Not One Shred of Decency Read online

  Recent developments concerning the crew gave Captain Mackenzie reason for solemn reflection. In addition to having to rescind Spencer’s transfer, some other things bothered him. With 120 men and officers, the brigantine would be overcrowded. He and Commodore Perry had wanted to hold the crew to less than ninety, but pressures from congressmen had forced them to accept more. Also, the crew would be very young. At 39, he would be the oldest man on board. Chief Boatswain Mate Samuel Cromwell was in his mid-thirties and First Lieutenant Guert Ganse was 30 years old. A few middies were in their early 20’s, and all the rest were under 20. Some of the seamen and stewards were 12 years old. Perry had hoped a precedent-setting training cruise to foreign countries in a new brigantine would attract respectable boys to join the navy. Unfortunately, the Navy’s reputation was such that not many boys of that class signed up.

  Captain Mackenzie mulled over the young age of new recruits. He had left home and joined the Navy himself at 11. He felt he was a man at that age and the young boys on his brigantine must feel the same. Only in maturity did he realize that he had been just a child.

  Many boys joined the Navy to escape poverty or brutal parents and gave little thought as to the consequences of their decision. It had been different for Mackenzie. As a boy he watched ships arrive and depart from the wharves of New York. He had little interest in school, but great fascination for the sea and curiosity about far away countries. Stories of excitement and adventure reported during the War of 1812 influenced him to wait no longer. His father, a wealthy candle manufacturer, had sent his older brothers to college, John to Columbia, and Thomas to Yale. His father would have sent him to college too, but his impatience to go to sea could not be contained.

  **********

  First Lieutenant Ganse returned his salute as he stepped off the gangway and on the spar deck of the Somers. “Ganse, has Midshipman Spencer returned from liberty, yet?”

  “Yes sir, Captain.”

  “Have him report to my cabin.”

  “That’ll not be possible, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “Two men helped him on board, sir. I fear he overindulged in rum.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “Hey boy, come here.” Philip Spencer demanded.

  Spencer, a muscular young man of average height and dark hair, could be fairly called handsome except for a disconcerting eye defect. His dark eyes were just a slight bit crossed and many people felt uncomfortable when he looked at them. He viewed them with first one eye and then the other. His struggles to be master of his eyes had resulted in the habit of opening his eyes wider at frequent intervals. This was especially noticeable when he was angry, which happened too frequently. It often intimidated his antagonists and increased their fury. The boy had not seen him before and he instinctively frowned and drew back his chin when he first looked at Spencer’s eyes. Spencer had seen this reaction many times and ignored it.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Billinger Scott.”

  “Billinger Scott, what?”

  “Billinger Scott, SIR!”

  “Hmm, better. You want to make some money, Scott?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Do you have liberty tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “His highness, the Captain, has confined my butt to this stinking brigantine. I need some supplies before we set sail. I’ll give you ten dollars to fetch me three bottles of rum, three pounds of tobacco, and a box of cigars. And you keep what’s left.”

  “Sir, the Captain gave strict orders. Boys can’t board the brigantine with rum or tobacco.”

  “Hell, it’s all right. Midshipmen can have those things. Anyway, I’ve got the late watch. If you see me on the spar deck with my cap on, it’s safe to board and I’ll check you in. If my cap’s off, wait til I put it on.”

  “Well, I’m skittish. What if I get hauled in?”

  “You’re a jelly fish, Scott. You don’t need to worry. If you should get hauled in, I’ll stand between you and the Captain.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Damn you, I’ll give you some of the tobacco, too.”

  “All right, I’ll cotton to that, uh er Sir.”

  **********

  At the galley stove, Mackenzie and Ganse poured themselves mugs of coffee and carried them to the wardroom. Much of the crew was on shore leave and those on board worked on tasks topside so Mackenzie and Ganse had the wardroom to themselves. They sat in opposite seats at one end of a table. Ganse said, “The sky is overcast. If the weather is bad Tuesday will we still cast off as planned?”

