Bos'n
05-31-2017, 14:12
The Commodore’s Dilemma
It was early on the morning of March 5, 1801 when the leather case containing the two letters along with other dispatches was placed on Commodore Isaac Hull’s desk. Yeoman Klerikos looked apologetic as he stood at attention and gave an ever so slight nod of his head at the packet.
“Oh, what is it, Klerikos, is there something I should see,” grumbled Hull.
Without a word the yeoman untied the thong that secured the case and opened it. Reaching inside he pulled out the contents, but jogged two envelops to one side and tapped them with a soft, silent touch.
“Very good Klerikos, you’re dismissed.”
This silent routine went on every time the dispatch packet was delivered for the commodore’s inspection. The yeoman wasn’t supposed to have an opinion about the communications that were directed to him, but he had learned a long time ago that this old Greek knew what he might need to know first.
One of the letters was from Major Moribund, the commander of land forces, such as they were, in the Lesser Antilles. The major rarely contacted Hull unless something needed to be delivered or someone needed to go someplace. This old relic of the Revolution enjoyed the warmth of his posting and the rum of the islands. Given these two things, he was usual complacent about life.
The other letter came from the British Harbor Master of Bridgetown, Barbados. Ewing McMasters was a wealth of information about the area. His sources were fishermen, merchant seamen, sailors of all kinds, dock workers and sometimes ne’er do well. His information was rarely wrong. Hull would open that letter first.
__________________________ . __________________________
March 4, 1801,
Isaac,
Simian Wethersfield is a local waterman. He found himself at Savannes Bay over on St Lucia a few days ago and says that there is a third rated ship-of-the-line anchored there making some serious repairs. He described the ship to me and it sounds like the Frenchman that has been raiding American shipping over the last several months. Just thought you would want to know.
Your servant,
Ewing
__________________________ . __________________________
“Yeoman!“ called the commodore. “Klerikos, where the hell are y . . .”
“Here sir,” Klerikos said as he came through the door.
“Get Captains Bainbridge and Sever here now!”
“Aye, sir.”
__________________________ . __________________________
That afternoon Isaac Hull held his weekly meeting with the captains of the squadron. Absent were Captains Bainbridge, Cross, and Sever.
“Gentlemen,” began the commodore,” As you know I have sent Mr. Cross and the General Greene to escort an official from the Department of State to Havana and Bill Bainbridge is taking the United States and Congress with Jim Sever to St. Lucia to investigate the sighting of that French privateer that has been harassing shipping the past few months.”
“We have received a request to escort a convoy to Wilmington to deliver their cargo bring back naval stores,” he continued, “And we have our usual patrol to send out as well. With President, Constitution, and Swiftsure still getting a refit from that last encounter with the enemy that leaves Chesapeake and Boston for these two duties.”
Lieutenant Little, George, you are to take Boston and the three merchantmen to Wilmington, North Carolina to deliver their goods and the escort them back here with the shipment of naval stores for the squadron. Keep an eye out for the French and engage only if you are sure that it won’t interfere with your convoy duty.
“Captain Barron, that leaves the patrol to you. Sam, we really need to get that privateer. If Bill and Jim don’t find her then I hope you do.”
“Happy hunting, gentlemen” Hull concluded, “Dismissed.”
It was early on the morning of March 5, 1801 when the leather case containing the two letters along with other dispatches was placed on Commodore Isaac Hull’s desk. Yeoman Klerikos looked apologetic as he stood at attention and gave an ever so slight nod of his head at the packet.
“Oh, what is it, Klerikos, is there something I should see,” grumbled Hull.
Without a word the yeoman untied the thong that secured the case and opened it. Reaching inside he pulled out the contents, but jogged two envelops to one side and tapped them with a soft, silent touch.
“Very good Klerikos, you’re dismissed.”
This silent routine went on every time the dispatch packet was delivered for the commodore’s inspection. The yeoman wasn’t supposed to have an opinion about the communications that were directed to him, but he had learned a long time ago that this old Greek knew what he might need to know first.
One of the letters was from Major Moribund, the commander of land forces, such as they were, in the Lesser Antilles. The major rarely contacted Hull unless something needed to be delivered or someone needed to go someplace. This old relic of the Revolution enjoyed the warmth of his posting and the rum of the islands. Given these two things, he was usual complacent about life.
The other letter came from the British Harbor Master of Bridgetown, Barbados. Ewing McMasters was a wealth of information about the area. His sources were fishermen, merchant seamen, sailors of all kinds, dock workers and sometimes ne’er do well. His information was rarely wrong. Hull would open that letter first.
__________________________ . __________________________
March 4, 1801,
Isaac,
Simian Wethersfield is a local waterman. He found himself at Savannes Bay over on St Lucia a few days ago and says that there is a third rated ship-of-the-line anchored there making some serious repairs. He described the ship to me and it sounds like the Frenchman that has been raiding American shipping over the last several months. Just thought you would want to know.
Your servant,
Ewing
__________________________ . __________________________
“Yeoman!“ called the commodore. “Klerikos, where the hell are y . . .”
“Here sir,” Klerikos said as he came through the door.
“Get Captains Bainbridge and Sever here now!”
“Aye, sir.”
__________________________ . __________________________
That afternoon Isaac Hull held his weekly meeting with the captains of the squadron. Absent were Captains Bainbridge, Cross, and Sever.
“Gentlemen,” began the commodore,” As you know I have sent Mr. Cross and the General Greene to escort an official from the Department of State to Havana and Bill Bainbridge is taking the United States and Congress with Jim Sever to St. Lucia to investigate the sighting of that French privateer that has been harassing shipping the past few months.”
“We have received a request to escort a convoy to Wilmington to deliver their cargo bring back naval stores,” he continued, “And we have our usual patrol to send out as well. With President, Constitution, and Swiftsure still getting a refit from that last encounter with the enemy that leaves Chesapeake and Boston for these two duties.”
Lieutenant Little, George, you are to take Boston and the three merchantmen to Wilmington, North Carolina to deliver their goods and the escort them back here with the shipment of naval stores for the squadron. Keep an eye out for the French and engage only if you are sure that it won’t interfere with your convoy duty.
“Captain Barron, that leaves the patrol to you. Sam, we really need to get that privateer. If Bill and Jim don’t find her then I hope you do.”
“Happy hunting, gentlemen” Hull concluded, “Dismissed.”