Chapter Twenty

 

William waited for the signal. It seemed to take much too long. The sun was sinking fast. He wondered what could be taking so long. Perhaps Perry had forgotten. He asked Trove if they should depart on that assumption. Trove, half his age, knew enthusiasm and excitement when he saw its effects and with wisdom beyond his years, counseled patience.

Finally, Lawrence ran up flags to the peak of her gaff. But in the dead calm, the flags hanging limp, the signal was yet a mystery. “Surely, Trove, that must be our invitation!” William asserted.

“Perhaps, Sir. But I see no other boats heading for the flag,” observed Trove.

“Well, by God, let us row over and ask!” insisted Captain Lee, intoning his authority of command. They stepped from the entry port of Scorpion to the ship’s boat made fast alongside. The other rowers had long since been ready at their oars. Before Trove took his seat at the stern sheets and grasped the tiller, a small brass gun rang out from Lawrence, confirming the desire of Captain Perry, given the lack of wind, that his other officers join him immediately.

Trove was not at all surprised that Captain Lee set a pace as would have them arrive first. With no basis upon which to assume, William was certain nonetheless. As Captain Lee stepped up to the deck, his eyes instantly befell his old friend, Oliver. Trove beheld a look of joy as touched his heart. The greeting between them was as warm as one had ever seen between fellow officers and family relation, distilled and then aged through years of past adventure. “Oliver, what joy!” cried Captain Lee. Still beaming, he continued, “I was hoping you would be sent out by Harrison, but I never expected you now a Major! Most impressive!” he teased.

Oliver grasped his arm warmly, pointed over to Scorpion and returned in kind, “What is this? A sloop will no longer serve? Soon you will have a ship of the line, no doubt!” The other officers smiled at the reunion as they made their greeting. Trove simply waited before departing back to Scorpion and was ultimately rewarded.

Even before official introductions were completed among officers, no small breach of protocol for which Trove would be forever proud and grateful, Oliver approached and embraced him, a mere gun captain. He had not seen Trove since Friends Good Will sailed from Fort Dearborn in July of 1812, more than a year prior and before natives began to gather outside its walls. Trove was greeted by a man of rank, privilege and reputation in such manner as surprised all surrounding. “Trove, the sight of you is an answer to prayers!”

Trove smiled and replied, “Thank’ee, Sir! It is most comforting knowing that someone is taking care of that for me!” Both men laughed and Oliver made to assure they would speak more when Trove later returned to retrieve William.

Harrison was below with Perry. The two had corresponded for months, but had never yet actually met. Their letters shared intelligence, sometimes no more than rumor, but also helped form a bond and level of trust and cooperation as was rare between the services. After breaking for dinner in the aft cabin of Lawrence, joined by many other officers in both the army and the navy, Oliver and William took some minutes to stroll the deck.

“Pray, William, where are we? I do not recognize this part of Lake Erie,” puzzled Oliver.

William pointed off the starboard bow, “Cuningham’s island, off the mouth of Sandusky. There to the east lies Marblehead point, from which you departed late this afternoon.” Oliver nodded and William asked, “So, I gathered from the conference Harrison is camped just up this river?”

Oliver confirmed, “Just a few miles.” Then, changing subject and growing rather somber, “It also was apparent from the conversation at dinner that you will soon be sailing into harms way. Good luck to you, William, in the coming action. You have my prayers.”

“Thank you Oliver. It sounds, however, as though you have seen more action than have I. We did, however ironically, encounter Friends Good Will less than two weeks ago on the open water. She sails as Little Belt now.”

Oliver seemed astonished, so William provided some detail, “Our courses converged on a moonless night and I got off a couple of shots. No major damage, I suspect,” William assured, “but it was rather fun to get the best of Lieutenant Fleet!” Both men laughed.

Then William grew serious and observed, “Promotion in the field usually indicates valor in action.” William looked at Oliver’s stripes, “Take care, my friend.”

“Yes, a scrape at Fort Miegs in May. Then, blast Proctor, he and his natives tried again in July. He had no better luck. Finally, they turned to Fort Stephenson, where I saw my third siege. I am anxious, William, for your ships to ferry us across and let us stretch our legs on a long march!”

William assured, “I sense that Perry’s the man as will have you marching soon enough!”

“I pray as much. The men who have spent the last weeks building bateaux will otherwise be sorely aggrieved to think they have wasted their backbreaking labor. At least they deserve a small voyage in their crude craft!”

Both men smiled, continued to catch up, extended greetings to mutual friends and shared hopes and fears. With action so near, Oliver thought the better of inquiring as to William’s relationship with James. Time was short and sadness had no place at such times.

William acknowledged the immanence of that to which Oliver alluded, “If it goes badly…”

“James and Be-Mo-Se will forever have a place within our family,” Oliver assured softly. Both men nodded and walked amid a bond of trust as was uncommon and entirely comforting.

Meanwhile Captain Perry and General Harrison resumed their serious discussions. Perry offered, “My apologies, General, for our delayed introduction so late in the season. The bar slowed us just a bit, but there is yet time this season, I am certain!”

Harrison shared what was recently learned from two prisoners. “Barclay is at Amherstberg with his entire squadron. Detroit is afloat and rigged. He is arming her, apparently with the guns from Fort Malden! I understand he is short of men and supplies. Will you attack him in his home port?”

Perry grew concerned, “I think not, General. With a narrow river, the enemy holding both banks, and a contrary current, we would not have any options sailing up into a funnel of sorts. No, I shall have to wait, draw him out and engage him on the open waters.”

Harrison thoughtfully offered, respecting Perry’s view of the situation, “I know just the place for your base; Put-in-Bay at South Bass Island, some miles to the north of here. You could easily keep close watch for the British squadron should they try to take to the Lake.”

