John Barry: An American Hero in the Age of Sail Part 4

"Atalanta, Sloop of War, belonging to His Britannic Majesty," Edwards replied.

"This is the Continental Frigate Alliance, John Barry, I advise you to haul down your colours."

"I thank you, Sir," Edwards replied. He paused a moment. Then, with understated bravado, he added, "Perhaps I may, after a trial."7 Edwards hoped to keep the conversation going long enough for the Trepa.s.sey to come up into position, but Barry had eyes. He knew what lay behind these prolonged pleasantries, and saw no reason to delay the inevitable when, just at that moment, the wind completely died. For a second or two, the only sound aboard the ships was the useless flapping of canvas against the masts and spars above the silent and ready gun crews. Barry broke the silence. "Fire!" he commanded.8 The broadside raked the Atalanta, smashing into her bulwarks and taking out some of her rigging. Edward's second-in-command, Lieutenant Samuel Arden, was struck by a cannonball that took his right arm off. Taken below, he only stayed long enough to have his stump cauterized by the surgeon "and the instant it was dressed, resumed his [station]."9 After his initial broadside, Barry gave the order to "wear ship"-but while the Alliance's helmsman could turn her, there was no wind to propel the frigate. Aboard the Atalanta, Edwards commanded his men not to fire. The Trepa.s.sey was moving up, using the one advantage she and the Atalanta both had over the Alliance this day: oars.10 Immediately Edwards ordered his men to "Man the sweeps" while the Trepa.s.sey's crew rowed hard and furiously, determined to a.s.sist their comrades aboard the Atalanta.11 Their exertion backfired. The Trepa.s.sey was going too fast. Edwards watched in horror as, "With too much way and in heading [Alliance's] Quarter," the Trepa.s.sey "shot abreast of her." Smyth's overzealousness proved fatal. As his ship glided past them, the Alliance opened fire. The still waters gave Barry enough time to slam two devastating broadsides into the Trepa.s.sey, sending splinters flying around the deck, slicing the rigging to bits and killing several men, including Smyth, who dropped where he stood and was dead before he hit the deck.12 Winslow, the master's mate, was standing close to Smyth when he fell, and "sent to Lieutenant King to acquaint him [of Smyth's death], in order to his resuming the command." King ordered the men to keep rowing, now in a frantic attempt to get the Trepa.s.sey out of the range of the Alliance's heavier guns.13 By now Edwards had the Atalanta's sweeps out. In a move of sheer courage and audacity, he ordered his men to row the Atalanta between the Alliance and Trepa.s.sey, taking yet another fearful broadside that further damaged her masts and rigging, but of small consequence as long as there was no wind. Once the Trepa.s.sey was safe, Edwards's crew kept right on rowing until the Atalanta was in a position of minimum danger and maximum advantage. With the Alliance "laying like a log," the British ships were "athwart our Stern and on our quarters": the Atalanta on the Alliance's starboard quarter, with the Trepa.s.sey "on the leeward side."14 The Alliance was now caught in a deadly crossfire. Between the two enemy ships, fifteen 6-pounders were brought to bear, their crews taking calculated aim against the nearly defenseless Americans.

Barry had dealt with the treacherous Atlantic winds during this entire voyage, but this absence of any breeze was the cruelest trick of all. Unlike her sister ship the Confederacy, the Alliance was not a galley-she had no sweeps, nor could Barry lower long boats to row her out of danger, for any Americans manning them would be slaughtered. Without a wind, the Alliance could not get close enough to board either ship. She may as well have been mired in mud.

Seeing Edwards's strategy unfold, Barry ordered his gunner, Benjamin Pierce, to remove some of the 9-pounders from their lines and bring them into an improvised position where they could be used against the enemy.15 Smoke from the cannon fire hung over the deck like an acrid, stinging fog. Although they were just yards away, the ships could hardly see each other. Soon the only thing the combatants saw was the flash of cannon fire lighting up the hanging smoke, followed by the instant crash of the iron splitting their wooden walls.

The battle was now over an hour long, and clearly going against the Alliance. Barry's gun crews manned the 9-pounders and cohorns, while Parke's sharpshooters kept up their volleys from the tops.16 Unerringly accurate as the marines were, they could not equal the pounding their shipmates were being subjected to below. The Atalanta and Trepa.s.sey were now alternating their fusillades, mixing cannonball with grapeshot, which consisted of cl.u.s.tered, walnut-sized b.a.l.l.s mounted on a wooden disc or packed tightly in a canvas bag. Upon discharge they separated, and ripped indiscriminately into ship and sailor alike.17 At such close range, Edwards also ordered the guns' powder charges reduced: this eighteenth-century technological trick ensured that the cannonb.a.l.l.s striking the Alliance would tear longer and deadlier flying splinters through the air.18 Aboard the battered Alliance, "We could not bring one-half our guns nay oft times only guns out astern to bear on them," Kessler recalled. Soon he was. .h.i.t, wounded in the leg.19 Bulwarks and rolled hammocks were poor enough defense when ships fired on each other half a mile away. They provided little protection now.

In a situation growing more and more hopeless, Barry stood tall on the quarterdeck. Throughout the battle, he directed the best defense he could for his men and his ship. He gave commands in a clear, steady voice, and his presence, unaffected by the iron and lead flying around him, gave hope and renewed confidence to the Alliances, even as their comrades fell around them. In the fighting tops, Marine Lieutenant Samuel Pritchard suffered a direct hit by a 6-pound ball. Marine Sergeant David Brewer, son of an army colonel, was shot through the head and died instantly at his post. George Green, one of the mutineers, was impaled by a flying splinter.20 Below deck, it was all that Kendall could do to not be overcome by the sheer numbers of dying and wounded placed one after another on his makeshift operating table. His experiences as an army surgeon, traumatic as they were, had taken place a safe distance from the battlefield, under a tent and on solid ground. Now he was forced to perform his duties while sand and more sand was continuously poured on the floor to sop up the blood and keep Kendall and his aides from slipping in gore. At least the still waters minimized any unexpected movement while he did what he could with scalpel, tourniquet, and saw, using what laudanum he had to tend to the wounded and dying.

Sometimes several men were brought to Kendall at once, forcing him to prioritize and order his a.s.sistants to use stopgap measures for those who had to wait for care. He turned a deaf ear to the cries and moans of his patients, not out of cruelty but in order to keep his focus: looking, probing, and a.s.sessing each wound.21 He took on different roles at a moment's notice: that of bos'n to the slightly wounded, patching them up and gruffly sending them back into the carnage above; and that of a skilled "sawbones," using the swiftest means possible to save a life. There was no time to be father confessor for those poor souls like Pritchard, only a quick glance, then, "Next!" and they were carried away-and another victim was immediately placed before him.

By now the wounded sailors who could move were a.s.sisting their comrades above, bringing up gunpowder and cannonb.a.l.l.s to maintain the fight. They handed these to the ship's boys (not yet known as "powder monkeys"), who scurried back and forth between the hatchway and their stations. The number of fighting sailors was thinning out. Barry and his men were soaked in grime and sweat. The air smelled of blood and sulfur. The Alliance was being taken apart, not by the wind but by the lack of it.

