“Your father, young man: is he—or was he—a Navy man, perchance?” My host at the head of the table asked me quite suddenly during a lull in the conversation.
“Oh no, Mister … uh, excuse me, sir … Captain Perry. But he does have business with the Navy, building the fittings for officers’ quarters in some of our ships.”
“A cabinetmaker? How wonderful!” Missus Perry exclaimed at my response. “And yet you decided to take up the sea as your trade, surely, a wise choice.”
She smiled sweetly at me. “I have always admired a clever craftsman. I would assume him to be quite skilled, as you mentioned that he fits furnishings to our government’s seagoing vessels.”
“Thank you, Madam. I have heard only reports of a positive nature concerning his work. And yes, he has, in the past, fitted the Cabin and wardrooms on several frigates and at least one brig that I know of. Captain Decatur, also a Philadelphia man, has often complimented my father’s craftsmanship.” I chose not to comment on my “choice of trade,” but was a trifle put out by what I took be a certain aloofness in her comment about my father.
Any number of retorts had flashed through my mind, but one look at the lady’s daughter sitting across from me as she watched the interaction between her parents and me stifled all thoughts of remarking. Instead, I simply smiled, and lifted a morsel of cold beef to my mouth.
Toward the end of the repast, I noticed Miss Perry’s eyes shift to a point over my head and, immediately felt a hand on my shoulder.
Oh no! Not Tibbets again. Can he not just leave me alone? Does he think he has a claim on the attention of Miss Perry? I surely hope not!
I turned and looked into a midsection bisected by a scarlet sash. And stood.
“Ah, Mister Baldwin. I have finally tracked you down.” Mister Little beamed into my face. I noticed his was some flushed, the color high in his cheeks more obvious on account of the thinness of his skin.
“As you appear to have finished your supper, Christopher, might I borrow this young man for a few moments. He has promised to relate to me—and now I have discovered two others as well who wish to hear— the tale of his derring-do in Decatur’s brilliant … ummm … burning of the Philadelphia frigate.”
“Without question, William. And I myself would be interested in hearing a firsthand report of that splendid job. Haven’t been able to corner Decatur yet to tell me about it, so the midshipman’s recounting will have to answer.” Captain Perry stood, stepped to where Mister Little stood, took his arm and together, they marched off toward one end of the ballroom. It was assumed that I would follow.
Which, of course, I did, but not before I threw a long face at Miss Perry. I received, in return, a wink and a smile. I had hardly taken two steps before I remembered my manners and tacked sharply, reversing my course back to the table.
“Missus Perry. I greatly enjoyed supping with your family and I thank you for allowing me the privilege. I hope I shall be able to visit with you again.” Only the last part did I really mean. And then, my hope was centered directly on her beautiful and charming daughter.
“Indeed, Oliver. We enjoyed your company. I hope my son’s constant torrent of questions was not a bother for you; he misses his older brother dreadfully. As to visiting with us again, I will assume you mean to visit with Ann again and, I suspect, were I to judge from the expressions I saw pass between you, there is every likelihood of that eventuality.”
I shot a glance at Miss Perry who, I saw, had colored visibly, but smiled at me, offering a barely perceptible nod of concurrence. Then I hurried off to catch up to Mister Little and Captain Perry.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I described to the four gentlemen, Mister Little, Captain Perry and two others—I never did get their names—in some detail, the attack on the frigate Philadelphia, answering their questions and repeating several times a description of the display of cannonading the dying ship put on as we left the harbor.
“Mister Baldwin. I assume, from the detailed recitation you have offered, that you were in attendance for this performance, and are not simply re-telling the tale of others.” Captain Perry looked at me, quite sharply, I thought.
“Aye, sir. I was that—there, that is.” I tried to smile and keep at bay the image of that huge “piratical bastard” (as Mister Tarbox, Gunner on Enterprise, would have called him) wielding his scimitar at my head.
