He had been so eager to fight this war, knowing full well that it could never return Felicity Crown, either to her parents or to the world of civilised behaviour, even if she were not already dead. And surely she must be already dead. Yet there had been the prospect of vengeance, of ending the scourge of the Barbary pirates for ever, of returning to America with a sense of something accomplished … instead of which he went each day about his duties, endlessly repetitive, endlessly boring, endlessly hot. Even in harbour they maintained the routine of a ship at sea, four hours on watch, four hours off, save for the dog watches between four and eight in the evening, when each watch had only two hours on duty, so as to rotate the duty times once every other twenty-four hours. But that was all the variety the system permitted, and whether you walked the quarterdeck from eight until midnight tonight, and midnight until four tomorrow night, made very little odds — you knew you would be on the eight to midnight shift the day after.
For the rest, there was breakfast at eight, then punishment drill. There had been few punishments on board Constellation. That had been a happy ship. But then, there had been few punishments on board Essex, until she had arrived in Sicily. The men had supposed they were going to fight. Instead, as they had nothing to do but sit around the ship, they became as bored as the officers, and began to quarrel and then to fight … and then to suffer the cat-o’nine tails.
Punishment over, there were the inspections to be carried out of decks and rigging and sails and guns and quarters. Then lunch. Luncheon over, there were the midshipmen and ship’s boys to be instructed in navigation and seamanship and boat handling. Then dinner. And then bed, if you were not on watch. With an exactly similar day to be anticipated on the morrow.
When given liberty ashore, he, like most of his shipmates, explored old Syracuse, gaped at the ruins of the Roman amphitheatre outside the town, and resisted the attempted flirtations of the dark-eyed Sicilian beauties — in this instance, unlike most of his shipmates. Perhaps there he was creating his own hell, but he did not think he could ever hold a woman in his arms again without vomiting, unless he had settled with the Barbary corsairs first, and thereby, he hoped, regained a modicum of his self-respect.
He sighed. ‘Two years, Stephen. Two years! I had supposed we came here to chastise the Dey of Tripoli, and rescue all those Americans held captive by him. Instead of which we have done nothing but swim and fish and paint our ships.’
Decatur’s lean, saturnine features broke into a savage smile. ‘Why, we have demonstrated off the African coast at least once a year, my dear Toby, and we have chased an occasional Tripolitanian vessel, without ever catching any of them, to be sure, and we have … why, we have sat at anchor here, and listened to the teredo worms nibbling at our bottoms. But I doubt not we have accomplished more than that — we must surely be the laughing stock of the world. It takes a good deal of effort to accomplish that.’
Toby glanced at him in surprise. He had never doubted that his senior felt the same frustration as himself, with more reason, as everyone knew how Thomas Truxton had asked for Decatur as his second captain and been refused by the Navy Board — or that he was as privately critical of the commodore. But he had never supposed he would hear the first lieutenant voice such opinions. Yet there could be no man in the entire squadron not aware by now that James Barron would far rather spend his time being entertained by the Sicilian magnates than navigating the dangerous shoals off the coast of Libya.
‘Still,’ Decatur said. ‘Surely one day …’
He straightened as the anchor watch called: ‘Vessel entering the harbour.’
Decatur levelled his telescope. ‘The Enterprise schooner, by God! She’ll have word from the President.’ He slapped his thigh. ‘I had no doubts that John Rodgers would stir things up.’
Rodgers, now promoted captain, had recently arrived to join the Mediterranean squadron, in command of the President, which was at least a sign that Washington was not altogether happy with their commodore’s inactivity. And Rodgers had insisted on keeping to the sea as much as possible, patrolling the passage between Malta and the mainland, even if he had not been able to persuade Barron to do likewise.
The commodore came on deck now, very smartly dressed in his shore-going uniform. ‘What is the commotion, Mr Decatur?’
‘The Enterprise schooner has returned, sir, in some haste, I would say,’ Decatur reported. Indeed the schooner had not even shortened sail until already inside the huge harbour, and now came surging by the anchored Essex, while her commander, Lieutenant Isaac Hull, used his speaking trumpet.
