1824: The Arkansas War (22 page)

All through the next day, as he argued with Ball, one part of Robert’s mind had been attentive to his son. David, he understood, was making the same decision himself—and doing it with the verve and recklessness of a nineteen-year-old. By midmorning, his mother’s protestations notwithstanding, he’d had a spare uniform refitted by the captain’s wife and was training with one of the gun crews.

He looked to be quite good at it, too.

It couldn’t be said that Ball actually sulked after agreeing to Robert’s proposal. But he was noticeably gruff toward his men for a time thereafter. If Ball had been harsh and even caustic during the moments of combat the previous day, Robert had found him to be very good humored any other time.

Fortunately, the time was brief. Before the sun had reached the western horizon, Robert was vindicated.

Twice, in fact—even if, ironically, neither of the instances had anything to do with cutting lines of supply. But Ball was beginning to learn what any capable general knew in his bones: that a good strategic move always brought serendipitous results in its wake.

“Hey, we’re noncombatants!” the captain of the captured steamboat protested.

“Not any more,” Ball countered cheerfully.

The captain stared at the Arkansas soldiers who were hacking away the front guard of his steamboat with axes. Then, stared at the soldiers manhandling a cannon from one steamboat to the other. It was a tricky operation, even with the two boats tied together in the middle of the river.

“This is piracy!” he squawked.

Robert cleared his throat, drawing the man’s eyes. “Actually, it’s not, by the laws of war. The Confederacy of the Arkansas has been invaded by an army coming out of the territory of the United States. Until and unless the United States makes clear through diplomatic channels that there was no official involvement—and takes rigorous and public measures to put a stop to such offenses—General Ball has no choice but to conclude that a state of war exists. That being the case, he has every right—indeed, the obligation as an officer—to seize enemy property that might be turned to military advantage.”

He added a smile for good measure. “Provided, of course, he follows proper military procedure and sees to it that his men remain disciplined and no outrages are committed against the persons owning the property. Which, I dare say, he has done meticulously in this case.”

He turned the smile onto the American who’d been scribbling furiously in his notebook since the moment the steamboat had come into sight and been captured. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Bryant?”

“Oh, yes,” the scribbler replied, not even looking up from his scribbling. “Been right the proper gentleman.”

“Damn New Englander!”

Bryant finally looked up from his notebook. “New Englander or not, Captain, I remain a citizen of the United States. Registered to vote, I assure you. And I’m just as curious to know as General Ball is, how it came to pass that an army large enough to commit savageries that would have shamed the Huns managed to assemble, train, and launch an attack on a neighboring country from the state of Louisiana—without, so far as I can determine at the moment, any official of that state issuing so much as a peep of protest. Perhaps I shall ask you for an interview. Being as you are, I understand, a citizen of Louisiana.”

The captain’s jaws tightened. Bryant went on, relentlessly: “I’m curious to discover if the state of Louisiana entertains a different translation of the Constitution than my native state of Massachusetts—or any other state of the Union, so far as I’m aware. I refer you to Article I, Section 8. The right to select officers for the militia is reserved to the states, true enough, but only Congress can declare war.”

“That ain’t no Gol-derned militia! That’s just Crittenden and his boys!”

“Ah. Pirates, in other words. Or bandits, if you prefer. May I quote you to that effect?”

“You sure as Sam Hill can
not.
Those boys find out I said any such thing, my life ain’t worth a plucked chicken.”

“Oh, splendid. That’ll do even better.” Bryant began scribbling in his notebook. “A knowledgeable local source who insisted on remaining anonymous for his own safety depicted Crittenden and his men as criminal extortionists, who would cold-bloodedly murder any man who exposed their nefarious activities to the light of day.”

“I said no such thing!”

“Actually, you did,” said Robert mildly. “If not in so many words.”

Ball was less diplomatic. “Sure did. And fuck you. This boat now belongs to the Arkansas Army. And if you don’t pilot it for me, you best stop worrying about what Crittenden’s men’ll do to you.”

