How Dark the Night (24 page)

Although no one could deny that Susan had married well, her beauty and wit had done much to further her husband's career. “Yes, I see,” she said as she finished the letter. She handed it back to her husband and, after a glance at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace said, “Stephen, here's a thought. Why don't I find Martin and send him off to the Navy Yard with a note to Mr. Smith. Shall we propose a meeting time for four o'clock this afternoon? That gives you six hours to prepare. Even if Mr. Smith should have a prior engagement, he will certainly postpone it once he realizes the urgency of this matter. I will be sure Martin confirms everything with you, of course.”

“That would do nicely, Susan, thank you. I shall start getting ready at once. I want to consult with several people before I meet with Mr. Smith.”

“Of course, my dear. I understand,” she said and left to go in search of Decatur's orderly.

As Decatur watched his wife leave the study, the thought again occurred to him that what had inflamed his desire to marry this lovely young woman went far beyond physical attraction and her intimate knowledge of social etiquette.

B
Y THE YEAR
1807 the District of Columbia, the seat of the federal government that had been under the jurisdiction of Congress for six years, was beginning to take shape as a city of international renown. Designed by the French-born American architect Pierre Charles L'Enfant, its north-south, east-west street grid intersected by wide diagonal “grand avenues” named for individual states had caught the fancy of domestic and foreign critics alike. The showpiece of the city was, of course, the President's House on Pennsylvania Avenue. But other structures were also drawing critical acclaim, among them the Congress House, just now finishing construction on what had become known as Capitol Hill,
and the Washington Navy Yard, built under the direction of Benjamin Stoddard, the first secretary of the Navy, and under the supervision of the Yard's first and current commandant, Commo. Thomas Tingley. The main function of the Yard was to build, repair, and outfit Navy ships of war. It also served as headquarters for the principals and staff of the Navy Department.

Stephen Decatur took scant note of Washington's many public gardens, rectangular plazas, and intricate canal systems after he left his stylish three-story red brick residence and strode toward the Navy Yard, a brown leather satchel clasped firmly in one hand. When Claude Martin had hurried back to Lafayette Square to confirm the four o'clock appointment, he had asked if Decatur required the use of his private carriage. Decatur had demurred, preferring to walk the mile or so and enjoy the cool, sunny weather that was more typical of a day in early April than one in early June. Besides, he needed to think, and he did his best thinking when strolling alone, either along city streets or, better, on a quarterdeck.

Decatur entered the Yard through a break in the white brick wall that bounded its northern and eastern perimeters. To the west, beyond the handiwork of civilization, he could see vast expanses of spongy marshes and open wetlands. To the south, the slow-moving waters of the Potomac River formed a natural boundary. The 38-gun frigate
Chesapeake
lay snug against a quay nearby. Decatur returned the salute of a Marine sentinel and was ushered inside a well-lit but slightly musty-smelling sandstone building.

A short way down the hall on the first floor, the Marine knocked on a door to the right, opened it ajar, and announced the visitor. At a word from the occupant, the Marine opened the door wide to allow Decatur entry.

“Stephen, welcome,” a cordial voice said as the Marine stepped back and closed the door. A well-presented man rose from behind the room's large desk and walked over with his right hand extended. In contrast to Decatur's splendid naval captain's uniform, the man was wearing tasteful civilian garb. The two men clasped hands, their mutual affection captured in the steady gaze of one upon the other and their lingering firm grasp. At age fifty, Robert Smith was almost twice Decatur's age; in physical appearance the two men were also quite different. Whereas Decatur sported thick ebony hair and long black sideburns, Smith retained mere wisps of white hair on the top of his head and tufts of white and gray hair along the sides. And in contrast to Decatur's full, muscular frame, almost everything about Smith appeared thin and frail: his stature, lips,
and fingers, even his long, prominent nose. And yet, the austere green eyes that beheld Decatur were full of promise and good fellowship—as well as respect; no one needed to remind Smith that the tall, handsome sea officer standing before him was one of America's best.

“You are well, Captain, I trust?”

“I am, sir. Thank you.”

“And Susan?”

“The same.”

“I am glad to hear it. I may rely on you to convey my warmest personal regards to her?”

Decatur smiled. “You may, sir.”

“Excellent.” Smith motioned Decatur toward an upholstered chair and then walked around and sat down behind his desk.

“May I offer you a beverage, Captain? A cup of tea? Something stronger, perhaps?”

“No, thank you.” Decatur sat down on the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Please, sir,” he added quickly. “Feel free to indulge without me.”

“Tempting, but no. I shall defer that until my weekly supper with Henry Dearborn at seven o'clock. No doubt he will have another round of information for me that will warrant a strong drink or two.” Smiling, Smith clasped his hands together on the top of the desk and leaned in toward Decatur. “Now, then, Stephen,” he said. “What's on your mind? Why all the ado?”

“Sorry to add to Secretary Dearborn's bad news, sir, but I am in receipt of this.” Decatur withdrew the communiqué from his satchel and slid it across the desk. “I received it several hours ago. Why the British consul in Washington sent it to me at my home is not entirely clear to me. Mr. Erskine's message, however, is quite clear.”

Smith studied Decatur's expression for a moment before putting on a pair of spectacles and picking up the official-looking letter, which he held out at arm's length. “Permit me a moment, if you would, Stephen. My vision is not quite what it used to be.”

“Of course, sir.” Decatur watched Smith's eyes narrow as they scrolled down to the bottom of the single page and then returned to the top, repeating the process. When he had finished reading, Smith carefully placed the letter on the desk. For several moments he sat motionless in deep thought, the fingers on his two hands forming a steeple beneath his chin. When he glanced up at Decatur, his expression was blank, as though those few moments of deep thought had produced nothing of value.

“What do you make of this, Stephen?”