Mister Little jumped to my assistance. “For the love of God, Christopher! Of course he was there and, from what Decatur indicated, acquitted himself with honor. His own brother was an officer—third lieutenant in the frigate, if I recall correctly, and a captive of that piratical collection of rogues.” Little shot a glance at me for confirmation, which I gladly gave with a nod of my head. Then he continued.
“How, or perhaps more aptly, why, would he ever imply his attendance at the ‘performance’, as you put it so keenly, with his shipmates involved in such a scrap and his own brother languishing in the Bashaw’s dungeon? Come now, sir!”
Mister Little had actually become somewhat red in the face from his outburst, or perhaps it was the alcohol he had consumed. Either way, it had the desired effect.
“I do apologize for doubting you, sir. Obviously your captain thinks most highly of you and, upon some reflection, that should be quite enough for me. I have nothing but respect for Decatur and his brilliant accomplishments.” Captain Perry bowed slightly from the waist, a further indication of his apology.
“Tell me, Mister Baldwin: were you scared in your foray against the enemy?” Mister Little, satisfied that Captain Perry had paid for his earlier insult, studied me closely.
“Aye, sir. Quite so … terrified in fact.” I answered with complete honesty, recalling easily how frightening the whole experience was for me. Large, angry corsairs with scimitars flashed through my brain once again.
“Good, good! A bit of fear sharpens the senses. Makes one more aware. You must, of course, be able to continue to navigate in spite of it, though. Very important, that.” Mister Little smiled quickly, then became quite stern once more. He continued.
“Courage, bravery, lad, is seeing it through—keeping your head and doing your job—in spite of your fear. Few possess the trait, but those who do, often rise to glory. It would appear that your Captain Decatur is blessed with a large dollop of courage as well.”
“Yes, sir. I would say he is. I never saw him show anything but bravery in the face of battle.”
“Here now. What are you gentlemen up to? Cooking up some grand scheme to break the embargo and sail for profit?” Mister Vernon, who I had only seen from a distance, joined the group, offering his words with a smile.
“Well, you have no need to scheme and plot; the embargo has been lifted. I just now received word from the captain of a coastwise schooner in from the Chesapeake Bay. Apparently, our pleas to Jefferson’s administration bore fruit. That, or those fools in Washington finally realized that their idiotic policy has done more damage to us, America, than ever it could to England or France. But we can return to sea … legally.” At this, Vernon shot a knowing look at one of the men whose name I did not know. Perhaps a “runner.”
“And you must be Oliver Baldwin. The midshipman who Decatur thinks so highly of.” Vernon turned to me and stuck out his hand. “I am Sam Vernon.”
“Very pleased to meet you, sir.” I smiled and took his hand. Quite small, it was, almost feminine in it’s size, but the grip was deceivingly strong. This, then, was our host.
“Thank you for including us in your grand ball, sir. You home is beautiful.” I looked around the room as I spoke, obviously including it in the praise of his home.
“Thank you, sir. How could we not include you? You and your gallant shipmates are our guests of honor! As to the house, at least the part you walked through when you arrived, was built by my father, well before the Revolution. 1760, it was. After the house was built, he purchased the land next door, in fact where we now stand, to use as a garden.
&n
bsp; “When the war started, my father left, taking all of us with him as he felt it unsafe for a patriot to remain in Newport under British occupation. Subsequently, after the British left the area, General Rochambeau, the Frenchy, took the house as his headquarters and, without so much as a ‘by your leave,’ constructed this ballroom where my father’s garden had stood. It has been reported that he and General Washington designed the victory at Yorktown, here, in this very building.
“After the war ended, my family returned to claim our property and here was this magnificent grand ballroom. At least, my mother and I thought it magnificent; my father complained bitterly about the loss of his garden. Said more than once, I recall, ‘I can not think it polite of Rochambeau to build such an assembly room in my garden without my leave.’ But here it is, and well-used.” Vernon smiled at the recollection of his father’s grousing at the French general’s temerity.
“Well, sir,” I said. “I think it most grand and am enjoying myself.”
Vernon smiled and the other four men nodded and smiled, whether at my naiveté or in agreement, I know not. Then Mister Little changed the subject—something about the abandonment of the embargo—and with nothing to offer, I waited for a lull and begged their permission to depart.
