How Dark the Night (16 page)

“So much for Puritan Hingham,” Agreen chuckled.

“Agee, you are incorrigible!” she muttered indignantly, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. “Look at me. What on earth got into you?”

Agreen just stood there grinning.

The westerly breeze brought the packet in on a broad reach, and the high tide allowed the boat to pass Crow Point under reduced canvas and glide in under the lee of Button Island before wheeling about and feathering up to a berth cleared for her along the easternmost quay. As one sailor stood by to douse her last shreds of canvas, another sailor in her bow heaved a coiled line to a dockhand on the quay. A second line was heaved from her stern to another dockhand. Each line was looped thrice around a bollard, and the two dockhands stood by, holding the bitter end of their lines until the rope stretched and groaned, taking the full strain of the packet's forward momentum. Gradually the 50-foot vessel slowed to a standstill. Deckhands then freed the two lines from the bollards and began warping her in toward the quay.

“So, Joseph,” Katherine said to her nephew, who was watching from amidships as the larboard side of the hull began inching in toward the dock. “What do you think thus far?”

Joseph stared at the crowed, rendered speechless by their shouts and applause; many were waving their hats in the air. “I think, Aunt Katherine,” he finally said quietly, “that you are much beloved here.”

“It's not me, Joseph,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “It's our family, of which you are a member. Those people are welcoming you, too.”

“I hope so. . . . Is that Diana waving at us? The young lady in the yellow dress? It must be; she looks just like you. She looks excited too.”

“Yes!” Katherine had spotted Diana earlier and again waved back happily at her. “That's her fiancé, Peter, beside her. To their left is Adele, the wife of my son Will, whom you just met in Boston. To their right is Mr. Crabtree—does he not look the same as when you met him in Barbados?—and next to him is his wife, Elizabeth, my very dearest friend. You have heard me speak of her often. Now, let me see; next to them—”
She paused, shaded her eyes with a hand, and squinted. “Oh my dearest Lord,” she gasped. “It
can't
be. But it
is
!”

“Is what, Katherine?” Richard asked, walking up beside her and ready to hand her ashore now that the packet boat lay snug against the wharf. A sailor had opened the packet's larboard entry port and seized hold of a gangplank thrust up from the dock.

“Richard, it's Hugh,” she exclaimed. She pointed in the general direction. “It's my brother Hugh! And Phoebe!”

Richard searched the crowd and then broke into a broad grin. “Well call me a son of a bitch!” he exclaimed. Then, in a quieter voice: “Please excuse my language, Joseph.”

Joseph didn't hear him above his own gleeful laughter—a sound heard ever more frequently since he had left Barbados.

“Y
OU GAVE
us quite a scare, my dear,” Hugh Hardcastle said to his sister, summing up the feelings of everyone present. All of the Cutler family members in America—save for Caleb, who was in Baltimore, and Will, in Boston for the week—were seated on chairs and sofas in the spacious parlor of the family seat on Main Street, sated by the homecoming supper. Edna Stowe had been nominally in charge of the meal, but the infirmities associated with advancing age had reduced her role in the kitchen to supervisor. Nevertheless, she had supervised a magnificent feast.

“I cannot say that I care for the welcome you tendered Phoebe and me when we arrived,” Hugh continued. “We come to Hingham at last, crossing an ocean to get here, and what do we find? No sister, no brother-in-law, because
they
, it seems, preferred to have a jolly old time in a pirate ship whilst their poor shipmates languished below in the ship's brig. These two poor ladies”—referring to Diana and Adele, who had done yeoman's work in preparing and serving the meal—“hardly knew what to say when they opened the door to us. ‘Who
are
these ragamuffins?' I distinctly recall Diana saying to Adele after we introduced ourselves and they agreed to let us into the house. ‘Through what black hole in the wall did t
hey
waltz?'”