At nearly three o'clock, thick clouds of smoke seemed to rise from the water, enveloping the three ships as if they were Macbeth's witches, and the motionless Atlantic their cauldron. The ocean was still enough to perfectly reflect the carnage above it. Aboard the Trepa.s.sey, another broadside of grapeshot was being loaded. The gun crews went through their steps, and on "fire!" linstock touched base ring. With a loud roar, grapeshot flew in a withering volley at the Alliance's quarterdeck.22 Until this instant, John Barry had gone untouched in his battles with the British.

Not now. A grape ball slammed into his left shoulder. The impact threw him on his back, and he hit the quarterdeck with a sudden thud. Dazed and shocked, he got halfway up, not yet feeling any pain. Still trying to clear his head, the pain hit him hard, and blood began soaking his uniform. Hacker and the other officers ran to him, offering to help him below. Once back on his feet, he waved them off. He would not be moved from his post. For a few minutes he remained on the quarterdeck, directing the action, while his voice grew noticeably weaker. Bleeding profusely, he became lightheaded, and standing became difficult. Barry's remaining on deck was not adding further inspiration to his officers and men. Instead, it was changing their focus from their duties to their commander's wellbeing-a sentiment that endangered them as well. Once more, Barry's officers begged him to go below.23 Finally, he relented, having remained "on the quarterdeck untill by the much loss of blood he was obliged to be helped to the c.o.c.kpit." Turning the quarterdeck over to Hacker, he let the wounded Kessler and several others carry him below.24 In the c.o.c.kpit, Kendall received word of Barry's being brought below, and the captain became his immediate priority upon arrival.25 With a loblolly boy to a.s.sist him, Kendall removed Barry's coat and cut away his shirt, checking the hole to see how much of the shirt may have gone in with the ball. The surgeon ordered Kessler and the other men who had carried Barry below to remain. He would need every available hand to hold Barry down while he began his examination. If Kendall had any laudanum, he gave the captain a dose; if not, a pannikin of straight rum would be administered, to hopefully dull the pain.26 A single grapeshot was about an inch and a half in diameter-larger than a musket ball. To further complicate Barry's condition, grapeshot was made of iron, not lead as used with musket b.a.l.l.s. Lead deformed on impact, but iron did not; therefore the soft tissue damage to Barry's shoulder was maximized. Whether it struck the collarbone or the top of the shoulder is not known; as Kessler said, he was removed from the quarterdeck "after much loss of blood," which leads one to question whether the brachial artery had been hit.27 American naval surgeons, trained according to British precepts, took quick and aggressive action in treating such a wound, believing that to be the more humane approach. While a probe was one of the tools of the trade, a finger was used as often as not. One surgeon from these times insisted that a finger be used; "I could never bring myself to thrust a pair of long forceps the Lord knows where, with scarce probability of any success."28 The practice of bleeding the wound to extract "impurities" was not necessary-Barry had lost enough blood already.

Next, Kendall used his retractors, widening the wound further. The resulting pain would send any man into pure agony. If the brachial (or any other artery) was damaged, they were tied off or cauterized. If the grapeshot had splintered the clavicle, Kendall cleared out any bone fragments, and expelled any grumous blood from the wound.29 The wound thus opened, and with Barry flat on his back in quiet suffering, Kendall took his bullet forceps-a scissorlike instrument with cupped ends-to reach the projectile, and cut into the wound. Widening around the grapeshot (and adding more suffering to Barry's condition), Kendall grasped the forceps around the projectile. Slowly, he removed it from Barry's shoulder. The original 1 1/2-inch hole was considerably wider now. With the grisly piece of iron removed, Kendall let the wound bleed awhile. Then he cleaned the area out, using straight turpentine or a mixture of turpentine and egg yolk. Either would send the most stoic of souls into further agony. Finally, after leaving a channel open to permit the wound to drain, Kendall dressed Barry's shoulder with lint dipped in oil.30 By this time, Barry could very well have lost consciousness or gone into shock.

No sooner had Barry been carried below deck when another broadside slammed into the Alliance, just missing Hacker but instantly killing quartermaster William Powell at his post, manning the ship's wheel. The Alliances returned fire. While they were reloading, a shot from the next British cannonade carried away the American flag. The Alliance's silent guns "led the Enemy to think that we had struck the colours"; the British tars "manned the[ir] shrouds & gave three cheers."31 These "huzzahs" came from the cracked lips, parched mouths, and lungs raw with smoke of a jubilant, exhausted enemy, gratefully believing that their encounter in this deadly hornet's nest had ended, and that they were victorious.

But it was not over. Two of the Alliance's officers stepped over Powell's body; one took his place at the helm, while the other s.n.a.t.c.hed the stricken Stars and Stripes, and "the colours were hoisted by a miz[z]en brail." Before Edwards could take his speaking trumpet and inquire through the manmade fog if the Americans were surrendering, the Alliance's "firing began again," and the British realized their mistake. Both enemy ships resumed their onslaught. Aboard the Alliance, seaman David Cross was killed; Fitch Pool, Barry's clerk, went down with a severe wound.32 From the quarterdeck, Hacker watched the unrelenting dismemberment of ship and seamen with growing concern. He was a six-year veteran of the war, but he had never been in a battle like this. Nor was he very lucky when it came to fighting. Wherever he looked, he saw mounting defeat: sails full of holes, rigging in tatters, the deck awash with blood and strewn with debris-all on a frigate crippled by lack of wind. He conferred with the surviving officers about the deteriorating state of the fight, getting the gist of the ship's condition and the "butcher's bill" of casualties. Then he left the quarterdeck for the c.o.c.kpit.33 It took unquestioned bravery to face enemy fire, but for Hacker to go below and tell Barry what he had in mind took every speck of his courage.

Having stanched the bleeding, Kendall was applying a bandage to Barry's shoulder when Hacker approached. Barry shot a dark, quizzical look Hacker's way, then asked why the lieutenant was not on deck, directing the fight. Speaking fast, Hacker told him about "the shattered state of the sails and rigging, the number of killed and wounded, and the disadvantages under which they labored, for the want of wind." Breathlessly laying out the facts as he saw them, Hacker asked-he was not fool enough to suggest-"if the colours should be struck."34 Barry's reply was immediate and thundering. Struggling against Kendall's ministrations (and doubtless starting his shoulder bleeding again), Barry became a wounded lion. "No!" he roared. "If the ship can't be fought without me, I will be carried on deck." He dismissed Hacker back to the fighting and began arguing sharply with Kendall about getting dressed, determined to return to the battle. To Hacker's credit, he left any resentment of Barry's tongue-lashing below. Bounding up the hatchway, he returned to his post and "Made known to the crew the determination of their great commander." Informed of their captain's decision to keep fighting, the crew "one and all resolved to 'stick by him.'"35 Now, even Nature seemed to respond to Barry's exhortations. With unannounced quietness, and ever so gently, the wind returned. Kessler forever remembered this instant as "a small breeze of wind happening."36 Every sailor on deck could feel it on their sweat-stained cheeks. They breathed it into their lungs, and held it in for a second, then exhaled as they watched it slowly, surely, puff out their tattered sails. The combination of Barry's scalding Irish temper and the return of the wind unleashed the pure warrior in Hacker. Immediately, he bellowed orders as the ship responded to the long awaited, simple change in the weather-a soft breeze. The Alliance answered her helm, sailors manned the braces, and the battered frigate moved into a position that would allow her to finally fight back with all of her might.