  Mackenzie said, “Four bells sharp, even if we have to ride out a storm at sea. This cruise is attracting brass from all over and there’ll be lots of family and friends to see us off. It won’t look so good if we postpone leaving because of weather. We must demonstrate discipline from the first moment.”

  Ganse nodded, signifying approval of Mackenzie’s reasoning. “My wife would like to be here too, but with two small children it would be too hard for her to travel home alone.”

  Ganse and Mackenzie had worked well together in the past. As soon as the cruise had been approved, Mackenzie had personally picked Ganse for First Lieutenant. He felt Ganse was often too easy on the men but this would not matter because he was meticulous in carrying out his orders, so his wishes would always prevail.

  Mackenzie said, “Ganse, if this cruise goes well, we both should get a promotion.”

  “I do hope to make captain some day.”

  “You’re 30, aren’t you? You have plenty of time. You’ll make it.”

  Ganse willingly carried out Mackenzie’s orders because he usually agreed with them and he believed in carrying out orders, even if he disagreed. But some things on the shakedown cruise had bothered him. He felt that Mackenzie often resorted to flogging, when a verbal reprimand and extra duty would have been sufficient. Even so, they were friends and often confided in each other. Mackenzie seldom talked as freely with the other officers.

  Ganse said, “Spencer is a mystery to me. I’ve served in this navy nineteen years and I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s intelligent, but seems bent on making life hard for himself.”

  “I think his problems started at a very early age. It upset me to find that he reported on board so drunk he had to be carried to his bunk. I should’ve come down on him harder, but I didn’t want to spend any more time listening to people pleading leniency for him. We’ll watch him carefully after we’re under way to rebuff any misconduct before it gets out of hand.”

  “Canceling shore leave hasn’t hurt him as much as the additional duties you assigned him. He finds these duties galling because it relieves other midshipmen to have liberty that he thinks is rightfully his.”

  Mackenzie said, “Is he performing his duties as he should?”

  “He’s grudgingly done everything I ask, but I have to squeeze a ‘Sir’ out of him.”

  “What did you mean, grudgingly?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t say anything. He just has a sour, sarcastic smile. As though, ‘I’ll get even someday and you’ll regret making me do anything.”

  Mackenzie replied sarcastically, “Be careful with the dear boy, Ganse, his father may have to come up here and straighten you out.”

  Ganse did not laugh, “There’s other things too. He won’t have anything to do with the other midshipmen. He’s a loner, but the ones he talks to are not desirable types.”

  “Who might that be?”

  “Elisha Small, our quartermaster. He’s smart and an excellent seaman, but he’s a heavy drinker and rough around the edges. I heard that he’s served on a slaver in the past.”

  Mackenzie asked, “Who else?”

  “Cromwell, our esteemed chief boatswain’s mate. What a brute of a man. He applies the whip with great relish, even on the youngest boys.”

  Mackenzie said, “It takes a strong whip to keep some boys in line.”

  Ganse said, “Hmm, well, I don’t know what Spencer and C
romwell talk about because they go off to the side somewhere.”

  Mackenzie said, “No matter, I won’t spend the entire cruise taking care of a spoiled midshipman. We’ll deal with Spencer appropriately after we cast off. At least his father won’t be around to interfere.”

  “Have you noticed the books Spencer reads?” Ganse asked.

  “No, what are they?”

  “Pirate books  that’s all he ever reads.”

  **********

  Scott boarded the Somers empty handed. Spencer grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him over to the bulwark. “Where the hell is my rum and tobacco?”

  “I gotta explain, sir.”

  “And where’s my money?”

  “I don’t have that either. That’s what I gotta explain, sir. You see, I was in the Paradise Inn, and I met the sweetest little flower . . .”

  “Oh hell!”

  “And we had a few drinks, and then she beckoned me to her room, only it wasn’t really a room, it was a big place that was curtained off all over, and you could hear voices everywhere, and after awhile, when I got ready to leave, my ditty bag with all your goods in it was gone.”

