In Pursuit of Glory

by William H. White

  “Here, you heroes! Why not join us? We’d much like to hear yer tale of derring-do ‘gainst that Brit! ‘Specially after that fool… wha’s his name, John? You know, that old buzzard what surrendered the whole damn army out to Detroit. Hall, or Hull—no, he’s the hero of Constitution. Something like that, though. Right depressing it was to hear. The victory you lads brung us give us a bit o’ hope that we might not get stomped inta the ground by them self-rightous Brits. Aye, a right bit o’ stirrin’ news it was to hear. Ha! The mighty Royal Navy whipped by a bunch o’ upstarts. Reckon that smarts some!” A none-too-steady patron, a local citizen caught up in the citywide celebration of Hull’s victory had staggered over to our table.

  “Aye, you lads come over yonder. No point in settin’ here by yerselves! ‘Sides, be an honor to buy you a drink … or two. Right, Bill?”

  “At’s what I just said, you old fool! What’d you think I was talkin’ ‘bout?” Bill looked drunkenly at his companion who decided to retire to another table.

  “We’re not in Constitution, sir. United States is our ship.” Judd smiled at the new arrival, now left to his own devices by his earlier companion.

  I suspected he was hoping that by mentioning we were not part of the victorious crew we might be left alone to talk among ourselves.

  “No matter! Yer Navy, ain’t ya? Don’t matter what ship you sail; yer welcome to join us.” Bill nodded at the table where his friend now slumped, and turned to join him.

  We did not.

  The night passed quickly, drinks, some food, and many tales of exploits shared eagerly with Edward and several others from the now famous frigate. Local folks, denizens of public houses along the waterfront, bought us vast quantities of liquor in exchange for repeated stories of Constitution’s triumph. With little for Judd and I to boast about, we enjoyed the hospitality until we could no longer hear the story one more time, then left to find other entertainments.

  Constitution’s commander, Isaac Hull, remained aboard his ship for two full days without setting foot on the soil of Boston. Many invitations were sent out to the frigate, but he remained steadfast in his reluctance to bask in the adoration of a grateful public. Finally, some invitation or another—or perhaps it was just the need to feel solid ground underfoot— caused him to order his gig and appear on Long Wharf. I happened to be there to witness the throngs of people who greeted the great man.

  There was scarcely room for him to set foot on the stone pier, so crowded was it with well-wishers. Salutes resounded across the harbor as cannon roared out a greeting from shore side batteries and were answered by the frigate, all doing homage to his valor. In adjacent buildings, ladies waved handkerchiefs and cast flowers on the great man as he made his way along the roadway. The city was in the same state of turmoil as it had been when first the frigate set her anchor in the harbor. Music played, cannon roared out, and people shouted praise at their hero, rejoicing over one of the most brilliant naval victories ever achieved. During his reluctant acceptance of the crowd’s tumultuous welcome, Hull remained almost Stoic: his face wore a smile, he shook the proffered hands thrust toward him, and accepted the thumps on his back by the overzealous men who greeted him, but clearly, he would have rather remained aboard his ship.

  And through it all, Captain Decatur churned; outwardly, his face was a mask of joy at the splendid victory won by his friend and colleague while, inwardly (and visible only to those of us who knew him well) he pined for an even greater glory than achieved by Captain Hull. We knew he would never be satisfied with a simple victory; that had been done. For Decatur and United States, only something even more spectacular would answer.

  After United States had made her stately way up the harbor to the Navy Yard, Decatur badgered the civilian personnel to work quickly, “there was a war to be fought and won which can ill be done moored to a pier with riggers, shipfitters, and their debris littering our decks!”

  But he knew we would be at least a fortnight in this condition, and allowed Henry a few days leave to visit his kin in Providence, just a days carriage ride away. I went with him, seeing the short journey as an opportunity to renew, in person, my relationship with Ann Perry. Writing her regular letters, and receiving hers, was wonderful, to be sure, but here was a chance to see the lady in person, smell her sweet scent, and watch the sunlight create lovely highlights in her flowing mane. And I might just surprise her. Wouldn’t that be splendid!

