“Tell me, Putnam.” Madison reached up and placed a hand familiarly on Bliven’s shoulder as he pointed him to a chair. “Where shall we find men for your ship?”
Sufficient crew, thought Bliven darkly. The same old obstacle. “Can I not recruit enough men after I get to Charleston?”
“Well”—Madison extended the word in doubt—“Carolinians can show a fighting spirit, that is true enough. But they tend to come from the militia tradition. They fight when they want to, but then feel privileged to go home when they want to. I would not want to rely upon them on a long and hazardous voyage.”
All rose as Dolley Madison entered the room, trailed by a maid bearing a large chased silver service which she set with a tiny clatter on a mahogany sideboard. “Sit, gentlemen,” exclaimed Mrs. Madison, “sit, sit. I shan’t interrupt you.” Efficiently she placed milk and sugar on a low table among them and poured tea at the sideboard, distributing the cups, and each officer took milk and sugar as he pleased.
“Equally so,” continued Madison, “I have my doubts about our New England Federalists. They represent the commercial interests of that region, and their hostility to any thought of war borders on apoplexy.”
“Damn ’em,” spat Hull. “Dying party, they won’t last.”
“Yes,” acknowledged Madison, “but they are not dead yet. They are a minority, but they still wield enough power in the Congress to be troublesome, and the merchants they represent are willing to consider the loss of some ships, and the impressment of sailors, as a bearable cost of doing business.”
“Forgive me, sir!” cried Bliven. “That is several thousands of our seamen, enslaved for as long as the British choose to keep them so! That is no cost of doing business.”
Madison looked at him so long and so intensely that Bliven feared he had breached the etiquette in speaking out of turn. “I agree with you,” said Madison at last, “and for that very reason I am as wary of recruiting all our seamen from New England as I am of the Carolinas.”
“What is your solution, sir?” asked Hull.
“Mr. Hamilton?” Madison gestured. “You have the floor.”
“Gentlemen,” said Hamilton over his tea, “I need not tell you that we face a situation in which we hold few advantages. But one of our advantages is the British do not know how close we are to declaring war upon them. They merely count their thousand ships against our seventeen and assume that we will submit to whatever they require of us.”
And well they might, thought Bliven.
“You know also in recent years we have built or acquired gunboats to protect our harbors, to the number of about one hundred and seventy, sufficient to ward off light molestations.”
Gunboats, thought Bliven, which proved at Tripoli how useless they are against a real naval force.
“It will be some months before the British can deploy their naval strength against us, which gives us time to damage their merchant fleet considerably before they can respond. At this moment, our greatest concentration is in New York, where Commodore Rodgers has the President and the Hornet. Essex is with them but she needs repairs before she will be seaworthy. Presently they will be joined by the United States, the Congress, and the Argus. That is a considerable squadron—even more so, Captain Hull, when you leave here and join them with the Constitution.”
Hull nodded in agreement.
“Mr. Putnam,” Hamilton went on, “you will go with Captain Hull to New York. There you will undertake a recruitment effort. Post handbills, confer with local politicians to arrange patriotic gatherings. We will burnish some of that heroic luster you bore home from the Barbary War, and see if you can relieve us of the worry of manning these ships.”
Bliven smiled, more in doubt than in pleasure. “Yes, sir.”
“You will need about a hundred and thirty men for the Tempest, and Commodore Rodgers will make his needs known to you when you reach New York. The combined squadron of five sail, plus Essex if she’s ready, will sortie into the shipping lanes and work the maximum destruction you can, take as many prizes as you can, before the British can reply in force.”
And God help us when they do, thought Bliven. “And the Tempest, sir? What is our assignment?”
“Rodgers necessarily will have the only large squadron. All our remaining vessels will operate independently, or briefly in tandem as circumstances permit, to disrupt their shipping, take prizes, and avoid being forced into action against superior firepower.”
Bliven nodded soberly. “Yes, sir.”
“And of course,” said Hamilton, “we are working diligently to issue letters of marque to as many privateers as we can enroll.”
“Have you thoughts to offer, Commander Putnam?” asked Madison suddenly.
“Let us grant that the odds are unfavorable,” said Bliven slowly, “but they are not impossible. Your generation won the Revolution, Mr. President, by declining to fight by their rules. Your squirrel hunters hid behind trees, when necessary, and decimated those marching red columns. We may be able to do the same at sea.”
“And so, Commander, do you believe you have bravery equal to your uncle’s? Would you follow a wolf into its dark den with aught but a torch and a musket?”
Bliven considered it for a moment. “Yes, sir, if I had no alternative. I do believe I would have first tried to trick the animal into revealing itself and dispatched it in greater safety. But failing that, yes, sir, I believe I should have done what was required for the safety of others.”
“Well spoken, young man. Yes. Brains, and then bravery. That is what is needed.” Bliven caught Madison searching deep into his eyes. “Brains and bravery,” he continued softly. “And before my God, you shall have need of both.”
3
To War, Slowly
The carriage ride back to the Navy Yard was somber, until at last Commodore Barron remarked upon it. “Putnam, you do not have the air about you of a man who has just been promoted and given a command.”
