by James Spurr
He stood and took his leave, with Marie yet in his cabin, presumably with a set of dueling pistols. She wondered if James shared her values and understood the reasons for her profound relief, which she now worried may well have been premature.
Chapter Four
In just days, little evidence remained of the beating John Adams took from the storm. The top hamper was restored by the following afternoon, save for the split mizzen topsail yard. The foretopmast was sprung even before it was sent down, but along with the yard, fashioned anew from spare stock. The new spars were shaped by the tired and bruised led by the skilled and experienced. Torn sails were patched, with the foretopgallant entirely recut.
Little damage was evident either of the beating suffered a young relationship maturing, from early, intense exposure to each other and all within a shipboard environment allowing for little privacy.
The Azores high assured light winds and a relaxed crew. The summer solstice passed with small ceremony and a beautiful sunset. Captain Lee found far more significance nearly two weeks later. In celebration of Independence Day, the nation’s fiftieth, he allowed an extra ration of beer for all. Soon, it seemed, John Adams was well enough west, crossing before the heat, humidity and instability borne of the Gulf Stream brought any further drama.
On a mid July afternoon, Captain Lee suggested to Marie she may like to keep a sharp lookout for land. She and the lookout aloft near simultaneously called out their discovery made off the starboard bow, gathered through the moisture and haze. She stared as the rocky coastline of Rhode Island emerged and gained definition and detail. She wondered if North America, a new world and continent she now beheld from out of the bright haze would have the same seductive effect upon her as it had upon her uncle, Father Armand LaPointe, some forty years before.
By early evening, John Adams turned north and steered a course splitting Narragansett Bay. Marie was surprised to see numerous other ships. As a matter of her first impressions, based upon commercial traffic, she perceived little difference from her native Brittany. At sunset, having just passed to starboard a formidable, stone built Fort Adams, the anchor was let go in Newport Harbor, twenty-nine days out from Rome.
Anxious to feel land under foot, Marie persuaded James to take a walk ashore. She was surprised to find the simple exercise so difficult, her balance now acclimated to near constant motion. The unforgiving streets and walks caused her to sway and nearly fall down on several occasions. They laughed and joked, enjoying the lights of Thames Street. James endeared himself to her by acknowledging the role her homeland, France, played in the American Revolution through their hero, Lieutenant General Jean Baptiste Rochambeau, having landed at Newport and walked on the very streets over which they now strolled. James beckoned her back to the ship, promising an early trip ashore soon after breakfast on the ‘morrow.
Before Marie awoke, but with the sun just on the harbor, Captain Lee was updating the log and making the report of their crossing when he noted from his stern gallery windows a naval gig departing from Bannister’s wharf. The uniforms were sharp, the stroke well timed and a uniformed officer and a civilian rode in the stern sheets. The gig rowed a straight course for John Adams and Captain Lee, feeling sociable, met the guests at the entry port.
The bosun piped them aboard. The uniformed officer introduced himself, “Sir, I am Captain Oscar Volks, Commandant of the Charlestown Naval Yard.”
Captain Lee welcomed him warmly, thankful his clerk had supplied him his dress coat at the last minute, “Welcome aboard, Captain Volks. I am Captain James Lee, John Adams, arriving just last evening from the Med.” Turning to his First Lieutenant, who at that moment having likely heard the word of visitors spread through the ship, arrived at his side in time for an introduction, “Captain, Lieutenant Cosgrove, my First.”
Captain Volks turned to introduce his civilian companion, sharply dressed and with what could only be guessed to be the latest fashion in a tall hat. One glance at the lines and height of that hat and James determined he had been at sea and out of the country for a prolonged time indeed. Captain Volks was saying, “May I present the Honorable Samuel Southard, Secretary of the United States Navy.”
Captain Lee did not hide his surprise, “I am delighted, Sir! What good fortune brings you aboard and how may we be of service?”
Secretary Southard seemed pleased and admitted, “Really, a fortunate coincidence, but one with purpose. May I have a moment?”