‘Ahoy, the Essex. President reports a large Tripolitanian fleet standing out from the harbour, destination eastbound.’
‘The devil,’ Barron muttered. ‘Bring your ship up, sir,’ he bellowed back. ‘Bring your ship up.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Does the fellow know no etiquette, careering about enclosed waters like that?’
‘A large fleet,’ Decatur said. ‘And east-bound. We’ll have time to intercept them, sir. This could be the opportunity we have been waiting for.’
‘Intercept a large fleet, Mr Decatur? Why, that could mean the Dey’s entire navy. We have two frigates, and that schooner.’
‘Not one of theirs is a match for ours, sir.’
‘I did not come here to hazard a third of the United States’ naval strength at such odds, Mr Decatur.’
‘Well, sir,’ Toby ventured. ‘If their entire fleet has sailed, might it not be possible to carry out a raid on the port itself? It can scarcely be adequately defended.’
‘By God, Toby, but you’re right,’ Decatur cried. ‘If we could get in there, bum his palace, free the captives …’
‘I wonder, gentlemen, if either of you will ever be fit for command,’ Barron remarked contemptuously. ‘Assault the port, indeed. Tripoli, Mr McGann, as a glance at the chart will show you, lies at the end of a channel through a large area of sandbanks. A channel for which we have no directions. We would have to feel our way in behind our boats, and that means there is no way we could achieve any kind of surprise, as they would see us coming long before we could approach them. And you suppose it is undefended just because some ships have left? There are forts in there, sir. Ships cannot assault forts with any hope of success. That has been proved too often in the past. Besides, I have a dinner engagement with Signor Martino Pucchini. There are important matters to discuss.’
‘But … the Enterprise is looking for orders, sir,’ Decatur said.
Barron looked at the schooner, hove to as sail was taken off. ‘When Mr Hull has properly moored his ship, Mr Decatur, thank him for his information, and then send him back to sea. Tell him my orders for President are that she should follow the Tripolitanian fleet, taking care not to be brought to action, and report back on its destination. That way we may well learn something of value. Why, they could be seeking allies, perhaps from Turkey itself. Now that would be an important development. Good-day to you, gentlemen.’ He went to the gangway, and his waiting gig.
*
‘Something of value,’ Decatur said in disgust. ‘Take care not to be brought to action, by God!’
‘Without those orders, I could have nobbled up at least half a dozen,’ John Rodgers agreed. ‘They had not been at sea five hours, but they were straggled all over the horizon. As for the port itself, so far as I could make out there was hardly a skiff left in there. We could have penetrated the harbour, I am certain. Oh, we would have had to take some shot, I will not argue with that. And the commodore is right historically: forts, well manned, have always proved too much for ships. But would those forts have been well manned? I suspect our cannon, properly aimed, would soon have discouraged the Moors.’ He sighed. ‘Ah, well, the chance is gone. The fleet is safely returned.’
‘With six prizes, you say?’ Decatur asked. ‘Including an American?’
‘Out of Athens. Aye, a sad business. With us virtually spectators.’
Toby had no opinion to offer, because he was angr
ier than either of the others. The American squadron was fast becoming the laughing stock of the world, especially now that the war between Great Britain and France, ended during their first year here, had been resumed with more ferocity than ever. In the midst of which mighty conflagration the three of them sat on the long sweep of shore which enclosed Syracuse Harbour and fished, their ships resting quietly at anchor before them. At fishing, they had become experts, the commodore, as usual, deeming that as the autumnal gales approached, his squadron was better off in sheltered waters than tossing about south of Malta.
It felt particularly galling to be here, overlooking the scene of several of the greatest sea battles of antiquity, when fleets of seventy and eighty triremes on each side — the Athenian bent on taking the city, the Syracusan bent on defending their home to the last breath — had fought each other to the bitter end. As Decatur had so angrily said last spring, the American squadron was fighting only the Teredo worms, and that was a battle the worms would certainly eventually win, unless the ships were to move.
