An Affair of Honor Page 2

  Saunders sighed. “Peter, I’ve got to let you know that the Spanish leadership around here is joking about the American navy. They’re upset that Madrid backed down last month and are saying the yanquis don’t have the strength anymore to push them around. Heard some ugly stuff coming from them. Guess they thought I’d be sympathetic, so they were very candid.”

  “Well, they’re right about our fleet,” Wake admitted. “But you know, that mess in Cuba at Santiago last month where the Spanish government shot our merchant seamen got the attention of some of the leadership in Congress when they found out how ill prepared we are. The president sent Admiral Porter down to Key West for a while, gathering up ships from the Med and the local squadron for a battle fleet, but fortunately the Spanish did back down.

  “I was with the fleet at Key West and I admit I was scared when I saw what we had to work with, Jonathan, but I really think we would’ve won in the end. I’m just damned glad we didn’t have to try. The sailors didn’t want a war—it was the politicians. Nobody’s gloating though because it was a damned close-run thing. Hell, this is the first official visit to San Juan since it all got defused. But everybody here’s been nice so far.”

  “They’re trying to smooth it over, but I’m telling you—be careful with ’em,” Saunders said. “So, will Congress make you stronger now?”

  “Word is that Washington’s going to fund some new ships for us, but that’ll take years.” Wake shook his head. “Congress screams for us to do something to protect Americans around the world but hasn’t funded us even the fuel budget we need. Been that way since sixty-seven. Maybe it’ll change now. Time will tell.”

  Saunders leaned forward. “What about you? Any word on promotion?”

  “Been a regularly commissioned lieutenant now for eight years, but it’s hard to tell, Jonathan. I’m executive officer of Omaha and think that at the end of this ship assignment, in June next year, I may have a chance at promotion and/or command.”

  “So how’s Omaha? What’s she doing? Any chance for glory?” Saunders asked.

  “She’s assigned to the West Indies and a pretty good sailor. Her engine’s in good shape, but of course we’re prohibited from using it except for entering and leaving harbor. She’s got coal bunkers for only about a hundred fifty tons, which limits her anyway. We’ve been busy at the Spanish islands since September, so now we’ll sail around the other islands, show the flag, help the diplomats and merchants, keep the peace, that sort of thing. Glory part’s over now. Just routine patrol.”

  “How about Sean Rork, that wild Irish bosun of yours?”

  Wake laughed. “Ah, old Sean! Last I knew, he’s still aboard Alaska. They were here for a while during the war scare, but are in New York for repairs right now. Saw him in October. He told me he damn near didn’t survive the sinking of Oneida at Yokohama when that Brit steamer ran her down and fled the scene a couple of years ago. Wrote that he used up every one of his Gaelic oaths, but still lived through it. Floated on a plank and got picked up later.”

  “And the old gunner’s mate? I forgot his name.”

  “Durling. He’s ashore at Newport at the new torpedo station there. They took some of the gunners and made them specialize in the new torpedoes they’re working on, figuring that they already knew more about explosives than anyone else. But I hear he’s not happy—misses his beloved guns!”

  “Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt all this talk of guns and death, but why don’t we order lunch and talk of something more tranquil?” said Cynda. “It’s far too pretty a day to talk about the navy.”

  Exactly what Linda would’ve said, thought Wake. Linda had gotten to the point where she despised the navy and its cloud on their marriage, causing an unspoken rift to grow between them. He put that out of his mind and smiled. “I bow to your wisdom, ma’am. Let us talk of the future and of peaceful things, Jonathan.”

  “Quite right, Peter,” agreed Saunders. “The war is over. Thank God. Let’s talk about making money from rum!”

  “I do believe I’ll drink to that!” said Wake. He downed the sangria and signaled for more.

  2

  Future Plans

  Two days later Omaha steamed east from San Juan into a twenty-knot wind and rising seas. Her nine-hundred-fifty-horsepower, horizontal-return-connecting-rod engine was pushing her at twelve knots, assisted a bit by her jibs and stay sails, but the senior engineer was warning of the fuel consumption and unaccustomed strain on the boilers. When Wake arrived on deck for his noon watch Captain Gardiner was already there, examining the northeast point of Puerto Rico through his binoculars.

