‘Everything to do with you is of concern to me, Felicity,’ he told her. ‘At any time. Tell me.’
‘Well …’ Still she hesitated. ‘I’ll confess I was upset by an odd occurrence this spring.’
His frown returned. ‘What odd occurrence?’
‘Well … three men came to Long Island, and … well … they were seen riding round the farms. They were sort of inspecting everything. And they asked a lot of questions of the hired hands.’
His frown deepened. ‘Three men? Inspecting the farms? By God, they must have been English spies, I’ll wager. Planning an assault.’
‘Your father thought so, too, and sent a report to New York. And indeed, Long Island has been fortified, so there seems little prospect of any attack succeeding. Nor is there sufficient there to make it worthwhile.’
‘There’s a relief,’ he said. ‘I have been worried about you, I’ll confess.’ He gazed at her. ‘But that’s not all you have to tell me.’
‘It is all,’ she insisted. ‘Except that … I don’t think they were English spies. Two of them were most certainly Americans.’
‘Which, unfortunately, doesn’t prove a thing. What of the third?’
She left the bed to stand by the window and look down at the street. ‘He was a dark man.’
‘A Negro, you mean?’
‘No, not a Negro. But an African, I am sure. I only saw him at a distance, but I thought he looked like a Moor.’
‘A Moor?’ He leapt out of bed to join her. ‘It is only a supposition.’ She leaned against him as his arm went round her. ‘I still have nightmares, you know.’
‘I know.’ His arm tightened. ‘A Moor, in Long Island? You should have had the fellow arrested.’
‘For being a Moor? Anyway, they are gone, and as I said, we are now fortified and there are soldiers everywhere. It’s just that … the questions the men asked were less about the farms, it seems, than about me. Whether I ever travelled, how old were the children, and so on. When I heard that, I was frightened. I thought of Mohammed ben Idris. If I supposed he might wish to harm the children I’d …’ she sighed. ‘I wonder if he is still alive.’
‘Yes,’ Toby said grimly. ‘I have heard a report that he is still alive, and even prospering. How I wish I had settled the fellow there and then in Tripoli.’ He turned her into his arms and held her close. ‘But not even Mohammed ben Idris can harm you, here in America. Especially on Long Island. Or the children,’ he added as an afterthought.
And in fact he did not have any doubts on that score himself, even supposing the Vizier still remembered the girl who had been snatched away from him — which was unlikely.
But never had he been so anxious for this war to end, and enable him to resume his life at the farm, watching over them.
The very day after he rejoined the ship, he was summoned aft. Bainbridge had by now been replaced as captain, in accordance with the Navy Board’s policy of reassigning their captains every year, by Charles Stewart, who was only two years older than Toby himself, and had gained a considerable reputation during the French war. Until recently he had been captain of the old Constellation, but had been so tightly blockaded in Norfolk, Virginia, by the British that he had not as yet actually been to sea, and was obviously hoping to do better with Constitution.
With him in the captain’s cabin was McDonough.
‘Close the door, Toby and sit down,’ Stewart invited.
Cautiously Toby obeyed and lowered himself into the chair before the table, facing the officers. Stewart was one of the few of his contemporaries he did not know very well; they had never served together, and although he had been in the Mediterranean, as executive officer of Constellation in 1805, he had arrived just as Toby had been leaving — to disgrace.
‘Have you heard the news from Europe?’ the captain asked.
‘I have heard rumours, sir.’
‘Well, I can tell you that there appears to be the most tremendous overturn in events going on over there. Why, only two years ago, if there was one thing in this world of ours that seemed eternal, it was the grip that Napoleon Bonaparte had on Europe. Now it seems clear that the invasion of Russia last year was every bit as disastrous as rumour had it at Christmas; people are saying that only six thousand men of the Grand Armee, which had started out at six hundred thousand strong, remember, ever regained France. And this year has seen nothing but a series of French defeats, culminating in an immense battle at Dresden in Germany, last month, in which the French were opposed by just about every other nation on the continent. And were soundly beat. Added to that, Wellington’s British army has just about conquered all of Spain, and is getting ready to cross the Pyrenees. Our agents over there are suggesting that Bonaparte may well have to accept a negotiated peace if he is going to save France from invasion. I need hardly tell you what such a development would mean to us.’
‘It would mean, sir, that Great Britain would be free to devote all of her men and ships to fighting us.’
McDonough nodded. ‘We are talking of more than a thousand ships of war, remember. And in addition, this time we shall not be fighting hired mercenaries commanded by men who were more than a little sympathetic to our cause. Britain now boasts an army of tried professionals the equal of any in the world; her people are inured to twenty years of war — and we challenged them in the first instance.’
Toby smiled. ‘That could be said to have been one of Congress’s many errors of judgment.’
Stewart coughed. ‘You may well be right, Toby, but that does not alter the fact that we are likely soon to be fighting for our lives.’ Toby waited. He had no idea why he was being included in such a discussion.