But what was their alternative? James Barron apparently remained the choice of Congress to command the Mediterranean squadron, and conduct the war with Tripoli. For any one of them to resign his command in disgust and go home would be to end his career. Besides, Toby at least did not want to go home. He wanted to fight. It was rapidly becoming a case of wanting to fight anybody, not just the Dey of Tripoli.
But just to sit here, day after day and week after week and month after month …
‘Sail entering the harbour,’ came the distant cry from the lookout on the Essex.
‘That will be Enterprise, returning from patrol,’ Decatur said. ‘Hull may have news.’ Their fellow lieutenant, who commanded the schooner, was the only one of them in regular employment.
They packed their fishing baskets, collected their catches, and hurried along the shore to where the liberty boat waited. And paused to frown at the entrance through which there slowly moved a very large frigate. A smaller vessel followed her.
‘That’s a big one, by God,’ Rodgers said. ‘She almost looks like Constitution.’
‘She is Constitution!’ Decatur cried. ‘Give way, lads, give way. We’ve reinforcements.’
‘But look there,’ Toby shouted, even more excited. ‘She’s also flying a commodore’s broad pennant.’
*
‘Gentlemen.’ Captain Edward Preble came through the gangway of the USS Essex, saluted the quarterdeck, and then inspected the guard of honour Decatur had hastily assembled. ‘Stephen.’ He shook hands. ‘Good to see you.’
‘Welcome, sir, welcome,’ Decatur said. ‘But …’
‘You’ll know Captain Bainbridge; he commands Philadelphia.’ Preble, small and dark and intense, indicated the tall, thin man behind him. ‘John …’ he shook hands with Rodgers. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes. Toby McGann, by God! I knew your father.’ Another firm handshake. ‘And you’re a chip off the old block in more than just size, I’m informed. Tom Truxton sends you all his best regards. By God,’ he said again, ‘but you’ve a hot sun in these parts.’
‘And enervating,’ remarked William Bainbridge. ‘Apparently.’
‘I will confess, sir, that I am befogged,’ Decatur said.
‘I’ve despatches for your commanding officer,’ Preble explained, and looked right and left. ‘You do have a commanding officer?’
‘He is ashore, sir.’
‘He is returning now,’ Toby said, watching the captain’s gig pulling away from the beach.
‘Ah,’ Preble said. ‘I think it would be best we awaited him in the cabin. Mr Decatur, you’ll dismiss your people. Gentlemen, you’ll accompany me.’ Without waiting for a reply he marched across the deck to the companion-way, Bainbridge following him.
Toby, Decatur and Rodgers exchanged glances, and then looked across the waters at USS Philadelphia, a sister to both President and the Essex, as they all were to the Constellation, and then at the bulk of the USS Constitution, the biggest ship in the Navy, beyond. The fact was, whatever the mystery behind Preble’s unannounced arrival, and he was second only to John Barry in seniority in the Navy, they now had a very powerful frigate squadron in the eastern Mediterranean.
‘You’d best remain for the commodore,’ Decatur muttered to Toby, and led Rodgers below.
Toby dismissed the guard of honour, took his place with the boatswain to whistle their commanding officer on board. Barron had obviously left the shore in some haste, and did not look very pleased; his cheeks were flushed with wine and one of his jacket buttons was undone.
‘Well, sir, well?’ he barked as he came through the gangway. ‘That is the USS Constitution, Mr McGann.’
‘And the Philadelphia, sir,’ Toby agreed.
‘And what are they doing here, sir? Can you tell me that?’
‘Their captains are waiting for you below, sir. With despatches.’
‘But Constitution is flying a broad pennant. There is some mystery here.’
‘I am sure her captain will be able to explain it to you, sir,’ Toby ventured, scarce daring to believe what was becoming more apparent every moment.
‘Hm,’ Barron commented, and hurried to the companionway.
Toby went behind him. He did not intend to miss a moment of the coming confrontation.
