The Evening Gun: Volume three in War of 1812 Trilogy Read online

  “Why thank you, Isaac. That’s a most pleasant compliment. I think you are ‘right smart’ as well. Do you think you’ll have to sail back up to Nottingham at once?” She looked over his shoulder at the figure moving briskly toward them. “Oh, here comes your commodore – Barney, if I remember correctly. Per chance he will tell us.”

  Before Isaac could say a word, she stepped right up to Barney and when he stopped and doffed his hat, she did in fact ask him.

  “Oh Commodore. Are you planning to sail immediately? If not, Father and I would like you and Captain Biggs to join us for supper this evening. Should you have time, of course, from your many duties.” She curtsied sweetly and looked at the man with an eager and earnest face.

  “Well, Miss Thomas, I believe we will not be leaving until the morning tide. And I thank you most kindly for your delightful invitation to sup with you and the colonel. Unfortunately, my duties will prevent me from joining you, but I am sure that Captain Biggs would be most pleased to.” Barney smiled and looked at Isaac. The young man’s face was a panoply of expression; confusion, switching from horror at the pluck of the girl to delight at the opportunity of spending more time with her and then to embarrassment at Barney’s involvement.

  Isaac broke into a tentative smile again. “Aye. I would be. Uh…that is, Commodore, if’n you ain’t got nothin’ you need me an’ the lads to get done while we’re here.”

  “No, Isaac. I believe we can spare you to join this lovely young miss and her father at supper.” Barney turned and made his way to the end of the pier where his boat had been waiting since the late morning when he came ashore. He didn’t break into a smile until he was nearly to the boat. Isaac and Sarah watched as he was rowed out to the gunboat.

  “You can help me with some shopping, Isaac, and then we’ll go home. You can visit with Father whilst I prepare the meal.”

  “I probably oughta be gettin’ back aboard for a spell, Miss Sarah, and check on a few things. If you could let me know…”

  “Oh yes. Men don’t help with shopping, do they!” She chided him, but the old anger was gone. “You may meet me on the green at a half four, if that would suit you.” Her dark eyes sparkled.

  “Aye, one bell in the first dog watch, on the green. I’ll be there, Miss Sarah and glad to be.” He made his bow and turned, walking down the dock with a lightness in his step. The grin was still on his face when he stepped aboard the sloop.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The back room of the ale house was all but empty at this early hour of the day; a few early starters and a single hang-over from the previous evening’s clientele occupied two tables in the dim room.

  “Aye, this’ll do fine. Just clear out these coves and be sure the door is kept closed. We could be here all morning and for your trouble – and loss of business,” Joshua Barney shot a glance at the two men working on tall mugs of ale and the passed-out drunk in the corner – “I’ll arrange for us all to take dinner here at midday. And of course, we’ll require coffee as soon as my guests arrive.”

  The publican bowed slightly from the waist, pleased that Barney had chosen the River Rose as the place for this important meeting, but at the same time annoyed as it would appear to put him in sympathy with the man who most took as the root of all their troubles. But the extra money during a normally quiet morning would offset his neighbors’ scorn.

  While the owner rousted the drunk from his torpor and invited the other two men to take a table in the front room, Barney strode outside to await his guests, recoiling from the brightness and heat that had already built, though it was barely nine o’clock. This July had been one of the hottest he ever recalled and, contrary to his habit of always being properly attired, he stripped off his jacket, folded it carefully, and draped it over his arm. A large maple tree at the corner of the building provided him some shade and he stood resolutely under it as he considered the events of the week that had passed since the flotilla had returned to Nottingham from it’s wild goose chase.

  On July fifteenth, only a day after their return, Barney had received word that five warships and two transports showing British colors had arrived at the mouth of the Patuxent. His informant had been unclear as to the size or weight of metal of the warships, but seemed not to waver in his story of their arrival. Nonetheless, Barney, remembering his rush to Benedict, remained skeptical. Should the report prove correct, there would be a sizable fleet now gathered at Point Patience.