  “Well damn almighty! Surrounded by whores and you just set my stuff down amongst them.”

  “My friend said that happens all the time. She said I should’ve kept my hand on it  and I had to pay her with the rest of your money.”

  “Spare me, Scott.”

  “If you’d seen her, sir, she was pretty as a pansy.”

  “Yeh, I know, and right now she’s sitting there with the rest of those harlots drinking my rum and smoking my cigars.”

  “Not her, sir, you can tell; she’s pure as the driven snow.”

  “Stop! You’re tearing my heart out. Just give me ten dollars.”

  “I don’t have a cent, Sir.”

  Spencer shoved Scott back against the bulwark. “You’ll pay, one way or another.” He paused to think of a suitable pay-back, then relaxed his grip. “I’ll make you my boy. You’ll tend my bed, clean my clothes, shine my shoes, brush my hair, or do whatever the hell I ask you.”

  “Will you keep me in tobacco? Sir.”

  “You’re amazing, Scott, get out of my sight!”

  Spencer smiled as he looked out across the dimly lit harbor. Lanterns on other ships created long yellow streaks of light that danced on the rippling water. Now he had a stupid boy to wait on him hand and foot. Anyway, Jones was more resourceful than Scott and had already smuggled so much rum and tobacco that his locker was about to burst. There was enough to bribe people for favors for at least two months. He thought, “There should be some way I can smuggle Susan or Celeste on board for a few hours before we weigh anchor. Maybe Jones can handle that assignment. After all, I didn’t really expect that he would find a store selling How Pirate Bennett Eluded the British Admiralty, by Wesley, that I asked for.

  CHAPTER 4

  Washington Irving loved to invite friends to his old farmhouse in Tarrytown, a village 30 miles north of New York City. They would discuss the books they were writing and any other topic of current interest. Irving poured his visitor a glass of wine.

  The visitor exhaled cigar smoke. “Where’s your friend, Slidell Mackenzie, today?”

  Irving replied, “He’s busy preparing for an important cruise.”

  “He seems nice, but the only thing I know about him is that he wrote A Year in Spain. Where did you meet him, Washington?”

  “Through friends in Spain in 1826. I was writing Life of Columbus, and he helped me with the research. When Slidell finished A Year In Spain, I reviewed it and made comments for which he was grateful.”

  “What does he really want to be, a naval officer or a writer?”

  “His obsession is the sea, but in 1824, while serving in West India, he came down with a serious case of yellow fever. He was granted leave of absence to recuperate. Being single at the time, he spent two years traveling in France and Spain. He liked to write and viewed that as a way to make some money.”

  “Has his book sold well?”

  “Only moderately, I think. He has had several bouts with yellow fever and each time he has written a book.”

  The visitor took a sip of wine. “I started reading A Year In Spain but lost interest when I came to a gruesome description of a hanging.”

  “That bothered me too and I told him so. Hangings are common in Spain, and people attend them with great relish, like bullfights. I told Slidell that I admired his attention to detail but I find hangings distasteful and do not wish to read about the gory details. He told me his first impulse was to stay away from hangings, but on reconsideration, that was as much a part of Spain as fine chapels or excellent paintings. He said he would be remiss if he didn’t write with equal vigor on all aspects of Spain.”

  “Interesting. Did he move to Tarrytown because you live here?”

  “He wanted a home after he married. Yes, I’m sure my being here entered into his decision, but he has other writer friends here, also. Would you care for some more wine?”

  “Please.”

  **********

  Mackenzie, with a lean body and military posture, was about 5 feet 10 inches tall. Prominent squint lines converged on penetrating gray-blue eyes. Even with his plain sea-creased face and receding amber hair, he commanded respect when dressed in his Captain’s uniform. His pleasant baritone voice had a bit of a musical inflection. Women found it alluring and romantic, but among men it commanded attention and exuded authority. His wife, Kate, had succumbed body and soul to his charms and praised him to her friends at the slightest opportunity.

