BASSETERRE HARBOR ON ST. KITTS WAS NOT MUCH OF A HARBOR, MORE a roadstead several miles long and a half mile wide. It was here that a squadron of ships was assembled under Commodore Thomas Truxton, including his own flagship, USS Constellation, 38, a heavy frigate. Truxton’s command extended throughout the whole Lesser Antilles and his orders were to subdue French privateers, most of whom were sailing out of Guadeloupe.
Fallon had entered the roadstead cautiously, Rascal flying the British ensign, with Ceres and Céleste trailing behind. Men from the Adams, Eagle, Connecticut, and Baltimore lined the railings of their respective ships to gawk somberly at the procession, for here was Ceres returning barely two weeks after leaving and no one could see Lieutenant Woodson aboard.
Fallon had ordered Rascal and the prizes to anchor and had immediately taken the gig to Constellation, for he could see the commodore’s broad pennant flying there.
“Welcome aboard, sir,” said Commodore Truxton gravely. “I confess I was startled when my lookout shouted that Ceres was sailing back into the harbor, and I am anxious to hear your story and how you came to have her. Who are you and what of Lieutenant Woodson, pray?”
“I am Captain Nicholas Fallon, of the British privateer Rascal, at your service,” said Fallon. “And I regret to inform you of the death of Lieutenant Woodson at the hands of pirates in the Mona Passage.”
Truxton’s shoulders seemed to sag at the news of Woodson’s death.
“I am aware that you gallantly came to Ceres’ aid once before, captain,” said Truxton sadly. “I must thank you again. But I grieve at the loss of Woodson, who was very popular with the men and an invaluable asset to me. Please tell me all you know.”
And so the story of the discovery of Woodson’s body in the small boat came out, and the clue he left pointing to Mona Island. Fallon made little of the battle with Céleste, for Truxton would know the scream of shot and cries of dying men well enough.
“I was able to interview several of Ceres’ crew, sir, and they gave a good account of Woodson’s bravery in the face of overwhelming odds. He was knocked completely unconscious in the fighting and the bastards set him adrift without food or water to die.”
“His wife in Virginia will grieve to hear of his death,” said Truxton sadly. “I will spare her the details, of course. He leaves behind two children, as well.”
There was silence between them for a moment.
“I understand Loire is with a British agent to be appraised in Bermuda, is that correct?” asked Truxton.
“Actually, the Hamilton agent there was recalled and the ship has been taken to Antigua to the agent there. She has been returned to prime condition by now and should appraise well. Lieutenant Woodson’s account of the battle will, of course, be turned over to the agent for consideration.”
“I have no doubt of it, sir, and I commended Woodson for a wise decision,” said Truxton kindly. “His crew was quite decimated and he obviously trusted you after so gallant a rescue. Meanwhile, I will buy Ceres back into the service, sir. We have an agent in Basseterre who will appraise her. I have constant need of a dispatch vessel. And I will take the prisoners, who will be given a fair trial. I have no doubt they will be hanged, however.”
“Yes, Ceres’ crew will testify against them, I’m sure,” said Fallon, and then an idea struck him. “If you feel it appropriate, you might nudge the agent to give a high appraisal for the ship, for I would like to donate the prize money to poor Woodson’s family. We have Céleste to take to English Harbor and the prize court there, as well as some specie we found aboard the schooner, and that will be quite enough for my crew.”
“That is very generous of you, Captain Fallon,” said Truxton. “Very generous indeed, for you paid a price in blood for Ceres’ recapture. I will have a word with my agent ashore and give him a not-so-gentle nudge in the right direction with his numbers. And I will see that Woodson’s family is the beneficiary of your kindness.”
“And now, captain,” continued Truxton, “how may the United States government be of service to you, for you have repeatedly been of service to us?”
“Well, sir,” said Fallon, “any information you could provide relative to the situation with the Barbary states would be helpful. I intend sailing to those waters very soon and I am aware the corsairs have taken American shipping in the past, of course, but I believe a treaty has been signed. Is that correct?”
“Yes, we have a treaty with all the Barbary regencies now,” said Truxton, but Fallon could see his skepticism. “However, I don’t trust them for a minute, sir. Any pretext to declare the treaty broken will be used. Their demands are insatiable. But, if I may, you should have no trouble under a British flag, surely.”
“Yes,” said Fallon. “Hopefully, you are correct. But I will be carrying an American who is attempting to ransom his father.”
He let his words hang in the air, and he could see Truxton’s brow crease.
“That could be a difficult negotiation with those bastards, captain,” he said, “for they always raise their prices. If I may, I might suggest you seek the advice of Mr. Richard O’Brien, the U.S. consul to the dey of Algiers, when you arrive. He was a prisoner of the dey’s for some time and will know how to proceed.”
“That is very good advice, commodore,” said Fallon. “I have O’Brien’s diary aboard, actually, but did not know he was back in Algiers as American consul.”
“Yes, who better I suppose,” said Truxton. “He knows their ways better than most, and trusts them less than most. I will write you a letter of introduction this instant and have it sent over to you.”
With a few more words Fallon was seen over the side and rowed back to Rascal. He had made a quick decision about Ceres and could only hope Beauty and the crew would agree with it. He felt they would, given their great fortune in finding specie aboard Céleste. The news that Woodson had a family had never occurred to him.
Truxton’s letter came aboard within an hour and by then Ceres’ prize crew was back aboard Rascal and the bedraggled American survivors transferred to Constellation. It was a behemoth of a ship and no doubt Truxton could use the hands until a new commander for Ceres was appointed. Very soon Rascal and Céleste weighed and glided away from Basseterre.
Looking over his shoulder at the assembled American squadron Fallon’s eyes fell on Constellation. He could see Truxton on the quarterdeck waving goodbye, and then saluting, which was a very unusual thing for a commodore to do.