And since Captain Decatur still held command of the Norfolk Navy Yard as well as the frigate, he left much of our preparation and pier side training to his first lieutenant. We also had the challenge of recruiting new sailors, as many of those who had sailed with us in June had been removed to other ships, it being unnecessary and wantonly wasteful of the Navy to maintain a full—or nearly full—sailing and fighting crew on a ship which would be secured to the pier for who knew how long.
Reprising my former role, I was again instructed to establish a rendezvous at Missus Pinckney’s rooming house, given a carefully guarded chest of currency with which to provide advances to new recruits (many were quite literally destitute, a condition which frequently led them to a Navy rendezvous in the first place) as well as buy the occasional pint of whiskey or a meal for likely candidates, and instructed to “ … be most selective and judicious in the choices of those you recruit.” I took this to mean, again, “no British seamen.” Which, of course, was exactly what it meant. Though how I was to be sure of the status of those I recruited escaped me.
Lieutenant Keane, apparently by his testimony in the late trial, had been determined to be unreliable in the execution of this order, and was excused from recruiting duty. The other rendezvous was administered by another midshipman, Daniel Mallory, a man of some greater years, but less experience, than I.
He was assisted in the management of his rendezvous, and the recruits he managed to attract, by Chesapeake’s bosun, a robust and coarse fellow, known for his excesses in a remarkable number of bad habits, not the least of which was his ability to consume great quantities of distilled spirits, a fact that Mister Rowe either ignored or was unaware of when he assigned him the duty. Putting the bosun, encumbered as he was with his bad judgment and habits, together with an inexperienced midshipman and a chest of money with the stated purpose of (in part) standing recruits to the occasional meal and a “seal-the-deal” drink was laughable, and Mallory’s stories, from the first day, became the high point of the evening meal in the cockpit or ashore, should that opportunity present itself.
“Some half dozen fine citizens—ragamuffins, they were—showed themselves at one point and the bosun, seeing an opportunity to enlist the lot of them, as well as indulge his own taste for strong spirits, took them all to an establishment other than where I could watch him, and was gone for several hours. Of course, a sizeable portion of our funds went with him, a portion he explained as “… necessary should I not be wantin’ to get myself caught short, don’t you know, sir.” Mallory’s Irish accent was a bit of an exaggeration of the bosun’s brogue, but nonetheless, had us all holding our sides, laughing and hallooing every time he mimicked the man.
“I managed to recruit one or two myself (and without the need to buy them drinks, I might add) while he was gone. The pickings amounted to little but rascals and scoundrels, the leavings of humanity, and those likely to be on the other side of justice. What with the cold beginning to abate now, the higher pay available in the merchant fleet, and the somewhat unsavory reputation of our ill-starred frigate, I found few who could be enticed to chance a voyage, preferring instead to stake their prospects on the next merchantman to make the Roads. Should they, of course, be interested in maritime employment in the instance.” He grew more serious in his narrative, and I recognized several of my own complaints which prompted me to give them voice.
“Aye, farmhands with no more idea of sailoring than I do of farming. Poor pickin’s they are and not likely to gain much in the way of improvement.” I began.
Upon hearing a measure of support from a “seasoned” recruiter, Mallory’s dour face became even more so as he nodded vigorously in agreement.
I went on, stressing the importance of our employment. “But we can ill afford to put to sea with so many billets unfilled and, lubber or seaman, I would expect Cap’n Decatur will see to getting them drilled and trained into something resembling a crew before he looses a single line from the pier. He’s some serious about his seamen, and his officers, I should hasten to add, knowing what they’re about. We spent the entire time of our crossing to the Mediterranean in Argus drilling in everything from gunnery and hand weapons to sail handling and, for the mids and officers, navigating. And I’d warrant, should he tell the Secretary that Chesapeake’s not ready to make sail, it’ll be taken to heart up in Washington. Especially after the late incident with the Royal Navy. “
As there was only one other midshipman in the cockpit with experience comparable to my own, I felt only the slightest twinge of guilt in pontificating in such a way. Even so, I did become aware of an unwanted comparison to both Judd Devon and Thomas Wheatley beginning to form in my mind.
