Honorable mention, p.15
Honorable Mention, page 15
Wake remembered that one well also. That time Saunders had paid off the French Navy. “Within moments of capturing him after a three day chase, Captain Morris, but he made over to a French naval vessel and we were in their waters. That ended that. I also missed him in the Bahamas, but he had been long gone by the time I was there.”
Morris nodded, showing surprising empathy. “Well, you certainly have tried. This looks like some sort of personal contest between you too. He plays the part of a gentleman, but I’d be careful Wake. You had him chucked into a Spanish gaol, if only for a short time. I can only imagine what that cesspool was like. And it must have cost a fortune to get out of that mess with the Spanish authorities. He may want a little personal revenge. He may be playing with your mind, Wake.”
Wake had considered that and rejected it. Saunders clearly could have done something to Wake in Key West by now if he had wanted to. The letter showed that he had at least informants there, and maybe henchmen. No, there was more to it all. Wake wasn’t sure, but he had an idea.
“Captain, I think he grudgingly respects our side in this. He’s making lots of money out of misery. I think he was educated as a gentleman and is ashamed of his role in all this. The letter, and the release of the seamen, is a small atonement for that. I don’t know for sure, of course, but that’s my opinion based on what I know of him.”
Morris’s laugh was cynical. “How chivalrous, Wake. But the gentlemen in this war were all killed off years ago.”
Wake shrugged. It did sound ridiculous. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you for bringing this to me. We’ll have Harpford and those seamen in here straight away and find out what they know. If I remember correctly, they were picked up off the beach by one of our vessels after drifting for days. I don’t remember them reporting any of this when rescued.”
“I think it was in gratitude for being freed, sir. They were sick and scared. I can understand that.”
Morris eyed Wake. “Yes, you probably would, Mr. Wake. Nevertheless, we will have them in and find out what they know, now that we know they know something.”
Wake knew Harpford and the others were in for a rough time, but Morris had a point.
“Is that all, sir?”
Morris’ mind was already on other things and he dismissed Wake with a wave as he started pulling open desk drawers searching for something. Wake seized the moment and left quickly.
***
In the three weeks since that day, Wake had heard nothing more about the letter, but had thought about it, and the author, often. He had discussed it with Rork, who agreed on the probable motive. “Almost like a limey gent, but don’t let your guard down,” Rork had opined.
Christmas was coming in a week, and the Hunt had been given the unusual and appreciated task of being the harbor guard vessel since the boiler on the regularly assigned steamer, the Honeysuckle, was being repaired. That meant every night at the wharf, with a third of the men on liberty until sunrise. Living alongside the wharf was a luxury in many ways, but a burden in others. With their money gone and the next pay not due until the end of the month, most of the men spent their time in less troublesome pursuits, but a few would end up being delivered back aboard by the provost patrol of soldiers. Somehow they would get rum, and then they would find trouble, and Wake would have to pronounce disciplinary action the next morning.
Two days before Christmas Wake received a letter from Linda. She told of how all the island ladies were taken with him and envied her having her husband so close. Many of theirs were now fighting with the militia regiment in upper Florida. Most had not seen their husbands in three or four months. She went on to describe how the ladies had decided to invite the officers of the Case to a Christmas social day at the island. Linda described the preparations in detail, reminding Wake of the wonderful feast he had had with them, and he knew the Christmas social would be one the officers would never forget. He ached to be there with Linda. They had never shared a holiday together. They had never done so many of the usual things that husbands and wives share, and it hurt deep in his heart. But the important thing, he told himself, was that she was well and safe and happy on Useppa.
The same mail pouch brought another letter, this one from his mother. That was unusual—his father was the usual writer, with his mother sometimes adding a short postscript. He tore open the envelope and read her halting hand. It confirmed his fears.
His father was dead. His will power, and his health, had been worsening in the months since his son James was killed aboard a monitor gunboat in South Carolina, and previous letters had hinted that his physical condition was serious. James’ death had broken his heart, which had finally given out. His mother wrote that he had died in his sleep on November 21, at age 61, and that he had finally looked at peace. The letter was longer than any Wake had ever gotten from her. It filled both sides of two pages.
The oldest son, Luke, five years older than Peter and a schooner captain who had been considering joining the navy as his younger brothers had done, presided over the funeral arrangements. The funeral was on a rainy day at the cemetery by the church. His mother said she visited the grave often and talked to it, for she had no one else to talk to about certain matters. She hoped that wasn’t a sign of senility. Luke, she was glad to say, had abandoned his notion of joining the navy and was now running the family business, or what was left of it.
They were down to one schooner, which was employed often on the New England–Canadian runs, but their income was sharply down, what with the insurance rates so high and the cargo rates so low. She wasn’t sure how much longer Luke could hold out.
She closed by hoping that he and Linda were happy and well and that someday what was left of her family would gather once more and bring some warmth to the old house overlooking that cold sea, perhaps with little grandchildren to add some gaiety and love. And she reminded her son to attend church on Christmas if he could, as the family always had when he was growing up.
