A Fine Tops'l Breeze: Volume Two in the War of 1812 Trilogy

by William White

  Rendezvous were established at several taverns and rooming houses ashore in an effort to recruit sailors, though with the reputation of Chesapeake, and the fact that so many seamen had signed on with privateers to make their fortunes, results were indeed sparse. Boston’s merchants, generally unwilling to support ‘Mr. Madison’s War,’ were difficult, claiming insufficient stores, and charging outrageous prices for what they did sell.

  And Lieutenant Page was finally sent ashore with what would prove to be a fatal disease of the lungs. Two other officers were coincidentally on the sick roll as well and Captain Lawrence was reduced to temporarily promoting midshipmen to acting lieutenant status in order to complete his wardroom.

  In desperation, he paid a visit to his old commodore, William Bainbridge, seeking men and officers from Constitution. A small contingent of men was sent, including a topman named Johnson and an Irish gunners’ mate named Tim Conoughy, both late of USS Constellation.

  Late in May, reports began filtering into Boston that the British blockade was being tightened around New England and Royal Navy frigates, brigs, and sloops of war were actively patrolling the waters between Nova Scotia and the mouth of Long Island Sound. A merchant sloop arrived in Boston with news that she had narrowly escaped two British frigates, HMS Tenedos and HMS Shannon, which were now closely watching President Roads and Boston. It was likely that more would be joining them, since it was apparent that the British were aware that both Constitution and Chesapeake were in the harbor.

  It did not appear to any on Chesapeake that either vessel would be going to sea anytime soon. Lawrence however, remained confident that if anyone could get Chesapeake to sea, it would be he. And to that end, on May 30th in a strong southwesterly breeze, Lawrence had Chesapeake unmoored and sailed out to President Roads.

  “Who does he think he’s kiddin’? We ain’t gonna be able to sail the barky outta here, any more’n we coulda from up to the Navy Yard. An’ at least there, we could get our own selves ashore from time to time.” Jake Tate was clearly put out and echoed the sentiments of most of the crew after the Chesapeake had been brought to her anchor in the Roads.

  “Aye, Jake. I ‘ear you, lad. But think on this. If you was fixin’ to jump ship, you might think twice afore you did, considering that now you got to swim for it.” Conoughy, fresh aboard from the now famous frigate Constitution, smiled at his young friend. “Cap’n Lawrence just orders up ‘is gig or the cutter, an’ off ‘e goes as ‘e pleases. So bein’ out ‘ere don’t prove any ‘ardship for ‘im, by all the saints. I’d warrant that ‘e’s planning to get the barky outta ‘ere quick as ever ‘e can once that frigate yonder – I think it might be HMS Shannon – moves off enough. An’ Cap’n Lawrence wants to ‘ave as many of the men aboard as ever ‘e can, which they wouldn’t be if’n we was still up in the Navy Yard.

  “On Constitution, we didn’t ‘ave much problem with jumpers; ship wasn’t thought unlucky. But I reckon I might jest do the same thing my own self if I was commandin’ such a vessel as this.” The gunner’s philosophical answer to young Tate’s complaint did little to put the Maryland topman in a better frame of mind, but Jake did acknowledge that the Irishman was likely correct.

  The two had been idling on the fo’c’sle watching a fleet of small fishing vessels making for sea. The little boats handled the chop quite nicely and their crews, to a man, waved happily as they sailed past. The men on the frigate waved absently back. The bosun joined them, at first silently, then he turned to Tim Conoughy.

  “I’d reckon you’d rather be back on Constitution and in the Navy Yard right about now, even without no decks or spars, eh Tim? I’d bet we’re gonna be sailin’ outta here in the dark o’ the moon right quick. I don’t imagine Cap’n Jim moved us out here cause the view is better. I’d warrant he’s got himself a plan. He told Mister Blanchard and a couple o’ the other officers he was fixin’ to head up Nova Scotia way and take some prizes – mebbe some of their whalers what’s working them waters up yonder. An’ he said he’d fight his way out if it come to that.”

  “I can not be a gunner on a vessel what don’t go to sea, Jack, an’ by all that’s ‘oly, I’d rather be on whatever it is what’s ‘eadin’ out. An’ from what I ‘ear, Cap’n Jim is the man to get us out. ‘e’s quite the fighter, ‘cordin’ to what I ‘eard ‘round the yard.”

