In Pursuit of Glory

by William H. White

  “Sir. You have yet to state what that mission might be.” Cochran gave voice to the thoughts running through each of our minds.

  “We will be enforcing President Madison’s recent proclamation of the embargo with Great Britain.” He looked at Henry, then shifted his gaze to me. “Much the same as some of us did in Chesapeake in ought eight.”

  I thought I heard Henry stifle a quiet groan.

  What dreary duty! Near enough as dull as what we had been doing for nearly a year between Washington and here in Hampton Roads. But at sea, finally!

  Dismissed to go about our duties, Thomas Goodwater caught up to me as I gained the spardeck.

  “Mister Baldwin,” he said earnestly. “I thought all that embargo business was through a year back. Madison opened trade again with England right after he took the office, did he not?”

  Goodwater was from New England. It was an area sorely affected by Jefferson’s embargoes, causing all manner of “runners” to operate clandestinely and one of the reasons Chesapeake had been assigned to patrol those waters. Of course he would be acutely aware of the trade difficulties his father and other traders had experienced, as well as be enormously relieved when Madison lifted Jefferson’s trading prohibition.

  “I learned just this week, Tom, that the British ambassador has been recalled as he did not have the authority of the foreign secretary to treat with our administration, offering to have the orders in council—the ones about stopping our ships and impressing Americans—revoked in exchange for re-opening trade. As soon as Madison learned that, he revived the Non-intercourse act and now we can go out and enforce it. And given my scant seniority, I would suspect ‘Oliver’ would do better than ‘Mister Baldwin’.”

  “Well! I’d reckon my father and his associates will take to smuggling again. A sorry situation, indeed. This business with Great Britain is heading down a tortuous path. Seems like neither them nor us want to live and let live. I fear for the future, Oliver.” Tom’s sincerity was heartfelt; he had lived—or his family had—both with British domination and with American anti-trade laws.

  There was little I could say to salve his concern, either for his family or our country. I hurried off to talk with the gunner and then retire to a quiet place and write to Ann and share the good news of our imminent departure with her.

  As I wrote, describing recent goings-on aboard the ship and waxing joyfully about our plans, it dawned on me that she might not share my delight at returning to sea. But I had been almost a full year ashore—being harbor-bound, though in a ship, was just as bad as remaining on the beach—and could barely contain my joy at the prospect of clean air, rolling seas, and star-filled nights. Her last letter, subsequent to the one Mister Cochran had purloined, expressed her dismay at the recent difficulties Oliver Hazard, her brother, had experienced when his schooner, Revenge, had been ordered south to take station off the Charleston, South Carolina, coast. The ship had been badly damaged in a storm, losing several spars and two men to the tempest. And after repairs had been carried out and the little ship made her southing, Perry had become plagued by illness, being unable to tolerate the heat and damps of the southern climate.

  According to Ann, he had requested that his assignment be restored to New England. The letter did not mention whether his request had been granted, so it was possible that United States and the schooner could cross tacks at sea, even though the captain had yet to mention where we would be headed. But Decatur was put in command of the Southern Squadron and, should Oliver Hazard still be in those waters, I might at least see his ship. I said as much in my letter, mentioning also that the captain expected us to be at sea for some two months and not to be concerned should she not hear from me in that time.

  The following day, as might be expected, was a blur; final stores were loaded, sailors who had been ashore were rounded up, and everything was checked any number of times. Henry would take no chances of being caught ill prepared, no matter the circumstances.

  We also discovered, or rather Peter Cochran did, the contents of the hogsheads Billy Halethorpe had stowed away prior to his departure: whiskey. The fact that Cochran did not know had consumed him to the point where he ordered the bosun to find and open one. And he became incensed over his discovery until Henry, one evening, suggested he might be better employed by “learning the skills he lacked instead of caterwauling about a few extra barrels of spirits,” apparently a parting gift from the strange man.

  And finally, on a bright August morning and with a fair breeze for our departure, United States won her anchor, set in the muddy bottom of Hampton Roads for nearly four months, spread tops’ls and stays’ls, and pointed her bow to the southeast.