Perry nodded and suggested, “That may serve very well. Let us sail out together tomorrow and reconnoiter.” Perry then confessed, “We, just as the British, are frightfully short of men and I can expect no more from Chauncey.”

Harrison thought for some moments, considering the demands currently put upon his more than 2,500 man army. “Captain, let me see if I can assist you with your needs in that respect.”

The two leaders requested their after dinner brandy and as the night air seemed so refreshingly cool, wafting in the stern window on a mid-August evening, elected to walk the deck. Oliver and William were careful to keep a respectful distance but could not help but overhear and take heart at an interruption from Mr. John Brooks, United States Marine Corp. Mr. Brooks approached with enthusiasm and was excited to announce, “Captain Perry, Sir! I am pleased to inform that some native chiefs of the Wyandot, Shawnee and Delaware tribes who witnessed the salute from our great guns this afternoon and have since toured our ships, wish an audience with you and General Harrison.”

Perry asked, “For what purpose?”

Mr. Brooks smiled, “They wish to renounce their allegiance to the crown and switch sides!”

“By all means,” exclaimed General Harrison with unrestrained glee at the thought of the fits such news would cause Tecumseth and Colonel Proctor.

Captain Perry hoped that may have been the effect when he invited the native chiefs aboard. He welcomed the news, but both he and Captain Lee recognized its relevance only in so much as they would soon be able to get Harrison’s army across the inland sea as stretched out before them.

Perry knew well, from the intelligence Harrison shared, that a combat hardened veteran of the Napoleonic Wars, having already seen such action as Perry could only imagine, was like Nelson nearly ten years before, with one arm and many guns, resolved to keep that crossing from occurring.

Abigail sat on the porch at her family home in Dover Mills. She dropped the letter she was viewing to hang from her hand as her arm rested at her side. She no longer needed to read. She knew the last sentences by heart.

Captain Barclay had dashed off a quick but sincere thank you for the dinner party hosted in his honor and explained his change in plan as the British squadron reacted to the news from Little Belt and changed course for Amherstberg. Queen Charlotte had hove to just off Long Point, allowing the smaller ships a full glass to bring up the rear. Barclay’s lead over his other vessels was purposeful. It gave him time to launch and retrieve a small boat, the oarsmen posting the letter that Abigail had nearly memorized.

She was flattered. “My dear Abigail,” the letter began, the familiarity suggesting a trust and closeness that she felt as well. He compared her meal to those he remembered so fondly taken on his estate in Scotland, writing specifically, yet beautifully with incredible detail of color and aroma; the dinner itself blending into the very landscape in such manner as it hinted of an invitation. But the close of the letter haunted her, his anticipation of the upcoming days in Amherstberg. Barclay suggested loneliness and anxiety, with the urgency and inevitability of action, all endured without her company. She had no doubt the suggestion of need was as close to an invitation as propriety, at this stage of their relationship, would allow. Again, she trusted her instincts as a woman.

She studied Thomas, having just closed the barn door, as he walked across the curtilage, gave but a moment of thought for her mother. As the sun was setting, it was time to plan for the ‘morrow and hopefully the rest of her life.

“Thomas, let us take a walk along the ridge, observe the sea and sunset,” she suggested playfully.

“Aye, M’Lady. Dinner will wait until dark,” he affirmed.

As they walked, she grew more serious and asked, “I understand, Thomas, Captain Barclay is very short of good men.”

“I ‘eard ‘im speak of it,” Thomas admitted, “while serving the dinner. The Admiral and I, we’ve been there before.” Gravely, Thomas added, “Could make all the difference.”

Abigail played the comment for dramatic effect, “Oh, Thomas,” she gasped. “Do you think it portends danger?”

Thomas wondered, but did not ask, was the Widow Fleet asking with respect to Captain Barclay or Lieutenant Fleet?

Abigail read his eyes, guessed his question and clarified, “For our cause?”

“Aye,” he confirmed and boldly continued, sensing time was short before the deepening dusk would require their return, “as well as for James and Captain Barclay.”

Abigail confessed that which she suspected Thomas had already guessed, “Captain Barclay has expressed some interest in me and my situation.”

Thomas knew full well the last statement was but a hint. “Have matters been resolved with James and the Admiral’s estate?”

Thomas’ question was precisely as she had hoped. “Sadly, James has shown no generosity. I am quite certain Captain Barclay will not pursue our relationship without a sizable dowry, which he likely assumes from my title and situation.”

Both were quiet as they turned and started back to the house. After a short time, Abigail added, “Do not fear, Thomas, whatever the outcome for our nation on these Lakes, in the upcoming contest, I will keep you with us as best as we are able. Pride has no place against loyalty.”

Thomas thought of the prospect of the two of them, poor and aging in Upper Canada. He was quite unaware of Abigail’s considerable allowance.

Thomas hinted, “Perhaps I could sign on with Captain Barclay, just for the conflict itself, and suggest I would be grateful if I were assigned to ‘look after’ James; be watchful of him when the work grows warm.”

Abigail considered the insincerity of the suggestion, the opportunity only implied, and gently encouraged, “That is most courageous of you, Thomas. I am certain Captain Barclay would understand and be most appreciative, if I spoke to him personally on our, or… er, your behalf.”

They met each other’s eyes briefly as the light faded, he admiring her beauty, knowing full well that were he much younger, he would be most jealous. She looked for a hint of understanding of the opportunity as may be presented to Thomas, for both, when the iron began to fly.

“Let us leave for Amherstberg first thing in the morning and give comfort and assistance to our men,” she concluded.

“Aye, M’lady,” replied Thomas, most willing, at least with respect to one far more than t’ other.