“How strong is their control over that coast? Would, and could, they fight for it?”
Russell paused, understanding the latent consequences of his answer and how it would be viewed in London.
“Their day-to-day control is not strong, but they could reinforce rapidly and, yes, they would fight, even against us or our surrogates. Latin honor would compel them. Remember, sir, Symons was one of our surrogates in their eyes when he originally arrived there and fought against them for independence of the area.” Russell stopped as he saw Forester’s objection coming, held up a finger and continued. “Yes, sir, I know that London did not officially support the Moskito coast uprising last year, but no one in Managua believes that.”
“Could the English settlers hold off the Nicaraguans?”
“Not without our help, Commodore, and even then it would be a protracted conflict in a terrible jungle. Diseases would wipe out large numbers of our men.”
Forester grew pensive, remembering similar wars, then nodded his head in agreement. “And your assessment of the feasibility of a solely British canal in Nicaragua, Captain?”
“Not good, Commodore. The Panama route would be easier, but if London is determined on a Nicaraguan route, I think it should be a joint project with the Americans, as the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty envisioned as a possibility. I hear that President Grant is very interested in not having an outside power controlling that canal, for it would be the sea route to their western states.”
Forester regarded Russell quizzically for a moment. Then he spoke without smiling. “Your opinion of Americans seems to have changed lately, Captain Russell. I remember it was not so long ago when you commented that they weren’t as much competent as they were lucky. Overrated, I believe you said.”
Russell thought about that and realized that his opinions about a lot of things had changed in the last month. “Yes, sir. I was wrong. Now that I have seen them in action, I would never underestimate the Americans, Commodore,” admitted Russell. He thought of his friend Wake and the difficult decisions that man had made.
“Especially their navy . . .”
***
Wake opened the dark blue Navy Department pouch Collmer handed him, noticing that the seal appeared unmolested, and pulled out two envelopes. One was addressed to him personally from the secretary of the navy. The other was to Captain Parker Terrington, which Wake would have to deliver. He opened his as Collmer sifted through other papers on his desk.
Getting past the usual official introductory language, Wake read the main body of the missive.
Lieutenant Wake,
In response to your report of June 1869, sent from Panama through Jamaica—you are hereby ordered to bring the USS Canton back to a United States port, taking care to document all of your previous and subsequent actions and those of your men.
Upon arrival at such port, Captain Terrington and you are ordered to travel by the most expedient means possible and present yourselves, and the aforesaid documentation to this office. Lieutenant John Connery will assume command of Canton at that point in time. Your request for a Court-Martial decision is granted de facto, as it would be ordered in the event, regardless of your wishes.
The Department looks with great dismay upon the events of Captain Terrington’s removal from command, and expects that this unprecedented, and embarrassing, action on your part will be accompanied by overwhelming evidence.
This directive is being sent to all ports within your region. Upon receipt you will instantly send a response describing your immediate compliance with the aforementioned order, the first United States port you intend to arrive at, and the estimated date of said arrival.
Until you come under the direct control of a superior officer who can assess the situation, the Department expects you to maintain a respectful relation with Captain Terrington, and accord him all of the rights and privileges accustomed to his rank.
Wake felt the blood draining from his face. He expected this kind of response, but still, actually seeing it was chilling. The directive was signed by the secretary of the navy himself, but it was a different one, someone named Robeson. Wake had never heard of him.
Wake looked up to see Collmer observing him.
“Mr. Collmer, I will need to send off some communications to the Navy Department as soon as possible, then make arrangements to get the ship reprovisoned and recoaled. I want to be under way tomorrow, at the latest.”
Collmer was surprised. “Leaving that fast? Well, yes, we can do that, Lieutenant. It’s very unusual, though.” He smiled while watching Wake’s eyes. “Here in the tropics things often go at a slower pace.”
“The situation is complicated, Mr. Collmer. I am sure you know of the unfortunate events regarding Captain Terrington,” Wake paused as Collmer nodded neutrally, “and I have been ordered to expedite my return.”
“Then we will assist all we can, Lieutenant.” A look of concern began to show on Collmer’s face. “You can write out the telegraph message, and I will have it sent immediately via the new cable to Havana, thence by ship to Mobile for further telegraph. And I wish you good luck in those distressing professional matters.”
The consular official continued, now smiling as if nothing unpleasant had just been discussed, “While I have you here, can you give me intelligence of the situation in the Central American region? I am particularly interested in Panama and Nicaragua and your candid assessment of the . . . atmosphere . . . there among the expatriate Americans and British, if you would be so kind.”
Wake grew wary of the man in front of him who could hide any indication of personal emotion or opinion. He’s like a professional card player—always receiving information and never sending it, Wake thought, as he gave his opinion of the confusing scene in the Isthmus, where nothing ever was as it first appeared.
Ironically, it turned out to be an assessment quite similar to the one that Captain Rodney Russell had already given his superior half an hour earlier, suggesting cooperation with the British instead of competition.
***
While still at anchor on the following day’s afternoon, a grim-faced Connery came to Wake in his cabin and reported he had urgent information from shore. After just dealing with Terrington’s complaining for the third time that day, Wake was in no mood for bad news, but told Connery to come out with it.