  “Aye, that be so, Tim.” Tate joined the conversation. “I’ve heard it said below that his last cruise – on the little Hornet it was – was so successful they had a parade for him in New York. An’ o’ course, he did take that British sloop what was carryin’ all that money, Peacock, wa’n’t it? Mebbe he thinks he can turn Chesapeake into another Hornet. I wouldn’t bet on it my own self, seein’ what we got for crew aboard this barky. I’ll tell you, boys, I gots me a bad feelin’ ‘bout this ship.”

  “Oh, Jake, you been listening to too much o’ that fo’c’sle talk. Some o’ these very lads was on the Hornet with Cap’n Jim when he took all them prizes. I don’t reckon they’ll be standin’ by all ahoo when the fightin’ starts and, with a week or so to train some o’ the landsmen we got shipped, we’ll be in fine shape quicker ‘an ever you’ll know. You can mark my words on that, lad. You’ll see.” Bosun Clements tried to shore up the young topman’s spirits, but it was clear he didn’t completely believe it himself.

  The next afternoon one of the topmen, while working aloft, noticed a tall rig standing off the headland and hailed the deck with the news. Immediately, acting Lieutenant Augustus Ludlow and acting Lieutenant Jonas Blanchard were in the foretop, glass in hand, and studying the new arrival.

  “Shannon would be my guess, Jonas. I’d reckon we ain’t gettin’ outta here anytime soon now. Word is she’s crack; one o’ the top frigates o’ the Royal Navy. Unless she heads offshore or moves on, Cap’n Lawrence ain’t gonna sail us outta here. Be a damn fool to try, I’d say.” Lieutenant Ludlow, who at the age of just twenty-one years, had taken over as first Lieutenant with the transfer ashore of Lieutenant Page, scowled at the British frigate and demonstrated his superior knowledge to his junior comrade. Blanchard, who had commanded a ship at sea, merely nodded his head. He wasn’t sure about Ludlow yet, and had learned that silence is frequently the wiser course. He did, however, offer a suggestion.

  “You oughta send someone to fetch the cap’n. He’ll be wantin’ to know that the Brit’s that close in.”

  “Good idea, Blanchard. Get you down to the deck quick as you can and find Cap’n Lawrence. I believe he’s dinin’ ashore with friends. Tell him ‘Lieutenant Ludlow’s respects, and there’s a British frigate standin’ to just over a league away: An’ don’t tarry.”

  The captain returned with Blanchard in his carriage just in time to see the English frigate pass smoothly through stays and retrace her course to the north, gathering speed under easy canvas in the westerly breeze. Obviously, she was in no hurry.

  “We must find out if she is truly alone out there. I will not be drawn into a fight I can not win, and should there be another frigate, or for that matter, a brig, out of sight behind the headland, we would be in dire straits, I fear.” Cap’n Jim stared through his glass and muttered to himself as the two young lieutenants hovered close at hand.

  It was not until the next morning, just before a fiery dawn had lit the eastern sky, when Lawrence was able to ascertain just who was out on the deep taunting him. A fishing vessel came by and sailed close aboard, obviously having a look at the towering frigate gently tugging at her anchor. Lawrence, on deck, hailed the little boat to come alongside.

  “Since you boys’re headin’ out past the Roads, it would be considered a favor to me and the Navy for you to have a look around. There’s a British frigate yonder and I need to know if she’s alone out there. You boys have a look and sail back here quick as ever you can to let me know.”

  The men in the little craft waved an acknowledgment and bore off, heading for the open sea with a strong following breeze. Lawrence watched them as the vessel to
ok the seas. His face gave nothing away as he turned to William Cox, promoted only the day previous from midshipman to acting fourth lieutenant, and spoke.

  “Mister Cox, put a man in the crosstrees to keep watch on that fishing boat. Kindly inform me when they return. I wish to hear their report first hand. I do not wish to waste a moment should an opportunity present itself to us.” Lawrence turned and strode away, leaving the young and most junior lieutenant stammering out an “Aye, aye” as he hastened to do his captain’s bidding.

  The morning of June first moved on apace; the crew performed their usual tasks and lookouts kept watch for the return of the fishing boat. Lieutenant Cox glanced again at the day’s newspaper which an harbor craft had delivered earlier in the morning. He still thrilled at the words about his captain, quoted in the paper from President Madison himself as he reported the success of Hornet on its recent cruise.

