The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War Part 34

The tide was flooding again and the s.h.i.+ps were using that tide to escape upriver. Their topsails were set, though no wind powered the vessels, which either floated upstream on the tide or were being towed by longboats. The canoes pa.s.sed six vessels and Wadsworth shouted to each crew that they should take their s.h.i.+p past the place where the river turned sharply eastwards and then anchor. "We can defend the river there," he called, and sometimes a captain responded cheerfully, but mostly the sullen crews received his orders in silence.

Wadsworth found the Warren Warren aground where the river widened briefly to resemble a lake. Three other wars.h.i.+ps were anch.o.r.ed nearby. The frigate was evidently waiting for the tide to float her free of a mud bank. aground where the river widened briefly to resemble a lake. Three other wars.h.i.+ps were anch.o.r.ed nearby. The frigate was evidently waiting for the tide to float her free of a mud bank.

"You want to go on board?" Johnny Feathers asked.

"No."

Wadsworth had no stomach for a confrontation with Commodore Saltonstall, which, he suspected, would be fruitless. Saltonstall already knew what his duty was, but Wadsworth reckoned pointing out that duty would merely provoke a sneer and obfuscation. If the fleet and army were to be saved it would be by other men, and Wadsworth was looking for the means of that salvation.

He found it a quarter mile downstream of the Warren Warren where the where the Samuel Samuel, the brig which carried the expedition's artillery, was being pulled northwards by two longboats. Wadsworth's canoe went alongside the brig and he scrambled up and across the Samuel Samuel's gunwale. "Is Colonel Revere here?"

"He went away in his barge, sir," a seaman answered.

"I hope that's good news," Wadsworth said, and walked aft to where Captain James Brown stood by his wheel. "Did Colonel Revere s.h.i.+p a cannon onto the lighter?" he asked Brown.

"No," Brown answered curtly, nodding to the s.h.i.+p's waist where the cannons were now parked wheel to wheel.

"So where is he?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know. He took his baggage and left."

"He took his baggage?" Wadsworth asked.

"Every last box and bundle."

"And his men?"

"Some are here, some went with him."

"Oh dear G.o.d," Wadsworth said. He stood irresolute for a moment. The Samuel Samuel was inching upstream. The river was so narrow here that branches of trees sometimes brushed against the brig's lower yards. Wadsworth had hoped that Revere's one cannon, placed at Spider Bend, would be a marker for the rest of the fleet and the first of many cannon that could hold the British pursuers at bay. "You'll keep going upstream?" he suggested to Brown. was inching upstream. The river was so narrow here that branches of trees sometimes brushed against the brig's lower yards. Wadsworth had hoped that Revere's one cannon, placed at Spider Bend, would be a marker for the rest of the fleet and the first of many cannon that could hold the British pursuers at bay. "You'll keep going upstream?" he suggested to Brown.

The Samuel Samuel's captain gave a mirthless bark of laughter. "What else do you suggest I do, General?"

"Ten miles upstream," Wadsworth said, "the river turns sharply to the right. I need the guns there."

"We'll be lucky too make two miles before the tide turns," Brown said, "or before the d.a.m.ned English catch us up."

"So where is Colonel Revere?" Wadsworth demanded and received a shrug in answer. He had not pa.s.sed Revere's white-painted barge as he descended the river, which meant the colonel and his artillerymen must be further downriver, and that gave Wadsworth a glimmer of hope. Had Revere decided to fortify a place on the Pen.o.bscot's bank? Was he even now finding a place where a battery could hammer the British s.h.i.+ps? "Did he give you instructions for the cannon?" Wadsworth asked.

"He asked for his breakfast."

"The cannon, man! What does he want done with the cannon?"

Brown turned his head slowly, spat a stream of tobacco juice onto the portside scupper, then looked back to Wadsworth. "He didn't say," Brown said.

Wadsworth went back to the canoe. He needed Revere! He needed artillery. He wanted a battery of eighteen-pounder cannon, the largest in the rebel army, and he wanted ammunition from the Warren Warren, then he wanted to see the round shot crunching into the bows of the British frigates. He thought briefly of returning to the Warren Warren, which also had the big guns he needed, but first, he decided, he would discover what Colonel Revere planned. "That way, please," he told Feathers, pointing downstream. He would go to the Warren Warren afterwards and demand that Saltonstall give the artillery all the eighteen-pounder shot they needed. afterwards and demand that Saltonstall give the artillery all the eighteen-pounder shot they needed.