After dispatching Hacker to his duties, Barry continued to insist on getting dressed and returning to the quarterdeck. Kendall, seeing that there was no chance in keeping him below, a.s.sisted him in getting shirt and coat over the right arm and around the left. The task of rerigging the captain coincided with the crew's getting the Alliance under way.37 Now, for the Alliances, the old adage "He that sails without oars stays on good terms with the wind" came true at last. The breeze touched British cheeks as well, but for Edwards and King, it carried defeat, not victory. Before they could try to sail or row out of range, the first broadside from the Alliance's starboard guns-fourteen 12-pounders-came smashing into the Atalanta.38 The proximity to the Alliance had been an advantage for Edwards's small 6-pounders when coupled with the Alliance's inability to move. Now such nearness was folly. Round shot shredded British rigging and further battered the Atalanta's masts, already damaged from the battle's opening broadside. Seconds later, the fourteen guns on Alliance's portside were loaded, primed, aimed, and fired at the Trepa.s.sey. One blistering salvo from the Alliance was enough for King. With his ship "Quite disabled," he ordered his colors struck.39 Aboard Atalanta, Edwards was not yet inclined to surrender, and quickly reviewed his other options: continue the fight, or try to flee. Either action required getting his ship away from the Alliance. He decided to break off the engagement. But in his attempt to sail the Atalanta out of danger, the strain on her injured masts reached the breaking point. Edwards and his crew heard a sharp crack, then another. They knew at once what was coming next. Pulverized by the Alliance's guns, the fore and mizzen masts gave way. The Atalanta's crew scrambled in an effort to avoid the wood, canvas, and rigging crashing onto the deck. Meanwhile the Alliance was wearing again, her guns ready. On the uproll, Hacker cried, "Fire!" This last, raking broadside did the trick: "The Atalanta . . . was a wreck." Reluctantly, Edwards, too, struck his colors.40 Barry was still struggling up the hatchway when all went silent above him.41 Then he heard another chorus of hoa.r.s.e cheers, only this time they came from the Americans. After the second British ensign fluttered down, they left their posts, leaping into the shrouds and along the bulwarks, roaring in exhausted jubilation. Recognizing why his sailors were cheering, Barry allowed Kendall's a.s.sistants to change his course, and get him to his cabin.

The battle had lasted nearly four hours.42 A much relieved Hacker found Barry in his cabin and relayed the news of his victory. Barry gave orders that Kessler take the pinnace and bring the vanquished British commanders back to the Alliance to discuss terms. Kessler reached the Trepa.s.sey first. Finding Smyth dead, he proceeded to the Atalanta, where Edwards greeted him with the usual courtesies, then accompanied Kessler back to the Alliance. Edwards's pleasant demeanor, first exhibited when he engaged Barry in conversation before the first broadside, had cloaked any personal anxiety over the coming fight. Now it masked the disappointment he bore in surrendering two of His Majesty's vessels over to a rebel captain.43 The climb up the Alliance's gangplank must have been very steep for such a man.

Once at the gangway, Edwards presented Hacker with his sword, only to be told that the Alliance's captain was "confined in his cabin." After a knock on the door, Edwards was admitted, where he found "Capt'n Barry then there seated in an Easy chair his wound dressed." Again Edwards proffered his sword, this time to the correct officer. Using his right hand, Barry received it from Edwards, then "immediately returned [it] to him," saying, "I return it to you Sir[.] You have merited it, and your King ought to give you a better Ship." To Edwards's further surprise, Barry continued, "Here is my cabin at your service, use it as your own." He then ordered that Lieutenant King also be brought aboard.44 While Kessler returned to the Trepa.s.sey to escort King, Edwards told Barry his reasons for taking on his frigate in battle. He was "confident that they would subdue the Alliance . . . when the disadvantages under which the Alliance labored are considered." Barry, hurting as he was, must have suppressed a chuckle; had Edwards really "known all [the Alliance's] disadvantages"-Barry's woefully undermanned ship, the frigate's sad condition, and all those British prisoners-Edwards certainly "had more reason to "flatter [himself] with success" then he knew.45 Once King arrived, he and Edwards reported their casualties and crew sizes. The Atalanta had five killed and fifteen wounded of her 125; the Trepa.s.sey, including Captain Smyth, had six killed with ten wounded of eighty aboard.46 Barry did the arithmetic in his head. The captured crews put the number of his prisoners at over three hundred, far too great a number for the Alliance to hold, let alone feed.47 They would rekindle fears among his officers of another uprising. Both Edwards and King reviewed the condition of their injured vessels. Sailing both the Atalanta and Trepa.s.sey to an American harbor, even with the smallest of prize crews, would leave Alliance far too diminished in manpower. Barry came up with a solution to this logistical nightmare: if one of the British ships sailed back to St. John as a cartel with all of the captured British aboard, would the British admiral exchange a similar number of captured Americans? With the admiral in question being his uncle, it was an easy question for Edwards to answer. He a.s.sured Barry that a fair exchange would be carried out.48 By now it was "too late in the day to effect removal."49 Barry sent a prizemaster and crew aboard each British ship, with orders to keep close by the Alliance overnight. Edwards and King were to stay aboard the Alliance, along with the other officers and British wounded.50 They were Barry's hostages, guaranteeing both his conditions for surrender and Edwards's word on prisoner exchange.51 Barry requested that Edwards and King address their crews regarding the terms, and they agreed. Borrowing Barry's speaking trumpet, Edwards spoke across the lapping water to his men, informing them of Barry's generous terms and that he had a.s.sured Barry of their "orderly behavior during the night." King then did the same. Their orders had "the desired effect," resulting in a peaceful night after this violent day.52 At sunup, the Atalanta's crew heard a familiar, cracking sound, as the mainmast snapped and fell on the deck, to be heaved over the side. Later that morning, Hacker updated Barry on the conditions of the three ships along with the latest casualty report. The Alliance, "shattered in the most shocking manner . . . wants new Masts, Yards, Sails and Rigging."53 Her casualty list was five killed and twenty-four wounded. Three of them, including Pritchard, soon died of their wounds.54 Despite the Atalanta's condition, Hacker told Barry that she was a prize worth taking home. Not only was "she the larger of the two vessels," but "her hull was sheathed in copper." While Barry ordered "Jury Masts upon her," different renovations were afoot aboard the Trepa.s.sey. Barry ordered her guns thrown overboard. Then, after her military stores were transferred to the Alliance, he placed her under command of her sailing master. The Trepa.s.sey was loaded with all of Barry's prisoners, save Edwards and the other officers, and sailed for Halifax that afternoon.55 Repairs on the other two ships took another day. Barry gave command of the Atalanta to Hezekiah Welch, with orders to sail to Boston, being "the Nearest and safest Port." It was another day before the Alliance was seaworthy enough to sail. Barry was convinced that she would not make Philadelphia, being "In a Shattered Condition[,] very foul and hardly Men enough to work on Ship."56 The wounded frigate "made all sail for Boston."57 Patrick Fletcher, lucky enough to avoid both bad weather and British warships, arrived in Boston with the "Guernsey privateer" Mars on May 12.58 a.s.suming the same luck was with Barry, Fletcher reported that the Alliance, the Marquis de Lafayette, and Barry's prizes were not far behind. After three weeks pa.s.sed, the Alliance was feared captured or lost-yet another tragedy for the American navy.59 On June 6, the Alliance, hardly recognizable from the trim, sharp frigate that departed in February, came up Nantasket Road, having eluded the British blockade off Cape Cod. With no spar of sufficient size to replace her main yard she sailed without one, her sails covered with countless patches.60 It had been sixty-nine days since she departed L'Orient.61 Crowds gathered along the waterfront, their jaws agape at the damage they saw to the frigate.