  “…continuation of the brilliant achievements of our infant navy, a signal triumph has been gained by Captain Lawrence and his companions in the Hornet sloop of war, which destroyed a British sloop of war with a celerity so unexampled and with a slaughter of the enemy so disproportionate to the loss in Hornet, as to claim for the conqueror the highest praise and the full recompense provided by Congress in previous cases…”

  And young William Cox had been there, alongside his beloved commander, and he fairly glowed with pride at both the fact that he had commanded one of Hornet’s batteries and at his recent acting commission as fourth lieutenant.

  He was jerked from his reverie by the cry from the lookout assigned to watch for the fishing boat. He saw Jake Tate coming down from the maintop and was about to send him to find Captain Lawrence, when Lawrence himself appeared.

  “Now, Mister Cox, we shall learn of our fate.” He watched with the young lieutenant and Augustus Ludlow, Acting First Lieutenant, as the craft drew nigh.

  “She’s out there, Cap’n. Like you said. But ain’t but one o’ them what we could see. She was standin’ ‘bout six or seven miles off when we seen her. Big one, too. If’n you’re goin’ out yonder, we wish you every success,” the little craft’s captain waved his hat to the men on the frigate as he tacked and continued back into the harbor at Boston. No sooner had she moved away than a lookout again hailed the deck.

  “Sails on t’other side o’ the island yonder. Tall. Likely be a frigate, an’ a big one, it appears.”

  “Mister Ludlow: muster the crew in the waist; we’re going out.” And Lawrence stepped to the ladder heading below.

  Shortly, Ludlow knocked on the cabin door, announcing the men were assembled, and added, “They’s a bit of grumbling and complaining. Cap’n. But they’re all present an’ correct.”

  When Cap’n Jim appeared on deck, he was resplendent in his best uniform, carefully brushed by his steward, and showing the two epaulets newly earned by his recent promotion. He joined his officers on the quarterdeck and addressed his crew.

  “Men,” he cried, “a British frigate is just beyond that island yonder and I mean to sail out and bring her to action. We will not dishonor our flag and we will prevail. Remember the old Hornet and our great triumph over the Peacock. We’ll ‘Peacock’ her, lads, we’ll ‘Peacock’ her.”

  He fully expected the men to pick up his newly-minted battle cry, but to his dismay, he was greeted first with silence, then more grumbling, and finally a man – one of Lawrence’s old crew – cried out, “Aye, Cap’n. We remember Hornet. Do you remember our prize money? We ain’t been paid.”

  Another, obviously drunk, joined the cry. “Give us our money.”

  And yet another added, “We got debts to pay too, you know.”

  “You earned it, lads, and you shall have it. Mister Ludlow, have the men go to the pursers’ office and see that they are paid. Then get these women off the ship and we’ll have the hands to stations for unmooring the ship.” He went below.

  The young officers did their best to chase out the women still hanging around on the gun deck, but were embarrassed by the complete disrespect shown them and the mutinous mutterings of the sailors.

  Robert Coleman and his old shipmate, Tim Conoughy, watched from the fo’c’sle as the midshipmen and officers, so recently midshipmen themselves, herded the unruly and drunken women to the waist, many accompanied by their shipboard lovers, and shook their heads at the sight.

  “Can ye imagine this on ol’ Orpheus, Robert lad? Why I reckon Cap’n Winston woulda ‘ad most o’ them coves strung up to the grating an’ flogged ‘alf dead by now. I don’t know what it is we gone an’ gotten ourselves into, but it surely don’t give Mrs. Conoughy’s boy a good feelin’.” Much of the gunner’s optimism seemed to have faded as he realized there would be no training before the frigate saw action.

  “Aye, Tim. But we’re ‘ere now, an’ ain’t a thing to be done about it. You see that group over yonder? Might be Mister Blanchard could use a mite bit o’ ‘elp.” Robert paused, then added, “An’ it wouldn’t be at the grating, my friend; I’d wager a gold guinea that Cap’n Winston would ‘ave them sods strung up to the main yard by now. Grab young Jake there and let’s ‘elp them ladies over the rail.” Coleman laughed, picking a belaying pin out of the foremast pin rack as they passed. Joined by topman Jake Tate, the three headed toward the struggling and red-faced Lieutenant Blanchard as he half dragged several women toward the rail and the waiting bumboats below.