  Captain Decatur stood on the quarterdeck, watching as it became evident that the training Henry had undertaken for the crew was paying off. As the tops’l yards were hauled up to their full height, he turned to me.

  “Mister Baldwin, you may take her out!”

  I had been watching the men on deck heaving on the halyards under the watchful eye of the sailing master and bosun, praying that nothing would go awry. I was caught all aback and was unable to respond at once, as I should have.

  He wants me to conn the ship out of the anchorage! I am to be the officer of the deck responsible for the whole ship! What if I make a mistake? I wish Henry were here instead of up forward overseeing the anchor. Oh my.

  All manner of thoughts flashed through my brain; conflict and uncertainty momentarily held sway, but I put them away and, after Decatur repeated his order, I acknowledged it, properly and with a salute, and tried to show a confidence I surely did not feel.

  “Anchor’s in sight, sir!” Came the call from the fo’c’sle.

  “Very well, Bosun.” I cried out, in response. “Sailing Master: see to your tops’l sheets and braces. Stand by the stays’l halyards.”

  I smiled in spite of myself as I saw men scurrying to do my bidding.

  “Lay in and down from aloft!” I shouted into the wind. Then, “Starboard head braces: brace around the foretops’l. Sheet home the main tops’l. Lively, now.”

  I heard my commands echoed by the sailing master and felt the thrill of knowing I had given the proper commands.

  “On the quarterdeck: anchor’s clear, sir.”

  “Aye, clear it is. Rig out the cat and ring up the anchor!” I was gaining confidence now with every command I uttered.

  United States paid off on the larboard tack, her head bearing off as the backed foretops’l caught the breeze. When I was certain we were off the wind enough to make headway, I cupped my hands to my mouth and shouted forward again.

  “Haul your braces, Mister Worth. Set the foretops’l for a larboard tack. Man the jib halyards and heave away!”

  The sailing master gave me a wave of acknowledgment even as I heard him echo my orders.

  The jibs climbed smartly up their stays and were sheeted home. They filled with a quiet thump, unlike the foretops’l, which, as the heavers on deck strained at the braces, shook briefly, then shivered violently as the sails edge caught the eye of the wind, finally filling on the larboard tack with a mighty woomph.

  We are sailing! And I did it, my own self.

  I was delighted. This was as exhilarating as when I first felt Argus stir to life beneath my feet in Boston almost seven years ago. I am sure the smile (outright grin might be more accurate) I wore gave any who noticed it a fine reading of my joy.

  “Quartermaster, make your course south by east, if you please.” I remembered to give the final order necessary for the ship to make the Capes, passing Lynnhaven Bay to starboard.

  “Nicely executed, Mister Baldwin. I am sure that neither Mister Allen nor I would have done it differently. You may continue to see us out of the Bay. Set your courses when you wish. Please call me when we clear Cape Henry; I am anxious to see how she goes.” Decatur’s compliment would live with me forever and I know my smile grew even broader.

  “Aye, sir. And thank you, sir.” I doffed
my hat in salute.

  “Should you encounter any of our consorts, please send for me at once.” Decatur smiled at me again and stepped off the quarterdeck, heading forward.

  “I’ve seen midshipmen do a more seamanlike job of sailing, Baldwin. I’d reckon you still have a good deal to learn.”

  Peter Cochran had come forward to stand on the quarterdeck near at hand. Earlier I had noticed him standing at the rail near the mizzen shrouds; now he was next to me. And offering insults to boot.

  I whipped about, not believing my ears, sure that he was chiding me, but the disdain on his face was clear.

  “Oh Mister Cochran, sir. I am sorry I did not measure up to your own standards, sir. It appeared to me that Cap’n Decatur seemed pleased enough with my seamanship.” I uttered, still in some shock.

  “Well, what did you expect him to say? He chose you to get the ship off her anchor. A man like Decatur does not admit easily that he has made a poor choice.”

  “I do not think that was the case, sir, with all due respect. He complimented me on the job I did.”