  A report he received just three days later added some veracity; several British ships – again size and configuration unknown – had landed troops at God’s Grace Point, moved inland to Huntingtown and burned the tobacco warehouse there. Unfortunately, the fire had gotten out of control and the entire town had burned to ashes.

  Finally, Captain Nourse of the HMS Severn had accompanied Royal Marines and sailors to Prince Frederick, the seat of Calvert County, and had personally overseen the burning of the courthouse there. They had again landed at God’s Grace Point. Most vexing, but not in the least surprising to Commodore Barney, was the fact that a large militia force had been present in the county seat, but not a shot had been fired. That had been on July nineteenth.

  And now, Brigadier General William Winder had sent a message that he would be in Nottingham this morning and desired a meeting with Barney and his senior staff. Barney had smiled at that, as he had exactly no staff, senior or otherwise. He would include some of his skippers, he decided and had notified Jack Clements, Luke Cooper, and Isaac Biggs. He wished he had not sent Jared Talbot to Baltimore; his insights and direct manner of speaking them would have been useful.

  Looking down the road with its clinging haze of dust, he saw the three captains striding toward the River Rose. They all three had the rolling gait that marked them immediately as sailors. To his dismay, he also saw Clements’ huge dog trotting along behind his master. Haven’t seen that beast in a while, he thought as he watched the trio and the dog move easily through the dust, leaving an even larger cloud of the road dirt in their wake. And I surely ain’t missed him, neither. He moved to intercept them before they gained the door.

  “I ‘spect that beast of your’n ain’t likely to be all that welcome in there, Captain Clements. Perhaps he’d be happier settin’ out here. There’s a patch of shade yonder where you can leave him.”

  Jack looked at the commodore, then the ‘patch of shade yonder’, and then the dog who was panting just beyond the men near the door to the ale house, waiting expectantly for it to be opened. “Don’t reckon he’s likely to bother anyone, Commodore. And I think he might be wantin’ a pan of water. Hot ain’t in it out here, and gonna get hotter quicker ‘an not.” Jack smiled and stepped past his senior into the tavern, holding the door for his grateful dog. They disappeared into the gloom inside and the door closed behind them.

  “Damme! He’s done it again! That rascal just don’t get it. I don’t like that beast one bit. Damn thing makes me uncomfortable just bein’ around.” Barney fussed at the two captains whose efforts at controlling their mirth were largely ineffective.

  “Commodore, who’s this Winder cove what wants to meet with us? What’s he comin’ here to Nottingham for?” Luke Cooper, the captain of Barney’s flagship was known for his directness. He and Isaac waited while the commodore thought for a moment; Barney drew a breath and faced his captain.

  “What he is, Captain Cooper, is the man placed in charge of the army in the District of Columbia, Maryland and even down to Virginia. And the one who’s gonna be responsible for directin’ the troops when the British attack – wherever that might be.”

  “Aye, but does he know anything? Some o’ the coves we’ve come across running the militia ain’t got no idea what they’s doin’.”

  “Well, he got the appointment on account of his uncle, I’m told by them what claim to know, and I understand he’s a better lawyer than general. Heard he’s even been captured once – ‘bout a year back, up toward Niagra, I believe – but he’s what we got and
he’s comin’ here to see if’n we cain’t figure a way to…”

  Before he could finish the sentence, a coach drawn by a pair of dappled horses rounded a corner behind the tavern and slowed, rolling to a stop opposite the three men. The cloud of dust they had created roiled around them; Barney put a handkerchief to his face while the others just turned away.

  In a moment, the door opened and a stout man in full military rig stepped somewhat stiffly down. Isaac and Luke Cooper turned back and watched as Barney strode forward, his hand extended in greeting. The general doffed his hat, ignoring the commodore’s hand, and Barney quickly recovered and did the same.

