Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors: Tales of 1812 Part 7

And McGovern had watched her come with an ever-changing expression in his eyes. His face, flushed with excitement and victory, had paled.

Once he had started as if to run below and hide. There was something familiar in those towering masts and that gleaming white figurehead, and as she sailed on to retake the little _Frolic_, McGovern was compelled to hold fast to the bitts to prevent himself from falling.

The ports were crowded with jeering faces. The quarter-deck rail was lined with laughing officers, in c.o.c.ked hats and white knee-breeches.

Under her stern gallery he read the word _Poictiers_! From that he glanced up at the main yard arm. Men had swung there at the end of a rope--yes, he had once seen a convulsive, struggling figure black against the sky. Men would swing there again! The maxim that 'a deserter has no defence' recurred to him. He glanced about. Close by was a chain-shot, two nine-pound solid shot connected by a foot of heavy links. Like one afraid of being seen, he skulked across the deck as he had skulked in the days before. He reached the side where part of the bulwarks had been torn away, and crouching there he pa.s.sed the end of his heavy belt through a link of the chain, and without a sound lurched forward, all huddled up, and struck sideways in the water.

THE SCAPEGOAT

It was a famous dinner party that Captain William Bainbridge, Commander of the Charlestown Navy Yard, gave on the night of the 31st of May, 1813. In those days gentlemen sat long at a table; they knew good wines when they tasted them, and if they drank a great deal at a sitting, they sipped slowly.

The cloth had been removed, and upon the shining mahogany rested two or three cut-gla.s.s decanters filled with the best Madeira. Captain Bainbridge sat at the head of the table, in a high-backed oaken chair; he was dressed in a blue uniform coat, with the gold-braided lapels thrown back over his wide chest. In his snow-white shirt frill there nestled a sparkling jewel given to him by the Sultan of Turkey, upon the occasion when Bainbridge had brought the old frigate _George Washington_ into the harbor of Constantinople and there for the first time displayed the flag of the United States.

The candles had burned low in the candelabra, a silence had fallen upon the company; it was evident that something had interrupted the easy flow of wit and conversation. Captain James Lawrence, the guest of the evening, was in full uniform, with epaulets and great gold b.u.t.tons as big as half-dollars. He sat opposite Captain Bainbridge, with both elbows on the table, cracking walnuts and eating them as if to stave off hunger; his face was flushed, and a frown was on his brow. A young man of not more than twenty, with a gleaming ma.s.s of gold braid on his left shoulder, the mark of the lieutenant, had the next seat to him; he was nervously drumming on the table with his finger-nails. Occasionally he would glance from Lawrence to Bainbridge, and then at the two other officers who were sitting there in constrained silence.

Well did they all know how easy it was for the word to be spoken that would fire the smouldering mine, and change what had been a jovial gathering to the prologue of a tragedy. Men had to be careful how they spoke in those days. There could never be any brawling or careless flying of words; courtesy and gallantry limited their power of personal offence; but epithets or implications once given expression could not easily be withdrawn. Men who had been friends and who had fought for the same cause would, with the stilted hat-tipping and snuff-offering fashion of the time, meet one another in the gray of morning under G.o.d's sky and do one another to the death.

At last Lawrence spoke.

"Are you not judging me harshly in this matter, sir?" he said. "You say you doubt my caution." His gaze shifted from the brilliant jewel in Bainbridge's breast to the frank, manly face above.

"Your caution; yes, Captain," was the return; "your courage, my dear sir, never."

Lawrence cracked another walnut with a loud report. "Surely in my little affair with the _Peac.o.c.k_ you have granted that I used judgment; and in regard to the distribution of prize money, which has not seemed to suit our mutual views----"

Bainbridge interrupted him. "That is a question apart from our present discussion, sir," he said. "I pray that you will postpone it. But I can only say for the benefit of all concerned that I do not doubt an easy adjustment. For what you decide must perforce be agreeable to me."

"You are my senior----"

"And for that reason I have taken the opportunity, as you have brought up the subject, to express my opinions. I cannot order you; it is outside my province or my wish. Before the company you have brought up this matter, and for that reason I have discussed it. Every one must agree that the Department authorities at Washington have treated you most unhandsomely. Had you been given the command of the _Const.i.tution_, as was first intended and promised you, and were she in a condition to put to sea, I should say nothing but what would encourage you to exercise despatch."

"Ah, if I but had the _Const.i.tution_ and her crew," put in Lawrence, with a sigh; "if I but had them." Suddenly he brought his strong, clenched fist down upon the table with a crash: "Then this English captain would not be flaunting his flag at the harbor mouth, daring me to come on and fight him; shaming us all here where we lie at anchor!

The _Chesapeake_ is ready!"

"Ah, but she is the _Chesapeake_," interrupted Bainbridge.