Both were quite opposite one another (one being my friend and mentor while the other, Wheatley, was a boorish and disagreeable man of limited experience). They, and another (even younger than I was at the time) had shared the cockpit during the business with the corsairs of the Barbary Coast.
Uncomfortable with the possibility of being deemed a braggart, I turned the conversation back to Daniel’s tale.
“Did the bosun bring the recruits back to the rendezvous to sign the articles?”
“Aye, he did that, and some the worse for wear, I’d warrant! But the five he brought in (one had either escaped or been too muddle-headed to make the walk back) were in even worse condition than the bosun. And not a one of them could write a lick. Barely had the ability to hold the pen to make his mark, so drunk were they! But scratch their marks in the book they did, and witnessed by my own self before they could change their minds. And then marched to the ship by the bosun himself.” Mallory laughed at the memory of what the group must have looked like, being herded by a quite drunk bosun, as they clambered up the ladder to board the frigate.
“But at least they all made it aboard and with none wandering off along the way.” Mallory added, seeing his shipmates preparing to laugh at the image he painted for us. “I had two chaps, seemed to have some experience from the way they talked, that came in to the rendezvous almost eager to enlist. Signed up quick as ever you please, and when they claimed to suffer such a shortage of funds as to not even allow supper, I gave them each a month’s advance and sent them on their way. Never showed up at the pier, blast their eyes, anyway! Took the government’s money and ran off. Likely made a business of it, showin’ up at a rendezvous, takin’ an advance, and then disappearing. Even sent Bosun Kelly lookin’ for the pair the next day when I realized what they’d done.”
He put on Kelly’s accent again. “‘Oh sir! You’ll be wantin’ to know I visited every pub and tavern ‘teen here and the Navy Yard and nary a whisper did I hear nor did I catch me a single glimpse of them two. Even looked in to a couple of houses, sir, without a bit o’ luck.’ He actually winked at me as he reported this. ‘Vanished like smoke, they done.’”
He switched back to his own voice. “And Kelly, from the look and smell of him when he returned, spent some considerable time in each and every tavern and house, (here Mallory winked at us!) likely waitin’ on the two to turn up!” Mallory shook his head ruefully.
“I find that putting the advance pay in their hands after they report into the ship seems to answer some better, Daniel. You might give that some consideration.” It had seemed so sensible to me, I would have thought any would do the same. Apparently not.
The cockpit steward, Munson, appeared in our doorway laden down with several platters of food for our midday meal. He placed them before Joshua Belcher, our senior (I was next in line, and as such, sat to his immediate right at table), and conversation dwindled to silence as we craned our necks to see what fare had appeared. Belcher served out what seemed to be a burgoo or stew of some type and, as the laden plates were passed from hand to hand, a bottle of not-bad wine worked it’s way down one side and up the other of the table. I had become used to taking spirits with a meal and filled my glass as well as Joshua’s before sending the bottle down the table.
“You think
the Secretary of the Navy will approve the commodore’s sentence, Oliver?” One of the younger midshipmen, Taylor Scott, asked me around a mouthful of stew. “I would have thought they’da given him more than just a five year suspension.”
“I have no idea, Taylor. But were I to offer a wager, I might expect that the sentence would be approved. Of course, President Jefferson could throw it out even if the secretary approved it. And do not forget, the court martial only convicted him of neglecting to clear the ship for action. None of the other three charges signified to the members of the panel. Reckon they figured Gordon was just as responsible for the surrender.”
“I might have expected Gordon to be saddled with that charge—not clearing for action—rather than the commodore. Wasn’t it his responsibility to see that the ship could operate properly? And how come, if Decatur and Rodgers had it in for the commodore so strong, they didn’t sentence him for surrendering without firing a shot?” Mosley, a young, recently acquired addition to the cockpit, was on his first ship and had yet to leave the pier on anything beyond a rowing boat. Even so, it was rumored that he had spent his first full day aboard Chesapeake suffering from the effects of seasickness, which surely would continue to be the basis for an enduring round of jokes at the poor lad’s expense. He masked his lack of knowledge and grasp of his employment with bluster and bravado, appearing to some, at least at first blush, as an eager and well informed young man.