  “Mr. Wake, Cabezas de San Juan bears to the southwest about fifteen miles or so. What say you? Should we bear off and steer so’east? I’ve already used too much coal to get to this point, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let my ship get caught on a lee coast.”

  Wake checked the bearing of the point, barely visible on the horizon, then the chart on the binnacle table. “Yes, sir. The wind is nor’nor’east to nor’east, so I would recommend that course.” His finger traced the projected route through the islands. “It should take us comfortably to the windward of Culebra’s reefs, through the Virgin Passage, around to the east of St. Croix, and down to Pointe de la Grande Vigie at Guadeloupe. I’m sure Omaha’ll be able to lee bow the current to Guadeloupe and we’ll be able to carry topsails and make at least eight or maybe even nine knots of speed. Once we make Guadeloupe we can tack back north into English Harbour at Antigua.”

  “I see. About three days.”

  “I concur, sir. We should be entering the harbor in the late afternoon on Wednesday.”

  “Very well, Mr. Wake. Steer so’east, set topsails, and stop engine. Make it so,” Gardiner ordered as he turned to go to his cabin.

  Ten minutes later the pounding rhythm of the engine slowed to a stop and the twin stacks blew off the remaining steam pressure, ejecting soot all over the sails and decks, which caused the deck division sailors to groan. They would have to clean it up right away. If left where it fell the soot would get tracked onto everything. But first the captain’s order to set topsails had to be implemented.

  Omaha bore off to the southeast and the topmen raced aloft to set the topsails as other sailors on the main deck slacked the sheets and hauled away on the topsail halyards. Soon the ship was sailing up and over the long beam swells, coming alive with the wind humming in the rigging, the bow wave swishing past, and her timbers and bulwarks creaking.

  Wake stood on the canted teak deck loving every minute of it, feeling the power of the wind as it made the rigging hum. Looking around, he saw the helmsmen were grinning and aloft the topmen were shouting with glee. He took a deep breath of the thick sea air and slowly exhaled as his legs swayed in time with the motion of the ship.

  It was one of those moments that only a sailor knows—the kind that never failed to exhilarate him.

  ***

  Omaha’s captain, Lieutenant Commander Lewis Gardiner, was pleased as he sat in his upholstered chair in the dimming light of his great cabin. He was on independent duty and his ship was well provisioned, topped with fuel, and had an experienced crew. They were bound south on a routine patrol of the West Indies in the dry season and would stop at Antigua, Martinique, and Barbados before turning west and running downwind to Panama and then up to Jamaica. In four months’ time they would return to Key West, and then sail on north to New York before the fever season in the tropics started. Gardiner fingered his beard and thought about that. With luck he would be at home with Josephine in Philadelphia on final leave by mid-May.

  Veteran of African coastal anti-slave patrols, battles against Chinese pirates, and Porter’s squadron on the Mississippi, Gardiner was getting ready to leave the navy after twenty-four years. He was tired, and the navy’s deterioration in stature, ships, and equipment after the war simply accelerated his desire to get out. Gardiner thought he might try his hand in business back home and turn over the navy to younger men like Wake, who weren’t quite so pessimistic. He liked Lieutenant Wake, thought he was a good officer, and had recommended him for promotion and command of the Omaha, but knew that wouldn’t happen.

  Wake had several things going against him. He was not a naval academy graduate, he had no influential relatives, and most of all, his record was marred by his involvement in that unfortunate Canton affair back in sixty-nine when he had forcibly relieved his captain of duty. Through some sort of legal mumbo-jumbo the court in effect had cleared him of wrongdoing, but Gardiner knew that naval officers were still divided in their opinion of Wake’s action in that case. Some said he was a hero for saving the ship from a drug-addicted, lunatic commander; others said it was mutiny and he should have been hanged. Either way, it made him controversial, and controversial officers usually didn’t get promoted.

