“Mister Cochran: I repeat, if I may, sir, that managing the day to day chores in this vessel will be most distinct from your ten years in Washington. Here, sir, should you not do your job properly, men could die. And if this country heads in the direction Cap’n Decatur, and, I might add, I as well, think it will, we will again be at war against what some have called the finest navy in the world; surely the largest and most powerful. God knows we fared poorly enough the last time we fought ‘em! As you have never experienced the horror of close-in ship-to-ship combat, it will be a revelation to you, I am certain.” Henry’s look, as he spoke, held not a hint of friendliness.
“Should you wish to know more of what you might encounter, I am sure that Mister Baldwin, the junior among us in rank only, would be pleased to offer some of his wisdom. Or perhaps Mister Devon; he, like Baldwin, spent a year and more sorting out the corsairs of Tripoli and both have ample bits of wisdom to offer on the sundry pleasures of naval combat, should you require it.”
I thought Cochran would choke. The claret he had just swallowed seemed unwilling to make the journey through his throat, preferring instead to linger somewhere short of it’s destination. Peter looked at Judd then me; that Devon, and especially I, should have actual battle experience was quite beyond his ability to grasp. His face grew scarlet at his effort to swallow the wine, breathe, and deal with this new, and most unsettling, information about his shipmates. Of course, with the wine filling his mouth, he was unable to utter a sound beyond the gurgling caused by the struggle within. Finally, he did manage to complete the task and, after drawing several breaths, found his voice.
“I had no idea that I served with such… combat-experienced officers. I am sure you both will regale me with tales of your derring-do at some point. I shall be agog, I assure you.” The sarcasm dripped from every word, ensuring, at least in my mind, that nary a word of my past experiences would be shared out with this pompous buffoon!
Judd seemed of like mind. “Mister Cochran, I am sure, that once we join an engagement, you will discover, quick as ever you please, the true joys of naval combat. It can be exhilarating, ain’t that so, Oliver?” He winked at me, the jocularity of his tone quite missed by our antagonist.
“Oh my, yes, Mister Devon. Rarely have I felt so exhilarated as the night we boarded Philadelphia. Inspirational, it was!” This was the first time I had ever spoken of that horrifying night with anything other than reverence.
“You lads are obviously having me on. And I will not tolerate … such … such insulting behavior from my subordinates. I insist on the respect due my office … at least in my presence.” Cochran spoke with unexpected ferocity, a hard scowl pasted on his face that was designed, I am sure, to intimidate both of us.
Judd had been looking at Henry, enjoying our bit of jocularity with him when Peter spoke. Devon’s head snapped around toward his superior, his face darkening with anger.
Henry broke the momentary tension. “Mister Cochran, you have barely been aboard four hours and already you seem to have antagonized your shipmates. Not a good beginning, I’d warrant. As to the respect you feel is due you: I would again remind you, sir, this is not the secretary’s office in Washington. On ships, respect is earned. I am sure, once you become more comfortable in your surroundings, you will discover, or perhaps, recall, that in the fleet, both the sailors and junior officers will respect and follow an officer who leads them by example; one who knows, not only his employment, but also that of those beneath him. That, sir, is what you must strive for.
“Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have much to do.” Henry stood, nodded to Judd and me, and walked behind Cochran heading for the door.
Cochran said nothing further; in fact, no one did, and soon, Judd and I excused ourselves and left the wardroom to Mister Cochran.
That one meal seemed to set the tone for our future dealings with the second lieutenant; he never missed an opportunity to exercise his position over both Judd and me, and we, for our part, never missed an opportunity to antagonize the man, within the bounds of our junior-senior relationship. When he was aboard the ship and not sitting in the Horn and Thistle, encouraging the dregs of the Norfolk waterfront to join the Navy, and specifically, the frigate United States, Lieutenant Peter Cochran kept to himself. He was quiet, save for ship-related matters, during meals, and, during the day, should he not be at the rendezvous, he prowled the ship, watching my gunners at work fitting firing locks to the battery or shooting baleful stares aloft as the bosun’s men bent on sails, adjusted rigging, or sent up yards.
