In Pursuit of Glory

by William H. White

  “We surely are not going to spend the entire day here, are we, Henry?” I sputtered out the question that had been in my brain for the entire time since we entered the building: about ten minutes.

  “We will be here until I am able to report to the captain that the work on our battery is progressing to my satisfaction, Oliver. I will not, nay, I can not, risk an improperly cast barrel should we have to confront an enemy. We must have the best there is and be well prepared to take full advantage of the moment without the worry of a poorly-cast gun exploding.” Henry had to shout his answer over the noise of molten iron being poured not ten feet in front of us. I nodded.

  And stay we did; Henry’s attention never wavered from the task at hand. As new forms were built, he checked each carefully, running his hand over the surface. He examined the iron before it was delivered into the maw of the furnace, ensuring that there was no contaminating element that might somehow escape the heat of the smelter and wind up in our new cannon. When the mold was sufficiently cooled to allow its removal from the newly cast gun barrel, Lieutenant Allen ran his hand over each surface of the still hot iron, pointing out areas that would require additional attention, both to me and to the put-upon overseer, who dutifully noted, with the stub of a well-chewed pencil, each comment on a scrap of paper, sometimes shooting an unseen glance at Henry which clearly conveyed his thoughts on whatever criticism had been offered.

  Even I thought some of his complaints a bit petty, but held my tongue in the belief that United States must have the best castings possible, and be able to take full advantage of their quality.

  But, we aren’t at war with any. Why would we be worried about facing an enemy with inferior barrels? We haven’t any enemies! I thought more than once during my long day at the foundry, but answered myself each time the same way: We weren’t at war with any in June of ought seven, either. Henry and the captain are absolutely right.

  With the casting of our cannon and carronades well in hand, Henry directed me to oversee the construction of their carriages and slides, a task underway within the confines of the Navy Yard and managed by a team of civilian carpenters. Each day, when I left the lodgings ashore where several of us had procured quarters, I made my way directly to the shed housing the carpenters and their task, without first visiting the frigate.

  I was surely looking forward to spending time in the carpenter’s shop after the few days I spent at the foundry. It would be more temperate in every way, quieter, and something I had grown up around.

  On the first day Lieutenant Allen had asked me to “look in on the progress those rascals are making on the carriages,” I thought that here was a place I could at least act knowledgeably about and imagined knowing conversations with the master carpenter, who would surely be surprised at a naval officer so versed in his craft.

  Instead, I embarrassed myself to the fullest. I quite forgot about the reason I had gone to sea instead of becoming the cabinetmaker my father had wished for me: I was prone to violent attacks of sneezing, choking, wheezing, and running eyes in the presence of sawdust.

  And here was no exception. I smiled to myself as quick as I entered the shop, enjoying seeing the men busy with sawing great oaken logs, then squaring them and shaping them with broadaxes and adzes. Sawdust and chips flew everywhere and lay in great profusion about the floor at each work area. It took bare minutes for my smile to dissolve into bouts of sneezing complete with running eyes and nose, and great gaspings for air. I beat a hasty retreat to the unsullied air of the out-of-doors.

  When I had caught my breath and found my composure once again, I re-entered the shop with a kerchief over my nose and mouth, much in the same manner as I had in the foundry.

  “Have you a touch of ague, Lieutenant?” A man, dressed in homespun shirt, the sleeves rolled up his massive forearms, and canvas trousers, smiled at me when I re-entered his shop. Obviously he had witnessed my initial arrival.

  “I seem ill-affected by the sawdust and chips, sir. My father is a cabinetmaker in Philadelphia and I am well familiar with the symptoms.” I choked out a response which, I am certain, sounded as muffled from the kerchief covering my nose and mouth as it did from my seeming inability to draw a full breath.

  “Oh thank the stars; I had thought you might be a highwayman what lost his way!” He laughed uproariously at his attempt at humor, his eyes crinkling up at the effort.