Captain Lee turned the deck over to Cosgrove, who was instantly beset by Volks, curious as to John Adams and her latest voyage. Captain Lee led the Secretary to his great cabin. He caught a glimpse of Marie peeking through her barely opened cabin door before she discreetly closed it again.
Captain Lee gestured toward his best chair and took his official position behind a small table opposite the secretary. Mr. Southard began, “I am sorry, Captain, to deliver this news, but in light of your crossing, you may not have heard.”
Captain Lee looked concerned and Mr. Southard continued, “Your vessel’s namesake and of course our founding father and former President died just recently.”
Saddened by the news, Captain Lee offered his sincere regret, “May I trouble you for details, Sir?”
Nodding, Southard explained, “The strangest thing, really, Mr. Adams died on July 4, if you can believe the irony.” Captain Lee remembered the day, his having allowed the crew some small celebration. “Even more oddly,” Southard continued, “Mr. Jefferson died the same day… both passing on the fiftieth anniversary of the nation for which they labored so hard in giving birth.”
After further details, Captain Lee stood and called for his clerk, explaining, “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Secretary, but…” and with his clerk entering, ordered, “Hoist the black pennant and,” turning and asking Mr. Southard, “am I to assume the ensign is at half hoist?”
Southard nodded, “Quite right, Lee. I did not notice upon boarding. Congress has asked for thirty days… or, er, until 4 August.”
Captain Lee directed his clerk once again, “Inform Mr. Cosgrove the ensign shall be flown at half hoist. I shall address the crew upon Mr. Southard departing.”
Mr. Southard nodded and changed the subject, “Still, what brings me out to visit this morning is your next assignment and mission.”
James froze. He just that morning while being shaved had considered the loss of such privilege upon him retiring from the Navy as he planned and promised Marie.
The Secretary explained, “Volks and I just completed inspecting the Charlestown yard and his counterparts in Washington and New York will all meet with me in New York later this week. We are making our way there and witnessed you anchor last evening. I expected you in New York anytime now, so as I mentioned, a fortunate coincidence finding you here in Newport this morning.”
Captain Lee was noncommittal but thus far, felt unlucky. It would only be more difficult than he imagined, resigning his commission to the Secretary of the Navy himself.
“Lee,” Mr. Southard asked, “You are one of Perry’s men, am I right?”
“Aye, Sir,” Captain Lee confirmed, “I am a former Lawrence.”
The Secretary stood, wandered about a bit and then casually stood before the stern windows, looking out. “We received word by way of invitation for one of our ships to proceed to Venezuela. I had been informed that we could expect John Adams within a couple of weeks so we have waited to act. This mission is for you.”
“Sir,” Captain Lee feigned regret, “Sadly, John Adams is in a rather sorry state, having been at sea for years with only marginal work in foreign establishments. She is in need, I am sure you understand, of a complete overhaul. Indeed, we withstood a serious blow during our crossing, suffering some…”
“Yes, of course, Captain, I am sure you are correct,” interrupted Southard. “We anticipated the old girl would need major work. You will sail her to New York, where she will be laid up for months.”
James considered, in that light i
t would be a convenient time to resign, knowing all officers and crew would have to be reassigned in any case while John Adams was on the hard without his having to witness some other captain succeeding to her immediately. But Southard interrupted his thoughts with confidence in careful planning, “We have arranged a new command for you, U.S.S. Lexington, Sloop of War, 24, just off the stocks and having returned from a shakedown cruise to Labrador. She rests in New York harbor and she is yours. Take whomever from your officers and crew you desire up to her full capacity. The rest will be scattered among other ships.
“Sir,” James began, truly appreciating the offer of a new command and this becoming no easier as every second passed, “I think it incumbent for me to inform—”
Again the Secretary interrupted, anticipating some hesitation from a captain having been gone from his home and at sea for so long, “Captain Lee, this is a most unusual mission. Race down and back, by all means if you must, but it would truly be an honor for any sailor and patriot. This is our history, Lee; not just the nation, but the Navy.”
