAINT-DÓMINGUE: Cap-Haïtien (or Kapayisyen), Haïti.

  capstan, a vertical WINCH, useful for moving heavy objects such as anchors.

  captain, the top commissioned rank in the U.S. Navy, equivalent to an army or MARINE major, lieutenant-colonel, or colonel, depending on his seniority; by convention, the commander of any vessel. Also, the senior man at a given station, as captain of the foretop; also, an army or MARINE officer ranking between LIEUTENANT and major.

  cartridge, a paper sleeve or cloth bag containing the amount of gunpowder needed for one discharge of a frearm, and, in the case of a musket cartridge, also containing a projectile.

  cat, a heavy timber projecting from the bow and that keeps an anchor from damaging the vessel’s side.

  cat-o’-nine-tails, a whip of nine strands, each about 18 inches long and affixed to a hempen or wooden handle.

  cay, or key, a low islet or shoal of sand, rock, or coral, usually with scrubby vegetation.

  chains, the gear that secures the base of the SHROUDS.

  chain shot, a ROUND SHOT cut in half and reconnected by a chain.

  Charlotte Amalie, capital of the Danish VIRGIN ISLANDS. It is on the island of SAINT THOMAS.

  clew, either of the lower corners of a SQUARE SAIL or the aftermost one of a FORE-AND-AFT sail.

  close-hauled, sailing as near as possible to the direction of the wind, which in a SQUARE-RIGGED vessel is about six POINTS off. SCHOONERS and other FORE-AND-AFT rigs can point higher. Also called on a wind.

  club-haul, to tack by using the lee anchor as a pivot; a risky maneuver that necessitates the loss of the anchor, used only in an emergency.

  commissioned officer,
an officer who held his rank by virtue of having been nominated and confirmed by the Senate. Commissioned officers were divided into LIEUTENANTS, MASTERS COMMANDANT, and CAPTAINS, who were on the LADDER OF PROMOTION, and SURGEONS and surgeon’s mates, who were not.

  commodore, a CAPTAIN appointed to command of a squadron, considered equal in rank to a brigadier general.

  companion, companionway, a stairwell aboard ship.

  conn, to steer or direct the steering of a vessel.

  cook, the WARRANT OFFICER who supervised the cooking of the enlisted men’s food. Officers usually had their own cooks.

  corvette, a FLUSH-DECKED SHIP with a single row of usually less than 20 GUNS.

  courses, the sails bent to the lower YARDS or STAYS; also the principal GAFF sails of BRIGS and SCHOONERS.

  Creole, a French or Spanish colonial born in the Americas, sometimes but not always of mixed race; also a patois of various European and African languages, specifically the French Creole that evolved into Kreyòl, the language now spoken in Haïti.

  cut-and-come-again, food left out for the convenience of the men on watch.

  cutlass, a short heavy-bladed sword used by sailors.

  cutter, a fast-sailing single-masted vessel, used to carry dispatches or for reconnaissance. Also, a broad ship’s boat that could be rowed or sailed.

  darbies, shackles.

  dark-lantern, an enclosed lantern with a door for obscuring or showing the light.

  deck, the flooring of a vessel.

  demi-brigade, a French infantry unit consisting of three BATTALIONS and a small artillery train, with a strength of about 2,400 men.

  Doc, nickname for a U.S. Navy COOK.

  dogwatch, either of a pair of two-hour WATCHES, from 4 to 6 PM and 6 to 8 PM.

  ensign, a large flag carried at a ship’s stern to identify its nationality, and to distinguish the various squadrons of the Royal Navy. Also, an infantry SUBALTERN.

  fathom, a unit of measure equal to six feet. To fathom something is to understand it.

  flush-decked, lacking a raised FO’C’S’LE or QUARTERDECK.

  fo’c’s’le, loosely, the forward part of the WEATHER DECK. From forecastle, a fighting platform once carried on a warship’s bow.