“You distinctly heard incorrectly, Uncle,” Diana said, smiling. “We knew to expect you, and we were delighted to see you.” Her tone grew somber. “In truth, though, we did not give you the welcome you deserved. Adele and I were hardly the best of hosts; we were so very worried. But we are ever so grateful that you were here to lend your support. It's wonderful having you here, and we hope you will stay with us forever. I know my mother would be pleased.” She glanced at her mother, who gave
an approving nod. “And my father. He has told us a little about your adventures together, and I hope to hear more about them from you. Peter demands to be here when you do. He already admires you greatly.”

“Well, at least your beau has excellent taste,” Hugh rejoined, at which his wife groaned aloud. “Of course,” Hugh went right on, as if he had not heard her, “in saying that I was referring to you, Diana, not to me. Seriously, now, Peter is a fine young man, and a most fortunate one. Further, your hospitality these last ten days has been superb considering your worries. Phoebe and I were happy to share your burdens—and would share them again, tenfold, in order to share in the joy of this day.”

“Caleb should be returning in a day or two,” Richard said, filling the pause that followed Hugh's remarks, “and when he does, he'll bring Joan and Thomas down with him from Boston. I understand that they intend to be here at least through Diana's wedding. And of course Caleb will welcome you in this house for as long as you wish to stay.” His gaze wandered around the parlor as his mind wandered through memories. “It's comforting to see the house full again,” he said wistfully. “With you two in my old room, and Joseph in my sisters' room, it will be like old times. May they last . . .”

“You needn't worry about that, old boy,” Hugh Hardcastle interjected. “Phoebe and I have given the matter considerable thought, and you will be pleased to learn that we intend to stay right where we are, in this house, until young Thomas grows up, takes over the business and the house, and kicks us out. When he does, we will move in with Will and Adele on Ship Street. Adding my generous wages from Cutler & Sons to my Navy savings, and without having to worry about living expenses, we should be quite comfortable in Hingham, wouldn't you say, my dear?”

Phoebe Clausen Hardcastle was a lovely and charming woman, as one might expect of the wife of a Royal Navy post captain born to the manor and to the best English schools—and thus to the fantasies of many young women of society, and their mothers. She was several inches shorter than Hugh and nine years younger, and her lithe body retained a youthful allure. Although not of noble blood, she carried herself as regally as any marchioness. Equally important for a happy marriage, her sense of humor, when called for, and her sense of decorum, when required, matched Hugh's own—which was one reason, Katherine had observed, why they complimented each other so well. She had immediately loved Phoebe six years ago when she and Lizzy Crabtree had sailed with their children to England to visit with their parents one last time and to attend Hugh and Phoebe's wedding at the family church in Fareham.

“My husband's wit,” Phoebe said, taking Hugh's hand without looking at him, “sometimes gets the better of him. I must apologize on his behalf. The truth is, I very much doubt that Will and Adele will have us when we're ‘kicked out of here,' as my husband has it. By that time they will doubtless be living in splendor on Beacon Hill near Adele's parents.” She dropped her mock seriousness to add, “Oh, they are such fine people, Adele. I especially admire your mother. She is beautiful and gracious, just as you are, and clearly she cares very much about you all. I can only imagine her relief this evening. Joseph told me that when
Dove
's company sailed from Boston this afternoon, Will was on his way to Belknap Street to inform your parents of everyone's safe return. She will be overjoyed.”

“Indeed she will,” Katherine said, so softly that only her husband heard her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hardcastle,” Adele said. She started to add something, hesitated, thought better about what she was going to say, and then thought better about not saying it. “Will and I would love to have you and Captain Hardcastle stay with us on Ship Street,” she said. “That goes without saying. But the truth is, that is not going to be possible. And not because of any future move to Boston.”

Everyone in the parlor cast her a curious look, more so when her cheeks flushed bright pink. “You see,” she explained, “we have only one extra bedroom in our house. And that room is no longer available as a guest room. We are turning it into a nursery.”