‘Now,’ Stewart continued, ‘our masters in Washington feel, and I suspect that in this instance they may very well be right, that if the British do decide to fight this war with all of their strength, they will adopt roughly the same strategy as they did in the War of the Revolution, and while they will most probably assault both the Atlantic seaboard and the south, will make their main effort down the line of the Hudson, to shatter the New England States. In effect, to complete what Burgoyne started thirty-seven years ago.’
‘Burgoyne was stopped and forced to surrender, sir,’ Toby pointed out.
‘It was a badly bungled campaign,’ Stewart agreed. ‘But one which has been extensively analysed since. And all the mistakes Burgoyne made are on file at the British Ministry of War, you may be sure of that. And as I have said, I fancy that this time we will be opposed by somewhat sterner stuff, both as regards men and commanding officer. However, Congress has also shown some ability to profit by past mistakes, especially since they have got rid of Armstrong as War Minister. They recall that Harrison’s recapture of Detroit was only made possible by Perry’s victory over the British squadron on Lake Erie, and have concluded, again rightly in my opinion, that no British army can come down the Hudson if we retain command of Lake Champlain, which that army, or at least all of its transport, would have to cross.’ He looked at McDonough, who took up the tale.
‘There are actually no naval craft at all on Lake Champlain at this moment, Toby. And of course there is no means of transporting any there through the wilderness. There is an American army dug in around Plattsburg, on the west shore of the lake, but it is felt that this force is insufficient to withstand a determined British thrust. I have therefore been commanded by Congress to proceed there as quickly as possible, and construct a squadron of large gunboats, with which it is hoped we can deter any British attempts at invasion. To do a Perry, in fact. I assume I have been chosen because I qualified in shipbuilding as a midshipman. Now, Toby, I would be most pleased if you would accompany me.’
Toby looked at Stewart.
‘I have agreed with Mr McDonough’s request that you be allowed to volunteer, Toby. I shall be sorry to lose you, to be sure, but I, and I am sure every officer in the Navy, feel that you have been hard done by through Congress’s refusal to reinstate you to your former ran
k. Nor do I see how any change in your situation can be affected while we languish here, cooped up by the British. Here is a chance of further distinction.’
‘Hewing wood,’ Toby remarked, but without rancour. The idea was most attractive. It would almost be like clearing land on the farm.
‘Hewing wood in defence of your country.’ McDonough reminded him. ‘And I may add, that at a distance from any political control, out there in the wilderness, I may make my own appointments. Agree, and you are acting second lieutenant on this instant.’
‘You should also consider,’ Stewart put in, ‘that should the British attempt that invasion route, you could well find yourself in one of the most decisive theatres of this war.’
‘Oh, I volunteer, sir,’ Toby said. ‘I enjoy hewing wood. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see the wilderness.’
And he’d had more than enough of being confined to Boston, and even the old Constitution herself.
Neither Toby nor Tom McDonough had the slightest idea of the immensity of the task they were being asked to undertake. ‘Hurrah!’ Toby wrote to Felicity. ‘I am being sent off into the forest to cut down trees and shoot bears and have a taste of the pioneering life. After these long weary months in Boston, relieved only by your visit, my own dear heart, I feel like a boy let out of school. You may now rest your mind in peace, as I am being removed so far from any theatre of war.’ There was no need to tell her of the fears Congress had of an English invasion.
He soon discovered that the reality was a good bit different to his imagination of it.
In the first place, they found out that the five hundred men McDonough was to command had been very hastily assembled. Some hundred of the men were experienced seamen, garnered from the various blockaded American ships — there were four other volunteers permitted from the Constitution herself. But the remainder had never been to sea in their lives. Congress apparently felt that patrolling a lake was a service which could be carried out quite adequately by any man capable of handling a boat on a river. As these ‘volunteers’ were also basically militia, it was obvious that discipline was going to be a problem. Fortunately, amongst those volunteering from the Constitution was Toby’s old friend Boatswain Barclay, who promised to be a tower of strength.
In the second place, while they were told they could expect an endless supply of fine timber around the lake, they could expect almost nothing else; the army at Plattsburg was itself short of supplies. Thus all the guns the naval force might need, all the powder and shot, all the food and sidearms, had to be transported up the Hudson in a long raft of small boats, at the oars of which their men had immediately to prove their worth as they toiled against the fast-running current.
At the least they proved that they could row, however much they grumbled. But by then McDonough and Toby had other things on their minds, principally with regard to their guns. As no heavy cannon could be spared, these consisted entirely of light calibre, long-range culverins. ‘Culverins, to fight on a lake,’ McDonough remarked in disgust.
In the third place, the journey was considerably longer than Toby had estimated, as they pulled their way past the fortress of West Point on its bluff overlooking the river, thence almost due north into the woods until they reached the villages of Albany and Schenectady. North of Schenectady the wilderness really began, as they followed the valley between the Green Mountains to the east and the Adirondacks to the west, surrounded now on either side by primeval forests which loomed above the river, silent and hostile. Every man of the expedition was well aware that the Indians supported the British, even if they could also feel that five hundred well-armed men were too formidable a body to be attacked.
By now all the provisions with which they had left New York had been consumed, but the river so teemed with fish, as the woods did with game, that they never went hungry, while there was all the water they needed to drink.