  I surely could not sleep in the carriage, as Henry did, and engaging in idle chatter with the first lieutenant during his wakeful moments, no matter how strong our friendship had become, seemed inappropriate. Instead, I closed my eyes, perhaps feigning sleep, and conjured up images of my darling in all the places we had been together, including on the deck of Chesapeake. My, it seemed so long ago, and so long since I had actually held her hand and enjoyed her pleasant fragrance!

  Perhaps I did sleep, as I became aware of Henry jostling me into wakefulness and saying, “We are here in Providence, Oliver. You must change coaches for the run down to Newport.”

  I simply looked at him stupidly, not at first comprehending his words.

  “Perhaps you would like to stay the night with my family and take the morning stagecoach down to the coast. Or you might find a vessel heading that way which might drop you in Newport.” He waited, expectantly, for me to regain my senses.

  I shook myself into wakefulness and considered my choices: stay here in Providence with Henry’s family or arrive in Newport without a place to stay or any thought of how I might get myself to the Perry’s home in South Kingston. And, depending on when I might find a conveyance, the hour would be hardly respectable to go calling on a lady.

  “I shall accept your invitation, Henry, to spend the night so I might travel fresh tomorrow to the coast. You are most kind to offer it and I thank you.” I smiled gratefully to, not only my superior officer, but also my good friend.

  “And welcome you are, Oliver. I am sure my stepmother will be most accommodating. Grab up your dunnage and follow me. It is but a short walk from here to my father’s home.”

  I did as he instructed, slinging my scant bag over my shoulder, and followed him. We walked but a few minutes and arrived at a pleasant looking house with brick steps and a brick front on it. I was a bit surprised when Henry thumped on the door and waited for it to be answered. Why would he not simply open it and walk in? This was his family’s home, after all.

  Nonetheless, a pleasant looking woman, introduced as Henry’s stepmother, invited us in most cordially and, after explaining that Mister Allen was away on some business errand, offered us tea and some sweets. Not wanting to intrude on his time with family, I begged fatigue and retired to a comfortable room in the back of the house where I fell asleep planning my next day’s travel and my reunion with my dear Ann.

  And wonderful it was, indeed. Her welcome was heartfelt and we picked up right where we had left off those long years ago. I knew the short few days we spent together would sustain me for many months, as it would have to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A full month later, our captain still fretted about getting his ship back to sea. Now, he wracked his brain determining how he might “trump Hull’s ace” and bring his own ship (and himself) some acclaim.

  Decatur poured over charts, our very scant intelligence reports, and wrote letters to Secretary Hamilton seeking sailing orders. Of course, the ship, along with her now famous sister, Constitution, had been enjoying the ministrations of the Navy Yard at Charlestown for, at least in the lat-ter’s case, some well needed refitting. Old Ironsides, as she had become known since her battle with Guerriere, needed attention to her rig, masts, and Cabin; Old Wagon (even men from other ships now referred to our grand frigate by her uncomplimentary sobriquet, to Decatur’s continued dismay) received the attention of the riggers with the hope they might improve her sailing qualities. Time would tell.

  And for a fortnight after our return, Henry plied me with questions about m
y visit with the Perrys, how Ann’s brother Oliver was faring, and how did I find Ann. Did she welcome me back with the same feeling she had when we parted two and more years before? He wanted to know all the details and was frustrated when I would tell him nothing except that Oliver Hazard Perry was well and back ashore in Connecticut. His frustration grew as I simply smiled, saying not a word, when asked about Ann and our relationship. Finally, Henry, busy with the day-to-day management of the work on our ship and training the men, lost interest in his quest and stopped badgering me.

  In mid-September, Commodore Rodgers, William Bainbridge, who now commanded Constitution, and our commander all received letters from the Secretary instructing them to form three squadrons and sail independently of each other: Bainbridge would have Constitution, Essex, and Hornet; Rodgers in President would sail with Congress and Wasp; and Decatur would command United States, Chesapeake, and Argus.