“Mosley, you don’t know anything. You’re just repeating what you’ve heard others say. When you’ve at least left the pier, you might be entitled to an opinion. Until then, just listen. And remember that few, indeed, can operate their mouths and ears at once.” Belcher glared at the young man who physically recoiled in the face of his senior’s invective.
As for me, I resisted the urge to offer a comment that might be thought critical to Mister Belcher, recalling that another’s inability to stifle a comment resulted in a duel, fatal, not to either of those holding the pistols, but to an innocent bystander. Instead, I determined to take young Mosley aside and help him in his new employment.
For now, I could only offer a mollifying appeasement. “I am sure that Captain Decatur and Captain Rodgers bent over backwards to be fair, given their well-known feelings for Barron. I would imagine that the sentence they imposed would be thought arduous enough. Even if there were some who thought Barron ought to get himself hanged for surrendering.” Henry Allen’s feeling as to what constituted a fair sentence was well known throughout the ship. I tried to sound knowing, but my shipmates were well aware of the fact that I had missed the end of the Barron’s and all of the subsequent trials and thus the comments made by Captain Rodgers as he announced the sentences. Seeing the glances my comment drew from my messmates, I held my tongue, stifling the urge to offer anything further in defense of the seemingly light sentence.
Joshua Belcher, the only other in the cockpit who had experienced that dreadful June day, looked at me, winked, and said, “Aye, and Henrys right. Hangin him would serve a right fine example for any who might consider a similar course in the future!” I knew he was only having some sport with me, as we had often discussed the outcome and he seemed to agree, at least on the surface, with my own sentiment.
“What will we be assigned to now, Joshua? I mean, the court martial is done; training is fine at the dock, but shouldn’t we be sailin’ somewhere and practicing what we’ve been training on for the past month? I don’t know how much more of the dumb show with the great guns we can do. Seems mighty tedious, you ask me.” Taggart, a quiet young man with a pox-scarred face who had joined Chesapeake only a few days after the incident, spoke for the first time.
He and I were about the same age, but Taggart had only been to sea as a midshipman for just over a year during the “quiet” time after 1805. So far, he had yet to experience hostile fire. He hailed from Massachusetts— Boston, I think—and had sailed in several merchants as a seaman. He seemed some recalcitrant to share with us his adventures from his time before the mast, but what little of his past we had gleaned made us thirst for more. I think he was disappointed that we had remained fast to the pier for so long. His whip-thin frame was topped with a long and quite narrow face, above which grew, in wild profusion, a mop of sand-colored hair over which the young man seemed to exert little control. He seemed overly serious and quite without a shred of humor from what I had so far observed. In fact, I could not recall seeing him even smile.
“I’d reckon we’ll be getting underway once Cap’n Decatur thinks we’re ready. He ain’t one to go off at half-cock and so you can be right certain he’ll be certain we know what we’re about when he decides.” Belcher smiled slightly at his own difficulty at saying what was in his head, then grew serious and looked around the table, concentrating his gaze on Taylor Scott and David Mosley.
I recalled the captain’s intent to be underway within a fortnight of my return. Clearly, he had yet to determine that his crew and officers were sufficiently trained to avoid an embarrassment. Surely that was the case in the midshipmen’s cockpit!
Belcher continued his admonishment to our junior messmates. “I would submit, gentlemen, that you might see to your studies and learn your duties right well, as it is my understanding that our captain does not suffer fools or their naval counterpart, ill-prepared midshipmen, gladly. Is that not so, Mister Baldwin?”
I nodded my agreement; saying more would have added nothing as all my fellows were well aware of my previous duty with Decatur.
