The Evening Gun: Volume three in War of 1812 Trilogy Page 13

  “What a sweet sailing vessel she is, by God. And pretty as a sprightly girl. Just like Miss Sarah. Must make quite a sight, all of us sailin’ like this. Put fear into the hearts of any Royal Navy cove to see this, it would.” He mused out loud, safely out of earshot of any of his crew.

  “What was that, Isaac? Sorry, I didn’t catch your words.” The gray bearded sailor loading and checking the stern mounted swivel gun paused and looked up from his work, squinting at the captain.

  “Oh, wasn’t nothin’. Just talkin’ to my own self, I was.” Isaac was surprised that he had missed the oldest member of the sloop’s crew who must have walked right by him on his way to the gun. And equally surprised he had spoken aloud. What’s the matter with me? Where’s my head gotten to? This time he made sure he was only thinking the words; his lips formed a thin line across his face and his brow furrowed in consternation. He didn’t completely understand this change that had come over him – and just since he was in Benedict.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “It sure don’t look like the British come up by ship, by God! You see anything lookin’ like a Royal Navy man o’ war, Isaac?” Jack’s shout was the first sound any of them heard after rounding the bend just above Benedict. The crews had become thoughtfully silent as their destination – and an uncertain future – neared. Clements’ sloop was somewhat ahead of the rest of the flotilla, followed closely by Isaac’s, and the scarred deepwater man was standing in the bow of his vessel next to the big dog. Carronade was alert, but silent, adding credence to his master’s words.

  As they approached the town landing, the crews standing ready at their guns with slow matches lit, the flotillamen saw no sign of a British invasion – or of anything else. All remained quite serene; there seemed to be few townspeople visible and the ones the men could see appeared to be in no distress.

  The sloops luffed their sails as the gunboats drew closer. Barney ordered anchors out, but at short stay and rigged with spring lines to turn the vessels and bring guns to bear should it be necessary. Then he called for his cutter to be lowered.

  Isaac, his longglass at his eye, watched the commodore as he made his way up the dock. The town green was visible beyond the buildings at the head of the dock and Isaac’s mind flashed to an image of Sarah Thomas in her blue dress and bonnet. Their conversation ran through his mind and he watched himself and the girl walk from the green to the dock. He smiled as he saw her hoist herself aboard the sloop without assistance, and become instant friends with that monster dog of Jack’s.

  The commodore disappeared around the corner of a building, but Isaac barely noticed; a figure in a pale green frock was moving down the dock. He brought the glass back to his eye and refocused it. As the green dress sharpened and the face above it snapped into view, Isaac felt his mouth go dry.

  “Hay, Billings: get a boat in the water. Lively now. I’m goin’ ashore.” Isaac was moving toward the vessel’s waist as he spoke and fussed impatiently, issuing superfluous instructions, as the little boat was swung out and splashed alongside. The men cast furtive glances at their skipper, muttering among themselves as they worked about his strange manner. Barely had his boat smacked down when Isaac was over the rail and in it, ordering two of his crew in to row him ashore.

  “Say, Isaac. Ain’t that your lady friend what was here when we come up from the Creek?” Jack’s voice boomed out over the water and Biggs looked at the other black sloop to see his friend standing on the bulwark amidships with a longglass in his hand. With his other hand he held lightly onto the starboard main shroud. A grin, larger by half than his normal cheery smile, split his face as he alternated his gaze between his love-struck mate and the pretty girl who now stood at the end of the pier, her hands on her hips. The young Marblehead sailor colored at Clements’ observation, but said nothing. The two seamen grinned, realizing at last the reason for their captain’s haste and his fussing.

  His boat bumped alongside the high dock, made even higher by the low tide in the river, and Isaac shinnied up a piling to climb onto the rough boards of the pier. As he raised himself up from his hands and knees, he heard the rustle of cloth moved by the breeze. Looking up, he saw the light green of Sarah’s skirt and above that, her wonderful face wreathed in that radiant black hair; she was standing right in front of him!

  As he scrambled to his feet, her eyes followed his movement and met his gaze with a slight smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes.