The day had turned chilly, so that all three officers had their fore-and-aft bicornes tugged down almost to their ears. “I’m sorry, sir, I was thinking. If I am to go to South Carolina, I should try to call on Mr. Bandy’s wife and see if there is anything I can do for her. We are old friends.”
“Who?” asked Hull.
Bliven felt a wash of displeasure that Hull did not remember him. “That was Mr. Putnam’s fellow lieutenant,” said Barron, “who was lately pressed and taken from that commercial vessel.”
“Has anyone written to inform her of this, sir, do you think?”
Barron shook his head. “I doubt it, the news was just received. The government might well post it in the Intelligencer, but as he is no longer in the Navy, there is no official channel through which she would be informed. Perhaps you should write her a letter.”
“Yes, I will. I will.”
“Where are you staying, Putnam?” Hull asked suddenly.
“I have no idea,” said Bliven. “I left my sea bag at the Navy Yard, intending to inquire. Can you recommend a place?”
“Indeed I can, King’s Tavern on Ninth Street, quite nearby. It is substantial and comfortable, although mind you the board is not so fine as when Mr. Tunnicliff was the proprietor. I reside there myself when in town, as now, and I know they have a room that is available.”
At the Navy Yard they returned to the building from where they had started. “Gentlemen,” said Barron, “I believe this will adjourn us for the day, but pray do tarry a moment. We do not have your sailing orders yet, Putnam, but I do have something for you that we are anxious for you to give attention.”
Barron descended slowly, then turned and straightened himself to receive and return their salutes. “My aide will come out in a moment.”
That young officer handed Bliven a thick sheaf of collected documents, all wrapped in a heavy sheet of paper, watermarked and very white
, folded over and sealed with wax, which was impressed with an anchor. Bliven shot a quizzical look at Hull, who looked away as Bliven poked the bundle with some resistance down into his coat pocket.
“Walk on,” Hull said to the driver, “to the receiving station. Putnam, you can pick up your kit. Then on to King’s Tavern at Pennsylvania Avenue and Ninth Street.”
“Captain, when do we expect this war to commence?”
Hull shrugged. “Oh, there will be no great hurry to it. Nothing but preparation can occur without a declaration of war, and that must await the next session of Congress. Now, mind you, preparations will keep us well occupied.”
“When will you require me aboard the Constitution?”
“Oh, Lord.” Hull rolled his eyes. “Not soon. You will have plenty of time to go home and arrange your affairs as you need.” He laughed suddenly. “Believe me, the Navy does not wish to bring officers back to full-time pay until it is necessary.”
“Oh.” Bliven’s eyebrows rose. “I had not thought of that.”
“No, you would not think of that. There is something else this day that you did not think of, although it does you credit.”
Bliven searched his mind. “In good faith, sir, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Exactly my point. You are the first man I ever saw promoted whose first thought was not to find the nearest purser and obtain the insignias of his new rank.” Hull dug around in his coat pocket.
Bliven observed him closely, astonished, until Hull looked up and their eyes met, and Hull roared in laughter. “My God, Putnam, you are still so earnest!”
Bliven smiled broadly and looked away, shaking his head. In the moment he had forgotten that there indeed was no difference in the insignias between lieutenants commandant and masters commandant. “Very well, Captain,” he sighed. “You have caught me in your witticism. I own it. Well done.”
Hull was still wheezing in mirth as the barouche pulled to a stop at a massive but squat masonry structure, one central door and a window on either side, but nevertheless quite wide, a building of two stories, with two additional windows in the gable end, which faced the street. The multiple tall chimneys gave Bliven hope that he might obtain a room with a fireplace, for the cold damp promised frost in the morning. They descended, and inside the ground floor had a low ceiling thickly ribbed with massive joists, testifying to the weight of the building above.
At the sound of the door a weary-looking middle-aged man appeared from a store room.
“Good day to you, Mr. King!” boomed Hull. “This gentleman is Master Commandant Putnam, who requires a room for the night. I made bold to tell him you had one available, which I hope you have not filled in my absence.”
“Indeed not, Captain, I thank you for the reference. I will happily accommodate the gentleman.”
They found themselves at one end of a dim public room, and Hull slapped a silver half-dollar onto the desk. Bliven glanced down at it, always amused to see the same fat-busted female Liberty as on the silver dollar that Cutbush had him bite on in Naples. “We shall warm ourselves by the fire,” said Hull, “with two tankards of your ale, if you please, sir.”
“Right away, Captain, I shall draw your ale and then prepare the gentleman’s room.”
They took no notice of the three other men scattered about the room and they settled into two Windsor chairs near a broad, low-arching fireplace. Presently King set before them a wooden platter with two tankards of pewter, filled with dark foamy brew. “And what shall be your fare on this evening, King?”
“A fine Virginia ham, Captain, if that will please you. With potatoes cooked in milk, and peas.”
“That will serve.” Hull nodded emphatically. “That will serve.”
“I find no defect in that bill of fare,” said Bliven, after King had left.