The Alliance's docking could not come soon enough for Kendall. Barry was an uncooperative patient whose "wound was considered in a dangerous state." A crowd had already gathered along the wharf when the Alliance's gangplank was run out. Accompanied by Kendall, Barry was carried on a stretcher and "immediately landed," then taken to a house along the waterfront. Once in his new surroundings, Pool and Kessler, both recovering from wounds, bivouacked in the house as well, and Barry put both to work. Sitting up in bed, with the Alliance's log at his side, he dictated three long letters to Pool: one to Congress and the Admiralty Board, another to the Eastern Navy Board, and one to Sarah. He recounted the details of his voyages to L'Orient and back to Boston. "I am amongst the wounded," he reported, optimistically adding, "I shall be fit for duty before the Ship will be ready to Sail." As with Franklin, he asked permission for "Sheathing the Ship with Copper." Giving Kessler the letter to the Admiralty, along with a letter of safe conduct allowing him "to pa.s.s from hence to Philadelphia undeterred," he dispatched him "express to Philad'a to [fetch] Mrs. Barry."62 With Kendall's admonishment to remain in bed, all Barry could do was to wait for the arrival of his wife and his prizes. He heard that the "Snow with Sugars is in a Safe Port to the eastward," with "the Atalanta [expected] in every hour."63 His antic.i.p.ation of her arrival and that of the Marquis proved futile. While rumors swirled regarding the fate of the Marquis, Barry soon learned of the bad luck that befell the Atalanta. She was only a day or so behind Alliance when, on June 7, "Being near Cape Cod," she fell in with four ships from the British blockade "which retook the said sloop Atalanta, put a British officer & Seaman on board her & sent her safe into . . . Halifax."64 The arrival in Boston of his prize the Adventure gave Barry some consolation.65 Barry displayed "high spirits" to his visitors, but his convalescence was long.66 The wound healed slowly; sundered bone, tendons, and ligaments would mend as best as Kendall's knowledge of eighteenth-century medicine permitted.67 Whereas tendons in the arms and legs could "be rejoined by relaxing the muscle and bringing the bones nearer" with a splint, the location of Barry's wound prevented such a remedy. Nor did his pain abate; to lessen it, Barry was given "one dram of bark every three hours," provided his stomach could handle it.68 Weeks would pa.s.s before he was "in a fair way of recovery."69 While he recovered, news of his voyages and adventures appeared in Boston's Continental Journal, and then spread throughout the United States and across the Atlantic. The American press praised Barry's courage and leadership, while rea.s.suring readers that he was recovering from his wound; British papers, of course, emphasized Edwards's gallantry. By mid-June Kessler reached Philadelphia. After giving a full narrative to the local press of the Alliance's triumphs over every adversity, and praising his captain's "unconquerable firmness and intrepidity," he escorted Sarah to Boston.70 Congressmen and other dignitaries extolled Barry's success (although one dour politician grumbled that the Alliance "was fortunate in capturing prizes but brought no Stores").71 The rest of Congress was jubilant and laudatory, not only for his victory and captures but for his rescue of the neutral Venetian merchantman Buona Compagnia. They quickly pa.s.sed a resolution applauding his "utmost respect to the rights of neutral commerce," and sent a copy to him that same day, along with a letter from the Admiralty commending his actions and expressing concern "that you was so ill of your wound."72 Along with the narrative of his battle, the Buona Compagnia affair made the papers, eventually reaching Franklin in Paris.73 Barry also received a letter from John Brown, writing both as Admiralty Secretary and as his friend. While Barry was grateful for Brown's congratulations and "wish that your wound may be soon healed-that the use of your Arm may be restored and only an honorary Scar left behind," he was more pleased to read that "We have too directed that the Alliance should be sheathed with Copper," provided that there was "any person in Boston who knows how to put it on."74 Much to Barry's delight, James Warren began "Entring on that business."75

CHAPTER TWELVE.

REFITTING.

SARAH AND KESSLER REACHED BOSTON at the end of June. Even though Kessler had prepared her about Barry's condition, she was still shocked at the sight of her husband laid so low. Her former suitor, usually the tallest and most striking of men in his uniform, was now sitting upright in bed, his usually tanned face as pale as his nightshirt, with newly etched lines from his suffering. Sarah immediately a.s.sumed round-the-clock care for him, her mere presence the best tonic. Throughout their marriage, she loved him totally and unabashedly, beginning each letter she wrote to him with the phrase "My dear Life."1 Ironically, Barry's wound was, in a way, a gift for Sarah; while he remained dry-docked in this house he was completely hers. Slowly, surely, he began to rally.2 Sarah's arrival coincided with the court-martial of the ringleaders of the aborted mutiny. Testimony was taken, reviewed, and deliberated quickly and thoroughly, with the court's findings made public on June 28. All three were found "guilty of a breech of the twenty-Ninth Article in the Rules and Regulations of the Navy of the United States." The court hoped that its sentences would serve as a warning to Continental sailors: Patrick Sheridan is guilty . . . and therefore adjudge that he be whipped three hundred and fifty four lashes upon the Naked back, One Hundred and Seventy Seven thereof alongside the ship Alliance, and the remainder thereof alongside the ship Deane Now in Boston Harbour . . . John Crawford is also Guilty...and therefore adjudged [to] wear a halter about his Neck and receive Fifty lashes upon his Naked back, twenty five at each of the ship's aforesaid . . . Sheridan and Crawford be Cashiered all their Shares, Prize Money and Wages . . . William McClahany is peculiarly Guilty and therefore adjudge . . . the punishment of death and that he be hanged by the neck on the starboard fore Yard Arm of the said Ship Alliance until he is dead.3 McEllany had the dubious honor of being one of the first sailors in the American navy ever sentenced to be hung.4 From his sickbed, Barry heard Boston's celebration of the Fourth of July, and marked his fourth anniversary with Sarah. Congratulatory letters continued to arrive, but they were mixed with bad news. Months earlier, Seth Harding finally had enough sailors for the Confederacy. Along with the Deane, under Samuel Nicholson, and the schooner Saratoga, under the intrepid John Young, Harding was convoying three dozen merchantmen from the Caribbean, bound for Philadelphia. A storm separated the three warships; afterward only the Confederacy remained to protect the merchant fleet. On April 14, a British sail was sighted off the Delaware Capes. After signaling the merchantmen to keep their course, Harding made for the enemy. It was the Orpheus. Soon another of Barry's old nemeses appeared: the Roebuck. Sizing up his chance of victory or escape as nil, Harding surrendered without firing a shot. The Alliance's sister ship was welcomed into the British navy, renamed the Confederate. After the storm separated them, the Deane sailed onward to Boston, but the Saratoga was never heard from again: she had gone down with all hands. The news. .h.i.t Barry hard; Young, an old friend from "the Sea-Captain's Club," left a wife and small children.5 A letter arrived from John Donaldson, one of the co-owners of the brig American, Barry's previous command. Donaldson updated him on the latest news of their investment. The British had taken St. Eustatia, capturing enough Yankee-owned goods that one loyalist cackled about the "ruin [of] all the rebel merchants in America." Donaldson gave Barry a detailed profit-and-loss statement, informing Barry that he had insured the brig for 3,000. Further, Donaldson had no sooner heard of Barry's recent prizes than he had placed an insurance policy worth 6,000 livres on them. Realizing that this sounded as if Donaldson might be profiting on Barry's risks, he explained: "I did not think it prudent to mention the matter to Mrs. Barry As she was at the time very unhappy at not hearing from you And my proposing a matter of this kind to her would induce her to believe I had apprehensions for your Safety."6 Whatever chagrin Barry may have felt at earning income from insurance claims was countered by the fact that he would make any income at all. Then a letter arrived from James Nicholson.