And so went the spring and summer. Until one day, shortly after the crew had been piped to breakfast, when Arbutus ‘Billy Halethorpe appeared alongside in a longboat—not one of ours—towing a small barge.
I had the watch on the quarterdeck and Mister Cochran, always the early riser, had appeared, for the second time, to ensure I was acting the proper watch officer. My anchor watch hailed the quarterdeck, announcing a boat approaching from the bow.
“Is he making for us?” I shouted back, mostly into Cochran’s face.
“Aye, sir. Appears to be Billy. And he’s towing a barge.”
Before the passage of five minutes, Billy was clambering up the battens, directing the messenger, whom I had sent to fetch him aft, to call out some hands to bring aboard the contents of the lighter.
“Halethorpe!” I shouted. “What mischief have you gotten into now?”
“Nary a thing, lad. Nary a thing. Just found us some supplies the barky’ll be needin’ once we win our hook. Something to wash away the stink of this place.”
The requested sailors appeared and I watched, rapt, with our second lieutenant, as four hogsheads without markings, were swung by tackles from the mainyard onto the deck, and thence into the hold.
“Halethorpe: step aft here, if you please.” Cochran’s tone would brook no nonsense.
After a pause, during which a few words passed between Billy and the boat crew, our scavenger made his way, quite deliberately, to the quarterdeck.
“What, pray, was in those barrels you just put into the ship?” Cochran began before Billy could offer a word.
“Well, sir. I reckon it’s sompin’ we’ll be needin’ afore long. And I ain’t seen much brung aboard yet.” Billy smiled.
“I asked you, Halethorpe, what was in those barrels? You will render me a straight answer to the question. Shouldn’t tax even a man of your capacity.” Cochran struggled to maintain his Washington demeanor.
And Billy just smiled and, cocking his head to one side, began to hum quietly and shuffle his feet to a tune only he could hear. His dance grew stronger and soon his arms were swinging in time to his music, his smile broadened, and gradually, he moved away from the lieutenant.
“Halethorpe, damn it!” Peter was losing his bearing; his face contorted and the pitch of his voice went up.
And still, Billy just smiled, danced, and moved forward, away from the quarterdeck.
“Mister Baldwin. Have that man arrested. Call out the master at arms and seize him up. I will not be ignored that way by anyone, let alone a sailor.” Cochran had turned about and used the same voice he had just used to blaspheme Billy.
“Mister Cochran. I fail to see the need to holler at me; I am barely a foot away from you. As to seizing Billy and clapping him in irons, there is no need for that either. The man is not right in the head. It would be most cruel to lock him away merely on account of him being a bit simple. I know him; he will settle down soon … perhaps after he’s breakfasted, and then we’ll find out what he has brought aboard. I would venture, though, that it is something we’ll likely find useful, as he mentioned.” I knew I risked censure by refusing his order, but I could not let him lock up Billy purely out of vexation. I also had a fair idea as to what the barrels might contain.
“We’ll see about that! And we’ll see what happens to junior lieutenants who refuse an order from their superiors.” He stormed off the deck, heading for the companionway, hopin
g, I thought, to fill Henry’s ear with the twin tales of his frustration.
As fervently as Cochran hoped to land Billy in irons and me in hot water with our first lieutenant, I hoped Henry would stand up for the both of us, given Mister Cochran’s ignorance of our ship and people. I waited on the quarterdeck, idly watching the boat drag the now empty lighter back toward the shore.
“Mister Baldwin, sir, I am your relief” Midshipman Harold Holt had approached me from astern unseen.
So deep in daydreaming, I had no inkling he was there until he spoke, causing me to start visibly.
“Blast it, Holt! You snuck up on me without a sound!” I must have sounded irate, as he took a step backwards.
“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to startle you.You seemed so intent on some-thing ashorr that I hesitated to disturb you, but I figured you’d want your breakfast on time and wouldn’t mind. Sorry.”