  “I…uh…good morning, Miss Sarah. I surely didn’t expect to see you again so…that is to say…uh…I wasn’t ‘spectin’ that we’d be comin’ back…uh…”

  “Well. That’s a fine greeting! And I am glad to see you again, too, Isaac. I heard the flotilla might be returning to Benedict soon, but I surely didn’t think it would be this soon. And with all the boats…uh, excuse me, sloops. What a delightful surprise!”

  “Aye, ma’am. It surely is a nice surprise. For me too. But they’s not all sloops, Miss Sarah; ain’t but two of ‘em sloops. Mine and that other black one yonder. That’s Jack Clements’ sloop. He’s the one what owns the big dog what took to you afore.” He seemed to have found his voice again. But he couldn’t get out the words he wanted. The girl stepped in again to rescue him.

  “Oh, I do remember the dog well. And Mister Clements. But he was sailing with you when last you were here, was he not?”

  “Oh, aye. That he was. And I’m mighty glad to see you here, Miss Sarah.” There, he’d got it out. Finally. “But someone – said it was Colonel Thomas, he did – sent a messenger to Commodore Barney up to Nottingham. Said the British was landin’ eight hundred Marines here in Benedict. Don’t look to me like they’s any Redcoats ‘round, that I can see.”

  “I can’t understand why Father would send for the commodore. There have been no British soldiers anywhere near Benedict for some weeks now. But you’re here and I am so glad. Had I know how quickly you would respond, I would have sent for you myself!” An impish smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes reinforced her words.

  Isaac colored again, his face reddening beneath the weathered tan, but he smiled broadly at the compliment from the pretty young woman. And followed close aboard as she turned and strolled slowly up the dock toward the town. The pair carried on quietly, enjoying each other’s company in silence. As they reached the green where they had met, Isaac’s thoughts swirled and filled with their meeting; it had been only a few days ago, but already he felt that he had known this striking girl forever.

  “Would you like to meet Father?” She asked suddenly. “Then you could inquire yourself about the message you received in Nottingham.” Sarah looked searchingly at him.

  “Well, I…umm…that is…it ain’t for me to question…uh…I reckon the commodore’s likely doin’ that very thing. He’s already went off to find…well, I don’t know who he went to find, but someone what can sort this all out for him. And the message we got weren’t ‘xactly for me, neither.” Isaac was caught off-guard again.

  “But surely he doesn’t know where Father might be; I do. I am sure your commodore would be pleased to have your insight to the problem, should one indeed exist.”

  “I’d be right pleased to meet your father, Miss Sarah, but I surely wouldn’t want to be takin’ Commodore Barney’s wind on this; he likely wouldn’t take real kindly to it.”

  “Well then, you certainly shall meet him and should the subject come up, you can inquire yourself. What you do with the knowledge will be up to you.” She turned and strode purposefully across the green with Isaac again making all sail to catch up to her.

  A short walk from the green, the pair stopped in front of a well-appointed, two-story house, surrounded by tall trees. A short brick path led from the street to steps leading to a half round porch and the front door. The four windows on the ground floor were open wide, as was the centered door. Upstairs, three windows in dormers were likewise open, and Isaac could see curtains billowing in the breeze. Hmm, he thought as he studied what he assu
med was the home of Sarah’s father. Curtains. Houses this fancy in Marblehead only belong to important folks. He remembered seeing the Crowninshield home in Salem a year and more back; it was only a little bigger than this and he recalled seeing curtains there, too. The house in Salem was also “built lapstrake” as Isaac recalled, not knowing the proper name for clapboards. And the Crowninshields were among the most important – and well-set – families in Salem. This cove must surely be more than just a colonel of the militia.

  “You live here, Miss Sarah?” Isaac was uncertain now on how to proceed. He hesitated as she started up the brick path.

  “Oh no, silly. This is Mister Summers’ home; he’s head of the Benedict Citizens’ Committee and I believe Father said he was going to be meeting with him this day to determine what should be done with our Militia. In the event the British do, in fact, come. And I’ve been told that there are some federal soldiers expected any day now. I’d imagine they’re likely talking on that as well.” She waited while Isaac continued to struggle with her impetuous desire to interrupt this obviously important meeting.