For six years, Barry had steered clear of the intrigues that were constantly swirling around his fellow captain, John Paul Jones. Connections and coincidences intertwined the careers of the two most successful American captains: from the Alfred/Black Prince to the Alliance, from Landais to Franklin. So far Barry had yet to be entangled in any of Jones's ongoing controversies. Now Nicholson sought to bring Barry into the web that was forever being spun by, about, and around Jones.

In February 1781, Jones arrived in Philadelphia aboard the Ariel. Despite the fact that there were nearly as many congressmen against him as for him, he was justly recognized by that body for his heroism, with resolutions celebrating his "distinguished bravery and military conduct."7 On the same day that Congress acknowledged Barry's diplomatic stroke on behalf of Venice, they unanimously appointed Jones "to command the ship America."8 This news was all Nicholson needed for him to draw his poison pen. Having already complained about Barry's appointment to the American and then to the Alliance, it was in the natural order of Nicholson to launch a series of tirades in an effort to undermine, if not stop, Jones's appointment. Before he took quill in hand, Nicholson then learned that a congressman had leaked to Mary Peale Read that Congress might make Jones a rear admiral-a rumor that must have damaged Nicholson's gall bladder for the excessive bile it produced.9 His letter to Barry was wondrous for its transparent "concern" for the welfare of the navy and the threat Jones posed to Barry's career. No jealous, petulant schoolgirl could have done better: "The Chevalier [Jones] ever since his arrival in [Philadelphia] has devoted his time, privately, by making personal application to the individual members of congress to give him rank at the head of our navy...I immediately took my Hat and with very little Ceremony waited on the President of Congress at his house & informed him of what I had heard...Many things pretty severe of the Chevalier's private as well as Public Carrector too odious to mention."10 Nicholson continued, hissing to Barry that he had spoken to "Bob Morris the Financier"-as Nicholson condescendingly called him-that the America should be offered to the captains still serving and ahead of Jones on that regrettable list (Morris quickly dismissed that idea).11 From there, he went into false humility in praising Barry's exploits, and their effect on Jones: Your arrival and success came very opportunily and I did not fail to make use of it I mean outdoors in presence of Capt. Jones & some of his advocated Members, by observing that you had acquit yourself well, which they acknowledged. I then told them they could not do less than make you Admiral also. I had not a sentense of reply. It irritated the Chevalier so much that he was obliged to decamp . . . I am convinced he will never get [the America] to sea. It will suit his Vanity & only tend to expose himself and his friends to Congress.12 If Barry wrote a response to Nicholson, it did not survive. Considering his abhorrence of political infighting, it is reasonable to guess that this letter went unanswered. Nicholson's offensive, augmented by the Adams-Lee faction in Congress, guaranteed that Jones would not receive his admiralship.13 Having succeeded in his smear campaign, Nicholson departed Philadelphia on the Trumbull, only to be captured by two British ships, originally the Continental vessels Hanc.o.c.k and General Washington.14 On July 25, Barry felt well enough to "hope in 3 or 4 days to be able to attend my duty."15 One week later he was back at work. The Alliance's copper sheathing was moving with surprising speed, yet Barry still discovered that "money would be wanting" to get her refitted with masts, rigging, and canvas.16 On August 3, the Trepa.s.sey sailed into Boston harbor, crammed with 130 freed American prisoners from Halifax. Her service as a cartel over, Barry began her libeling procedures; she was sold on August 27.17 He was also happy to learn that Sampson Edwards's exchange was pending. Already an admirer of Edwards's courage, Barry was glad to discover that his foe's uncle, Admiral Richard Edwards, was well regarded (even by flinty-hearted New England merchants) for his humane treatment of captured American sailors throughout the war-quite a different approach than that found on the inhumane prison hulks lying in New York harbor.18 With Barry's prizes in port, the Admiralty awarded the Alliances a two-thirds share, with the remaining one third going to the still missing Marquis de Lafayette, which resulted in a protest by the French Consul to Congress, who demanded a half-share.19 Barry's problems with de Galatheau continued, with or without de Galatheau.

