How Dark the Night (7 page)

“It does indeed. Fall is a beautiful time in Hingham, and I'm happy to think that you'll be married in the same month as your father and I were. I say we get right to it and start making a list. Those from far away will need plenty of time to plan their travel. I'll get pen and paper.” She made to rise.

“Shouldn't we wait on that, Mother?” Diana said, she the one now offering a cautionary note. “Might that not be pressing our luck? Perhaps after Peter has talked to Father and everything is official . . . I do
so
worry that something will go wrong. It's not that I don't believe every word you've told me. I do. But too often things go wrong just when it seems they shouldn't.”

Katherine smiled. “Perhaps, my dear. But not this time.”

F
OUR DAYS LATER
, two days after Richard Cutler returned home from business in Boston, formal word was sent to Cutler family members in Massachusetts, England, and Barbados announcing the betrothal of Diana Cutler to Peter Archibald Sprague. Two weeks after that, details of the proposed wedding were sent to the society pages of local and city newspapers. The ceremony was set for Saturday, September 20, and would take place at First Parish, the Cutler family church in Hingham where Will Cutler and Adele Endicott had been married. Wedding banns would be published in the church for three consecutive Sundays beginning on August 10.

All of Hingham rejoiced over the announcement; the Cutlers and the Spragues were among the village's oldest and most admired families. But if there was one person whose joy might have eclipsed even that of the newly betrothed couple, it was Lizzy Cutler Crabtree, whose husband returned home from sea at last on a crisp sunny day in mid-February.

Other than a brief conversation on the afternoon of Agreen's arrival, Richard allowed thirty-six hours to pass before paying his first officer a formal visit, understanding Agreen's need to be alone with Lizzy and Zeke. “Welcome home again, Lieutenant,” he said as the two sat in the snug little parlor of the Crabtree home on Pleasant Street.

“It's damn good t'
be
home, Richard,” the wiry and wizened man of forty-five years replied. He and Richard had become fast friends during the war with England while serving together in the Continental navy, first as midshipmen in the sloop of war
Ranger
and then, after their escape from Old Mill Prison in England, as acting lieutenants in
Bonhomme Richard
, both vessels under the command of Capt. John Paul Jones. Their friendship continued after the Peace of Paris in 1783. Richard had hired Agreen as sailing master in the Cutler & Sons vessel
Falcon
to accompany him to North Africa to try to ransom Caleb Cutler and his shipmates from an Algerian prison. At the onset of the Quasi-War with France almost a decade ago, Agreen, now married to Richard's first cousin Lizzy Cutler, had joined the fledgling U.S. Navy as a lieutenant in
Constitution
at the same time Richard was serving in a similar capacity in
Constellation
. Together they had spearheaded an attack against a privateer base on the French West Indies island of Marie-Galante. When war with Tripoli erupted two years later and Richard was given command of the 36-gun frigate
Portsmouth
, he never considered anyone other than Agreen as his first officer.

“I'd almost forgotten the simple pleasure of just sittin' in this room,” Agreen said with a contented sigh.

“While being waited on hand and foot by a beautiful woman.”

Agreen grinned. “You've got that right, matey. And it's a damn sight more than my hand and foot that's bein' waited on.”

Richard grinned back at him. As if on cue, Lizzy Crabtree entered the room bearing a tray with two mugs of coffee and slices of sweet bread she had baked for the occasion. As she bent forward to place the tray on a table set between the two chairs, Agreen touched her hip and began gently massaging it. She carefully set the tray on the table and then turned her head to meet his gaze, holding it as silent messages flew between them, back and forth like a pendulum. Then she straightened, kissed him on the forehead, smiled at both men, and left the parlor.

Agreen watched her go. “You've got that right,” he repeated softly. After Lizzy closed the door behind her, he shifted his eyes back to Richard.

“Tell me about Katherine,” he said. “Liz tells me she's feelin' like her old self again.”