  By nature Mackenzie was a private soul, that is, until he had met Kate. Not that even with her could he express his emotions or feelings, but he found pleasure in her company. Maybe she filled a physical need, or maybe she could provide him with heirs. For whatever the reasons, he accepted the attachment without analysis. He loved Kate the same way he loved the sea. Both had moments of excitement that should be enjoyed to their fullest, for the next moment may bring currents of peril. Common perils of the day were death at childbirth, or diseases like meningitis. Should such tragedy suddenly befall Kate, Mackenzie would cope better than most, for he possessed a large measure of fatalism. Not because it was God’s will, for he was not a godly person, yet he accepted on faith that some vague director in the ether had more control over his destiny than he did himself. To bemoan Kate’s fate, or his own for that matter, would be an exercise in futility.

  Mackenzie spent one last night at home with Kate and his boys. One boy was two years old and the other was a baby of six months. He intended to provide for his sons to the best of his ability, but he had never exerted much effort to establish a close bond with them. Many men work at this trait, but it was nonexistent in Mackenzie.

  The next afternoon, Kate sat on the bed as he packed his things in his sea chest sitting on the floor. He planned to catch a train back to New York. Kate said, “I know you’re excited about commanding this cruise, but I’ll sure miss you.”

  He produced the words he thought she would want to hear, “I know, with the children so small, it’ll not be easy for you.”

  “Did you say you will sail to Africa first?”

  “Yes, we have some dispatches for the sloop-of-war, Vandalia. It’s stationed off the coast of Africa.”

  “I wish you could be more certain about when you’ll return.”

  “My best guess is four months, but it depends on how the men respond to training. All might be lost if we returned before they are well disciplined.”

  “I know you love the sea, but sometimes I wish you’d retire from the Navy and write books. Every time you leave, I feel so sad, as if I’ll never see you again.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll return safely.” Mackenzie said. “This is a training mission and we’ll steer clear of dangerous seas, like Cape Horn. Anyway, I’ve never earned enough with my books to live on.”

  “I wish I could be there tomorrow to see
you off.”

  “I’d like that too, but with two babies, it’d be too hard for you to come back home alone.” Mackenzie closed his sea chest, put on his coat and captain’s hat. “I’d better leave or I’ll miss the train.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “I’ll think of you everyday.”

  He said, “Good. Don’t wake the babies; they won’t understand what’s happening anyway.”

  She kissed him.

  Mackenzie said, “When I return, your husband will be in all the newspapers for starting a training program for the Navy. They’ll promote me to commander, I think.” He waited patiently for her to remove her arms from around his neck. When free, he lifted his sea chest to his shoulder, and walked out of the room.

  Kate stood in the center of the room, with head down  her eyes followed him out. She bit lightly on her finger for a few seconds, glanced in a mirror to see if anything was amiss, then hastened to catch up with him.

  At the front door, Mackenzie turned and said, “Goodbye.” He never looked back again.

  **********

  That evening, Mackenzie arrived on board the Somers in time to make a final inspection before the carpenters, caulkers, blacksmiths, and coopers were released for the last time. Mackenzie took a deep breath, for he thrived on the odors of fresh pitch, sail canvas, hemp, salt laden air, fish, and even the pens on the forecastle that held his pig and chickens. The brigantine’s bell, the boatswain’s whistle, the groans and creaking of rope and rigging, the flapping of sails, breeze in his ears, brigantine’s hull thumping against the wharf  all such a part of his being that he was sure some supreme being would punish him if he ever gave it up.

  Most of the officers were granted liberty for one more night, but the seamen should be all accounted for by sunset. New recruits going to sea for the first time were restricted to the brigantine. They suffered from a mixture of excitement, restlessness, and boredom. If permitted to go ashore, young boys might change their mind about joining the Navy, get too drunk, or for many reasons not show up for casting off the next morning.