Captain Lee was now, while hesitant, fully intrigued. He looked at Mr. Southard, a question in his eyes that his superior had hoped to find.
The Secretary confirmed, “The Venezuelan Government agrees… it is time to bring him home.”
The expression on Captain Lee’s face of deep pain and profound relief confirmed for the Secretary that of which he had been assured by others. Captain Lee was one of Perry’s men.
Captain Lee nodded. He need now only consider how to inform Marie.
After some details and a brief discussion of logistics, Secretary Southard personally wrote the orders. He and Captain Volks were seen off in the gig with all due ceremony. Mr. Cosgrove stood next to Captain Lee at the port, hoping for some explanation for the visit.
Captain Lee looked aloft to the black pennant flying from the mainmast truck. He looked aft and aloft to the peak of the gaff and noted the ensign at half hoist. He looked over at Fort Adams, considered the worn deck of John Adams, all of which signified the honor paid to a now dead President and measures taken in remembrance of service, leadership and sacrifice.
Yet Captain Lee was contemplating another honor; that of bringing Captain Perry, finally, home to his nation, home to his Newport… requiring that he break a promise to Marie and leave her behind.
Turning to Cosgrove, he explained, “On to New York, by nightfall at the latest. I will inform of our new mission upon our departing that city, as quickly as possible. Assemble the men on deck, if you please.”
Captain Lee went down below and gave a gentle rap on the door of Marie’s cabin. He feigned cheerfulness, “Good morning, my dear. Sorry for the delay in going ashore. I am assembling the men on deck and you may want to be present.” He made to appear to offer an afterthought, “Gather your belongings, by the way. There is little need any longer for your suffering the deprivations of shipboard life.”
Marie, thinking they were moving ashore, asked, as James turned and began for the deck, “Who were those men?”
Calling behind him, “Oh, I will explain momentarily, before the entire Ship’s Company; some regrettable news, really.”
Moments later, Captain Lee stood before them all from the rail across the quarterdeck forward of the binnacle. Mr. Cosgrove was to his right, Marie standing to starboard in the waist with her friend Mr. George, the ship’s surgeon. Captain Lee found it difficult to disguise his real emotion, so he hoped that the news of the death of two Presidents would cover the real cause for his heartache.
He began after the bosun assured quiet, quelling the whispers and rumors already circulating widely. He first looked aloft to the mainmast truck, gesturing, then aft to the ensign at half hoist. “Men, I have the regrettable duty this morning to report to you of a loss suffered by us all, of which I was informed just this morning by the Secretary of the Navy himself.”
Men turned and glanced about the ship, at the black pennant for those having not yet noticed and to each other. Their training and discipline made for absolute silence.
Captain Lee continued, “Our namesake, our founding father and former President, John Adams, died recently.” Men looked down to the deck, or to each other, some crossing themselves, some shaking their heads. “You all knew him as a leader willing to stand on principle, take risks, employ considerable skills, sacrifice on our behalf, and always represent the United States with commitment and honor. We are proud to sail aboard this ship, named for him, even as we anchor under the protection of a fort also bearing his name. His life stands as an example to us all.”
Men nodded, thinking that was all. But Captain Lee continued, “It is entirely fitting he died 50 years to the day of our declaring our independence.” Captain Lee could see the surprise and confirmed, “That is right, he died on 4 July and we shall fly the black pennant and our ensign at half mast in recognition of our loss until 4 August.”
Captain Lee did not explain that well before that time, John Adams would have no crew and, with no masts or yards by then rigged, fly no flags. He would tell them all of that and of Lexington when they arrived at the yard in New York.