Wake was surprised that he couldn’t cry for his father, and felt a little ashamed of that, as if he were somehow failing in his duty. But he loved and respected his father and accepted that the old man had probably decided it was time to go. The man had a rock strong will, and his death must have been part of that. Instead, he said a silent prayer and acknowledged his father’s departure from this life, and sat at his desk to make plans to send a portion of his monthly pay to his family’s bank account in Massachusetts.
An hour later, to break the melancholy, Wake rose and took a turn about the ship. In the wardroom he found the officers gathered, reading their letters aloud to one another. Ginaldi’s letter from a young lady in New York, who apparently thought they were engaged and whose letter was more than just a bit dictatorial, was being narrated. Ginaldi, with his gift of humorous repartee, was providing potential replies to each of her instructions. Laughter that could be heard over half the ship was the result. It was hilarious and just what Wake needed. As he stood in the passageway waiting for them to invite him in, he thought of how lucky he was to have these particular men as his officers. Their invitation came not as a duty, for no wardroom would refuse to ask their captain in, but as a sincere request for his companionship at the most happy of their times—receiving mail from up north.
The Christmas Eve service at the Episcopal church on Duval Street was attended by many of the naval officers in Key West. Wake squeezed into a pew at the back, just as the rector was beginning the prayers. It had been a long time since he had been to a church service—years earlier in Massachusetts with the family. Wake looked out over the chapel and wished Linda could be there with him, the two sitting proudly together as husband and wife. The serenity of the scene almost overwhelmed him. The flickering glow of a hundred candles, the sweet scent of the wax and the incense mingling with the flowers placed everywhere, the delicately tranquil sound of a chorus of young girls singing “Amazing Grace,” all reminded Wake of better times long ago. He started to feel his throat constrict with emotion.
At the end of the service he said three silent prayers—one for his father to finally know peace, one for his mother to have strength, and one for his wife to be content in their marriage, as strained by absence as it was. Afterward, he walked down Duval Street with a hundred other men, all silent. The taverns and bars did no business that night. No one was of that mind.
Aboard the steamer later, Wake found his officers sitting on folding chairs at the stern, smoking cigars and talking. He joined their group and they talked for hours about many things. They agreed that the war couldn’t last much longer and that they would all be home by Easter. That brought forth talk of what they would do upon arriving home, and in what order. It was a pleasant conversation and even the quiet and shy Rhodes was exuberant. Up forward a sailor sang a German Christmas hymn, and for a few minutes they sat silently, listening to the words they could not understand, but comprehending fully the respectful tone of the man singing them.
They finally said their good nights when the bell struck the second watch, each man going to his berth immersed in his own thoughts of home. Wake went into his own cabin feeling a mixture of emotions—appreciation for having officers of their caliber with him, and sadness at being apart from his wife on this most emotional of evenings. Crawling into his berth with the cool air of the Florida winter funneling into his cabin, he desperately missed Linda, missed touching her soft hair and feeling the warmth of her body. Later that night in his dreams, they were together again in a world at peace.
6
Heros and Scoundrels
It must be some error in communication and the squadron’s chief of staff is mistaken, Wake thought as he stood in Morris’ spartan office. The Annison was missing? It didn’t make sense. He had seen her only a week or so ago. They had sailed together on many operations and he knew several of the men in her crew, including Ensign Henry Waller, her commander. But apparently something had happened to her, according to Captain Morris.
She’d left Key West bound for Boca Grande four days after Christmas. It was now the fifth of January and she had not arrived at her assigned station. The schooner was well found and well armed with a veteran crew of men, and should have had no problem on that voyage, although she did have a new commander. The run was one that Wake knew well, and the weather was nothing that could have produced a calamity. He couldn’t fathom it. Perhaps she’d put in somewhere else or went off chasing a blockade runner. Morris then told him further news that completely shocked him.
“In addition to our schooner Annison missing enroute to her assigned station at Charlotte Harbor, we’ve lost the steamer San Jacinto in the Abacos. She shipwrecked there on New Year’s Eve and we just got word this morning. All hands were saved, but the ship is totally destroyed. There are also some unpleasant rumors that we will be addressing. Right now, however, I need to know about the Annison, and quickly. Two ships lost at the same time is highly unusual.”
Wake looked over at his friend James Williams, who had once commanded the Annison, though now he was in command of a large schooner, the McVeigh. Williams was standing next to the chart displayed across the wall. His face grimaced as he thought of his former ship and crew. He and Wake had suddenly been summoned to the chief of staff’s office an hour earlier. Now they knew the reason. They were to assist the ships on the west coast of Florida searching for the missing schooner.
Wake thought of what Morris had just said, and looked at his superior. “Rumors, sir? Anything we should know that would help in the search, if the two events are related?”
Morris shook his head, slowly letting his breath out while looking intently at Wake and Williams, obviously gauging whether to tell them. “It has been said by the Bahamians who delivered Captain Meade’s message reporting the wreck that many of his men either mutinied or deserted after the shipwreck. They went over to and joined a Confederate blockade runner anchored nearby on the other side of the island.”
