27
THE SURRENDER
CORNELIUS VANDERBILT LOOKED UP FROM A NEWSPAPER. THERE WAS a Mr. Charles Morgan outside, Lambert Wardell announced, wondering if the Commodore might be so kind as to see him. Vanderbilt, smiling, opened the single drawer in the table that served as his desk; he took out a Cuban cigar, bit off the end and spat it away, then jammed the stogie in his mouth. With deliberate slowness he lit the cigar. He took several puffs, then thoughtfully studied the glowing tip.
It was the spring of 1858. And still Vanderbilt had not won back control of the Nicaraguan Transit. William Walker did not concern him now. As far as the Commodore was concerned, his war with Walker was won. According to the press, Walker was talking about yet another tilt at the proverbial Nicaraguan windmill, having been returned to the United States in December following his second surrender in seven months and removal from San Juan Bay by Commodore Paulding. With the press now less inclined to laud him, and with the governments of both the United States and Great Britain having signaled they were prepared to act to prevent Walker’s return, many men who had previously been prepared to follow the filibuster president back to Nicaragua had walked away. And importantly, moneyed supporters such as George Law had deserted him.
Having beaten Walker—even Harper’s Weekly had come out and declared that the gray-eyed man of destiny owed his defeat to Vanderbilt and his employee Sylvanus Spencer—the Commodore still had to overcome other competitors and win over the Nicaraguan government.1 On December 13, the Martinez government of Nicaragua had, to Vanderbilt’s consternation, advised the U.S. government of the conditional granting of the Transit charter to a new competitor with an old name—the American Atlantic and Pacific Ship Canal Company.2
Over the past few years, Vanderbilt’s former partner, lawyer Joseph L. White, who had since fallen out with him, again, had combined with Wall Street trader H. G. Stebbins to quietly buy up Canal Company stock for a pittance, until they had a controlling interest. When the new Nicaraguan government appointed the Washington ambassador of Guatemala and El Salvador to temporarily represent its interests in the United States following Walker’s initial surrender, White and Stebbins had given that ambassador, A. J. De Yrisarri, five thousand dollars in cash and eighty thousand dollars’ worth of Canal Company stock—which he reputedly passed on to the new government in Managua.3 And this had purchased the Canal Company its provisional charter. Vanderbilt had not stood for that. He had fought too hard and invested too much money in his war with Walker to allow White and Stebbins to whip his charter from his grasp at the last moment. He would soon fix them. Even if it meant going to war again.
And then there were Mr. Morgan and Mr. Garrison, who claimed to still hold the charter. With the war in Nicaragua terminated, they had been prepared to resume operations on the Transit Route and had reemployed their agent C. J. Macdonald to bribe Vanderbilt’s agent in Costa Rica to work for them. The Vanderbilt agent was, of course, William R. C. Webster. His colleague Sylvanus Spencer had since come back to New York and collected his fifty-thousand-dollar prize from Vanderbilt, but Webster had set his sights on larger rewards and was soon inveigled into the Morgan-Garrison fold to win Costa Rica’s President Mora to their side—with Costa Rican troops still occupying the San Juan River, Mora intended to maintain Costa Rican control of the Transit, even if it meant going to war with Nicaragua.
“God damned rascal!” Vanderbilt had exclaimed when he learned that his man Webster had allowed himself to be seduced by Morgan and Garrison.4 Vanderbilt had sent son-in-law Daniel B. Allen to Costa Rica with his bags bulging with a hundred thousand dollars in cash, to buy back Webster’s loyalty, a task he had succeeded in doing. But then Walker had landed at Punta de Castilla, and the ease with which he had retaken El Castillo had frightened President Mora into quickly signing a treaty with Tomàs Martinez’s new Nicaraguan government, a treaty in which both governments vowed to work together against foreign invasion. In the same treaty, Mora had given up the Costa Rican claim to southern Nicaragua and the San Juan River.
This meant that Vanderbilt had to then forget the Costa Ricans and concentrate on winning over the Nicaraguans. Morgan and Garrison’s agent Macdonald, meanwhile, had been told by President Martinez that the Nicaraguan government would never contemplate allocating the charter to Morgan and Garrison, because of their past connection with William Walker. Now, while Vanderbilt was determined to continue the fight, Morgan and Garrison were tossing in the towel. And that was why Charles Morgan was waiting in the Commodore’s anteroom.
Morgan had come to do a deal with the Commodore on behalf of his San Francisco partner and himself. In that deal, Morgan and Garrison would surrender all interest in the Nicaraguan Transit and the proposed Nicaragua canal. In return, Vanderbilt would cease competing with Morgan in the Gulf. Morgan would buy the Vanderbilt Gulf line and its ships. Vanderbilt would buy the brand new SS Queen of the Pacific from Morgan—she had been idle since being launched in New York on April 8 for the now defunct Nicaragua service. The Commodore could put her to good use on the transatlantic run. Vanderbilt would also be offered Morgan’s half interest in each of the San Francisco-based Morgan and Garrison Line steamers Orizaba and Sierra Nevada—making the Commodore an owner of the Sierra Nevada for the third time in her existence. If Vanderbilt agreed to the deal, Morgan and Garrison would never trouble the Commodore again. But after the way he had curtly dismissed Garrison when he had ventured into this office to offer a deal, there was no guaranteeing that the Commodore wouldn’t do the same to Morgan.
Vanderbilt may not have ruined Morgan and Garrison as he once famously promised to do, but he had beaten them, just as he had beaten William Walker. In July of the previous year, former Secretary of State William L. Marcy had passed away, but not before learning to his satisfaction that Walker and his followers had been ejected from Nicaragua. More than thirty years before, it had been Marcy who had coined a saying: To the victor belong the spoils of the enemy. And if he so chose, Cornelius Vanderbilt could now enjoy the spoils of his Nicaraguan victory. Or he could tell Charles Morgan to go to blazes.
Vanderbilt took another long puff on his cigar, slowly exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling, watching it curl up around the dangling gas chandelier. And then he looked down to Lambert Wardell waiting patiently at the door and told him to send Mr. Morgan right on in.
than thirty years before, it had been Marcy who had coined a saying: To the victor belong the spoils of the enemy. And if he so chose, Cornelius Vanderbilt could now enjoy the spoils of his Nicaraguan victory. Or he could tell Charles Morgan to go to blazes.
Vanderbilt took another long puff on his cigar, slowly exhaling the smoke, watching it curl up to the ceiling. And then he looked down to Lambert Wardell waiting patiently at the door and told him to send Mr. Morgan right on in.