  Hmmmm, thought Isaac. This cove’s sure got his sails full. He nudged Cooper with his elbow and shot a quick glance at him. Cooper smiled thinly. They watched the general and their commodore chat for a few minutes by the still open door of the coach. Then Barney gently steered the army man over to where his captains waited.

  Isaac had a moment to take the man’s measure while the pair approached. Medium height, stout, and somewhat bandy-legged; hair brown but showing signs of gray and worn touching his collar in the current style. Winder’s face was narrow, with a sharp nose topped with necessarily close-set eyes. He seemed to Isaac to be a very serious man. And then Barney was introducing him.

  “A pleasure, I’m sure, Captain.” Isaac noticed that even while Winder spoke to him, he was looking elsewhere. No doffing of hats or shaking hands. Biggs made the appropriate response, unheard, and Winder moved toward the door with Barney hurrying along in his wake. The other two cast glances at each other and followed.

  Once inside, Winder again doffed his hat and looked around for someone to take it. When no one stepped forward, he brushed his handkerchief across a corner of a nearby table and set the hat carefully on it; he looked critically around the room.

  A few tables and chairs had been pushed more or less together while the remainder of them seemed to be randomly placed. The warm breeze that blew in when the door opened had disturbed the dust that floated in from the street every time the door was opened; the particles swirled in the beams of sunlight that streamed in from the east-facing windows. The room smelled faintly of spirits, tobacco and sweat, but the general and the sailors barely noticed. Bits of white clay from the tavern’s assortment of pipes littered the floor and crunched under foot as the men moved to a table. Winder settled himself in a chair with his back to the east wall. It required that any who looked at him would be looking into the sun – at least for a while.

  Jack Clements was duly introduced while Barney looked furtively around the room and wondered silently – and hopefully – what had happened to the dog; he was nowhere in evidence. The commodore took a seat and motioned his captains to do the same.

  “Commodore, I asked you and your staff to meet with me to discuss the situation both here and in Washington, and to inform you of the enemy’s next move.” Winder blandly opened the meeting.

  Barney raised his eyebrows at this statement; the other three merely squinted at the general.

  “As you undoubtedly are aware, there have been several additions to the fleet anchored down river – near Patience’s Point, I believe it is. Somewhat close to the mouth of the river.”

  “Point Patience, I think you mean, General. A league and more in from the Bay.” Barney spoke quietly, but Winder went on as if he had said not a word.

  “It is expected that they will sail their ships as far up the Patuxent as they can and then disembark Marines and sailors who will then march overland to attack Annapolis. After that I cannot say where they will go, but Baltimore would, I expect, answer nicely for them.”

  The general was about to continue with his forecast of the British movements when there went a knock on the door and upon direction, the River Rose’s owner appeared with a tray of cups and a pitcher of coffee. A moment or two later, the man was gone. While Joshua Barney poured out the coffee, Winder, annoyed at the disturbance, cast a scathing look at first, the publican’s back and then, Barney; scowling, he continued his assessment of the enemy’s plan.

  “As you all are also likely aware, Admiral Cockburn, who is apparently in charge of the Royal Navy forces here in the Chesapeake, has been conducting raids up and down the Potomac similar to the ones Captains Nourse and Barrie have been carrying out on the Patuxent. It is my belief that those raids are purely diversionary in nature and designed to make us think that the capital city is their intended target. Of course, there are military fortifications along the Potomac which are restricting their movements; for the moment, anyway, they have remained below St. Clements Creek.” Winder paused in his monologue and looked around the table. The light haloed behind him, giving him a glow that, to the sailors staring wide-eyed at him, was unnerving.

  “General, meaning no disrespect, sir, how can you possibly be sure of what you are telling us. Do you have an agent in Cockburn’s employ, or have you captured a British officer who shared that knowledge with you? And I believe that Cockburn’s superior, the man actually in charge on the Bay, is an Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane.” Barney had trouble hiding his disdain for the haphazard assessment of the enemy’s strength as well as his incredulity at the confidence Winder had placed in his own idea of the British plan. Barney was equally sure the British target would be Washington and no other. Several, including Navy Secretary Jones, agreed, but there were others who thought, like Winder, that Annapolis would be first, and still more who thought Baltimore a likely target.