“Very nearly,” Richard acknowledged. “Dr. Prescott tells us her recovery is really quite remarkable.”

Richard summarized the details of his wife's ordeal, going back to before the surgery. Although he had related much of this information
in letters to Agreen, as had Lizzy, Agreen was hungry for details. When Richard finished talking, Agreen said ruefully, “Damn, Richard, I wish I could have been here to help. For her and you and your children. And for Lizzy. She was devastated, and I felt so helpless down there in Virginia.”

Richard shrugged. “You're here now. And Katherine and Lizzy understand that duty to country comes first.”

“So despite what the good doctor says, there's no real prognosis?”

“No. He really can't offer predictions. All we can do is make every day count. And we can pray.”

“This may come as a shock t' you, but I've been doin' quite a bit of that lately.” After a pause Agreen added, “and I've been givin' some serious thought t' another matter you and I need t' discuss.”

“Oh? What's that?”

“I've made a decision, Richard, and it's not been an easy one t'make. I haven't even told Lizzy about it yet, so you're the first t' know. I owe you that courtesy as my commanding officer. Not t' mention my closest friend.”

Richard braced himself for what he sensed was coming. “Pray continue,” he said. “I'm all ears.”

Agreen did not blink. “I'm resignin' my commission in the Navy.”

Richard allowed several moments to elapse. Then: “Why, Agee?”

Agreen pointed across the room. “You just saw one reason walkin' out that door. The other reason is upstairs in his room. I'm not gettin' any younger, Richard, and bein' away at sea for such long periods has finally gotten t' me. Hell's bells, you and I have fought side by side in three wars over three decades. An' that don't count our little escapade to Algiers and France. In this last war we were away for comin' on three years. Three years is a mighty long time, my friend.

“Now don't get me wrong,” he was quick to add, “I'm not complainin'. Not by a long shot. I love the Navy and I love my country. But you an' I have had enough gut-swigglin' adventures t' last us both two lifetimes. Servin' as your first in
Portsmouth
will always be the greatest honor and thrill of my life. But it's time for me t' step down. I want t' watch Zeke grow up. And I want t' make love t' my wife on a far more regular basis. I know you understand. We talked about it often enough of a night in your after cabin.”

Richard did understand. He understood and sympathized far more than Agreen realized. But he decided that this was neither the time nor the place to confess his own doubts about his future as a captain in the U.S.
Navy. Katherine's illness had sparked those doubts. He could not possibly deny that, nor would he ever wish to; but his doubts were also tied to what he had said to Horatio Nelson in the San Anton Palace in Malta two years earlier. George Hunt was correct: war drums were once again pounding out their ugly beat. And if war were to come, Richard had long ago concluded, it would be fought for control of the seas, and it would be fought against England. Even before Trafalgar, France had lacked the means to effectively challenge U.S. neutrality at sea. And war could not be far in the future. The war hawks in Congress were already demanding satisfaction against England, but for what Richard considered to be relatively minor issues. Impressment, Indian raids on the frontier fomented by British agents, and American merchant vessels detained in British ports were violations of neutrality, treaties, and maritime law, and might be viewed as egregious acts. Richard himself had been a reluctant eyewitness to several such violations. Britain was fighting for its very survival in a global war that was not of its making. In any case, such trespasses did not justify a war that in all probability would be an act of suicide for the young republic. He had also told Lord Nelson that if such a war were to come about, he would have no role in it. He would never again fight against his own family; nor would he fight against men like Nelson, whatever the matters of national honor or political expediency involved. His resolve remained unchanged.

Aloud he said, “I was hoping you might want to step
up
, Agee, not down. You know that I have put in your name for promotion. Lord knows you have earned your own command. I am quite certain that Mr. Smith concurs.”