“No, indeed I may have spoken too critically.” Hull leaned back, obviously enjoying the fire and the ale. “Although, old Tunnicliff, my God, he had a conscience about food. He had a way with young cod, he served it in the Dutch way, split down the back and boned, broiled with butter—young cod, mind you, the most delicate flavor you can imagine. What is it?”
Hull had caught Bliven smiling broadly at him. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just thinking, upon this subject, how much you remind me of Commodore Preble.”
Hull threw his head back. “Ah, Preble. God, I miss Preble. Now, that man knew how to dine. No captain ever set a finer table.”
“No, indeed,” Bliven agreed. “And what other officer would have ever dared sail with his own chef?” They laughed. “The more cruel the irony, it was his stomach that killed him. Well, here is to him.” Bliven lifted his tankard.
Hull joined him. “The commodore.”
“How are things with the Constitution?” asked Bliven.
“Better,” answered Hull flatly. “Rodgers had her in Europe for four years. Four years! Can you imagine? The crew nearly mutinied, he brought her home nearly played out. They spent a hundred thousand refitting her before turning her over to me, and would you believe it? I took command and discovered no one had so much as looked at her bottom! She was a floating forest of weed and barnacles, they must have taken three knots off her speed. So I hove her down and had her scraped; they took off ten wagonloads!” Hull paused for a swig of ale. “First cruise I took her to Holland to make our specie payment to the Dutch. By God, I never sailed a vessel that handled so slick. Just got back in September. She’s ready, she will take on any assignment, but for one thing that does concern me.”
“Captain?”
“The crew’s enlistments are up. I must ship out with all new men.”
“No! It was not mentioned today.” That was a potentially crippling impediment.
“No, well, that’s why they are sending you to New York with me to find a crew for yourself; I must scour Washington and Baltimore for enough derelicts and farm boys to man the Constitution.” Hull caught himself. “I mean you no offense about the farm boys.”
“No offense taken, I assure you. We are in the same boat, as it were.”
Hull shook his head. “At least the Navy has put seven hundred more Marines in uniform, that more than doubles the service. Spread among us, we can at least maintain discipline.”
“True, but that does not change the odds of the contest. We have not a single line-of-battle ship; the British have more than a hundred. And even if they withhold them all and send only half their frigates, that is still their seventy against our ten.”
“Seven,” said Hull sourly.
Bliven paused. “Sir?”
“New York and Boston are not seaworthy; don’t breathe a word of that to anyone. Adams needs heavy repair, as I have said. If we go to war, it will be with seven frigates and eight sloops and schooners. It is all laid out in that great packet of papers bulging in your pocket there.”
“Indeed, sir? Will you, at last, tell me what is expected of me? I am still completely at sea concerning why I was even included in such a lofty gathering as today.”
Hull drew a long breath. “Putnam, I don’t know what you did to win such favor, but Preble, before he died, and Dale have urged it upon the Department—” He did not know how to finish the thought. “Brains and bravery, as Madison said, those are the words they used about you.”
“Oh, I see. Truly, sir, I had no hand in promoting myself to—”
Hull waved it off. “No, no, we know you didn’t. Eaton, too, he was in on it. But the war, if it comes, will be desperate. They want all the advice they can gather. The generals and commodores all have experience, maybe they think you will have a fresh look at things, see something new, or something they missed.”
“I see.”
“What you have in your pocket are the sum of our naval dispositions, harbor defenses, previous recommendations. When you get home to Connecticut and wait for orders, you are to
devise plans, contingencies, everything you can think of. Approach it like a school problem, like on your lieutenant’s examination.”
“That will be an almighty serious undertaking on which to apply myself.”
“Most serious,” agreed Hull.
“Which I am to perform while I am furloughed on half-pay?”
Hull turned his palms up helplessly.
Bliven felt a wave of impatience come over him—not disgust altogether, for he was not without sympathy for the country’s financial straits. “Is this not a remarkable circumstance? We are all but ready to empty the prisons to find common sailors, but to have too many officers to pay, well, now, that is a different matter entirely.”
Hull stared into the fire. “When you write a report, don’t send it to Hamilton at the Navy Department. We fear he is not long for the job.”
“I understand,” said Bliven.
“No, you don’t, really. I might as well tell you, we don’t trust him.”
“Sir?”
Hull chewed uncomfortably on his thoughts for a moment. “When all this British piracy first reached a crisis, Madison convened a cabinet meeting and asked their advice. Their advice, Putnam? Their official recommendation was that the entire Navy be laid up in ordinary, taken off the sea. That, they said, would prove our peaceful intentions to the British, and we could confide in their magnanimity to cease their depredations upon our merchant vessels.”
Bliven swallowed hard. “Good God, sir, you don’t mean it.”
“They went so far as to send orders to Rodgers not to sail from New York pending further orders. Well, Bainbridge and Stewart heard about it, and they came to Washington hot as boiling oil. They obtained an audience with Mr. President Madison, and they gave him such a broadside as he will never forget. I expect they believed that their careers were not worth a copper penny anyway. Well, sir, they carried the day, Madison agreed with them and overruled his cabinet, so we still have a Navy.”
The Tempest--Commander Putnam and Mr. Madison's War Page 7