  “We’ll see about that, I’d warrant. Perhaps I should have a word about your skills, or, more properly, lack of skills, with Mister Allen.” He left me frowning at his parting shot.

  During the next several hours, while I superintended the ship through the Chesapeake, past Lynnhaven Bay, the same body of water that had harbored the British ships, including HMS Leopard, back in eighteen seven, I thought of many different ripostes that I might have made to Cochran’s comment. But it was clearly too late for any.

  I set courses and stays’ls in an effort to, not only make the frigate look smart and seamanlike, but also to try and get a few more knots out of her. She seemed a bit sluggish, even with the nice breeze we now held off our larboard quarter.

  With Cape Henry off our starboard side, I sent my midshipman, Willy (as he informed us he preferred to William) O’Donahue to inform Captain Decatur of our position, as he had instructed me. The midshipman blanched at being sent to the Cabin.

  “Really, sir. I … uh … well, I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”

  “Simply say, ‘Mister Baldwins compliments, sir, and we’re passing Cape Henry. He thought you’d want to know.’ Just that simple, Willy. Then listen to what he tells you. It will only be that he will be right up or that he will be along presently. I don’t think that even John Thayer could make a hash of this job!”

  I referred to our newest midshipman, a young man who had never seen salt water until he arrived at the pier in Norfolk. Straight from a Pennsylvania farm, his father had found a bit of interest with a local politician who gained for his tenth, and youngest, child, a Warrant. More to ease the burden of feeding and educating such a brood, we suspected, than to find the boy a worthy career in the service of his country. John had attained the age of thirteen years just the day before he showed up on the pier begging a ride to the ship in one of our boats. But he looked about eight and, of course, drew the appropriate comments from his messmates. The officers spoke of his youthful appearance, but only among ourselves.

  He was quite without guile and, naturally, knew nothing of the Navy or the workings of a ship. I thought of my own journey to manhood and felt some measure of pity for the lad, but none-the-less, participated in a few of the pranks the officers (except for Lieutenant Cochran) enjoyed at his expense. The lad took them in stride, having been, I suspected, the butt of many such during his earlier years. And he learned quickly and seemed afraid of nothing. Henry had asked Jack Comstock, our Bosun, to “bring the lad along” and, like Bosun Anderson in Argus, Comstock seemed to thrive on teaching the youngster.

  I think my reference to Thayer might have stung Willy a bit and, while I noticed him stiffen at my remark, he made no further complaint, doffed his hat in perfect salute to me and turned about to carry out his errand.

  When the captain appeared moments later, and on the heels of my midshipman, he seemed in a fine humor. He looked about a bit, checked the set of the sails, and studied the shoreline at the southern cape for a moment.

  “Well, Mister Baldwin. You have done well; here we are abeam of Henry’s Cape, just as Mister O’Donahue mentioned. And nary a problem, I collect.”

  He stepped to the leeward rail and watched the water churn past us as we lifted on the rollers coming in from the sea. Then he cast his eyes to the heavens and studied the set of our sails for a long minute. When he turned back to face me, his easy smile was gone; in it’s place was a frown.

  What have I done? I simply acknowledged his earlier comment. Have I forgotten something?

  “The frigate seems some sluggish, Mister Baldwin. I have sailed in her near sister, Constitution, and found her a great deal more lively than this. Even Congress showed more appetite for a turn of speed.”

  Uh oh. Have I got the sails set improperly? Surely Sailing Master Worth would not have allowed such a blunder. Is Decatur blaming me for the poor speed we are making?

  “Oh, sir,” I offered quickly. “I have not yet set the t’gallants, as you can see. Perhaps with some more sail aloft, she will become more lively.”

  “No, Oliver. I don’t think that will answer. Pass the word for Mister Worth and the bosun, if you please.”

  I nodded at O’Donahue who fairly leapt at the opportunity to escape the quarterdeck now that the captain trod it’s planks. I could hear his call for the two warrant officers echoing throughout the ship.