  The captain was overjoyed; this was exactly what he had been advocating since before the war began. Now, his fever to leave the confines of Boston Harbor reached it’s zenith; he hounded the yard workers still aboard, not only in our ship, but also still in our consorts, to finish their work quickly. He was a constant flurry of motion, pacing up and down our own decks, then being rowed to Argus and Chesapeake to personally oversee their own preparations.

  Adding to the confusion of our refit, new men were reporting aboard, including a replacement for our surgeon who had left the ship immediately upon her arrival in Boston, claiming “family issues” which required his attention.

  The new man was a sight to behold: stunted in growth, he wore a full beard that grew to below the first button on his waistcoat. His eyes, behind the small spectacles he wore, were piercing, but rheumy and red-rimmed, even at midday. He sported a bulbous nose, which appeared over-large for his face even with the beard. Perhaps that it looked a bit like someone had stuck a fat ripe strawberry on the end of it caused it to seem out of proportion to his face. He suffered from a slight tremor, most visible in his hands. I fervently hoped I would escape the opportunity to experience whatever medical prowess he might possess! And I pitied any unfortunate enough to require his ministrations. Eldridge Appleby’s whole appearance suggested some of the gnomes I had seen illustrated in books while a child. But he settled in quickly and seemed to all of us a kind soul who had experienced more mayhem and death than any should have to endure. He was not overly verbose, but engaged in conversations that held some interest for him. Doctor Appleby seemed a welcome addition to the gunroom.

  Finally, in the second week of October, all but two ships in Rodgers’ and Decatur’s squadrons were ready to sail. Constitution would still need the further ministrations of the shipfitters in the Navy Yard and would sail later, when the work was complete to Bainbridge’s satisfaction. Rodgers, as the senior commander, made the decision to head to sea. Chesapeake and Wasp would catch up as best they might, or leave when Bainbridge took his squadron out. Of course, the word of our imminent departure traveled quickly to all parts of the city. There was high celebration in Boston the night before we sailed, the people hungering for another victory, and the sailors and officers eager to provide it for them.

  Edward, for the moment, was not sorry to be remaining in port; the devastation and carnage of his last cruise still lingered in his mind. But he did come aboard United States to say goodbye to me and his childhood friend, Stephen Decatur. His wishes were heartfelt, as was his desire to see us return safely and victorious.

  Flags whipped in the cool air and guns reverberated across the harbor as the four vessels sailed past Castle Island, fired salutes and received them in return. Those sailors in United States, not suffering from the ill effects of an excess of ardent spirits consumed the night before, offered huzzahs to the other ships and those ashore. Feelings were high and the grim determination was gone from our commander’s face; in it’s place was a smile, filled with eagerness, and hope. We would come back with glory!

  Within three days of our departure, Rodgers and Decatur had determined to separate and cruise independently, the President and her consorts heading to the east, while Decatur took United States and Argus to the southeast. The very next day, we sighted a sail.

  “She’s showing American colors, sir. Ship rigged she is and heading toward the west.” Willy O’Donahue reported to Henry when he returned from the masthead.

  “Very well, Mister O’Donahue. Advise the captain of our quarry, if you please.” Henry kept his own glass focused on the ship.

  “But, sir. She’s flying the American flag. Do you think they’re under false colors?” Willy looked to his superior for guidance.

  “Very possible, indeed. Quite common in these times of runners, the war, and all the smugglers that seem undeterred by our efforts. Now go and inform Cap’n Decatur, as I instructed you.”

  I stepped onto the quarterdeck from where I had been checking our stern chasers.

  “You think we might have something here, Henry? Or just some merchant heading home? I did not have the benefit of his long glass, but could make out the tops’ls of the vessel just above the horizon.

  “Who knows, Oliver? But with the cap’n chafing at his lines for a prize, we can ill afford to let anything get by us.”