“Sir, two things to report. First, the coaling is done, finally. The ship is ready in all respects for sea. The second is bad news, sir. Very bad news.”
Wake braced himself, wondering what was next. “Go ahead.”
“Symons evidently struck several ships in the last couple of days. Two are known destroyed with no survivors and there are two missing that should have arrived here—”
“Where, John! Where were they?”
“Right here, sir. On the south coast of Jamaica.”
Wake was stunned. “Good Lord. He hit here.”
“Commodore Forester has asked for you to come to Admiralty House immediately, sir.”
“Yes, of course,” said Wake absently, his mind working the new possible locations Symons could have gone. “While I’m gone I want Canton hove short, steam built up and ready to get under way the moment I am back aboard.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
***
Wake could tell that Commodore Forester was enraged but attempting to stay calm. The man’s face was dark-hued and his voice level. There were no niceties upon arrival.
“Lieutenant Wake, come in and please sit down. You know everyone.”
Wake did as asked, sitting at a table with a chart of the Caribbean spread out on it. Russell was there and, to Wake’s pleasant surprise, also Monteblanco. They nodded their hellos but said nothing. He hadn’t seen his Venezuelan friend since the morning of their arrival in Kingston, when he had left for his country’s consula
te. Next to the somber-looking Royal Navy commodore, Forester’s young flag lieutenant stood nervously in the corner with arms crossed behind him, waiting for orders.
The commodore wasted no time, calling the lieutenant forward to present his information.
“Yes, sir. Gentlemen, I am Lieutenant Stonewell. Here is the situation as it has unfolded and we know it. This morning we were notified by fishermen that two schooners were seen burning about ten miles off Portland Point, and just twenty miles southwest of Kingston. When the lifesaving cutter got there they found both vessels burned to the waterline with debris and bodies in the water. The bodies had bullet holes. No one was found alive. The cutter spoke with a brigantine in the area who saw a steamer moving from that area northward, in toward shore. And a small sloop found debris off Starve Gut Bay, by Black River, that had the name Colón American on it. All of this happened this morning. A coastal alert has been sent out around the island.”
Russell interrupted. “Description of that steamer, Lieutenant?”
“Nothing other than single stack, schooner rig, no square sails on the foremast.”
Russell glanced at Wake, who raised an eyebrow as Stonewell continued.
“There’s more, gentlemen. A steamer, the Diana, bound from Belize to Kingston, had been registered by the observers when she made Negril Point on the west end several days ago. She should have been in the harbor here at least two days ago. She’s missing, and she matches the general description of the steamer from this morning.”
Stonewell took a breath and went on. “We also have a schooner missing from Savannah la Mar on the west end of the island. She was bound to Kingston also. Should have been here two days ago.
“Our analysis is that the Colón American has sunk and the pirates have transferred to another vessel. Most likely the steamer Diana.”
Stonewell ended his report and backed away as Forester spoke.
“All right, gentlemen. I have asked you all here for your opinions of this information. The three of you understand this Symons fellow better than anyone else. Do you think it’s him?”
Russell answered first. “It sounds like him, sir, but have we checked to make sure it’s not a repeat of sixty-five and another uprising?” He saw Wake’s questioning look and explained.
“Peter, in eighteen sixty-five there was an uprising here that got so bad the island lost its status as a self-legislative colony and was reverted to a crown colony, governed by appointed governors. I was just thinking that might be a possibility—that the anarchic types who did that might have tried again.”
Lieutenant Stonewell answered quickly. “No. We thought of that too. No indications ashore of that at all.”
“Very good, Lieutenant. Well, Commodore, we haven’t had any piracy here for a long time, so I think it’s Symons,” said Russell. “No doubt.”
Monteblanco agreed, adding, “He has nowhere to go to the south. He is heading to new areas. Target-rich areas.”
“Thank you, Don Pablo. I value your opinion, and also thought you had a right to know the situation,” said Forester, who then turned to Wake. “Lieutenant, what’s your opinion of this?”
“It’s him. He’s displaying his prowess. But how many ships does Symons have now? And where is he headed?”
“Precisely the questions we need to answer, gentlemen,” said Forester. “Now, here is what we in the Royal Navy intend to do. I realize that you are in a difficult position, Lieutenant Wake, with serious obligations to return to your country, but perhaps you might assist in a minor way.”
“Of course, Commodore. I’ll assist in any way that I can,” responded Wake while wondering how Forester knew of his orders. Was nothing secret in the Caribbean?
“Excellent. Here is the plan,” explained Forester as he pointed at various locations on the chart. “Captain Russell will take Plover out to sea after the meeting has concluded. He will work his way west along the coast, circumnavigating the island clockwise. HMS Harpford is at Falmouth Harbor on the north coast. They received a telegraph from me to commence a search starting there and working clockwise as well, around to Kingston. In addition, all cutters in Her Majesty’s Excise Service and all the lifesaving boats have put to sea and are scouring the coasts of the island.”
Forester then turned to Wake. “And if Lieutenant Wake could be so kind as to examine the southeast coast and east end of the island while he is transiting homeward, we would be greatly in debt. I understand sir, that your ship is ready to get under way at this time.”