I set a course across the dance floor to where I had supped with Miss Perry and her family, hoping to find them, or at least her, still at table. I consulted my watch and discovered to my horror that I had been absent for over an hour while Captain Perry and his colleagues questioned my attendance at the ‘performance’ in Tripoli Harbor.
She will surely not still be sitting idly by, waiting for my return. She is too pretty by half and will have been besieged by invitations to dance.
My disappointment was realized as I caught sight of the table; only Missus Perry remained and she was deep in conversation with another woman of similar vintage. I stood nearby, not wishing to interrupt, but hoping she would notice me and perhaps, direct me toward her daughter.
Which, after what seemed an eternity, she did, exactly.
“Oh, Oliver. Have you been standing there long? I must try to be more aware! I would assume you are seeking Ann. I believe she is dancing … with Mister Tibbets, I recall. At least, it was he who appeared seeking her for a waltz, directly after you left the table with Captain Perry. Perhaps they are still dancing, though I think the waltz ended quite some time ago.” She laughed delicately and returned her attention to the lady seated next to her. I was dismissed.
She’s been with that buffoon for over an hour! What am I to do? What if they are no longer on the dance floor? Perhaps he took her outside to steal a kiss. Oh my heavens!
Rooted to the spot, I frantically scanned the dancing couples, seeking the woman who had stolen my heart. I saw Captain Decatur dancing with a matronly lady in whom he seemed less than interested. I saw Mallory and smiled in spite of myself when I saw he was dancing with the young woman we had both admired earlier. I recognized one of the men who had listened to my story of the Philadelphia attack. But not a glimpse of Ann Perry or Josiah Tibbets did I catch.
Where have they gone?
Carefully, I made my way back across the dance floor, weaving through the gyrating dancers while I maintained a weather eye for the interloping Tibbets and Miss Perry.
But my search bore no fruit. They were nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps outside? Oh, goodness, I hope not.
I made my way with increasing haste toward the doors—knowing now the history of the room, I assumed they were French doors—and finding them still open, stepped outside.
The cool air was refreshing after the close atmosphere of the ballroom and I breathed deeply of it in an effort to calm myself. The light spilling out of the brightly lit room illuminated several couples nearby to the entry, but beyond that, it was impossibly dark. The moon had either set or nearly so and I could barely discern the dim outline of the big tree where Miss Perry and I had first met. I moved cautiously in its direction.
“Oh! Excuse me, please.” I had bumped into a couple—they were startled from their embrace—and pressed on, my eyes gradually becoming accustomed to the gloom.
“Please unhand me, sir!”
The female voice could only be Miss Perry’s. Ahead of me, I picked out a couple standing a bit apart, engaged in conversation, or was it an argument?
“Oh come now, Ann. Surely you can’t be serious. Is it that midshipman … what’s his name? Baldwin! Yes, Baldwin. Is it he you would rather be with? I am a much-preferred choice. And someday I will be as well set as the Vernon’s. He will never have anything. You know well that a Naval officer rarely makes a living wage in peacetime. And besides, you only just met him!” Tibbets words were some slurred; he was obviously feeling the effects of the several glasses of spirits he had consumed, perhaps along with several of that strong punch.
I stepped more quickly toward their dim outlines, focusing on the sound of their voices. And tripped.
Over what I have no idea, but stick or rock in the path, I struck my foot and stumbled, only catching myself at the last moment to avoid falling full length. As it was, I was off-balance and bumped quite solidly into Tibbets.
“What the . . ? Here, sir! Be more careful. You very nearly knocked me down. Have you no courtesy, heading down a dark path at such a rate?” Tibbets, catching his own balance, had not seen who had run into him.
“Sorry, Josiah. Didn’t mean to knock you.” I quickly apologized and turned to Miss Perry. “Miss Perry, are you alright? I thought I heard sounds of an argument. I … well, that is …” I ran out of words.