"True enough; but why not give me the chance to wipe the stain from off her name?" He suddenly arose, and leaning across the table spoke quickly and vehemently. "Order two hundred of the _Const.i.tution's_ men on board of her, and I will sail out and give battle to-morrow! I doubt not, nor do I fear the consequences. I ask this of you as a proof of friendship."

In his excitement, Lawrence upset one of the tall wine-gla.s.ses. It tinkled musically, and, reaching forward, he filled it to the brim, and Bainbridge waited until this had been done.

"I cannot grant your request, Captain Lawrence," he said quietly at last. "Your ship is in no condition to go out and fight at the moment.

She has a green crew. Her running-gear has not been tested."

"Then let me go into the yard and call for volunteers!" Lawrence interrupted hotly.

"I cannot prevent you taking men who are not busily employed; but I shall not order men from work. 'Twould be sanctioning your action."

The mine was on the point of being fired; the fatal word was trembling on Lawrence's lips. The boy lieutenant half rose from his chair; but Lawrence controlled himself with an effort. He may have realized how senseless it would have been to impute to William Bainbridge lack of courage. He may have thought of the wicked consequence of such a speech. But he was obstinate. His nature was not one to be thwarted easily. Throwing back his shoulders and looking around the table, he raised the br.i.m.m.i.n.g wine-gla.s.s to his lips.

"Then, here's to the success of the _Chesapeake_!" he blurted, and drained it to the bottom. "I shall go out and fight this fellow to-morrow," he added sullenly. "You gentlemen," turning to the others, who were all officers of his luckless ship, "shall share with me the honor." Turning, he walked to the side of the room and picked up his cloak and heavy bullion-edged c.o.c.ked hat.

"Sir, to you good evening."

Bainbridge was about to speak; but on second thought he remained silent and bowed slowly. Without a word Lawrence, followed by three of his officers, left the room. The young Lieutenant lingered. His face had flushed when his captain had spoken the word "glory," and yet the calm, dispa.s.sionate judgment of Bainbridge had appealed to him. He was a beautiful lad, this officer, with long-lashed eyes like those of a young girl. His light brown hair curled softly over his white forehead.

One would expect nothing but laughter and song from those lips, and it needed the strong, square-cut jaw to give the note of decision and character to his face. It redeemed it from being too cla.s.sical; too beautifully feminine. He loved James Lawrence, his commander, and truly a boy's love for a man who excites his admiration is much like a woman's in its tenderness and devotion. Lawrence had been a father to him, or better, an elder brother, for the _Chesapeake's_ commander was but thirty-two years of age.

Young William c.o.x had been much at Captain Bainbridge's house since the _Chesapeake_ had dropped her anchor in the Charles River, and the Commandant had watched with approval the mutual attraction that existed between the young officer and the beautiful Miss Hyleger, who was the sister of Bainbridge's wife. He probably knew what was going through the young man's mind. As he followed after the others Bainbridge stopped him.

"Good night, James; may G.o.d watch over you. You will do your duty; of that I am well a.s.sured."

"Thank you, sir," the lad returned, flushing as he took Bainbridge's hand in both of his.

When left alone, the Commodore sat there in his great armchair, and on his face was a great shadow of sorrow.

Lawrence did not go on board his ship that night; but Lieutenant Ludlow, Mr. White, the sailing-master, and Lieutenants c.o.x and Ballard repaired on board at once to make ready for the approaching conflict.

All night long James Lawrence walked alone under the trees in the river park, and at early dawn, still dressed in his resplendent uniform, with his silk stockings and white knee-breeches, he made his appearance at the Navy Yard. Some sixty men responded to his call. But the older sailors wagged their heads. It was not necessary. Ah, that was it! Had it been a case of do or die, there was not a man who would not have thrown down his work and jumped at the chance to fight. But the _Chesapeake_! she was an unlucky vessel. Sailors avoided her. Her crew was riffraff in a measure; men not wanted on other ships; many of foreign birth; Portuguese and Spaniards; a few Danes, and without doubt some renegade servants of King George.

As the morning mist cleared away from the water, there in the offing was the English frigate that had been hovering and flaunting her challenging flag for the past three days.... Boston was all agog with the news. The whole city had flocked to the water front. Before nine o'clock the _Chesapeake_ was surrounded by a flotilla of small craft.

Men cheered themselves hoa.r.s.e. Flags floated from the buildings, and women waved handkerchiefs from the docks. But yet, some of the wise ones wagged their heads.

The bulwarks and top sides of the _Chesapeake_ had been freshly painted, and the paint was not yet dry. As her crew stretched out the new yellow hempen running-gear, they smudged everything with the pigment. There was no time to be careful; it was a hurly-burly haste on every hand. The officers were reading the lists of the men at the guns.