The sun was up now, the light clear and crisp, the river sparkling, and the sky spoiled only by the smear of smoke from the s.h.i.+ps still burning south of Odom's Ledge. A quarter mile beyond the Samuel Samuel there was a whole group of anch.o.r.ed s.h.i.+ps, both transports and wars.h.i.+ps, all chaotically cl.u.s.tered where the river divided around the northern tip of Orphan Island. On the eastern bank, just upstream of the island, was a small settlement about half the size of Majabigwaduce. "What's that place?" Wadsworth called to James Fletcher who was in the second canoe. there was a whole group of anch.o.r.ed s.h.i.+ps, both transports and wars.h.i.+ps, all chaotically cl.u.s.tered where the river divided around the northern tip of Orphan Island. On the eastern bank, just upstream of the island, was a small settlement about half the size of Majabigwaduce. "What's that place?" Wadsworth called to James Fletcher who was in the second canoe.

"Buck's plantation," James called back.

Wadsworth gestured that the Indians should stop paddling. The river bent here, and Wadsworth wondered why he had not chosen this as a place to defend. True, the curve was not so p.r.o.nounced as the sharp turn higher up the river, but in the early-morning light the river's twist looked sharp enough and on the western bank, opposite Buck's plantation, was a high bluff about which the Pen.o.bscot curled. He needed a place on the western bank so that supplies could come from Boston without being ferried across the river, and the bluff looked a likely enough spot. There were already men ash.o.r.e at the bluff's foot, and there were plenty of guns aboard the nearby s.h.i.+ps. Everything Wadsworth needed was here, and he pointed to the narrow beach at the base of the bluff. "Put me ash.o.r.e there, please," he said, then called across to James Fletcher again. "You're to go back upstream and find the Samuel Samuel," he shouted. "Ask Captain Brown to bring her back downriver. Tell him I need the cannons here."

"Yes, sir."

"And after that go to the Warren Warren. Tell the commodore I'm making a battery here," he pointed at the western bluff, "and say I'm expecting his s.h.i.+p to join us. Tell him we need his eighteen-pounder ammunition!"

"He won't like me saying that."

"Tell him anyway!" Wadsworth called. The canoe sc.r.a.ped onto the beach and Wadsworth jumped ash.o.r.e. "Wait for me, please," he asked the Indians, then strode down the beach towards the men who sat disconsolate at the high-tide line. "Officers!" he shouted. "Sergeants! To me! Officers! Sergeants! To me!"

Peleg Wadsworth would pluck order from chaos. He was still fighting.

Lieutenant Fenwick was obeying Commodore Saltonstall's orders, though with a heavy heart. The Warren Warren's main magazine had been half-emptied, and the powder charges were being carried down to the bilge and up to the maindeck. There was a growing pile of powder bags on the ballast stones at the foot of the main mast in the bilge's darkness, another under the forecastle and a third beneath Saltonstall's cabin. On deck there were heaps of bags around each mast. White trails of slow-match were laid from each pile, the snaking canvas ropes meeting in a tangle on the foredeck. "What we cannot do," Saltonstall told Fenwick, "is allow the enemy to capture the s.h.i.+p."

"Of course not, sir."

"I will not allow British colors to fly from my s.h.i.+p."

"Of course not, sir," Fenwick said again, "but we could go upriver, sir?" he added nervously.

"We are aground," Saltonstall said sarcastically.

"The tide is flooding, sir," Fenwick said. He waited, but Saltonstall made no comment. "And there are French s.h.i.+ps, sir."

"There are French s.h.i.+ps, Lieutenant?" Saltonstall asked caustically.

"A French flotilla might arrive, sir."

"You are privy to the French fleet's movements, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir," Fenwick said miserably.

"Then kindly obey my orders and prepare the s.h.i.+p for burning."

"Aye aye, sir."

Saltonstall walked to the taffrail. The early light was pellucid and the air still. The slow tide gurgled at the Warren Warren's waterline. He was gazing downstream to where a gaggle of s.h.i.+ps was cl.u.s.tered by a bluff. Two sloops were using the tide to come upriver, but it seemed most of the s.h.i.+ps had decided to stay by the bluff where longboats and lighters were carrying supplies to the western bank. The British s.h.i.+ps were out of sight, presumably still below Odom's Ledge where the smoke rose to tarnish the sky. The smoke rose vertically, but Saltonstall knew that as soon as that pillar of smoke was ruffled by the wind the enemy sloops and frigates would start upstream.