  Barney’s tone caused Winder’s eyebrows to shoot up, and his own tone reflected the beginnings of outrage. “Of course not! I have studied their movements carefully and after consulting with my staff, have deduced that what I have outlined for you is the only possible course they have to follow. Do you not agree?”

  “Well, actually, General, no; I surely do not. With every respect. I have every reason to believe that they are after my flotilla and will go to whatever lengths necessary to destroy it. After that, I am firmly of the opinion that they will attack Washington.” Barney fixed Winder with a look that had caused sailors to blanch. Because of his angle to the window, the sunlight had no effect on him. He continued, “I surely hope that you are not positioning units of the army and militia based on your idea…”

  Winder stood suddenly, interrupting the commodore with a voice like a cannon shot. “I most certainly am. It is the only possible way to prevent a disaster. I have already instructed Wadsworth and Thomas to take up positions on the Annapolis road so as to strengthen the militia there. They should be nearly there by now. And I am ordering you to move your units…”

  Now Barney leaped to his feet; his expression had changed from horror to outrage. His face reddened quite suddenly and a vein stood out in high relief on his neck. His voice was low and threatening, more disturbing than had he shouted his response.

  “General, I take my orders only from Secretary Jones. I am not part of your Army nor is the flotilla connected in any way with any militia. You will not give me orders of any nature.”

  The two men, each among the most senior in their fields, stood nearly nose to nose and glared at each other. Winder had a trickle of spittle running from a small bubble that had formed in the corner of his mouth. Barney’s eyes were squinted down and his left eyebrow twitched, a sign of extreme agitation only a few of his officers had ever witnessed.

  Isaac was speechless. Jack and Luke Cooper merely looked at one another and tried to maintain the expected level of solemnity; it was an effort. In the silence, the sailors heard movement from a corner of the room and soft footfalls.

  Turning, they all saw Carronade walking easily from the corner where his sleep had been disturbed by the outburst. Out of the corner of his eye, the general saw not a large dog, but a gray apparition of sizable proportion floating through swirling dust motes and heading directly for him. Its mouth was open revealing large shiny teeth and a long pink tongue lolled from the outboard side.

  Horrified, Winder tore his e
yes away from the apparition and sputtered, “Great Scott! What in the name of all that’s holy is that? And what is it doing in here?”

  “That’s just ol’ Carronade, General. He’s just a dog. No reason he should be layin’ outside in all this heat when they’s a cool spot in here and a pan of water for him.” Clements smiled at Winder and reached out a hand to the animal. It still appeared to the general that he was heading right for him.

  He backed up, knocking over his chair in the process and stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. Carronade sat panting next to Jack and looked disinterestedly at the retreating general. Clements continued to smile disarmingly, his hand on the beast’s head, while Isaac and Luke were straining to control themselves. Even Commodore Barney unsuccessfully tried to suppress a smile. He moved back a step and directed his smile at the still sputtering Brigadier General.

  “General, if we can get this conversation back on course, I reckon we might accomplish something. No point in shouting into each other’s face like a couple of liquored up tars in some alley. As to the dog, he is perfectly safe and I’m sure that Captain Clements,” he nodded at Jack, “would be pleased to maintain some level of control over him. Please sit down and let us talk like gentlemen.”

  Winder sputtered, but sat as Barney had suggested, keeping a wary eye on Jack’s dog.

  And so the meeting continued on a more civilized basis. Barney disagreed with most of the general’s plans as much as he disagreed with the general’s ideas of the British targets, certainly as much as General Winder disagreed with Barney’s thoughts. The only area in which there was an eventual meeting of the minds was that the British were determined to capture or, barring that, destroy, the gunboats, barges, and sloops of Barney’s flotilla.