  Controversy makes peacetime admirals uneasy, Gardiner told himself bitterly. Better to ignore problems and let them fester for years than to confront them. That’s why I’m leaving. We’ve lost the warrior ethos, he grumbled to himself.

  A knock came from the door to his cabin, followed by Wake’s voice. “Sir, watch has changed and all’s well.”

  “Very well, Mr. Wake. Come in and sit awhile. Relax.”

  The sunset sent golden shafts of dusty light swaying across Gardiner’s spacious stern windows as Wake entered and took the offered seat at the gallery bench. A moment later Gardiner’s steward silently entered, carrying a tray of coffee.

  “Mr. Wake, would you care to share a coffee with me?” asked Gardiner.

  “Yes, thank you, sir.”

  After the steward poured the coffee and left, Gardiner held up his mug of coffee
.

  “So, Peter, how is everything going?”

  Wake respected Gardiner’s professionalism and liked his personality. Occasionally the captain would invite Wake for a cup of coffee in his cabin and they would talk of the ship’s officers and men, and of their own families back home. Wake knew, as a former ship commander himself, how very lonely it was for a captain and that the executive officer was usually the only man aboard a captain could confide in, or even relax with. It was obvious that Gardiner needed to talk.

  “Everything appears to be going well, sir. The coal needs to be rebunkered and they are starting on that. We used about four tons getting to windward of San Juan and the rest hasn’t really settled down yet. I want to make sure it won’t shift in the bunkers and—”

  “I know that, Peter. I was talking about you. How’s it going for you?”

  “Me? Well, sir, I guess it’s going well for me. I have no complaints.”

  “I want you to know that I’ve recommended you for promotion and command. In fact, I recommended you to command the Omaha after I go ashore in May.”

  Wake was touched. He knew Gardiner was leaving and it meant a lot that the man’s last promotion recommendation would be for him. “Thank you, sir. I am very honored by your recommendation. But I wish you wouldn’t leave us. We need good leaders, especially these days.”

  “No, I’ve had enough of the political pantywaists in Washington, Peter. Can’t take it anymore. Time for dinosaurs like me to leave while there’s still someone who wants me to stay. What’s that old saying from the stage? Always leave ’em wantin’ more.”

  Wake didn’t know what to say to that, so he uttered the age-old safe reply to a superior. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to say that my recommendation may not be enough to make it happen. You’ve had a tough career and you’ll need more than merely my good words to get promoted up. But, by God, I still have five months to go. And in that time I want to try to get you noticed by the diplomatic types in the Caribbean so they’ll send back complimentary reports on you to the secretary of state, who will hopefully pass them along to Secretary Robeson at the Navy Department.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, Peter!” Gardiner’s face transformed into a mischievous grin. “I’m going to send you to all the fancy-pants parties ashore so that you can deal with those pompous fools. I just don’t have the patience anymore. I might hurt one of those two-faced, pin-striped, Froggie talking, diplomatic bastards.”

  Wake laughed. “I’ll do my very best not to hurt them, sir!”

  Gardiner’s grin faded as he brought up a difficult subject among naval officers. “You do want to stay in, right? What about your wife and family?”

  “Linda wants me out. She doesn’t mind me going to sea but doesn’t want me in the navy. She thinks the navy’s treated me badly. Says I have no future here and should go back to the merchant fleet.” He shrugged. “One of her arguments is that the pay is better.”

  “Aye, a disgruntled wife weighs heavy on a man’s mind. You need to solve that dilemma, Peter. Get her aboard with you for your career or you won’t have the right attitude even if you do stay in. Don’t get into a situation where you have to choose between her and the navy. You lose either way on that kind of deal.”

  Wake understood completely. He had seen other men go through that and they were miserable afterward, no matter what they decided. “My leave comes up in June, sir. I’ll go home and be with her at Pensacola for about two months while Omaha is in Philadelphia on refit, so we’ll have time to work it out then.”