It had been a shambles, he thought angrily. From start to finish, a G.o.dd.a.m.ned shambles, and to the commodore's mind the only successes had been achieved by the Continental Navy. It had been the marines who captured Cross Island and the marines who had led the fight up the bluff at Dyce's Head, and after that Lovell had quivered like a sick rabbit and demanded that Saltonstall do all the fighting. "And what if we had captured the sloops?" the commodore demanded angrily.

"Sir?" a sailor within earshot asked.

"I'm not talking to you, d.a.m.n your eyes."

"Aye aye, sir."

Would Lovell have captured the fort if the sloops had been taken? Saltonstall knew the answer to that question. Lovell would have found another obstacle to prevent a fight. He would have whined and moaned and tarried. He would have demanded a battery on the moon. He would have dug more trenches. It was a shambles.

The Warren Warren trembled as the tide lifted her. She s.h.i.+fted a few inches, settled again, then trembled once more. In a moment she would swing her stern upstream and tug at her anchor rode. Lieutenant Fenwick looked at the commodore with a hopeful expression, but Saltonstall ignored him. Fenwick was a good officer, but he had little comprehension of what was at stake here. The trembled as the tide lifted her. She s.h.i.+fted a few inches, settled again, then trembled once more. In a moment she would swing her stern upstream and tug at her anchor rode. Lieutenant Fenwick looked at the commodore with a hopeful expression, but Saltonstall ignored him. Fenwick was a good officer, but he had little comprehension of what was at stake here. The Warren Warren was a precious piece of equipment, a well-found, well-armed frigate, and the British would love to hang their d.a.m.ned flag from her stern and take her into their fleet, but Saltonstall would be d.a.m.ned to the deepest circle of h.e.l.l before he allowed that to happen. That was why Saltonstall had declined battle the previous day. Oh, he could have sacrificed the was a precious piece of equipment, a well-found, well-armed frigate, and the British would love to hang their d.a.m.ned flag from her stern and take her into their fleet, but Saltonstall would be d.a.m.ned to the deepest circle of h.e.l.l before he allowed that to happen. That was why Saltonstall had declined battle the previous day. Oh, he could have sacrificed the Warren Warren and most of the other rebel wars.h.i.+ps to give the transports more time to escape the enemy, but in making that sacrifice he might well have been boarded and then the and most of the other rebel wars.h.i.+ps to give the transports more time to escape the enemy, but in making that sacrifice he might well have been boarded and then the Warren Warren would become His Majesty's frigate. And it was all very well for Fenwick to suggest sailing upriver, but the would become His Majesty's frigate. And it was all very well for Fenwick to suggest sailing upriver, but the Warren Warren had the deepest draught of all the fleet and she would not get far before she grounded again and the British, seeing her, would do their utmost to capture her. had the deepest draught of all the fleet and she would not get far before she grounded again and the British, seeing her, would do their utmost to capture her.

"Boat approaching, sir!" a bosun called from the Warren Warren's waist.

Saltonstall grunted an acknowledgment. He went and stood by the s.h.i.+p's wheel as the longboat pulled across the tide. He watched the Pidgeon Pidgeon, a transport schooner, being towed upstream and noted that the river's current was fighting the tide and giving the oarsmen a hard time. Then the longboat banged into the frigate's hull and a man climbed onto the deck and hurried aft towards the commodore. "Lieutenant Little, sir," he introduced himself, "first lieutenant of the Hazard Hazard."

"I know who you are, Lieutenant," Saltonstall said coolly. In the commodore's opinion Little was a firebrand, an impetuous, unthinking firebrand from the so-called Ma.s.sachusetts Navy which, so far as the commodore was concerned, was nothing but a toy navy. "Where is the Hazard Hazard?" Saltonstall asked.

"Upstream, sir. I was lending a hand to the Sky Rocket Sky Rocket, sir." The Sky Rocket Sky Rocket, a fine sixteen-gun privateer, was aground by the bluff and waiting for the tide. "Captain Burke sends his compliments, sir," Little said.

"You may return them, Lieutenant."