And so the meal, and our days at the pier in Norfolk went; good-natured and sometimes, not so good-natured, bantering, joking, teasing, and second-guessing the officers. Training continued, including more exercising the great guns in dumb show, making and handing sail, and learning the use of hand weapons. Lieutenant Rowe had devised races to the maintop and back to the deck in an effort to give our lubberly crew, as well as the midshipmen, some confidence that would serve them well at sea. Of course, Mallory and I missed many of these events as we continued our efforts to enlist a sufficient number of sailors.
In mid-April a buzz started through the ship that the sentences of the Court Martial had been confirmed by the Secretary of the Navy, Robert Smith, and President Jefferson for each of the defendants: Commodore Barron was indeed suspended from the Navy without pay for five years, Master Commandant Gordon and Marine Captain Hall were reprimanded (they were carrying out orders of a superior officer) and Gunner Hook was cashiered for complete incompetency. Henry and I enjoyed a spate of good-natured I-told-you-so’s for a day or two and then it was over, the effort to get our ship and crew ready to put to sea overshadowing most everything else.
And later that same month, with the promising breaths of spring warming the air, Decatur deemed his crew complete and ready and, for the first time since late June 1807, Chesapeake east off her lines to the applause and cheers of a small, but enthusiastic, gathering on the pier, which included a makeshift band of musicians whose performance showed little evidence of rehearsal. Their cacophony inspired most of the hands to great alacrity in throwing off our bonds with shore and, with tops’ls, and jibs set and pulling in freshening breeze, we headed down the Chesapeake Bay and unlimately, the Atlantic Ocean, retracing our course of the previous June, a coarse that then, had led us to disaster.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“My fellow Chesapeakes—and proud I am to call you that—we have been given an opportunity to right an injustice. To clear the good name of our fine and worthy ship and bring her reputation out of the cloud of doubt and the foul exhalation of those who would name her unlucky… or worse, jinxed.” After uttering that last word as though it created a disagreeable taste in his mouth, Decatur paused and, for a moment, looked around the entire crew of his ship, making eye contact with many, as was his habit in times of high emotion.
“A ship is not lucky or unlucky. A ship is timbers and rope and canvas and iron. All inanimate and by themselves, incapable of being lucky or not. It is you, the men who br
eathe life into those inanimate parts that make up our ship, who determine her fortune. Should you … or I … fail in our tasks, others will say the ship was unlucky, or jinxed. Not so, I tell you; it will be you … and me … who should bear the burden of that guilt. For it would have been us who failed, not the ship.
“But we will not fail. None of us. Our commission is not of great moment. Surely not a cruise to glory. We are not going into battle against an adversary, worthy or not. Our country is at war with no one. We are not ordered to sail to the gates of Hell and face the ball and shot of an enemy, superior or otherwise. We will be on a routine patrol, seeing to it that the policies of our government as relate to trade are being followed, and should they not be, to take appropriate action.”
Again, the captain paused, holding eye contact with several and, I am sure, noting those who seemed not of a serious bent. When a few murmurs and shuffling feet suggested he had remained mute long enough, he began again, raising his voice to encourage those laggards to sign on with his postulation.
“Those of you who have been chafing at your lines to be free of the shore with all its unsavory people, smells, and …” he hesitated for just a moment, as if seeking the right word, “temptations, now is your moment. I am told many of you tire of the drills and dumb-show exercises with the great guns. They are over; we will be exercising the great guns with shot and powder and firing at targets. We will drill at handing and making sail, reefing, furling, and shifting spars. If you thought those drills while we remained fast to the pier were dull and fruitless, you will soon discover they were not. You already know how to perform many of the tasks I … and Lieutenant Rowe and the other officers will demand of you. But in the space of thirty days, you will know many more and will be unflinching in their performance. Your shipmates will depend upon you to do your job quickly and correctly, as you will depend on them. I am sure you will all measure up to my demands and together will make our ship the envy of all who hear of our exploits, for in the same way as a ship is deemed unlucky, so may it be called favored and lucky.”
In Pursuit of Glory Page 13