Silence, and then Katherine asked cautiously, “Adele, are you telling us . . .”

Adele beamed at her mother-in-law. “
Oui, maman
,” she said, reverting to her native French for this delicate announcement. “
Je suis enceinte
. Will asked me not to say anything about it until he could be here, but I could not stop myself. Tonight seems so perfect!”

Katherine was up in an instant to take Adele in her arms, trying through her tears to express her joy. The others gathered round to give their own hugs and kisses of congratulations.

The evening ended with more laughter when Hugh Hardcastle, flush with drink, proclaimed loudly to his wife, “My God, my dear. These young people are showing us up. I say it's time you and I get cracking!” In truth, there was an element of poignancy in the amusement. Everyone in the room was aware that more than two years earlier Phoebe had given birth to an infant daughter who had died in the womb, and that she and her husband had been unable to conceive again.

A
S
J
ULY
slipped warmly into August and the first inklings of autumn chilled the night air, the Cutlers became increasingly engrossed in family matters. In addition to Will and Adele's welcomed announcement, which ignited a profusion of back-and-forth visits between the Cutler family in Hingham and the Endicott family in Boston, the final details of Diana's wedding required attention. Early in the month, a Navy dispatch announced that Jamie Cutler should be home in time for the wedding. Although
Constitution
remained on station in the Mediterranean, some of her officers who had been on duty for more than three years were being rotated off and granted extended shore leave.
Chesapeake
was due to relieve
Constitution
as flagship of the Mediterranean Squadron in several months. The official dispatch, signed by Lyle Pearson, clerk of the Navy Department, went on to request that Richard Cutler reconsider his decision to resign his commission. Impressments and ship seizures at sea were on the increase now that the proposed Monroe-Pinkney Treaty, which was to have repaired relations with England, had come undone. Certain U.S. Navy warships currently held in ordinary would soon be recalled to active service, and the Navy Department was most anxious to have Capt. Richard Cutler reassume command of
Portsmouth
. A personal note scrawled at the bottom of the dispatch in the hand of Secretary Robert Smith appealed to Richard's patriotism, and to his sense of honor and duty.

“Why did negotiations break down?” Hugh Hardcastle asked the morning after Richard received the dispatch. He and Agreen Crabtree were talking with Richard in the original Cutler & Sons shipping office at Baker's Yard near Hingham Harbor. It was tight quarters compared with the family's spacious countinghouse on Long Wharf in Boston, but the family kept the office nevertheless. It carried great sentimental value while providing space for family members in Hingham to discuss business affairs in quiet and familiar surroundings. Both men already knew that Richard had tendered his resignation from the Navy; they had, after all, made the same decision. But Richard had sworn them to secrecy until he felt the circumstances right to tell Katherine and other family members. Specifically, he wanted to wait until Jamie returned home.

“I'm rather out of the loop these days,” Hugh admitted. “I was aware that Mr. Monroe, your minister to Great Britain, was negotiating a treaty with Lord Holland and Lord Auckland on behalf of Mr. Grenville,” referring to the leader of what had come to be known as the ‘Ministry of All the Talents.' “But I hadn't realized that the negotiations had broken down. More's the pity that William Pitt died in January. I daresay the outcome
would have been quite different had he been around to direct things. Not only was he a strong advocate of American rights, he actually
liked
you chaps in the colonies.”

“
Us
chaps in the colonies, you mean,” Richard corrected him. “You're one of us now, Hugh. From what I understand,” he continued, “negotiations didn't break down. Secretary of State Madison received the full draft of the treaty from Mr. Monroe and found it acceptable. But President Jefferson rejected it outright and refused to send it on to Congress for approval.”

“Why, in heaven's name?”

“I believe he found the treaty lacking on the issue of impressment. It may have adequately addressed trading rights between the two countries, but to Jefferson, impressment is the predominant issue and is nonnegotiable. He has made it clear, time and again, that he will not tolerate British seizures of American ships and citizens at sea.”