  As if in confirmation of his eagerness, Decatur appeared, wearing his homespun shirt of some indeterminate color, loose trousers, and a straw hat. He had adopted the “uniform” as his at-sea wear, eschewing the standard uniform as too formal and confining. Midshipman O’Donahue followed close astern.

  “Well, Mister Allen. What have you found for us? A worthy prize?” Decatur picked up his glass from the rack and studied the stranger for more than a minute. Without removing the glass from his eye, he gave his orders.

  “I think she might well be American. Tops’ls and her t’gallants seem right. And surely not a warship. Let us close with her then fire a leeward gun to bring her to. We’ll see what she might be. And we’ll beat to quarters, if you please.” Decatur’s voice betrayed none of the emotion he surely must be feeling at the prospect of an engagement with a worthy adversary.

  The crew and officers echoed his enthusiasm, responding quickly to the Marine’s drum as it beat out the insistent call to battle stations. Topmen were in the rig ready for the order to shorten to battle sail even before the gun crews had all mustered. But first, the captain ordered more sail set in order to close the distance more rapidly.

  When we were about a cannon shot distant from the stranger, she responded to our leeward gun by heaving to as required. We shortened down, then backed the reefed topsails to heave to near at hand. The American flag on her mizzen gaff still fluttered in the easy breeze while her topmen, still aloft, gawked at us, as we did at them. She was obviously a merchant. Decatur kept our own crew at quarters, our guns run out, and ready for a ruse, should there be one. The merchant crew put over a boat in anticipation of being summoned to the frigate, and presently, it made it’s way across the half-mile of rolling sea to our side. All the while, Argus tacked back and forth, her guns an obvious threat, as if our own weren’t enough!

  “Mister Devon. Please take the quarter boat and a party of Marines and see what Captain Henderson might have aboard his ship.” Decatur ordered after he had spoken with the merchant’s nervous first officer who had climbed aboard the frigate, carrying his vessel’s papers.

  We watched as our boat made the side of Mandarin and Judd and his Marines clambered up her side. He made his way aft and disappeared from view; the Marines remained on deck, watching the sailors who lounged about waiting for the order to make sail. While not exactly pointing their muskets at any of the merchant seamen, it was easily seen that the Marines were ready for any surprise.

  Presently, Judd reappeared and waved. He held some papers aloft, but obviously we were unable to see them, even with the glass. He stepped onto our own deck after the quick boat ride from the merchant and strode purposefully to the quarterdeck.

  “She’s carrying fo
r British account, Cap’n. And has a large number of British licenses for grain to be shipped to Spain and Portugal. I brought them with me.” Judd handed the sheaf of papers to Decatur, who studied them closely.

  “It would appear, gentlemen, we have caught us a ‘runner.’ These we will hold,” he waved the papers in front of him, “and send her into Norfolk. Likely won’t sit well with the cap’n; he thought he was going to Philadelphia!” Decatur smiled.

  “Send for Mister Cochran, if you please.” The captain ordered his first lieutenant.

  Henry shot me a look, puzzled at the instruction, but quickly packed off the messenger to find Peter Cochran.

  “Sir? You sent for me?” Cochran was a bit breathless as he stepped onto the quarterdeck.

  “I did, Mister Cochran. As you know, we have stopped a merchant, American, but carrying contraband under British license. I am sending her to Norfolk, and putting you aboard to ensure that is where she indeed goes. You may gather your necessaries while I pen a letter to her commander.”

  Cochran was dumbstruck. Not only was he getting off the frigate, but he was heading for Virginia, only a short carriage ride from Washington City! A smile appeared then was replaced by a more serious, businesslike expression.

  “Aye aye, sir. I’ll see she gets into Norfolk. And perhaps, I should take the licenses, there, to the Secretary. He would want to know about them, I suspect.”

  “Yes, Mister Cochran. That is exactly what I had in mind. You think you might manage that chore for me?”

  “With pleasure, sir.” Cochran saluted smartly, tucked the papers carefully under his arm, and departed to get his “necessaries” together as instructed.