Captain Lee finished with the other piece of sad and ironic news, “I must also inform of another loss.” He sighed, took a deep breath. Surprisingly, what he was about to say filled him with emotion. He had always admired President Jefferson. Not so much his administration, the policies of which wreaked economic hardship upon the Great Lakes as he recalled as a youth, but for the Declaration he authored, the high minded ideals to which both Jefferson and Adams had committed their careers and for the courage and foresight evident in more than doubling the territory comprising the United States.
Controlling his voice, glancing at Marie and knowing that she knew this news he was about to announce would hit him hardest, “President Jefferson also passed, ironically, on the same day as Adams.”
The crew collectively gasped, glanced about, denied the truth and always superstitious, wondered as to the meaning, if any. Captain Lee reminded, “Great men such as these, I am convinced, remain among us until they are assured of our strength, our success and our correct course as a nation. That both of them died on the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of our country is a good sign; affirmation of our security and righteousness of purpose and progress.” The crew thought about that symbolism and those most superstitious near instantly followed their Captain’s lead; treating the coincidence as good omens for the future.
“As we disburse to our duties, let us honor these men with our examples.” Captain Lee then added, in a more mundane tone, “We will not be remaining in Newport. We will depart soon for New York, where,” he added after a small dramatic pause, “some small leave will be allowed, recognizing our collective good conduct throughout this tour. That is all.”
Small cheers, large smiles and general satisfaction were heard and evident as the crew disbursed. James sought out Marie and with some urgency, asked, “Shall we go ashore? I will have the boat launched. Shall I send someone below for your belongings?”
“No, I will get my bag and, yes, let us see Newport by daylight.” She then reached out and touched his arm, “I am sorry to hear of the passing of these leaders. I know you admired Jefferson greatly.”
James thanked her for the sentiment, called out to Mr. Cosgrove for the gig and wondered whether Marie would be as sympathetic for another man whom James admired even more and who had played, unlike Jefferson, a significant personal role in his career and adult life.
James, to Marie’s surprise, rented a small carriage on Bannister’s wharf, an indication, she assumed, of his high spirits and excitement with respect to their day ahead. She was confused as to John Adams proceeding to New York so soon and assumed James would not be on board. She also wondered about the fine box of inlaid wood and of some weight which he took great care to stow carefully in the gig and then again in the carriage. The day was unfolding so quickly, she had not yet had opportunity to question, but rathe
r, unlike her, trusted to James’ planning and foresight.
James proceeded down Thames Street, stopping, surprisingly, before millenary shops along the way, encouraging her to shop for new clothing. She was having a fine time. “Really, James, this is what the women wear?”
James shrugged, clearly out of his element, but encouraged nonetheless while teasing, “Mind you, Marie, Newport is not Paris and I mean not to offend your fine French sense of fashion, but…” making a joke, “when in Rome… no, sorry, that was last month!”
They laughed and she selected and he paid and grew to love her more with every dress measured and ordered, each hat and pair of gloves and shoes loaded into the carriage. But he had not yet told her of his feelings or of his plans and knew that he would very much like to reveal the former and loathed the fact that he would soon have no choice but to reveal the latter.
On lower Thames, purposefully making their way south and closer to the coastline, of which he thought they would ride to take the view and talk, James encouraged Marie to buy a coat—a coat of some weight, of wool.
It dawned upon her instantly. It was only July. She lowered the coat, looked up into his eyes and she knew. “You are leaving.”
James took the coat, put it aside, glanced to the clerk who made himself scarce and he gently took her arm and led her outside.
Marie then asked, much more loudly, not so much because she did not know the answer, but because she could not believe her own realization. “You are leaving?” She shook her head in disbelief, unsure if this represented a personal rejection and an indication James was no longer interested. He helped her step up to the upholstered seat of the carriage. He quickly walked around and took the reins as he climbed to his seat. Again she exclaimed, accusingly, “I cross an ocean, arrive on a continent with not one live soul so much as an acquaintance,” then gesturing to his uniform trim, “you having promised to shed this silly gold leaf!” At that moment, some details became clear, including why he had not yet packed his belongings, “You are sailing to New York, are you not?”