“Oliver! How timely! Mister Tibbets was just about to return to the party. Perhaps you would not mind lingering a moment or two while I collect myself.”
Before I could respond, Tibbets, now recognizing his antagonist, grabbed my arm.
“I was no such a thing, Ann. And Baldwin should know better than to interrupt our conversation. Be off with you, Baldwin, and leave us be before I do something we’ll both likely regret in the morning.”
“He’ll do no such a thing. Oliver, please stay right here. Josiah, our conversation is finished, clearly. You really should return to the party. I am sure your father or mother is wondering where you have wandered off to!” Miss Perry’s voice, no longer the lovely musical sound I had enjoyed earlier, was firm, almost rancorous.
Tibbets recoiled visibly, offered a “humph,” added something about “damn midshipmen,” and stepped away. I was overjoyed!
“Miss Perry,” I began, when I found my voice. “Are you alright? When I returned to find you after the inquisition I received from Mister Little and your father, your mother mentioned you were dancing with Josiah. But I couldn’t find you on the dance floor.” I stopped, realizing I was spilling out words and likely sounded the fool.
“Well, we did dance a waltz, but he was stumbling all over me and suggested the cool air might help him to clear his head. Then he took me out here, beyond the spill of light, and was trying to convince me he could become a suitor. Something I have absolutely no interest in! And please, call me Ann.”
My joy knew no bounds! I wanted to reach out, grab her and pull her to my embrace and, quite possibly, even kiss her. But I restrained, not wanting to act like the besotted Tibbets.
“Thank you, Miss … Ann.” I could barely speak.
“I would enjoy another dance with you, Oliver, should you be willing. Now that I have calmed down, I notice that it is some cool out here. Shall we?” She smiled in the darkness and I heard the wonderful, soft, musical sound back in her voice.
“It would be entirely my pleasure.” I offered her my arm, which she took, it seemed, with some enthusiasm and we walked slowly back down the path, for the second time that evening. And I was careful to avoid whatever it was I had so fortuitously tripped over earlier!
The rest of the evening went by in a blur; Ann and I danced, sipped some punch, and reveled in each other’s company—at least, I reveled in hers and she se
emed quite comfortable in being with me.
When I took her back, finally, to the table where I had last seen her family, she clutched my arm a bit tighter and turned her head so her lips were close to my ear.
“I hope your ship will remain a while longer, Oliver. I would dearly love to see you again.” She whispered her sentiment, but even over the noise of the waning party, I heard every word as though she had shouted to me.
And then, just as she turned her head, her lips brushed the side of my cheek. I had never experienced such rapture! I wanted, once again, to embrace her in my arms and kiss her and never let go. But that would most likely have been most unseemly and ungentlemanly. I restrained myself, looking at her beauty with a silly smile plastered across my face and stammered.
“Oh, my, Miss… Ann, I mean. Thank you. That would be wonderful, indeed. Perhaps …”
Her brother Matthew chose that moment to rush up to us, words tumbling out of his mouth in a torrent.
“Mister Baldwin! Father has given me permission to come out to Chesapeake on the morrow, should that be acceptable to you. I have never been in a frigate, and would dearly love to see one, especially one as famous as yours. May I, sir, please?” He stopped as suddenly as he had started and studied me with wide eyes.
“I, uh, well, that is.” I stopped, drew a breath, and realized here was opportunity come a-knocking. “Yes, Matthew, that would be fine. Perhaps your sister might bring you out during the afternoon watch. I can have a boat sent in for you.” I shot a glance at Ann; she smiled at me then looked at her brother.
“You have to promise to behave yourself, Matthew. No nonsense like you did on your brother’s ship before he sailed.”
“Oh, no, Ann. I would not do that. Besides, I expect I will be getting my midshipman’s warrant before long—Father has said it would be permissible—and so I would have no need to hide.” He stopped, looked at me, and added, “Besides, I don’t believe Mister Baldwin’s ship is about to sail. Father said Captain Decatur told him there was work needed doin’ and they would be in the harbor for several more days, at least.”
In Pursuit of Glory Page 24