Wake tried not to show his amazement at Forester’s knowledge. “Yes, sir. I will weigh anchor upon the conclusion of the meeting and will be honored to assist by checking the coast along my way.”
Forester looked at all of them. “Then it is a plan, gentlemen. Let us make it happen as soon as possible.”
Monteblanco raised a hand and asked, “Commodore, what will you do if you find he has gone from Jamaica?”
“My first concern is to protect Her Majesty’s Crown Colony of Jamaica, Don Pablo. After that,” admitted Forester with obvious frustration, “I don’t have a bloody notion of where the bastard is or how we’ll get him.”
38
La République de Mort
August 1869
Staying inshore, Canton examined all vessels along the southeast coast of Jamaica while on their way home. Out of the thirty-one ships they observed from Kingston Harbor to Morant Point at the eastern end of the island, four steamers looked suspicious enough to send boarding parties. The captains were quickly told that the American warship had special permission from the Royal Navy and were shocked when told that piracy had occurred in the area. All of the steamers were legitimate, however, and none had pertinent information.
The atmosphere aboard Canton was tense. All aboard knew that Wake faced charges of mutiny and that the court-martial would end in the humiliation of one man or the imprisonment of the other. It was a voyage unlike any other in the memories of the officers and men, and no one made jest of the matter.
The day they left Kingston, Wake delivered the envelope to Terrington, who was looking worse than ever. He had started to eat again, broth and porridge, but his body had undergone stark changes. Sunken eyes stared out from hollow cheeks the color of old parchment. The voice was merely a croak and the man was unsteady on his feet.
Terrington’s hands had shaken as he fumbled with the envelope, finally getting it open, then holding it to his chest so that Wake could not see the contents. Wake had excused himself, glancing at Terrington when he left the cabin. The man was sitting on his berth, bent over with the paper close to his face, mumbling as he read the contents. It had been pitiful and disgusting, Wake remembered the next day as he climbed the after ladder to get some fresh air.
The engine, boilers having been temporarily repaired at Kingston, was pushing them at an easy eight knots into the swells from the east. Looking around the darkening horizon he saw nothing but the small puffy clouds of the trade winds and the panoramic display of a Caribbean sunset. Normally he would revel in the sight, but he was not in the mood.
Their course would take them to the area of Cap Dame Marie, Haiti’s southwesternmost point of land. From there they would head north into the Windward Passage, rounding Cuba and heading to Key West, the nearest United States port. His report to the secretary of the navy had estimated their time of arrival at a week or so, in late July. A week in which to ponder his fate, Wake rued, and to go over all his decisions and see where he had gone wrong in the chase for Symons.
Every decision seemed at first glance to be the wrong one. But the one to go to northeast Nicaragua had been the right one after all, hadn’t it? And there had been some success, for two out of Symon’s three vessels were destroyed, albeit one by the mysterious means of the Cuna Indians. The price of the Nicaragua decision to split their force had been steep, but still
, Wake felt that it had been correct, based upon what they had known at the time.
All in all, he told himself, he had conducted the operation as well as anyone could have, so the court-martial would not find fault there. The decision to relieve Terrington was another matter though, one that would be harder to justify in the calm, safe rooms of the Navy Department, three thousand miles away from where the events took place. That fight, Wake knew, would be the toughest of his life, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now.
He wondered what was in the orders for Terrington and concluded they were probably a near copy of his own. But what would Terrington be thinking? It would be hell on him too, probably worse because of the humiliation already suffered at his addiction being made public knowledge.
The sky was painted a faint pink, the molten copper sun having disappeared. Wake breathed in the salt air and felt it calm him. Come what may, he had no regrets. Terrington had brought it on himself.
***
Diana was a good little ship, El Gringo Loco decided. Not as fast as the Panama packet had been, but fast enough, and useful for his purposes. The quarry along Jamaica had all succumbed quickly once he rammed alongside at the last minute, after hailing them to come close for a friendly gab. Usually within seconds he could have enough men aboard the other vessel to persuade them to surrender. Not that that did them any good, he reflected with a laugh. The stupid dupes thought he would let them go in their ships’ boats! What fools. He didn’t even keep their ships afloat, so why would he keep them alive?
But the really delicious part was that he was making the vaunted Royal Navy look incompetent. He could just imagine the senior officers raging about it now in Kingston. Hit them in their own backyard, just like those Confederate raiders hit us in New England in ’63. And thinking of that—where was dear brother Parker Terrington and the U.S. Navy? Probably still in Cartagena, he imagined, looking in vain for the Abuela.
The Limeys would, of course, thoroughly scour the lower Caribbean, every bay and river, every island. But El Gringo Loco wouldn’t be there, for there were much greener fields in which to hunt. When his men finally figured out where they were going they had cheered, for they would make a lot of money off the fat targets in this part of the world, and those dusky girls were all right for what they needed too. The main shipping route for the Caribbean ran right past their new lair, and no one would know their location, for their lair was a place that no one wanted to go. In fact, everyone went out of their way to avoid it.
A Dishonorable Few (The Honor Series) Page 26