  “Mister Worth,” Decatur began as the sailing master stepped onto the quarterdeck, knuckling his forehead as he did so. “What do you think of the sailing ability of our vessel; how does she swim, hmmm?”

  “Not a bit what I might have expected, Cap’n. Thought she’d be a bit more eager. Perhaps a bit of touching up on the shrouds might improve her … give her a knot more, possibly.” Worth rarely looked at whomever he spoke to, and even the captain gained no exception to his habit; the man’s eyes jumped from masthead to shrouds and back again.

  I watched as the two of them, and then, when Comstock appeared, the three of them, certainly the three most experienced hands aboard in such matters, as they discussed, pointed, nodded, and gestured, as the ideas for improving our speed flew. Finally, they agreed on a course of action and, immediately, the pair of warrants left, bellowing for their seamen.

  “Bring her up a couple of points, Mister Baldwin, if you please. We’ll need to ease the sheets and luff her a bit so as to even the strain on the shrouds. Worth will take care of that, soon as you bring her head up.” Decatur was watching carefully as the topmen scrambled up the weather ratlines and the heavers rigged purchases from the shrouds to the capstan.

  While United States shuffled along, her sails luffing in a most unprofessional manner, the deck crew and topmen, under the direction of Comstock and Worth, heaved and hauled, marched around the capstan, and suffered the abuse of their superiors. With each change to the standing rigging, the sails would be sheeted home to draw efficiently. As soon as he was satisfied with the set of the sails, the captain would peer over the side, watch the water for a moment, and shake his head. The frigate still suffered her sluggish ways and it was beginning to look as if there was little our officers and sailors could do for it. Worth, it was, who finally became exasperated.

  “She’s just an old wagon, Cap’n. Ain’t gonna show her heels to much of anything. Hope our lads can shoot, on account of we ain’t likely to outrun any trouble we might happen across!”

  Decatur whirled to face the frustrated sailing master.

  “Mister Worth. You will not refer to my vessel as an ‘old wagon.’ She is as fine a ship as ever was built and will bring us to glory, should we have occasion to see her into action. And you may rest assured that Gunner Perkins and Mister Allen will see to it that her guns will more than make up for any shortcoming in her sailing ability. But, we will continue to make adjustments, modifications, and changes to her tophamper so she might ultimately sail as well as she will fight!

  “Per
haps if we give her a trifle more rake, she will favor us with a trifle more speed. But tomorrow, Mister Worth. I fear you have fairly worn out our men today, so order an extra ration for your lads and let us try again on the morrow.”

  Worth saluted and left the quarterdeck, the thought of extra spirits lighting his face. Decatur’s exasperation and rebuke about the “old wagon” remark seemed not to burden him a whit.

  Indeed, the remark had been heard by several sailors and made the rounds of the ship as fast as the announcement of the extra ration; I heard it repeated often during the ensuing days and, while I am ashamed to admit to it, each time it caused me to smile. United States had become Old Wagon, at least when out of earshot of Captain Decatur.

  We caught up with our consorts—or more aptly, they caught up with us. Argus, always a sprightly vessel, showed her upper works first, coming down hard from the north. Quickly hull up, she drew alongside to leeward, luffed her tops’ls, and matched our stately pace. Essex and Hornet remained a half cannon shot astern, but the former soon drew up to our windward side.

  “Thank you for waiting for us, Commodore. We had a spot of difficulty two days ago with Hornet’s rig and that slowed us considerably. But here we are now and ready for whatever lies ahead.” The commander of Essex stood on his leeward bulwark at the mizzen shrouds and shouted to us through a speaking trumpet, giving his voice a curiously tinny quality.

  “Glad you have joined us, Captain. Let us proceed and see what mischief we might thwart to the south!” Decatur had jumped onto our bulwark, but eschewed the trumpet in favor of simply cupping his hands around his mouth.

  “Mister Allen: you may make your course south a quarter east and set t’gallants.” Our captain spoke to the first lieutenant, who had assumed the watch from me earlier, even as he leaped from the bulwark.