Little looked about the deck. He saw the powder bags, the slow-matches and the combustibles stacked around the masts. Then he looked back to the immaculate commodore in his black s.h.i.+ning top-boots, white breeches, blue waistcoat, blue tailcoat, and with his brushed c.o.c.ked hat glinting with gold braid. "Captain Burke wants orders, sir," Little said in a curt voice.

"Captain Burke is ordered to deny his s.h.i.+p to the enemy," Saltonstall said.

Little shuddered, then turned so suddenly that Saltonstall instinctively put a hand to his sword's hilt, but the Lieutenant was merely pointing to the place where the river swirled around the bluff. "That's where you should be, sir!"

"Are you presuming to give me orders, Lieutenant?" Saltonstall's voice was icy.

"You haven't even fired a gun!" Little protested.

"Lieutenant Little'" Fenwick began.

"Lieutenant Little is returning to his s.h.i.+p," Saltonstall interrupted Fenwick. "Good day to you, Lieutenant."

"d.a.m.n you!" Little shouted and sailors stopped working to listen. "Put your s.h.i.+p at the bend," he snapped, still pointing to where the river swirled around the western bluff. "Anchor her fore and aft. Put springs on the anchors so your broadside points downstream and fight the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!"

"Lieutenant'" Saltonstall began.

"For G.o.d's sake, fight!" Little, an officer of the Ma.s.sachusetts Navy, was now screaming into the commodore's face, spattering it with spittle. "Move all your big eighteens to one side! Let's hurt the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!" Little's face was just two inches from Saltonstall when he bellowed the last four words. Neither Saltonstall nor Fenwick said anything. Fenwick plucked feebly at Little's arm and Saltonstall merely looked disgusted, as though a t.u.r.d had suddenly appeared on his holy-stoned deck. "Oh, for G.o.d's sake," Little said, struggling to control his anger, "the river below the bend is narrow, sir! A s.h.i.+p can't turn in the width of that channel! The British will be forced to come single file, bows to our guns, and they can't answer our shots. They can't answer! They can't bring their big s.h.i.+ps up here, they have to send frigates, and if we put guns there we can slaughter the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!"

"I am grateful for your advice, Lieutenant," Saltonstall said with utter disdain.

"Oh, you cowardly b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Little spat.

"Lieutenant!" Fenwick seized Little's arm. "You don't know who you're speaking to!"

Little shook off the lieutenant's hand. "I know who I'm speaking to," he sneered, "and I know where I am and I d.a.m.ned well know where the enemy is too! You can't just burn this s.h.i.+p without a fight! Give her to me! I'll d.a.m.n well fight her!"

"Good day, Lieutenant," Saltonstall said icily. Fenwick had beckoned two crewmen who now stood menacingly close to the furious Little. James Fletcher had evidently come aboard during the argunment. "Get off my s.h.i.+p!" Saltonstall snarled at Fletcher, then turned back to Little. "I command here! On this s.h.i.+p you take my orders! And my orders are for you to leave before I have you put in irons."

"Come ash.o.r.e," Little invited the commodore, "come ash.o.r.e, you yellow b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and I'll fight you there. Man on man, and the winner takes this s.h.i.+p."

"Remove him," Saltonstall said.

Little was dragged away. He turned once and spat at Saltonstall, then was pushed down to his waiting longboat.

The Warren Warren lurched and came free of the sandbank. A breath of wind touched Commodore Saltonstall's cheek and lifted the snake ensign at the frigate's stern. The smoke in the clear sky wavered and started to drift northwest. lurched and came free of the sandbank. A breath of wind touched Commodore Saltonstall's cheek and lifted the snake ensign at the frigate's stern. The smoke in the clear sky wavered and started to drift northwest.

Which meant the British were coming.

The men on the beach beneath the bluff had come from the transports that were anch.o.r.ed or grounded in the river. They now sat disconsolate and leaderless on the s.h.i.+ngle. "What are your orders?" Wadsworth asked one sergeant.

"Don't have any orders, sir."

"We're going home!" a man shouted angrily.

"How?" Wadsworth demanded.

The man had hefted a haversack sewn from sail-canvas. "Any way we can. Walk, I guess. How far is it?"

"Two hundred miles. And you're not going home, not yet." Wadsworth turned on the sergeant. "Get your men in order, we still have a war to fight."