Still looking for ways to improve his finances, Barry turned to his prize, the Mars, as an opportunity to take part in privateering again, and joined a hastily formed group of investors spearheaded by Boston merchant Henry Mitch.e.l.l. Taking his money from the Trepa.s.sey, Barry bought a one-sixteenth share of the Mars, which Mitch.e.l.l refitted and renamed the Wexford in honor of Barry's home county.20 Former navy captain John Peck Rathbun was given command.21 Respected as "a man of known Courage and conduct," Rathbun was a brilliant decoy artist, once capturing a British merchantman by pretending to be a royal escort and inviting the captain to come aboard, which he did-for a little tea and captivity.22 With orders from the owners to cruise in "the Chops of the Irish and English Channels," Rathbun departed Boston on August 20.23 No sooner did the Wexford reach her destination when she was caught: a quick end to the joint venture of Messrs. Barry, Mitch.e.l.l, et al. Loss of the Wexford nearly bankrupted Mitch.e.l.l, who owned seven-sixteenths of the ship. "Money in this place has got to be so scarce," he lamented to John Brown.24 On August 25, the French frigate la Resolute sailed into Boston "after a pa.s.sage uncommonly tedious," with Laurens and Paine aboard, loaded with supplies for Washington's army, and double-casks containing 2.5 million silver livres Congress so desperately needed.25 Whether it was Laurens's charm-and, in one meeting, some saber rattling-that brought this latest manna from the French, or Franklin's deft greasing of diplomatic wheels, did not matter (although Gouverneur Morris tartly attributed any success to the "young beggar instead of the old one"): the money was as welcome as a military victory.26 With the grateful permission of Congress, Laurens left the theater of diplomacy, rejoining Washington and the theater of combat.27 Late in August, a rented phaeton, drawn by three horses, stopped at the Boston waterfront, and John Paul Jones stepped out. He had been accompanied by Robert Morris and Richard Peters from Philadelphia as far as White Plains, where the Continental Army was encamped. Morris, Peters, Washington, and French General Rochambeau were too busy planning a new campaign and awaiting news of the French fleet's whereabouts to pay Jones much heed. He went on alone, but not before being warned by one of Washington's staff that his chevalier's cross would not play well in Puritan New England.28 En route to Portsmouth and the uncompleted America, Jones stopped over in Boston. He and Barry shared breakfast on August 29.29 The two captains had not seen one another in nearly five years, when Jones was a lieutenant on the Alfred, and Barry in charge of her refitting. If the conversation over their meal reflected their personalities, Jones did most, if not all, of the talking. Their accents must have seemed particularly odd to the puritan Boston ear: Jones's with a touch of a burr, while Barry's still carried traces of a brogue. There was certainly a great deal to discuss-the America, the Alliance, Landais, and the war itself. One item Barry was careful not to bring up was his letter from Nicholson. Jones delighted in describing a new c.o.c.kade he had designed for naval officers: red for "the glory and Friendship of Spain," white to represent "the spotless purity of intention and the sincere Friendship of our ill.u.s.trious Ally [France]," and blue "as the natural c.o.c.kades of America, leaving the Black to England which is a true emblem of the character of that Dark Minded Nation."30 Their breakfast finished, they stepped out into the street. They made a rather incongruous pair walking along the Boston waterfront: the short, darkly handsome Scot, in a blue and buff uniform of his own design, and the tall, big shouldered Irishman, still wearing his official blue and red Continental uniform. Jones departed for Portsmouth the next day. The following week, he sent Barry "the cocade I promised" along with a letter mentioning that he knew he was "the Subject of a Letter you recd. some time ago from Philadelphia mentioning my Name." Without mentioning Nicholson by name, Jones was confident that Barry knew "how to credit such information."31 Jones' recent visit only heightened Barry's frustrations regarding the Alliance and his desire to get back to sea. From the docks, Barry had a perfect view of the entire Continental Navy, moored in the Charles River: the Alliance and the Deane, both lying idle, in need of men, supplies, and, of course, money.32 The Alliance's hull was copper-sheathed and back in the water, but not one spar or inch of new canvas was aboard.

When news reached Boston that the Marquis had indeed been captured, Barry decided to escort Sarah back to Philadelphia and meet with Morris, determined to personally plead his case to refit the Alliance and Deane.33 He rented a coach for the trip.34 Arriving home on October 12, they found the city awaiting news from Virginia. Weeks earlier, using feints and false encampments, Washington and Rochambeau stealthily departed New York and swiftly marched south to meet de Gra.s.se's fleet, trapping Cornwallis and his army on the Yorktown peninsula.35 In Congress, other changes were afoot. The Admiralty Board, not yet a year old, was already ineffective. The victories of Barry and Jones were far outnumbered by the lack of success among other captains, and some of the navy's original champions had grown bitterly disheartened over the lack of money, sailors, and success. Exhausted from his efforts, William Ellery resigned, lamenting that "the next time American goes to war I hope she will have a respectable Navy. Our few little ships remaining don't deserve that name." Even the navy's most ardent supporter, John Adams, wrote from France that, after looking "Over the long list of vessels belonging to the United States, taken and destroyed," he found "it is very difficult to avoid tears."36 As summer waned, Congress plotted what would be its final course of action concerning naval affairs. Throughout 1781, they had placed more and more tasks on the broad shoulders of Robert Morris. As Superintendent of Finance, Morris now ruled supreme over all fiscal matters in Congress. By September the Seal of the Admiralty was also lying on his desk. While others had despaired of the navy's plight, Morris still had hopes for what was left of it.37 With the t.i.tle "Agent of Marine"-similar in scope to that of First Lord of the Admiralty in England-he took over total responsibility for "our unfortunate navy" with the same ardor and shrewdness he applied throughout his life to any task.38 He was, literally, dictator of both the Treasury and the Continental Navy.

The Navy Boards were dissolved; their members and agents were immediately ordered to send their outstanding expenses to Morris for payment.39 Morris sent the ever reliable John Brown to Boston, with orders for Barry to get the Alliance and Deane back to sea (the Barrys and Brown unknowingly pa.s.sed each other on the coach roads between Boston and Philadelphia).40 Morris's long list of directions to Brown were all encompa.s.sing and encouraging: I want to hear the most precise and accurate State of the marine Department . . . proceed to Boston, with all convenient Speed. . . the Governour to give you Aid on all occasions . . . he will furnish money for fitting out the frigates Alliance and Deane. . . you will take the Necessary Measures for sending the Alliance and Deane to sea immediately. . . you will find enclosed a letter to Capt. Barry and one to Capt. Samuel Nicholson. . . the Crews must be engaged for a Year, as the Alliance in particular being now Coppered, will only need occasionally to run in for Provisions and Stores. . . The Men enlisted for a year may be better disciplined.41 Morris, unaware that Barry was in town, was surprised when the captain visited his office. After Morris inquired about his recovery, congratulated him on his successes, and summarized the details of the letters Brown took to Boston, Barry reported on the dire state of the two frigates. When Morris told Barry that Sam Nicholson might "decline going in the Deane," and that Brown was instructed to offer command of her to Nicholson's brother John, Barry must have breathed an inward sigh of relief that it was not going to the other brother (and Barry's senior), James.42 Before departing, Morris presented Barry with two gifts: a week's furlough, and command of a joint cruise by the Alliance and the Deane-as soon as both ships were manned and "ready for sea."43 With Morris now in charge, and Brown as his direct contact, Barry had plenty of reason to be optimistic about the future. The navy might be down to two active ships, but the days of bureaucratic intrigue looked to be over. Robert Morris was no Francis Hopkinson. And a cruise with both frigates-Morris' appointment promised great things. Barry's step was lighter as he strode over the cobblestone streets back to the Austin mansion.

A week was not nearly enough time for Barry to review his in-laws' legal affairs. While he was home, the commonwealth announced that the "two story frame messuage, lot of ground and ferry wharff, on the north side of Mulbery Street . . . late the estate of the said William Austin" was for sale.44 The battle to keep the Austin fortunes would have to be fought without him.