  Topside they could hear Bosun Clements calling all hands to stations for unmooring, and the two topmen left their shipmate to help the beleaguered young lieutenant and headed for their positions for making sail.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Word went through Boston like a summer squall; Chesapeake was making for the open sea. No one had any trouble guessing what was coming next. It would be an opportunity of a lifetime; a major frigate battle would take place, not miles and miles at sea, but right here in the coastal waters of Massachusetts Bay.

  Heretofore, the people of the United States had only been able to read second hand accounts of the great naval engagements of the preceding twelve months. Constitution’s smashing victory over Guerriere had occurred well out to sea to the north, United States had taken HMS Macedonian some six hundred miles off the Canary Islands, and Constitution had triumphed over HMS Java in December down off the coast of Brazil. Now Cap’n Jim Lawrence, the darling of the American people, was going to give them their fourth frigate victory right here off the shores of Massachusetts! And within easy view of anyone who cared to find a high vantage point from which to witness the spectacle.

  In no time, hills, rooftops, church steeples and any high point that people could get to filled with cheering citizens shouting encouragement to, but unheard by, the men on Chesapeake. A spirit of gaiety and eager anticipation prevailed. Few among the thronging citizenry had any doubt that once again, the American warship would prevail.

  Boats of all sizes, from small harbor craft with only oars and human muscle for propulsion to fishing vessels and a few small brigs quickly filled and, each decorated with bright flags and buntings, sailed out in the wake of Chesapeake, carrying cheering spectators, waving and shouting to the men on the big frigate. These good citizens were going to be right there when it happened, watching from close at hand as the battle began and iron flew. A few tried encouraging their skippers to get closer to Chesapeake so they would miss nothing of the spectacle.

  On a hilltop overlooking the sea, a young family watched as Chesapeake sailed, not as gloriously as some might have hoped, but to those on the hills around Boston none-the-less regally, into the Atlantic. The day was sparkling, and the white sails on the frigate soaked up the sun, growing brighter and brighter until they seemed to glow, giving off their own light, dazzling in its brilliance and cloaking the ship in an aura of invincibility. The beauty of the spectacle far overshadowed the inept sail handling and sloppy seamanship exhibited by the inexperienced crew.

  The young man, the left sleeve of his blue midshipman’s jacket pinned to
his shoulder, noticed and commented to his pretty wife who held a sleeping child in her arms.

  “There’s going to be some sorrow come to that ship, and this town, before the day is out. Cap’n Lawrence ain’t had but two weeks to put a crew together and get that vessel fitted out for sea. He ain’t fired a gun or set a sail with them misfits he’s got aboard. You mark my words, Elizabeth, there’s going to be…”

  “Oh, Philip. You have become so wearisome since Constitution returned. Perhaps had you not been wounded so terribly you would feel differently. You can not assume that just because that ship is the Chesapeake and not your beloved Constitution she won’t carry the day. I am sure that Captain Lawrence is equally as competent as Commodore Bainbridge, and the men can not possibly be as bad as you say or, I dare say, Captain Lawrence would not have gone out. He had to know the British ship was waiting for him out there. Can you hold little William while I spread out the blanket?” The young woman carefully handed the baby into her husband’s good arm and shook out the blanket she had brought to sit on while the spectacle unfolded before them. “And besides,” she added when they had sat down, Philip still holding the baby, “Captain Lawrence, it is said, was positively brilliant during the engagements he had while on Hornet. Did he not entice that British sloop – Peacock, was it not? – to come out of a neutral harbor and engage him? And then beat them so mercilessly that ultimately he had to sink what was left? No, Philip, I think you are mistaken; this will be a wonderful victory and yet another feather in Captain Lawrence’s cap. You’ll see.”

  “Look how sloppy she trims, Elizabeth. Her sails still ain’t set proper and some of her guns are already run out. When that British frigate comes after her, that ship is gonna come apart. I heard just the other day that even without a full crew, Cap’n Lawrence was goin’ to sea. Most everyone thinks the ship’s unlucky on top of it, and some say that’s why she can’t get men to sail her. There’s a passel of sailors off Constitution aboard her on account of Lawrence needed some sailormen to teach all those landsmen to set sail and fight the ship, but I’d warrant they ain’t trained yet. I got a bad feelin’ about this one, Elizabeth. I hope I’m wrong, but the past year an’ more on Constitution taught me some lessons I learned good. An’ that ship ain’t ready to fight.”