  Gardiner smiled and raised his coffee mug. “Aye, then we’ll have a rumless toast to your wife and your navy, Peter Wake. May the two live in peace.”

  “Thank you, sir.” They drank to the toast and Wake raised his mug again. “And here’s to your last cruise, Captain. May it be your best.”

  Gardiner started to raise his mug, then stopped, his eyebrows cocked and then grinned back. “We’re in the West Indies, Peter. I don’t know if it’ll be the best cruise of my career, but I do know it won’t be a dull one!”

  3

  Antigua

  Her Most Britannic Majesty’s customs cutter Hudson rounded up into the wind off the Omaha’s starboard beam and a speaking trumpet brought forth the word that Omaha was not to enter the Royal Navy station at English Harbour, but instead to sail around to St. John’s, the capital of the colony of Antigua. No explanation was given.

  “Damn Limeys,” muttered Gardiner as Wake yelled out an acknowledgment to the British cutter. “The sun’ll set in two hours and I wanted to have the hook down and secured. It’ll take at least that long to get around the island to St. John’s, and we can’t enter at night through those reefs. Mr. Wake, we’ll sail around under the lee of the island, heave-to until dawn and enter then.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Wake as he checked the chart. “We should be off Fullerton Point by sunset. That’ll be a good place to loiter for the night.”

  Gardiner shook his head while watching the cutter sail back toward English Harbour. “They’ve allowed us to enter English Harbour before. I wonder why not now?”

  ***

  When Omaha let go her anchor at St. John’s Harbour on the northwest coast of Antigua the next morning, it wasn’t five minutes before the governor’s launch arrived at the port side with a message for the captain. The officer of the deck, Lieutenant Laporte, brought it to Gardiner in his cabin where he had just started to go over the monthly supply reports with Wake.

  Gardiner tore open the envelope and read the note, then looked at Wake. “It seems that His Excellency, Governor Gilford Habersham welcomes me to Her Majesty’s Crown Colony of Antigua and would be delighted if I and one of my officers could attend dinner tonight at the governor’s residence.”

  Wake was surprised, not by the invitation—it was routine for local leaders to invite visiting naval officers to dinner—but by the timing. They had just dropped anchor and the local American consul’s greetings to the ship hadn’t even arrived yet. “Something odd’s going on, sir. Why were they in such a rush to get a standard dinner invitation to us?”

  “Perhaps embarrassment over denying us entrance into the naval station at English Harbour? Who knows, Peter? I understand that culturally they’re our cousins but I’ll be damned if I understand them sometimes.”

  Wake shook his head. “I don’t understand that denial or the timing of the invite, sir. Coincidence? I think not, Captain.”

  Laporte knocked on the door again, walked in, and delivered another envelope, this one with an embossed eagle on the front. It was from the American consulate. Gardiner nodded for Wake to open and read it aloud.

  Captain Lewis Gardiner, Lt. Cmdr, U.S.N.

  Commanding Officer

  U.S.S. Omaha

  West Indies Flotilla

  Home Squadron

  22 December 1873

  My Dear Captain Gardiner,

  Allow me the honor of welcoming you to Antigua. I fear I must impose upon your valuable time and request that we meet at my office at 107 Long Street, here in St. John’s. There are matters of national interest that we should discuss and due to factors beyond my control I cannot visit your ship this morning.

  The mail for your ship, and also some for other consuls in the area and for Panama, is here and ready for your custody when you come by.

  I regret the appearance of impropriety in this request, but assure you that upon your arrival you will conclude this unusual missive is justified.

  Please acknowledge via the courier that brought this note.

  Respectfully,

  Gustavius Williams

  Consul in Antigua for the

  United States of America

  “Well, that’s a bit unusual! What do you make of it, Peter?” asked Gardiner.

  “I have no idea, sir. But this is getting very curious. Do you want me to go to the consul’s office?”

  Gardiner slyly nodded. “Yes, I think I do. Go to both of these events and tell them I’m indisposed. Report back to me what you find. In the meantime I’ll finish my letter to Josephine.”