  Then the carpenter clapped me on the shoulder in show of comradely good nature and said in a more serious tone, “Well, son, just you keep that bandanna tied there ‘round your face and I am sure you’ll manage just fine.”

  He looked hard at me, his smile now gone, and inquired, “What is it brings you here? Is there something we can do for you?”

  “Sir. I am Lieutenant Baldwin, fourth lieutenant in the United States frigate. I have come to determine the progress you are making with our gun carriages and carronade slides. The barrels are being forged as we speak and we will need the carriages and slides as quick as ever you please.” I thought that sounded better and had convinced the man that I was not to be taken lightly.

  “Aye,” he answered, apparently not impressed. “That would be Cap’n Decatur’s ship, would it not? Reckon he sent you to find out what was actin’. Well, we have the project well in hand, lad. See for yourself.” He pointed to a further area of the shop where, in the gloom of dusty light that filtered in, I could make out several men working on what could only be gun carriages.

  “May I go there and have a look, for my own self? It would be helpful for me to have firsthand knowledge of your progress when I report to Cap’n Decatur.” In fact, I had already started moving in the direction he had pointed and was pleased to see he stepped right along in my wake.

  “You’ll want to be careful, moving about in here, lad. They’s dangerous machines and a body might get hisself hurt, he’s not careful.”

  “You must recall I mentioned having grown up around my father’s cabinet shop, sir. I know well the hazards associated with this type of work.” And so saying, I let forth a great sneeze, one that seemed to originate in my feet, it came out with such force.

  The foreman was still chuckling when we reached the area where our carriages were taking shape. He pointed out several in varying stages of completion, making comments about each as we examined them.

  Before I could give voice to my dismay at seeing only four or five in varying stages of completion, he spoke again.

  “Outside are the ones we’ve completed, Lieutenant. You’ll be wantin’ to see them, I’m certain. And I ‘spect the air yonder will be less troubling to you.” He grinned at my obvious discomfort and seemed to make a point of stirring up as much sawdust with his feet as he could as we made our way to doors I had not previously noticed.

  And there, lined up with the precision of Marines, were a dozen and more heavy carronade slides and at least that many carriages, complete with iron-bound wheels, for the long guns.

  “We was fixin’ to have these drug over to the ship by the end of the week. Thought we might get a few more done by then.” He seemed quite pleased with himself at his accomplishment. Then added, “If you approve of they’s construction, of course, sir.”

  I thought this last a bit caustic and several replies sprang to my mind, replies which would surely put him in his place. But recognizing that we still needed many more carriages and slides from him, I held my tongue. Instead I looked them over carefully, running my hands over the wood, checking the iron fittings, and noting that the wheels on the carriages were well greased.

  “A fine job, these are, sir. And should answer nicely.” I smiled at him, hoping the praise—and, I meant every word—would soften his demeanor a trifle.

  Of course, I still had the kerchief tied across my face, rendering my smile, broad though it was, quite invisible to him. Quickly I drew the cloth down, letting it fall to my neck, all the while maintaining my expansive smile.

  He visibly brightened at the acknowledgement of his cra
ftsmanship and pointed out several features I might have overlooked in my initial examination. At each, though I had missed none, I nodded appreciatively and uttered some unintelligible exclamation of delight.

  Well, now I can tell Henry what a fine job the Yard is doing. And won’t he be thrilled to learn we will be receiving perhaps half our carriages this week!

  I lingered throughout the remainder of the day, watching the craftsmen work (through the open door!) and, from time to time, chatting amiably with my new friend about my father’s work for the Navy and my own experiences with Captain Decatur. At the end of the day, to my great pleasure, he invited me to return at any time, by now, calling me “Lieutenant Baldwin” instead of “lad.” And there were no further comments about my reaction to the wood chips and sawdust.

  As I made my way down the pier, admiring the improvement to our, now, fine-looking frigate, which sat high against the pilings, I was smiling at my experience in the carpenters’ shop and enjoying being able to take a breath without the sneezing and weeping brought about by the wood dust.