“Oh no, Holt. you’ve done nothing wrong. Indeed, you are right on time to relieve me. There is nothing actin’ aboard at the moment. The captain’s ashore, as usual, but will be back directly, I should imagine. You may take over the watch.”
That encounter with Cochran must have stirred me up a trifle. I never snap at midshipmen like that.
I smiled at Hort, returned his salute and walked calmly forward to the companionway.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The following two months passed quickly, so busy were we with the captain’s demanding schedule: finishing the work on the battery; loading powder and shot, Stores; recruiting the remainder of the crew; bending on sails and making spares; tightening the rig; testing the running rigging; and throughout it all, maintaining the ship in the spotless condition expected by both the captain and the first lieutenant.
And training. We trained the crew, about half of whom were landsmen, in everything from working aloft to managing the great guns (in dumb show, of course), use of the cutlass, and the “hauley-pulley” deck work necessary to the making and handing of sails. The watch, quarter, and station bill was drawn and the men gradually grew accustomed to getting to their assigned places without getting lost in the bowels of the frigate. Officers, especially Peter Cochran, and our midshipmen gained insight into the use of the pistol, cutlass, and navigation. Interestingly, Cochran, despite his claims to the contrary, was a poor shot with the pistol and complained the weapons we had were best used as cudgels.
The only sour note among all the hustle and bustle of our daily lives sounded one morning when Henry asked me if I knew the whereabouts of our lightning-struck bosun’s mate.
It occurred to me that I had neither seen the man nor thought about him in quite a few days, being busy as I was with overseeing the employment of my division. I said as much.
“Well, he seems to have jumped ship. No one claims any knowledge of his whereabouts and it would appear he isnot aboard.” Henry’s tone seemed a bit sad.
I assumed that, in spite of Halethorpe’s casual attitude about most things in the ship, especially the protocol of titles, the first lieutenant had developed a fondness for the man and found, as I did, his eccentric behavior amusing and refreshing.
“Should I send out a few men to see if they might turn him up, Henry? I’d warrant he might have felt a need for more spirits than were available aboard and is likely sleeping off a drunk somewhere.”
“A good idea, Oliver. See what you can find. And send O’Donahue as officer in charge. Won’t need more than three or four, I imagine.” Henry smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it.
For two days, Midshipman O’Donahue scoured the waterfront taverns, pubs, houses of ill repute, and eating establishments searching, but also, asking about our scavenging crewman. But to no avail; if any had seen him, he was long gone. My thought about him sleeping off the effects of a surfeit of spirits proved fruitless and the search party returned each day empty-handed. Finally, Henry, in the face of more pressing matters, gave up. I would miss Billy’s antics and his cleverness in avoiding those officers he chose not to see. And him calling our first lieutenant by his Christian name.
In late July, a freshly minted lieutenant (and so, happily junior to me) reported to the ship. Thomas Goodwater seemed a fine fellow of about my age; his experience, while including no actual fighting, held sea time on several vessels, including the frigates Constellation and Essex. We got on famously right from the start, and he quickly won over all the occupants of the gunroom save Mister Cochran, a fact that the others of us applauded. Goodwater hailed from Boston and had sailed as a lad with his father in several merchants, something, along with his vastly superior experience in the Navy, which put him squarely on our side of the rift, Cochran being on the other.
The second lieutenant had won my continuing enmity about a month after taking my quarters when I came into the wardroom and noticed him reading several sheets of foolscap, which, as I came closer, I saw were written in a decidedly familiar hand.
“Oh, Baldwin! I didn’t hear you come in.” He hastily folded the papers, laying them on the table to one side.
“Mister Cochran: I could not help but notice the writing there.” I nodded at the papers he had just dropped. “That wouldn’t be something of mine, would it?”
“Hmmm? Oh this?” He picked up the small sheaf and pretended to look at it as if just noticing it for the first time. “Let me see, now. Hmm. Yes, it would appear that … well, that is to say, it could be yours. I see no address on it. But it does begin with your name—unless there are other Olivers aboard—and an endearing notation.” He handed the letter to me.