Decatur shrugged. “I am not sure what to make of it, sir. Our government's policies being what they are, I don't see what course of action is open to us. More specifically, I don't see what course of action is open to
me
. As commandant of the Gosport Navy Yard, I have no jurisdiction in this matter. I cannot authorize the release of those three men to the British even had I a mind to do so—which I can assure you I do not.” He stressed the last three words.

“Tell me, how did this come about?”

“Well, sir, there are facts still to be confirmed, but I do know for certain that two of
Chesapeake
's lieutenants were out recruiting and one of them signed on the three sailors in question.
Chesapeake
is short of manpower, as you are well aware, and she is due to sail in less than a fortnight. She is already well past her original departure date, in part because of her need of repairs and in part because of her lack of crew. The lieutenants were out recruiting in Norfolk and Portsmouth.
And
at the Gosport Navy Yard, which as you read in the letter is where Mr. Erskine contends the three men were discovered hiding in a shed. Whether or not that allegation is true remains to be seen. It may explain, however, why Erskine believes I hold jurisdiction in this matter and why the letter you have before you was sent to my home. I'd wager an identical letter was sent to my office at the Navy Yard.”

“And you heard nothing about those three men when you were last at Gosport? Quite recently, was it not?”

“It was, sir. I was there for two weeks and returned home three days ago. I was informed that several men had run from a British warship anchored in Lynnhaven Bay, but I heard nothing about where those men might have gone. I certainly had no notion that they might have been hiding out somewhere in the Navy Yard.”

“You're quite certain of that, Stephen?” Smith remained stone-faced when he posed the question, although Decatur glimpsed what he took to be a twinkle of mirth in the secretary's eyes.

“Quite certain, sir,” Decatur replied firmly.

“Then we shall leave it at that. By the bye, what are the names of the two officers who were out recruiting?”

“Lt. Arthur Sinclair and Lt. Eric Meyers, sir. You may recall that Lieutenant Meyers served as Captain Cutler's third in
Portsmouth
. He now serves as
Chesapeake
's acting first. Mr. Butler,” referring to the frigate's erstwhile first officer, “remains seriously ill with the influenza.”

“So I've heard, poor man.” Smith shook his head in sympathy, and then said, “Speaking of Captain Cutler, I should like to discuss his case with you at a later time. You two served together in the Mediterranean, I believe, and I know that he holds you in the highest regard.”

“As I do him, sir. Both Captain Cutler and his son. James Cutler is one of the finest young men of my acquaintance. The Navy needs more officers like him.”

“I quite agree,” Smith said, adding, “I suspect he has learned a lot from his father. And from serving under men like you, Stephen.” Smith shook his head in seeming bewilderment. “Perhaps
you
can persuade James' father to return to duty. I am not at all convinced that war with England can be avoided, despite our best efforts to avert it, and we cannot afford to lose so fine a sea officer. I have informed him that he would be up for a commodore's rank should he change his mind. I simply cannot understand what in blazes is holding him back. He is Navy through and through. Or so I thought.”

“It
is
a mystery,” Decatur agreed. “But unfortunately I have no explanation to offer you, sir.”

“No, I didn't expect you would, Stephen,” Smith sighed. “By the bye, Captain Cutler's other son has applied for a commission. His name is William and his father recently wrote to me on his behalf. Perhaps we can accommodate the young man, although you are well aware of my reluctance to promote officers on the basis of family credentials. I have assured Captain Cutler that I will make his son's availability known to our roster of sea captains. Ultimately, the decision will be up to one of them. And consider yourself so informed, Captain Decatur. If war threatens, we certainly will not leave you sitting behind a desk.” Smith withdrew a handkerchief from a side pocket and blew his nose gently. “Now then, getting back to the business at hand, do Meyers and Sinclair believe the three sailors to be Americans?”

“They do, sir. The sailors claim they have papers to prove it, but as is their norm these days, the British choose to ignore those papers—
and
the fact that two of the sailors are apparently free Negroes, which almost certainly makes them Americans—or at least not British. So, yes, all indications are that they were impressed into the Royal Navy. That is why, they told Meyers, they jumped ship and ran when HMS
Melampus
put in to Lynnhaven Bay, and why they signed on in
Chesapeake
. That dastardly affair with
Dolphin
has apparently convinced them that an American frigate offers better protection to Royal Navy deserters than an American merchantman.”

“Well, let us hope we do not disappoint the lads,” Smith said, somewhat sardonically. “Perhaps they would have done better if they had simply returned to their homes. Or taken refuge inland.”

“They are sailors, sir,” Decatur said. “The sea is their life.”

“Yes, quite,” Smith conceded. “So it would appear that Commodore Barron holds jurisdiction in this matter. He is
Chesapeake
's commanding officer and those three sailors are now members of his crew.” The glare he gave Decatur left no room for doubt as to the importance of what he was about to say. “Stephen, the matter
must
be left there, in
Chesapeake
. Under
no
circumstances can it be allowed to advance further up the chain of command. Neither the president nor the secretary of state can become personally involved. Nor, for that matter, can either Secretary Dearborn or I. Are you absolutely clear on this?”

“I am, sir.”

“There is simply too much at stake here,” Smith went on, passion rising in his voice. “The American public has had its fill of Britain's arrogance at sea and machinations along our western frontier. We are sitting on a powder keg ready to explode, and God help us if it
does
explode. We will find ourselves in a war we cannot win, the skills of men such as you notwithstanding. It could mean the end of our republic.”

“Yes sir. But if I may speak plainly, sir.”

“Of course, Stephen. You may always speak plainly with me.”

“Sir, we both know Commodore Barron. I confess to having reservations about the man, but he is a commander who will not surrender these three so-called deserters to British authorities unless he receives a direct order to do so.”