It surprised Toby to realise that although he had lived in America since the age of three he had never truly understood the immensity of the country, as day succeeded day with hardly a change of scenery, hardly an indication that they had travelled at all during the previous twenty-four hours — save for their blistered hands and aching backs. And places like Buffalo and Detroit were another several hundred miles to the west, although still within the boundaries of the United States.
At last they came to rapids, and were forced to leave the river. ‘It is only twenty miles from here to the lake,’ McDonough told them encouragingly. ‘That is not far.’
It was a huge distance, as they had to carry everything with them, boats and cannon included. The men cursed and swore as they covered perhaps two miles in every day, an advance guard hacking a path through the woods while the remainder toiled over the long cables which dragged the boats. Tempers flared, and Toby and Barclay had to use their fists more than once to quell an incipient mutiny.
‘One day, perhaps, there will be a canal linking the Hudson with the lake,’ McDonough suggested.
‘If there is ever sufficient traffic to make it worthwhile,’ Toby countered. ‘We would not want to build one purely for the use of the British whenever they feel like invading us.’
It took them more than a week to reach the southern end of the lake, and then they could not help but wonder if they were actually merely approaching another river. The stretch of water in front of them was certainly wider than the headwaters of the Hudson, but was still bounded on either side by the thickly clustered trees. Soon they passed the famous old fortress of Ticonderoga, now virtually abandoned, then had to pull another thirty miles before Champlain opened in front of them into a truly magnificent body of water.
Now the trees were distant, and the fish seemed to wish to leap into the boat. Nights and days were silently splendid, the harvest moon leaving the hours of darkness almost as bright as noon.
‘This is a paradise,’ Tom McDonough exclaimed. ‘We could be the only men in the world.’
Next day they saw their first elk, standing by the water to drink, and so unused to humanity that he merely raised his regally antlered head and stared at the boats as they rowed by, then resumed drinking.
They proceeded up the lake until they reached the narrows caused by Grand Isle to starboard and Cumberland Head to port. In the bay created and protected by Cumberland Head on the west shore of the lake, they found the new sprawling American fortress of Platt-sburg, and were welcomed by its commander,
General Alexander Macomb, who regarded the by now somewhat ragged seamen with distaste.
‘Aye,’ he acknowledged, when McDonough presented his credentials and the letter from Congress outlining the situation as it was seen in Washington, ‘I have heard the rumours. But there is naught going on out there. The British have a post at Rouses Point, that is only fifteen miles away, but I am content that they should stay there. ‘Tis only a further twenty-odd miles to Montreal, and I have no desire to stir them up. I have a mere four thousand five hundred men under me here, Mr McDonough. Fifteen hundred of them are described as regulars, but they have never fired a shot in anger, save at the odd bear or stealing Indian. The other three thousand are militiamen who will probably turn tail at the sight of a red coat. I need all the time I can manage to turn them into fighting soldiers. So you’ll keep your men under control.’ He eyed Toby’s bulk, as if suspecting that here was a natural born berserker.
‘I am here to build a squadron, sir,’ McDonough assured him. T certainly have no intention of engaging anyone until that is done, at the least.’
‘Not even then, sir,’ Macomb barked, ‘without orders from me.’
‘He could be difficult,’ McDonough confided to Toby that evening. ‘But we have enough to keep us busy throughout the winter without locking horns with the military.’
He had considered the problems with which he was faced in considerable detail, and most nights on the journey up from the coast he and Toby had discussed their best course of action; their thoughts were confirmed by what they fou
nd on reaching the lake. Although there was a good deal of deep water, and to control the entire area it would be necessary to have some true ships available, there were also many shoal areas, with only a few inches above the bottom. In addition, the winds playing over the lake, so far from the sea, were for the most part light and variable — although there could be sudden squalls of frightening ferocity.
But they had to accept the possibility that when the time came for action, they might be left with no means of manoeuvre save for oars. They therefore determined to reach back into history, and build a dozen galleys, flat bottomed and fast in even calm conditions, with which they could patrol every inch of the lake. As their main defences, they chose to go for four sloops of war, the biggest to mount twenty-six guns, which in fact made her into a very small frigate. That would give them a squadron of sixteen ships, which was the maximum number they could man or arm, but which would certainly also give them complete control of the lake — as things now stood.
Macomb was willing to co-operate to the extent of detaching various platoons of militiamen to help them — his little army was suffering in the main from boredom — and the cutting of trees and shaping of timbers and laying down of keels commenced in October. They had barely started when the first frosts of winter descended on them, and within a couple of months large areas of the lake had become sheets of ice. Not that McDonough allowed that to deter him. With Toby in command of the equally determined lumber jacking squads, work continued even as it got colder and colder: they were often working in snow drifts up to their waists, and McDonough so far broke with naval usage as to allow each man a pint of grog on his return from the woods.
But the news from the outside world also grew colder and colder. American operations in the north-west, under the incompetent Wilkinson, stumbled from bad to worse, the campaign at the year’s end culminating in the British burning of the ship-construction yard at Buffalo on Lake Ontario, some three hundred miles away to the south-west.
The Sea and the Sand Page 26