‘James!’ Preble was on his feet behind the wardroom table, saluting and then extending his hand. The other officers stood to attention.
Barron ignored them as he stared at his visitor. ‘Captain Preble?’
‘In the flesh,’ Preble agreed, smiling as jovially as his tight features would permit.
‘I do not understand your presence, sir,’ Barron said.
‘Then sit down, James, sit down. I have a communication for you from Congress.’
For the first time Barron looked at the other four officers, acknowledged their presence with a nod, then slowly lowered himself into a chair before picking up the envelope Preble had placed before him. He looked at it for several seconds before finally slitting it. There was no sound in the cabin save for the gentle slurp of water beneath the rudder.
Slowly Barron raised his head; his flush had deepened. ‘I am to haul down my pennant,’ he said in amazed tones.
No one spoke.
‘I am accused of spending too much time in Italian ports,’ Barron said. ‘That is absurd. This is my home base.’
Still no one spoke.
After a moment the little man seemed to gather himself. ‘Well … I salute you, Captain Preble. And wish you success of your new command. May I ask which ship I am to take home?’
Toby held his breath.
‘I’m afraid no ship of this squadron can be spared, Captain Barron,’ Preble said. ‘I regret this sincerely. But if you will read further, you will see that those are the orders of Congress. You are to make your way across Europe and seek a passage from one of the German ports.’
Barron read the rest of the letter, opened his mouth, then closed it again and stood up. ‘I must see to my gear,’ he said, and left the cabin.
There were another few minutes of silence, then Toby said, ‘I feel very much like throwing my hat into the air.’
‘You will do no such thing, Mr McGann,’ Preble said sternly. ‘Occasions like this are the tragedies of a man’s career, and should be regarded with due respect. Captain Barron has had a distinguished record, up till now. Perhaps command of a squadron was beyond his capabilities, as indeed it may prove to be beyond mine …’ He looked from face to face, his eyes twinkling; they all knew he had already commanded a squadron, and had, indeed, in this same Essex, been the first United States commander to lead a ship beyond the Cape of Good Hope. ‘However,’ he continued, ‘I must carry out my orders as given me by Congress. We are at war, gentlemen, even if your recent inactivity may have caused you to doubt that fact. Captain Rodgers, I would like a resume of our operations against Tripoli during the past two years.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Rodgers replied. �
��Each summer there has been a distant blockade of the port itself …’
‘A distant blockade, Mr Rodgers?’
‘From twenty to fifty miles off the coast, sir, according to the weather.’
‘Do you consider such a blockade to have been effective, Mr Rodgers?’
Rodgers shook his head. ‘Not in the least. There are sufficient inshore channels which the Tripolitanians used freely to come and go.’
‘I see. Continue. Have there been no actions?’
‘We have pursued Tripolitanian squadrons on several occasions,’ Rodgers said. ‘But always without bringing them to battle.’
‘Are their ships so much faster than ours?’
‘No, sir. But they have always sought shelter amidst the sandbanks which encumber the coast, and into which Captain Barron prohibited our venturing for fear of stranding.’
‘I see,’ Preble said again. ‘Go on.’
‘There was one occasion, this spring, when the entire Tripolitanian fleet ventured forth, but we confined ourselves to shadowing it …’ He shrugged. ‘For the rest, we have fought a continuing war with the teredo worm.’
‘I see,’ Preble remarked a third time, and again scanned their faces. ‘Well, gentlemen, I have to inform you that I did not sail five thousand miles to fight worms. These are my orders, which are to be implemented immediately: all shore leave is from this moment cancelled, all liberty boats are to be recalled, and any man not on board his ship by sunset will be posted a deserter. All victualling is to be completed by sunset, all preparations for sea completed by midnight. This squadron will weigh anchors at dawn and proceed to sea.’ Another glance around the cabin. ‘Every ship and every man in this squadron, gentlemen. Now go about your duties.’
Toby and Decatur clasped hands as they reached the deck. ‘Hurrah,’ Toby said. ‘Oh, hurrah.’
The Sea and the Sand Page 10