  “Uh…well…Miss Sarah. I don’t think we ought to just barge in there. They got more important things they’s thinkin’ on than us. Mayhaps we’d better wait a spell, ‘til they get done.” Biggs remained on the street, as Sarah somewhat less than patiently, waited a few steps beyond on the walk.

  “Oh do come with me Isaac. Father will be glad to meet you and I’m sure that they must be finishing quickly. They’ve been talking for quite some time, now. Surely there can’t be that much of importance to discuss.”

  As they continued to debate the merits of interrupting the august personages of the Head of the Citizens’ Committee, Colonel of the Militia, and who knew who else, figures appeared at the doorway of the home. Sarah caught Isaac’s glance as it shifted to a point beyond her and turned back to the house.

  “Oh Father, there you are! We were just about to come and get you. Are you quite done with your meeting?” The girl seemed, to Isaac at least, to float up the walk toward the three men now standing on the steps. As they watched, a fourth appeared in the doorway and emerged into the bright daylight. It was Joshua Barney.

  “Well Sarah. How nice to see you and how pretty you look in that green dress.” One of the figures detached itself from the group and stepped off the porch onto the first step. He was dressed in gray trousers, a white shirt with a gray waistcoat and no jacket – a concession to the Chesapeake summer, no doubt. Sarah gave him a brief hug. Isaac watched from the street, unable to hear their words, but assumed she was greeting her father. Further conversation and a curtsy indicated her introductions to the other men.

  “Isaac. Come here and meet Mister Summers. And my father.” The young woman’s words were not to be ignored and, even though he was sure he did not belong there with those obviously important men, he took a few tentative steps toward the house and the group waiting for him on the porch.

  “Isaac this is my godfather, Mister Summers and this is my father, Colonel Thomas. This gentleman is Colonel Wadsworth and I believe you know Commodore Barney. Gentlemen, this is Captain Isaac Biggs, of Marblehead Massachusetts and commander of a beautiful black sloop anchored in our river.” Sarah’s smile was echoed along with suitable greetings from three of the men; Joshua Barney merely nodded.

  Isaac crumpled his hat in one hand while he shook hands with each of the local dignitaries. Colonel Wadsworth shook Isaac’s hand saying, “I remember you from down at St. Leonard Creek and, then after the flotilla got freed, right here in Benedict. On the commodore’s gunboat, it was.” He turned to Colonel Thomas and Summers. “This young man and another commanding a similar vessel was most helpful in getting the commodore’s flotilla out of St. Leonard Creek. A fine sailorman he is.”

  Isaac blushed at the compliment and crushed his hat tighter in his fist. Wadsworth now addressed Biggs. “Did you enjoy success on your return to the creek, Captain? The commodore ain’t mentioned anything but that you went and was back with the spars and powder you was sent to fetch.”

  “Aye, sir. We got it done just fine. Took a small prize – a cutter from the Sixth Rate Favorite – but lost her in a scrap with a British row-barge.”

  “Did not Doctor Plumm accompany you on this voyage, young man?” This from Sarah’s godfather.

  Isaac looked at the group, settling his gaze on Joshua Barney. He received a barely perceptible nod from the commodore.

  “Aye, that he did, sir. Accompanied us down to the creek to offer his services to any of the army or militia coves what might be needin’ ‘em after the fightin’. But we took a prize, as I mentioned, Sir, and they was some of them British sailors what got wounded in the takin’ so he spent his time doctorin’ them. And their lieutenant was cruel hurt – gut shot with grape, beggin’ your pardon, Miss Sarah – and he needed Doc Plumm’s help more’n the others.” He paused in his narrative, again casting a glance at Barney.

  “Go on, Isaac. You might as well tell ‘em the whole of it.” The commodore prodded the sloop captain.

  Isaac took a breath, not sure how to explain the doctor’s absence, then plunged forward. “We was bringin’ out our prize an’ Mister Plumm and the English lieutenant was in the cutter, bein’ towed astern the sloop. It was dark as pitch, bein’ as how the row barge attacked us durin’ the middle watch, and they was shootin’ at what I reckon they thought was the sloop. But it weren’t; it was the cutter astern of us and it got cruel wounded. Likely holed, it were. I reckon the doctor and the lieutenant was either killed or taken by ‘em to one o’ the British men o’ war layin’ off Point Patience.” He stopped his tale short of expounding on the doctor’s traitorous behavior.