  I reckon when the battery is in place along with the ballast, she’ll look even more regal, floating to her lines again. And of course, get her masts topped up with the uppers. Pretty as Constitution, I’ll warrant!

  “May I help you, sir?” A young sounding voice interrupted my thoughts as I stepped aboard.

  Standing before me was a cherubic face I had not before seen; a midshipman’s uniform, complete with dirk, seemed to be draped over his thin frame which, combined with his narrow features, gave him the appearance of a scarecrow. To complete the image, a shock of unfinished hair spilled from beneath his hat, which he was holding aloft in salute, presumably to me.

  Being saluted by midshipmen was not something I had yet become accustomed to, and it took me a moment to react, returning his salute with a smile.

  “And who might you be, Mister Midshipman? I am Oliver Baldwin, fourth lieutenant in this ship.” I continued to smile at him, recalling my own terrifying first encounters with officers in the brig Argus.

  “Oh, sir. My goodness. I didn’t… that is, sir, no one told me… Well, sir, you would be coming aboard. Guess it slipped Mister Devon’s mind.” He stammered a bit, but managed finally to limber up his tongue and speak coherently. But he still had not mentioned his own name.

  “And you are . . ?” I repeated.

  “Oh sir. Beggin’ your pardon, sir. I am William O’Donahue, sir, from Boston … in Massachusetts. Just came here yesterday.” He smiled tentatively, gauging my reaction.

  “This would be your first ship, then, Mister O’Donahue?”

  “Yes sir. And most pleased I am indeed to be sailing with Capt’n Decatur. His feats are legendary where I come from.”

  While I uttered not a word, I must have made some facial response to this, which Midshipman O’Donahue took as encouragement to continue in his faintly Irish lilt.

  “You see, Lieutenant Baldwin, when he went off to accomplish those wondrous acts against the pirates of Barbary, he sailed from Boston, on the ship Argus. I remember me da’ taking me to the harbor to watch ‘em sail out. Da said even though the captain hails from somewhere else, we should always consider him a “son of Boston” as that is where he started.” He beamed at me, obviously delighted to have shared the story of his “Da’s” hero.

  I refrained from telling him just yet of my and Judd Devon’s participation in that very departure. There would be ample time for that later, and likely better it should come from others. I also refrained from correcting his use of “on the ship” remembering my own rough treatment by Edward Langford on the docks of Boston when I had misspoken at about the same point in my own Navy career, and about the same vessel.

  Instead I simply wished him good luck, and welcome aboard, at which he brightened even further.

  “Oh Oliver! You are back. And what of our carpenters? Have they accomplished anything of note? That you could tell?” Henry was just emerging from the companionway as I was about to go below to find him.

  “You will be most pleased, Henry. Not only are they hard at work on the carriages and slides, but the foreman mentioned that he would have more than a dozen of each brought to the pier by week’s end.” I announced my news with enthusiasm and won a smile from the first lieutenant.

  So I added, “And they look grand, truly. Fine, solid construction of prime woods bound with iron straps. They will serve well, I believe.”

  The smile expanded and he turned around to accompany me below.

  As we reached the gunroom, Henry said, “I would reckon you met our newest, Midshipman O’Donahue? Seems harmless enough, and a pleasant fellow as well. Can you remember those days on your first ship, Oliver? I surely can, and terrifying they were. Had it not been for a couple of officers, the acting commander—a man named Jacobs, I recall—and Sailing Master Hallowell, who took me in tow, I might have jumped before even we sailed from Newport! And then Bainbridge and that dull sailer, George Washington. Oh my goodness, what memories. I’d reckon young O’Donahue is making those memories right now, though I doubt he’d be aware of it if you told him! And I’d warrant he’s likely as frightened as we were.” Henry laughed at the recollection.

  “I can remember Oliver’s first days aboard. And I can tell you, he might not have been terrified, Henry, but he surely was a landsman! Came aboard falling all over himself and everything on deck. Didn’t know the jib boom from the mizzenmast. Remember, Oliver?” Judd Devon sat at the table, a huge grin lighting his face.