“I do know you did that for me, Richard, and I thank you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. But whether or not the secretary of the Navy and the Navy Department concur, it doesn't change anything. Five, ten years ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity. But not today. Sure as hell I can sit here as merry as you please and draw half pay until I'm recalled; but because I will not accept that call when it comes, such a thing just don't sit right with me.” He took a drink of coffee and then broke into a grin. “Besides, if I resign now, I'll not only have a clear conscience, I'll make out a lot better in the long run. Unless, of course, you've promised my former position in Cutler & Sons t' that highfalutin' ex–Royal Navy post captain brother-in-law of yours.”

“That would be Caleb's decision, not mine,” Richard said, smiling back at him. “But I wouldn't fret if I were you, Agee. Cutler & Sons will
certainly welcome you back, assuming you're rock-hard in your decision to resign your commission in the Navy.”

“I am, Richard. Rock-hard.”

R
ICHARD SPENT
the latter part of February and into March catching up with family business and disposing of his ship and crew. With peace declared,
Portsmouth
was to be laid up in ordinary, meaning that she would be taken out of service and her guns, stores, and masts would be removed, leaving only her shell intact until the clarion call to duty forced her reactivation. The petty officers and topmen who had been employees of Cutler & Sons and had signed on for the duration of the war against Tripoli to serve under Richard Cutler returned comfortably to their former civilian jobs, as did most of their shipmates. George Lee, the second lieutenant, volunteered to go on half pay and sailed home to Cape Ann. Eric Meyers,
Portsmouth
's third lieutenant, did no such thing, however. He was, as Agreen put it, “a Navy man from the hair on his head t' the tip of his toenails,” and Richard had been pleased to recommend his services to Navy Secretary Smith. Two days earlier, Smith had replied in a dispatch sent by a military packet boat to Boston and delivered to Hingham by the newly introduced “flying coach” mail stage operating between Boston and Plymouth. Smith's message confirmed that he had secured a second lieutenant's berth for Meyers in USS
Chesapeake
, Capt. Charles Gordon in command.

“Well,
that
sure as hell should please the lad,” Agreen commented when informed of the promotion and of the ship to which Meyers had been assigned. “I heard rumors in Virginia that Barron's up for command of the Mediterranean Squadron. As I recall, both his father and his brother served as commodores too. That'd make three commodores in one family. Can you imagine that? Jamie may have occasion to meet with Barron over there if that appointment goes through anytime soon—Excuse me. I forget myself. I should have said,
Lieutenant Cutler
may have occasion to meet with him over there.”

Richard shook his head in mock dismay. “An understandable error, Lieutenant, but don't let it happen again.” Confirmation of his son's promotion from senior midshipman to lieutenant had accompanied the same dispatch from Washington. By now word of the promotion had spread throughout Hingham.

Other, more disturbing dispatches were soon to follow. As Jack Endicott had feared, the British had impounded one of his ships. The Royal Navy had intercepted
Orient
, a C&E Enterprises merchantman bound to
Rotterdam from Java with her hold laden with spices, as she stood into the English Channel between Finistère on the Breton coast and Land's End in Cornwall. Details were slow to reach Boston, but it appeared that
Orient
was not only being detained, but her cargo had been impounded as well. It had been off-loaded and was being thoroughly examined for contraband. C&E Enterprises' agent and legal representative in London warned that the British Admiralty Court had become involved, a sure sign that the situation would not be quickly resolved. Even if the Court ultimately ruled in
Orient
's favor, which it most likely would, it could take months to have all the legal issues sorted out and the ship, crew, and cargo restored.

“And by then,” Endicott groused in his office on Long Wharf, “we will have lost the entire cargo.” He pounded his desk in frustration. “Hell, we've
already
lost our cargo. It's stacked up on a quay somewhere and will rot long before this matter is settled. In God's name, what do they think we're doing? Smuggling weapons to France in barrels of nutmeg and ginger?” Answering his own question, he roared, “No, that's not it at all.
Orient
is nothing more than a sacrificial lamb to underscore Britain's determination to block all American trade to the Continent.
All
trade!
All
of it! Jesus
Christ
, what an abomination! We stand to lose everything.
Everything
, do you hear?