  “A real pity, that. We’ll surely miss his skills hereabouts. Been here long as most of us can remember.” Colonel Thomas was examining Isaac carefully. It was apparent that either Sarah had mentioned him or that he had noticed the way his daughter acted around the sailor and he took the young man’s measure. Slowly.

  Isaac felt like a butterfly on a pin in one of those cases he had seen once. He twisted his hat and shuffled his feet. “I…uh…I best be gettin’ back aboard, Miss Sarah. A pleasure to meet you gentlemen.” He nodded to each and then to the commodore. “Sir? Will we be gettin’ underweigh directly?”

  Before the man could answer, Sarah put her hand on Isaac’s arm and addressed her father. “Father, you never asked why we were here. Isaac wanted to know why the messenger…”

  Oh Lord, Miss Sarah, not now. Don’t say no more! Isaac thought as he heard the girl heading off on this tack. He glanced at Barney. A slight smile played at the corners of the commodore’s mouth; No help there, Isaac thought. And Sarah continued.

  “…eight hundred strong and landing here.” She looked earnestly at her father.

  “Commodore Barney and I have already been over that ground, young lady, and I seem to recollect we’ve had conversations in the past about you bein’ caught up with things that don’t concern you. And should the commodore want to discuss the matter with Captain Biggs, I expect he will. Why don’t you finish doin’ them errands you was about and leave the menfolk to handle this.” Colonel Thomas had drawn himself up to his full six feet of height and the words he spoke were accompanied by a look that would brook no nonsense. Sarah seemed not to notice.

  “Come, Isaac. I will walk you back to the dock. I do hope your little boat has waited to carry you back out to the…sloop. Oh, how silly of me; of course they will wait, you’re their captain.” With hardly a glance at her father or any other, she turned and floated gracefully back down the walk to the street.

  The deepwater man, again in what he perceived to be water beyond his depth, looked questioningly at his commodore; he received a shrug in response to his unasked question. And nodding silently again at each of the others in turn, followed the girl to the street.

  He heard someone, he thought it might have been Colonel Thomas or possibly Mr. Summers, say “He’s got his hands f
ull with that one, by God. Poor lad’ll never figure out what hit him.” Then laughter.

  As he hurried to catch up with Sarah, Isaac felt the color rise up his neck at the comment. A fluke of wind brought him the parting words of the men as they said their goodbyes and he sensed that Barney would soon be heading to the dock behind him. He came abreast of the girl who had slowed her pace. He didn’t know quite what to say – or even if he should say anything. Sarah solved his problem for him.

  “I told you my father – and most of the other men in town – think I meddle in what they claim as their private domain. But I think I have a right to know what is happening around here. Particularly if the British are indeed coming up the river. We will all have to deal with that event if – or perhaps I should say, when, since most think they’re after your boats and you are here – it occurs. And we are all – men and women alike – suffering the same privations since the British began stealing our foods and supplies. Oh! I get so vexed at Father sometimes. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want me to think for myself!” She stamped her foot raising a small cloud of dust in the dry dirt road.

  Isaac was caught aback by the outburst; this was a side of this pretty young woman he had not before seen. Obviously she is smart, he thought as he struggled to come up with some words to mollify her before he returned to the sloop. He didn’t have time.

  “You probably agree with them, being a man, don’t you Isaac?” She stopped and looked intently at him from a disturbingly close distance, still miffed at her father’s rebuke. “You must think I’m a complete fool, but let me tell you, the ones who are the fools are the ones who would welcome the British to Benedict.”

  “No ma’am, Miss Sarah…I mean, aye, that’s right…about the ones welcoming the British. And no, I surely don’t think you are a fool, or anything close to one. In fact, I think you are right smart.” He smiled, hopefully. He cast about in his mind for something else to say that would cause her to change course. He needn’t have worried. As quickly as it appeared, her anger was gone and she looked at him and smiled.