With orders to "sail immediately," he wrote Thomas McKean, now president of Congress, about his three mutineers, still in the Boston jail, requesting that Congress rule on their verdicts before he went to sea. Upon receipt of Barry's letter, McKean sent for a copy of the proceedings. None could be found, prompting a resolution that "the Superintendent of finance take [the] means for obtaining a copy of the proceedings, etc."45 It was not enough, in McKean's eyes, for Morris to finance the war and save the navy-now he was finder of lost doc.u.ments. After reviewing the case, Congress magnanimously commuted the sentence if the three "would serve during the war." As Barry would not have them back under any circ.u.mstances, they were "pressed" into the army.46 Before departing for Boston, Barry received new orders from Morris. Brown had written that "the Deane will probably not get manned as soon as the Alliance." That being the case, Barry was "to proceed to sea as soon as your ship be ready."47 There would be no cruise in tandem with the Deane, after all. Once again, he parted with Sarah, mounted a horse, and left to report for duty.

He was barely two days north of Philadelphia when Tench Tilghman, Washington's aide-de-camp, rode into the city from the south with momentous news: Cornwallis had surrendered to Washington at Yorktown on October 19. Tilghman had ridden like Paul Revere, spreading the news along the way that the redcoats were leaving-at least Cornwallis's redcoats. He reached Philadelphia at two-thirty in the morning, bursting into McKean's home. Overcome with joy, McKean ordered the bells to be rung from Independence Hall. It was now past three o'clock and the German-born night watchman happily cried, "Gorrnvallis ist gedaken!" From Arch Street, Sarah and Isaac watched the town celebrate the news with cheers, booming cannons, and fireworks.48 Express riders carrying the news beat Barry to Boston, reaching the port on October 26. When Barry arrived the next day, he found the city awash with jubilation. He also learned that Brown had accomplished much since his own arrival, diligently carrying out Morris's instructions. Having made "pressing Solicitations" for refitting the frigates "as Decency [would] permit," he found a benefactor for the navy: Thomas Russell, one of Boston's wealthier merchants. Russell agreed to advance Brown enough money to make the necessary repairs on the Alliance. By the time Barry arrived, all that was needed was what was always needed-sailors. There were barely a hundred on Barry's muster rolls. In Philadelphia, Barry was one of the few captains whose men gladly reenlisted under him. However, this last crew, which Kessler considered "grossly amiss"-a rather mild description for mutineers and prisoners-was not the sort Barry wanted back.49 He also needed new officers. Hoysted Hacker had accepted a letter of marque. Marine lieutenant James Warren was still incapacitated by his wound, and both Chaplain Benjamin Balch and Dr. Kendall declined to return.50 The surgeon was furious that Barry had not increased his wages once he a.s.sumed the surgeon's position while Joseph Bradford "was under an arrest"; Barry never made Kendall's promotion permanent.51 Barry, Brown, John Nicholson, and the lame-duck Eastern Navy Board met on October 30 to come up with a plan to make the next rendezvous a surefire success. They were joined by Samuel Nicholson, who had reconsidered his decision about leaving the Deane. When the meeting concluded, they arranged for their broadside to be emblazoned on the front page of the next edition of the Continental Journal: "ALL able-bodied Seamen, ordinary Seamen, and Landsmen, Are herby informed, that the two fine fast sailing Continental Frigates ALLIANCE and DEANE the first commanded by JOHN BARRY, Esq.; and the other by SAMUEL NICHOLSON, Esq.; are bound in Concert on a Cruise against the Enemy, and will sail soon, with every prospect of making a very advantageous Cruise."52 Set in huge type and placed dead center of the page, it was the largest advertis.e.m.e.nt yet seen in an American newspaper. All sorts of new incentives were promised. On this cruise, captured prizes would not be split with Congress: 100 percent of the proceeds would go to officers and crew. A bounty for each captured cannon would be issued. Bonuses would be paid upon enlistment: ten dollars to any seaman, six dollars to any landsman. Clothing and slops were to be provided at cost. Wages and bonuses were to be doled out "punctually in Silver or Gold."53 Finally, the advertis.e.m.e.nt offered an insurance policy. Anyone wounded in action would receive a $200 bonus prior to the divvying up of prizes, along with their shares. It was guaranteed that the subsequent care for the wounded-at a public hospital-would be free of charge, and those permanently disabled would receive half-pay for the rest of their lives.54 So desperate were Barry and company to sign on a full crew that they turned to the incentive of "medical insurance"-first put into use by the Caribbean pirates a century earlier.

Despite the more generous terms, the rendezvous was unsuccessful. Barry soon discovered why: some of the Alliance's former officers, led by Kendall, had entered into a whispered campaign of innuendo regarding Barry and his recent voyage. For the other conspiring officers, the main complaint was over back pay-but that was not enough for Kendall. Convinced he had been slighted financially and professionally, Kendall now "Propagated falsehoods to those properties of [Barry's] character," in hopes that any new recruits would sign on the Deane at the expense of Barry and Alliance, satisfying Kendall's spite if not his account book.55 As soon as Barry discovered the plot and its source, he wrote the not yet defunct Eastern Navy Board, making several counter charges regarding Kendall's "mis-conduct on the pa.s.sage & Quitting the ship after her Arrival without leave" and requesting a court-martial. Honor compelled the captain to "request that [the Navy Board] Appoint a Court of Inquiry on my Conduct the last voyage." To Barry's consternation, the board took their time in responding. Eventually they a.s.sured him that they had heard nothing spoken against his character. Further, as Kendall had resigned his commission and was no longer in the service, he could not be brought before a court of inquiry.56 By then Barry had found another physician to take Kendall's place-Dr. John Linn of Boston.

The Alliance's other vacancies were also being filled: Matthew Parke, still justifiably aggrieved over back pay from his Bonhomme Richard days, agreed to return as captain of marines. Barry named the recently exchanged Hezekiah Welch his second-in-command, and moved Patrick Fletcher up a notch to Welch's old position. Nicholas Gardner was promoted to third lieutenant, his misadventures with Alliance's pinnace forgiven if not forgotten.57 On December 1, two new officers signed on: James Geagan, a veteran naval surgeon, was appointed chaplain, and young William Morris (who counted among his relatives Francis Hopkinson) completed the officers' roster, signing on as a lieutenant of marines.58 Aware of Barry's difficulties in ama.s.sing a crew, Robert Morris wrote him on November 9, hoping "that by the Time this Letter reaches you the Alliance will be ready for Sea." Morris understood that "men may be wanting," and promised that "a Letter from the Minister of France" would soon arrive, finally permitting Barry to recruit sailors from French ships in port. "This will I trust enable you to get a considerable number of good Seamen," Morris cheerily believed, concluding that Barry was "to wait my further Orders which shall soon be dispatched to you."59 Since a.s.suming control of the navy, Morris had made sweeping changes in policy, but this one puzzled Barry. Why, after two years of denials and reprimands for recruiting French sailors, was Barry at last allowed to do so?

Barry kept his officers out in the Boston cold, seeking every nationality of seamen with the exception of those loyal to King George; after Barry's first voyage commanding the Alliance, no English need apply. On December 10, he heard the bells ringing from Old North Church and other places of worship. They did not peal to herald a victory but an arrival. America's favorite Frenchman, the Marquis de Lafayette, had entered Boston with an entourage of relations and staff, including the Count de Noailles. He also carried orders to Barry from Robert Morris. The Marquis was returning to France-aboard the Alliance.60

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

SHOALS.