Wake looked at the man incredulously. “I’m stunned, sir. There must be some error or miscommunication. The Bahamian must be confused.”
“He said he wasn’t. We are sending two ships right now to Meade. At least we know where he is. Meanwhile, I need to know about the Annison and what happened to her. I don’t know that anything bad has happened, but you needed to know that rumor, in confidence, of course. In the unlikely case it is true with the San Jacinto, it might be true with the Annison. If there is some mutinous skullduggery afoot, I want it quashed, decisively and quickly. The admiral and I will not stand for that. Now, as I said before, Wake, you’ll search from Cape Romano south to Cape Sable. Williams, you’ll take the northern edge of the Keys east to Cape Sable. Other vessels are searching from Romano northward. Any questions?”
Williams and Wake said no. Morris nodded, then held up a finger. “And remember, gentlemen, what I have told you is confidential.”
Both lieutenants chorused their acknowledgement and departed, walking quickly out of the building and to the wharf. Neither said much, their minds reeling with the necessities of getting under way and accomplishing their mission. They were still in a state of disbelief.
“We’ll find her, James, don’t worry. She probably went off station on a chase like you used to do.”
“I don’t know, Peter. This sounds bad. She’s a good strong ship, and a week is a long time to be missing.”
Reaching the wharf, each wished good luck to the other and shook hands, then parted ways to their own vessels.
When Wake went aboard he relayed to Emerson the information of the missing ship and their orders to search for her. Two hours later, liberty men rounded up and extra provisions brought aboard, they backed away from the pier and moved through the harbor. Wake stood on the deck outside the wheelhouse watching the anchorage full of ships slide by and tried to imagine the various scenarios that might have played out on the schooner Annison.
The thought of mutiny was so alien as to be ridiculous, and he dismissed it in both ships’ cases. The San Jacinto’s wreck would be clarified soon, so he did not dwell on that issue. But the Annison. Where was she? There had been no storm in the area to founder her. There were no known Confederate armed naval vessels in that area to capture or sink her. She could have been overwhelmed by a blockade runner’s crew when coming alongside or afterward when they were prisoners aboard her. She might be hard aground in the maze of islands south of Cape Romano on Marco Island. It was shallow on that coast, with some strong tidal currents. Only a few traders and fishermen were scattered along the coast there, with the occasional Seminole coming out from the Everglades to fish or barter, so there would be no settlement to summon help from or to which they could get a message. The Confederates were not known to venture that far south in the peninsula, so no shore boat could have come out and captured her. Piracy was a romantic notion, but not a practical reality. There hadn’t been any true pirates there for forty years.
As they steamed northwest up the channel, increasing speed now that they were away from the anchorage, Wake decided Annison would probably be found aground among those islands, her new commanding officer embarrassed but appreciative of the Hunt’s help in getting her free. Two months from now it would all be a joke in the Key West petty officer taverns.
At the Northwest Channel Light, Wake issued orders for the steamer to head northeast and told Rhodes to come up with proper turn of shaft revolutions in order to make a landfall at Cape Romano the next dawn. That was enough to keep Rhodes and Rork busy for some time, with Emerson checking their calculations.
Wake retired to his cabin and started in on the stack of administrative and pay statements that needed approval, disciplinary cases that needed resolution, and periodic operational and log reports that needed to be written. He despised the mindless paperwork of the navy—the merchant marine had nothing remotely close to it. Wondering who, if anyone, would ever actually read the documents, he was tempted by the sarcastic side of his personality to imbed some inane comments in the reports. The idea quickly passed as he plunged into the work at his desk, but not before a smile crossed Wake’s face. For a brief moment, he imagined some bureaucratic gnome at a desk in the bowels of the Navy Department building in Washington inadvertently really reading the report and falling out of his chair in an apoplectic state when he found that the United States Steamer Hunt had expended all of her ammunition at elephants on the beach, who had then promptly surrendered.
The frivolity evaporated when Dirkus announced that Mr. Rhodes presented his respects and was ready with the calculations of speed and arrival. Welcoming the chance to escape the paper drudgery, if only for a little while, and do some navigation, Wake patted a surprised Dirkus on the back and strode out of his cabin back to the wheelhouse.
They were watching the remnants of a beautiful sunset as he entered. Rhodes spun around and saluted.
“Turns for five knots, sir. That will put us there at sunrise.”
“Very well, Mr. Rhodes, make it so. And double the lookouts. I want all hands to understand we are searching for one of our own who might need help. Call me immediately upon anything being sighted.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Mr. Emerson, would you care to take a turn around the ship with me?”
“My honor, sir.”
They started forward along the starboard side, past the repaired gouges in the deck from the storm and on up to the anchor cat. It was a cool evening and the wind over the deck was starting to feel cold. It was delicious after the humid summer and fall.
“Rhodes seems to be coming along well. What do you think?”
“Aye, sir. He had the knowledge before, but it was book knowledge mainly. I think he passed his examinations for the volunteer commission by studying, rather than by doing. But he’s come a long way since this summer. Much more confident.”