Wadsworth strode down the beach, shouting at officers and sergeants to a.s.semble their men. If the British could be stopped at this bend then there was a good chance to reorganize the army upriver. Trees could be felled, a camp made, and guns placed to deter any British a.s.sault. All it needed was a firm defense on this sun-drenched morning. As Wadsworth followed the bank further downstream he saw how the river narrowed into a valley that ran almost straight southwards to Odom's Ledge about four miles away. The river itself was about three hundred paces wide, but that was deceptive because the navigable channel was much narrower and the British s.h.i.+ps must creep up that channel in single file, the leading s.h.i.+p's vulnerable bows pointing straight at the bluff. Four guns would do the job! He ordered militia captains to clear a ledge on the bluff's slope and when they complained that they had no axes or shovels he snapped at them to find a boat and search the transport s.h.i.+ps for the necessary tools. "Just do some work! You want to go home and tell your children you ran away from the British? Have any of you seen Colonel Revere?"

"He went downriver, sir," a surly militia captain answered.

"Downriver?"

The captain pointed to the long, narrow valley where the rearmost American s.h.i.+p, a schooner, was trying to reach the rest of the fleet still gathered by the bluff. Her big mizzen sail was poled out to port to catch the tiny wind that had at last started to scurry catspaws across the river's surface. Four of the schooner's crew were using huge oars to try and hasten her pa.s.sage, but the oars dipped and pulled pathetically slowly. Then Wadsworth saw why they were using the long sweeps. Behind the schooner was a much larger s.h.i.+p, a s.h.i.+p with more sails and higher masts, a s.h.i.+p that suddenly fired her bow-chasers to fill the valley with smoke and with the echo of her two cannon shots. The b.a.l.l.s had not been aimed at the schooner, but rather to either side of her hull as a signal that she should haul down her ensign and let the pursuing British take her as a prize.

Wadsworth ran down the beach. There were men on the schooner's bows waving frantically. They had no longboat, no boat of any sort, and they wanted a rescue, and there, not fifty paces away, was Revere's white-painted barge with its crew of oarsmen. It was rowing upriver ahead of the schooner, suggesting that Revere had gone downstream, maybe hoping to escape past the British s.h.i.+ps, but, discovering the futility of such a hope, had been forced back northwards. Wadsworth could see Lieutenant-Colonel Revere himself in the barge's sternsheets and he stopped at the water's edge and cupped his hands, "Colonel Revere!"

Revere waved to show he had heard the hail.

Wadsworth pointed at the schooner which he now recognized as the Nancy Nancy. "The Nancy Nancy's crew needs rescuing! Take your barge and pick them up!"

Revere twisted on his bench to look at the Nancy Nancy, then turned back to Wadsworth. "You've no right to give me commands now, General!" Revere called, then said something to his crew who kept rowing upstream, away from the doomed Nancy Nancy.

Wadsworth wondered if he had misheard. "Colonel Revere!" He shouted slowly and clearly so there could be no misunderstanding. "Take your barge and get those crewmen off the Nancy Nancy!" The schooner was lightly crewed and there was plenty of room in the barge's bows for all of her seamen.

"I was under your command so long as there was a siege," Revere called back, "but the siege is over, and with it your authority has ended."

For a heartbeat Wadsworth did not believe what he had heard. He gaped at the stocky colonel, then was overcome with rage and indignation. "For G.o.d's sake, man, they're Americans! Go and rescue them!"

"I've got my baggage here," Revere called back and pointed to a heap of boxes covered by sailcloth. "I'm not willing to risk my baggage! Good day to you, Wadsworth."

"You ..." Wadsworth began, but was too angry to finish. He turned and walked up the beach to keep pace with the barge. "I am giving you an order!" he shouted at Revere. Men on the beach watched and listened. "Rescue that crew!"

The British frigate astern of the Nancy Nancy fired her bow-chasers again and the b.a.l.l.s seared past the hull to throw up great fountains of river water. "You see?" Revere called when the echo of the gunfire had faded. "I can't risk my baggage!" fired her bow-chasers again and the b.a.l.l.s seared past the hull to throw up great fountains of river water. "You see?" Revere called when the echo of the gunfire had faded. "I can't risk my baggage!"

"I promise you an arrest, Colonel!" Wadsworth called savagely. "Unless you obey my orders!"

"You can't give me orders now!" Revere said, almost cheerfully. "It's over and done with. Good day, General!"

"I want your guns on the bluff ahead!"

Revere waved a negligent hand towards Wadsworth. "Keep rowing," he told his men.