FOR YEARS, AMERICAN SCHOOL CHILDREN erroneously learned that the Revolutionary War ended with Cornwallis's surrender at Yorktown in October 1781. The first person to actually believe this, however, was Lord North. Upon hearing the news, he broke down: "My G.o.d! All is over," he cried, as much for his bankrupt ministry as for the looming outcome of his war.1 Across the Atlantic, Washington knew better. Two British armies were still at large in South Carolina and New York, and Admiral de Gra.s.se had sailed his fleet south for the winter. A disappointed Washington marched his Continentals back to New Jersey to keep a watchful eye on his old nemesis, Henry Clinton.2 Barry met Lafayette upon his arrival, and the Marquis handed over Morris's latest orders. Lafayette's mission-another fundraising venture-was "of the utmost importance to America." And, in restating his hopes that the Alliance was "manned and in every respect ready for Sea," Morris gave Barry a boost in reaching full strength quickly: he directed that Samuel Nicholson turn over some of the Deane's crew to the Alliance "so as to complete her Compliment."3 That was the good news. In the same letter, Morris declared that Barry could not reward his men as promised in the recent advertis.e.m.e.nts. Safely delivering Lafayette and his entourage of fifteen to France was "of such importance" that Barry was "to avoid all Vessels, and keep in mind, as your sole object, to make a quiet and safe pa.s.sage to some port in France." Morris piled one stipulation upon another. No other pa.s.sengers were permitted. The Alliance's new copper sheathing should ascertain "she will not want anything done to her." Barry was to "lay in the necessary Stores" for the accommodation of his aristocratic guests, but "not to expend one Livre more than is absolutely necessary, at any time during this voyage." Finally, giving Barry permission "to go on a Cruize" after safely landing his pa.s.sengers in France, Morris wished him success-after hamstringing him from cabin to fo'c'sle.4 Having attached his name to broadsides promising sailors better prize shares and cash payments, Barry believed he had given his word on that subject to every man that signed on. Morris's orders were mortifying to an officer whose integrity was heretofore unquestioned. Barry knew full well that the promise of a cruise after crossing the Atlantic would not placate sailors that signed on under the conditions advertised throughout Boston. "Few of the ships belonging to the United States were . . . sent on private service and ordered not to go out of their way but to keep clear of all Vessels whatever," an exasperated Barry wrote.5 Despite distaste for his orders, Barry finished readying the Alliance for his pa.s.sengers. When a final rendezvous brought in only seventeen Boston "landsmen," he reluctantly ordered Samuel Nicholson to send forty of the Deane's hands to the Alliance. Nicholson bristled: "If Captain Barry has any power or Authority to Order my Men from the ship," he wrote, "I beg to be made acquainted with it . . . such a proceeding is quite new to me and I believe unprecedented." But Barry would not be denied, and eventually, Nicholson acquiesced.6 But only a few men from the Deane-a far cry from forty-came over to the Alliance.

Barry found a more willing ally in Lafayette, himself "impatient to leave" and wishing he "had rather be under sail than at anchor."7 His intercession with the French ships in port brought aboard 37 "Sick and About Naked" sailors, giving Barry 255 men for his voyage.8 "After a long struggle with much difficulty, I am at Last got on Board the Alliance in order to comply with your orders," Barry wrote Morris on December 22. He mentioned his spat with Nicholson, believing that "a proper mode of Court Martial" would have resulted in Nicholson's arrest, adding that Nicholson "is determined not to obey a Senior Officer." Keeping his critical remarks aimed at rules and not at Morris, Barry warned that regulations must be upheld, or "you can never expect anything from your Navy."9 Barry ordered the Deane on a cruise, echoing Morris's insistence on frugality while changing the nationality of the currency, commanding Nicholson "not to expend a Shilling of the Publick money more than absolute Necessity calls for." He wrote a last note to Sarah, and two letters to his friend Brown. One was a thorough "Acct. of Stores under the Care of the Several Officers belonging to the Continental Ship Alliance," and the other his detailed account of back pay and prize shares due him: the United States owed John Barry $5,229.36. With pa.s.sengers and "a Poor Ship's Crew" aboard at last, the Alliance stood down Nantasket Road on Christmas Eve.10 "Nothing of note pa.s.sed on the pa.s.sage," the alliterative Kessler wrote, "except the oft time expressed wish of the crew 'that the Marquis was [already] in France.'"11 Among the Americans, Barry found "very few Seamen" aboard; ironically, the best salts on the Alliance were the thirty-seven Frenchmen.12 While the scarcity of prey on a wintry sea was a blessing, the very fact that the crew knew that he carried explicit orders to avoid any confrontation was enough to set them to belly-aching. "Discontent was so apparent that the Capt'n could not but be sensible of it," Kessler recalled.13 Finally, a sail was sighted "which appeared (as the crew expressed it) as if she could give them sport." The crew turned toward Barry, antic.i.p.ating his cry, "Beat to Quarters!" Indeed, to the others on the quarterdeck, Barry's features were an open book, revealing "the conflict in his mind between the calls of his duty & his inclination" to give chase. Duty won out. A change in course was ordered, and the crew obeyed with noticeable resentment and muttering. Barry could not help but see the borderline insubordination. To Kessler's amazement, "instead of his reprobating & promptly punishing what on other occasions would have been the case, he was governed by a sullen silence," as if "propriety would have permitted him to break, [and p.r.o.nounce] 'I also wish the Marquis was in France.'"14 While it is doubtless where Barry's sentiment lay, he never revealed it to his pa.s.sengers. Instead, he played the perfect host; the Marquis called this pa.s.sage on the Alliance "a happy voyage."15 Barry and Lafayette were embarking on a genuine friendship. When Barry confided to the Marquis his concerns over his crew's temperament and capabilities, Lafayette pledged to a.s.sist in finding better sailors once in France. The Alliance arrived at L'Orient on January 17, 1782.16 The Alliance no sooner docked when Barry called on Monsieur Clouet, the port commissary, to return his French sailors back to French command. Clouet gladly took them off Barry's hands, but when Barry handed him a detailed bill of 70 for the "almost Naked" Frenchmen's slops, Clouet replied he had no authority to pay it. That was a matter for Antoine de Thevenard, l'Intendant for the French navy at L'Orient. The duplicity in taking the sailors and not paying for their expenses was too much for Barry; Clouet "was not dealing candid with me," his voice raised with steely disdain, "& [I] a.s.sured him, I should not take his word again." Without waiting for Clouet's reply, Barry turned on his heel and went out the door, making headlong strides down the cobblestone streets of L'Orient and back to the Alliance, telling Lafayette what happened. Lafayette and his retinue departed for Paris the following morning. Some days later, a French officer visited Barry and handed him a purse bulging with French coins. Lafayette had come through again.17 In a letter to Franklin, Barry announced his arrival and that of his famous pa.s.senger, and also requested Franklin's help. As "My orders is to immediately go on a Cruize til the first of March,