His black face could have served as the model for a bust entitled
Menace.

“You wouldn’t!” the captain protested.

Ball sneered. “No,
I
wouldn’t. Don’t need to. You don’t do what I tell you, you be useless. Ain’t no room for useless men on this boat, so I’ll have to set you ashore. A ways down, though. In Choctaw territory.”

The captain’s face paled. Ball swiveled his head to the south. “I do believe the Choctaws be pissed, right around now. Pissed like you wouldn’t believe. ’Course, they might listen to you, when you explain you just an innocent bystander. But if I was you, I surely wouldn’t want to bet on it.”

“All right, then,” the captain muttered.

Less than half an hour later, the newly expanded flotilla made its next capture: a keelboat, filled with white men and three negroes. One young black woman and two black boys.

They didn’t put up a fight. Not with two steamboats alongside and cannons trained on them. And close to thirty well-armed men with muskets leveled.

Bryant interviewed the blacks, who turned out to be captives. The boys, at least. The young woman—not much more than a girl, really—was too distraught to be coherent. Clearly enough, she’d been badly abused.

Ball’s interview of the white men was extremely brief. There wasn’t any mystery about their identity, after all, even without the testimony of the two boys.

“Hang ’em,” he ordered, “I want to save our powder.”

“You can’t do that!” shrieked the man who seemed to be the leader of the group.

Ball’s expression had long since gone beyond menace.

“Watch me, you pile of shit,” he said. “You’ll have the best view around.”

After it was done, and the corpses had been pitched into the river, Ball took a few minutes to settle his anger. That was the mark of a good officer, too. Robert’s hopes for the man kept rising.

Still higher, when Ball turned to him for advice.

“What do you recommend now, General? I’d dearly love to have some knowledge of what’s happening upriver.” He nodded to the west. “The Arkansas, I mean.”

The two steamboats were now positioned right at the confluence. Controlling both rivers completely, at least until such time as an opposing force of warships could arrive. Which wasn’t likely to happen any time soon, in Robert’s estimation. Unless he was badly mistaken, both the state of Louisiana and the American federal authorities had been caught by surprise by Crittenden’s expedition. Not the fact of it, so much as the timing. From what they’d been able to glean, Crittenden had come into a sudden and unexpected windfall in terms of arms. The expectation had been that he couldn’t launch any serious attack on Arkansas until the following year, if ever.

By now, after two decades of constant freebooting activity into Mexico and—in times past—Florida and Amelia Island, the mere fact that a band of adventurers had gathered somewhere in the Gulf and was making noise didn’t really mean that much. Even as large a group as Crittenden had assembled needed more in the way of arms and ammunition than personal weaponry. Following the Adams-Onis Treaty, the United States had clamped down on the former custom of providing unofficial assistance through government channels.

As he pondered the answer to Ball’s question, Robert’s eyes fell on Bryant. The young New England poet and journalist had left off his interview of the rescued negroes and was back to scribbling. He had the look of an energetic and curious man, as well as an intelligent and well-educated one. It would be interesting to see what his investigations turned up, once he returned to the United States. Somebody had provided those arms to Crittenden—or the money for them, at any rate. And as quickly as it had happened, it had to have been one man or a small handful. No collection taken up from a large group contributing small amounts could possibly have done it so quickly and so secretively.

A cabal, in short. The American public doted on tales of cabals and conspiracies in high places. Robert had hopes for the poet, too.

But it was time to give Ball an answer, and the answer was obvious—even if Robert didn’t much like it. Still…

Parker and the two McParlands weren’t the first young men he’d sent into harm’s way in his life. Not by several decades’ worth. He doubted they would be the last.

“A reconnaissance is in order, I think. Now that”—he nodded toward the captured keelboat—“you’ve acquired the means for it, without jeopardizing your main force. I’d recommend Captain McParland for the commanding officer. Beyond that—”