Of course, it was the most recent of the several dear missives I had received from Ann Perry.
“Where did you get this, sir, if I may ask?” I was seething, barely under control.
“Oh my. You must have left it lying about on the table, I’d reckon. Just picked it up to pass the time. Shouldn’t get yourself all in a dither over it. No harm done, I’d warrant.”
I knew quite well the letter had been in my writing desk, not left lying about the wardroom. I could feel my face reddening from the anger welling up within.
“Sir: I do not know the word dither, but I am sure that even in Washington, reading another’s personal mail might be cause for concern. I should not think a gentleman would even consider such a violation of propriety.”
“Well, Oliver. Dither means simply getting yourself worked up, just as you are now. Heard it all the time in the secretary’s office. Seems everyone there was constantly getting their selves into a dither. And I did, in fact, read almost all the mail in the secretary’s office, personal or otherwise.” He stopped his prattling, and suddenly looked at me, as though he had just heard my words.
“Mister Baldwin: are you, perchance, calling me out? Suggesting that I am other than a gentleman would seem to imply a challenge. I assure you, sir, I am an accomplished marksman. And regardless of your vaunted combat experience, I submit to you, you would likely fare poorly were we to face each other at four, or even ten paces. If you are calling me out, you have only a moment to change your mind. I encourage you to reconsider, as I have no wish to kill you. Which, were we to duel, I surely would.”
A duel? I find it pleasing to contemplate killing the man, but I never mentioned the word. It never even entered my mind until he said it. A duel? Pistols? Surely he cant think I was challenging him!
Memories of Judd and Thomas Wheatley’s experience in the Mediterranean flashed into my mind; Wheatley wounded and an innocent murdered, though quite by accident. No, there would be no duels for Oliver Baldwin!
“No, sir. It never entered my mind. I have no wish to fight you. I would simply appreciate the return of my letter and your forbearance in rummaging through my possessions.” So wrought up was I that I had quite forgotten that I held the letter in my own hand.
A point that Cochran smugly pointed out to me. “Now take your letter and run along, Oliver. You must learn to control your temper. Others might not demonstrate the same patience—nor might they give you the
chance to withdraw from a challenge.” He stood, picked his hat off the peg and left the room without a backward glance.
Suddenly the gunroom had become quite close and, desperate for fresh, if damp and warm, air, I stuffed the letter in my pocket and followed shortly behind him.
By early August of eighteen and ten, Lieutenant Allen reported us ready for sea to Captain Decatur, who promptly called for his gig and went ashore, a small canvas-wrapped packet tucked firmly under his arm. When he returned two days later, he repeated his call for the officers to assemble in his Cabin.
“Gentlemen, as you are aware, the first lieutenant has reported us ready to sail. From my own observation, it would seem so. I have just returned from Secretary Hamilton’s office with orders to proceed at once to sea, joining up with Essex, Hornet, and for some, an old friend, the brig Argus. In addition to commanding this vessel, I shall also be responsible for the squadron. Commodore Rodgers will handle similar duties to the north.” Decatur’s smile spread quickly to each of us as we anticipated our return to open water.
That we had been landlocked for too long had become apparent to all of us, perhaps with the exception of Lieutenant Cochran. But even with his lack of experience, he was as aware as all of us were of the frustration the men and officers alike felt at being trapped in Hampton Roads; fights had broken out, sailors, in varying stages of drunkenness and disarray, were routinely returned to the ship by the local constabulary, and, in a few cases, there were desertions. This last was particularly vexing as we had yet to fill our complement. But we would sail!
“When do you anticipate sailing, Cap’n? We are still a score and more short of crew, but I suspect we will manage nicely with what we have, for now. And the men need to…” Henry stopped mid-sentence, noting that the captain was well aware of our condition.
“If you have stores aboard for two months, Mister Allen, we can win our anchor in two days. That will give any of you time to conclude any business you might have ashore. I have already bid farewell to Susan who will do nicely here in our Norfolk home without me. So I will be remaining aboard the frigate preparing to carry out our mission.”
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