They did not know them by name or sight, and were trying to impress their faces on their minds at this short notice. There was bawling and hauling and shouting and confusion. How different from the clockwork methods on board the _Const.i.tution_! But at last everything was as ready as it could be. Lawrence, after his sleepless night, pale but nerved to tension by excitement, came from the cabin. As he looked down the deck, his spirits must have sunk. Things were not shipshape--at this very instant he may have regretted that he had formed the decision to go out and fight. But it was too late to withdraw! He gave the orders, and, to the tune of Yankee Doodle, they began getting in the anchor. The pilot was on board, standing beside the helmsman. Lawrence went back to his cabin and wrote a letter that has only recently been given to the public. It was addressed to James c.o.x, the uncle of young Lieutenant c.o.x, of his own ship. The whole tone of the missive displays the despondent att.i.tude of mind under which Lawrence was now laboring.

The postscript that he added, after referring to the possibility of his untimely end, reads as follows:--

"10 A.M. The frigate is in plain sight from our decks, and we are now getting under way."

It was the last sentence he ever penned. As soon as he had sealed the letter he came on deck and delivered it to the pilot, who left the ship within half an hour.

Now came the ordeal. The small boats that had surrounded the vessel were being left behind as she gained headway. But some of the faster sailers among them managed to keep pace, and cheer after cheer sounded.

A crew of rowers in a whaleboat kept abreast of the _Chesapeake's_ bows, shouting words of encouragement to the crew. But the men did not appear eager. The officers could not help but notice it, and the impression must have been most heart breaking.

"Muster the crew," Lawrence ordered at last, turning to young Ludlow; "I will say a few words to them." The men gathered in the waist, whispering and talking among themselves.

"James," said Lawrence, to Lieutenant c.o.x, before he began to make the customary address that a ship's captain in those days made before going into action,--"James, I know that I can trust you--you will do your duty." The young man at his side touched his cap. "You will find me here, sir," he replied, "unless my duty is elsewhere." Lawrence stepped a few feet forward.

"Men of the _Chesapeake_," said he, "it is our good fortune to be able to answer the call that our country has made upon our honor. We will answer it with our lives if necessary. Do your duty; fight well and n.o.bly. Your country's eyes are on you, and in her heart she thanks you in advance. Yonder British frigate must return under our lee. Let no shots be wasted. To your stations."

There was some low grumbling off to one side of the deck. A black-visaged, shifty-eyed fellow came pushing to the front. A double allowance of grog had been already served; but many of the men had been imbibing freely, owing to the proximity of the sh.o.r.e and the ease with which liquor could be obtained. The man strode out before the crowd and stopped within a few paces of the Captain. He spoke in broken English.

Lawrence listened in anger and almost in despair. The man complained in insolent tones that he and his messmates had not been paid some prize money due them now a long time. Lawrence's hand sought the hilt of his sword. He would have run the fellow through as he well deserved, did he not see that among the crew he numbered many followers. Their surly looks and gestures proved their evil temper. _The man declared that unless he and thirty of the others were paid at once they would decline to fight._

Here was mutiny at the outset! A fine state of affairs to exist on board a vessel going to fight a battle.... There was nothing for it but to acquiesce. He could not treat the cur as he deserved.

"Take these men to the cabin and pay them what they say is due them,"

said Lawrence, bitterly. There was not money enough on board the ship, and he was forced to go to the cabin himself, and sign due bills for the amount. And all this time the enemy was in the offing prepared and eager.

The English frigate hauled her wind and put out to sea as she saw the _Chesapeake_ approach. Her flag was flying, and now Lawrence unfurled his. At the main and mizzen and at the peak he flew the Stars and Stripes, while at the fore he displayed the motto flag: "Free trade and sailors' rights." On the two vessels sailed over the bright, sunlit sea. The day was almost without a cloud. One or two small sailing vessels still followed in the _Chesapeake's_ wake. At four P.M. she fired a challenging gun.

There were no seamen of the good old school that could not if they had seen the English ship but admire her. With calm precision the _Shannon_--for it was well known who she was--braced back her maintopsails and hove to. In silence the two manoeuvred. At every point the English vessel had the better of it. Which would fire first? There was one moment when the _Chesapeake_ had the advantage. Owing to her clumsiness more than to her agility, she came about within pistol-shot distance under the enemy's stern. But her commander held his fire. A minute more and they were on even terms, sailing in dead silence beside one another, nearing all the time--who would have thought that they were craving each other's blood? The orders on board one ship could be heard on board the other. The word "Ready" was pa.s.sed at the same moment; but the discharge of the Englishman's broadside preceded that of the _Chesapeake_ by a perceptible moment. How well those guns must have been trained! Every one was double shotted and heavily charged.