  Oh my! I surely hope he doesn’t go into all that business with my encounter with the wharf rat and arriving aboard with nary a penny in my pocket!

  I looked searchingly at Judd, who continued to smile, but mercifully, said nothing further.

  “Gentlemen, I propose a glass or two ashore and perhaps, some supper. What say you?” Henry seemed in fine humor and I think, we were all ready for a small celebration; events had been running in our favor for several days now.

  “Give me a moment to clean myself up a bit and I am with you.” I answered, grateful that Judd’s recollection had received no encouragement.

  “We’ll meet you at the gangway, Oliver. Don’t dally.” Henry tossed over his shoulder as he and Judd headed for the ladder.

  Even before I arrived at the gangway, where my friends waited, I could see some kind of a confrontation taking place. A civilian, who was unfamiliar to me, seemed most angry with someone and was speaking loudly, right into Henry’s face. He gesticulated and pointed about the ship, waving his arms and giving our first lieutenant no chance to get a single word out. As I drew closer, I heard mention of paint and our civilian overseer, Billy Halethorpe, and realized that this gentleman must be the Superintendent of the Navy Yard.

  “Oh, Lieutenant Baldwin. Good you have joined us. Mister Johnson, here, is the headman of the Navy Yard and seems to have a problem with some missing paint. For some reason, he believes it to be in the frigate. Do you have any thoughts on that?” Henry Allen kept a perfectly straight face.

  “You’re damn right it’s here in this old bucket! I know that scoundrel Halethorpe took it sure as we’re standin’ here. Done it before, he has, but never so much. The rogue knows where everything is and feels it’s his right, his right, by the Almighty, to just help himself whenever the mood strikes him. And I know he’s still aboard; seen him with my own eyes, I have. And just a cause you people cleaned him up some, don’t you think I wouldn’t recognize that scalawag!” The Superintendent was spitting with nearly every other word, and I stepped back a step to avoid most of the spray.

  “Yes, Mister Johnson. Billy Halethorpe is surely aboard—though I am not sure he is right at this moment—but I have no knowledge of your paint. You can see we have been painting United States—she surely needed it after being in ordinary with nary a soul even checking on her— but since your men were working with our own to get the job done, we all assumed the Navy Yard had provided the paint.” This was not a lie;
we knew Billy had provided much of it, but we also knew he got it from the Navy Yard. I smiled as warmly as I could, trying to pacify his rage.

  “What do you mean, no one was checking on the ship; our watchman checked her as part of his regular rounds.” Johnson had worked himself up to a point where he picked up on just what I hoped he would, quite forgetting the paint issue, at least for the moment.

  “Well, I can tell you she was quite infested with rats, and, of course, Billy was living on board. Had been for several years, he said. Doesn’t sound to me like your watchman was doing much of a job!” Henry jumped back into the fray, eager to keep his antagonist a bit off-balance.

  “I knew that crazy fool was living in the ship. And it was his choice to live with the rats. Liked it, I’d reckon, or he wouldn’t have stood it. Hope he got hisself bit, crazy old fool.” Then, under his breath, he added something that sounded a bit like, “birds of a feather, I’d say, him living with the rats!”

  “Well, I reckon that would be his own choice, then would it not?” Henry, ignoring the last mutterings of Mister Johnson, spoke calmly, and even smiled.

  Midshipman O’Donahue returned, having earlier been sent to find Billy. He was empty-handed, of course, a concerned look at having failed at his first assignment on his first ship, creasing his face.

  “He’s no’ aboard, sir. I checked everywhere and even asked several sailors. Nary a one offered so much as a hint of his whereabouts. I am sorry, sir.”

  “That’s quite alright, Midshipman. We will manage just fine without him. You may return to your post at the gangway.” Judd spoke for the first time.

  O’Donahue’s relief was visible, and he stepped away a few feet to the head of the gangway to resume his watch.