1862 (31 page)

The most fertile area for recruiting was Boston. Not only did the city have a large number of rabidly anti-British Irish, but the British had bombarded the town, killed civilians, and destroyed the livelihoods of those people who had just emigrated to the new world in hopes of bringing themselves up from the abject poverty of the old. In civilian life, Cleburne had been a lawyer and had developed some skill as an orator, which further helped convince recruits to join him.

Within a couple of weeks, Brigadier General Cleburne had a Legion that stood at just over seven thousand eager but untrained souls, with more clamoring to join. Wisely, he determined that what he had was all he could cope with at the moment. He would add more later. Equally wisely, he took them well into western Massachusetts and away from the taverns and other temptations of Boston for their training.

Attila Flynn sat under the shade of a tree and watched Cleburne’s recruits march and maneuver. They were a ragged group, but nowhere near as disorganized and confused as they had been when they first started. Most seemed to understand the difference between their right and left feet. Cleburne walked over and squatted on the ground beside him. Flynn turned and grinned.

“A fine sight, isn’t it, General? All of these wonderful young men ready to fight against Victoria and her brutish minions.”

“I have to admit it has turned out much better than I thought it would,” Cleburne said. “I will never in my life admit you were right, Flynn, but I find myself most comfortable in command of this Legion of free Irishmen and with its purpose.”

“Perhaps, when it grows large enough, you’ll get a second star, mayhap even a third,” Flynn said.

Cleburne laughed. There were no three-star generals in the Union army, although the Confederacy had a couple. Cleburne had often wondered why the smaller of the two combating armies by far had the higher-ranking officers.

Flynn gestured toward the marching ranks. “The men are restive. They want to go north.”

“Soon enough and they’ll have their wish, although they may regret it when the Brits start killing them. I have decided that the best way to toughen them and to make them an army is to march them overland to Canada.”

Flynn was surprised. “Surely not all the way to Detroit?”

“Hardly,” Cleburne responded with a chuckle. “In a few days we’ll march to the Hudson, head north to Albany, and then from Albany to Buffalo. Once we arrive, we’ll see what General Grant has in store for us. I’ll be leaving a cadre here to recruit and train new soldiers.”

Flynn was intrigued. “You have been in communication with Grant?”

“Possibly.” Cleburne decided to exact a measure of revenge for Flynn’s trickery, and he could think of nothing better than his having knowledge that Flynn lacked.

“Will you be there for the battle that is shaping up?” Flynn’s voice rose in excitement. The idea of an Irish army fighting England’s was almost more than he could stand.

“I doubt it. It’ll likely be over before we arrive.”

Flynn sighed. “A shame, a bloody damned shame.”

Cleburne could not help but laugh. “Somehow I don’t think it’ll be the last battle fought in this war.”

The state of Maryland was one of several places in the Union where a large part of the population was sympathetic to the Confederacy. In the early days of the war there was very real fear that Maryland would secede, which would have left the District of Columbia totally surrounded by a hostile Confederacy. Had such occurred, Washington would likely have been abandoned.

Firm action was taken and Maryland stayed in the Union, with many Confederate sympathizers jailed or otherwise intimidated into discreet silence. As a result, while the Confederacy could count on some support from the population, it did not know how strong that support might be. Content or not, Maryland was firmly in the Union.

The waters off the coast of Maryland and neighboring Virginia were heavily fished, with men from both states sharing the ocean and its bounty, and doing so largely without regard to political problems. The Royal Navy had quickly decided that it was none of their business what the swarms of little boats were up to. For one thing, there were far too many of the boats for the Royal Navy to keep track of, and, for another, much of the delicious seafood that was served in the local taverns and restaurants came from those very fishing boats. If a few crabs and other delicacies made their way to Union plates, then it was a small price to pay.

The men of the fishing smack
Orion
had other things on their minds than fish or crabs. While they did net and catch fish, it was a cover; they were far more interested in what lay on the ocean floor than what might be caught in their nets or traps.

All of the small crew were Union navy men and two were deep-sea divers. The divers were used to going underwater in bulky helmets and waterproof leather suits, and searching along the bottom for treasure. In this case the treasure they sought was the telegraphic cable recently laid by England from Canada to Norfolk.

As the Royal Navy warship and cable-layer
Agamemnon
had worked her way southward, curious eyes on the shore had watched as the British ship inched her way ever closer to shore in an attempt to save time and shorten the cable. Those same curious eyes had tried to estimate just where the cable was and in water of what depth. They had pegged her passage between two buoys that narrowed the search even more.

Even with good information, it was still like looking for a thread in a large and very wet haystack. The men of the
Orion
had been at it for several weeks with little to show for it except sunburns and some extra money from the sale of their catch. They couldn’t work all the time at searching. They were at the mercy of the weather, which could churn the ocean floor into muck, and of other fishing boats, which could not be permitted to see the diver going overboard or returning from his searches.

Captain Seth Dawson of the
Orion
came from a fishing family that was well familiar with the waters off Maryland’s coast. Thus it was logical for the twenty-year veteran of the U.S. Navy to be assigned the task of finding the cable and confusing the Confederates. His real rank in the navy was bosun and he enjoyed having an independent command. He had been staring at the buoy that marked the divers present location for so long that he had a headache. It was with a start that he realized that the buoy had been moved and that the diver was jerking on the line.

“Jesus,’: Dawson muttered. A few moments later, the diver popped to the surface. His helmet was removed, and the young Italian immigrant named Guido smiled happily.

“I found it,” Guido said.

“I was beginning to think it was a flight of someone’s fancy,” laughed Dawson as they hauled Guido aboard.

Other crewmen helped Guido belowdecks and, once out of sight, out of his diving suit. “Now what?” Guido asked.

“In a regular ship, I’d kick your ass for even thinking of asking questions of your captain,” Dawson said. No one took him seriously. He was more of a father than a commander. “Is the buoy attached to the cable?”

“It is. And the cable is lying across a small wreck that will make it easy to find again.”

They then calculated their position off several visible landmarks and knew they could get within a few feet of the cable and use the wreck to locate it.

Dawson turned to his six-man crew, all of whom were smiling broadly. “As to now what, we go back and tell our leaders what we’ve done and let them tell us what’s next.”

“I still don’t see why we don’t just cut it.” said Guido.

“ ’Cause then they’d just repair it and we’d have to start all over again if they didn’t catch on and chase us off,” said Dawson. “Besides, I think the navy has something interesting up its sleeve.”

For Secretary of the Navy Sumner Welles, it was a secret almost too delicious to keep. Yet it had to be kept or it would be useless. After some soul-searching, he decided he would include Secretary of War Stanton, Secretary of State Seward, and President Lincoln. Prior to making them privy to his news, he made each man swear to tell no other soul unless it was mutually agreed upon. Lincoln was amused, while the others were a little angry: however, they all agreed.

“Gentlemen,” Welles said with glee, “we have located Britain’s cable to Canada and we have tapped into it.” When the utterances of surprise ceased, Lincoln asked, “Are you sure they’re not aware of our actions?”

“There’s no indication,” Welles said confidently. ’They are sending messages without interruption in what appears to be a normal routine. I’ve had two professional telegraphers working on the problem and they assure me that our tap is quite passive and will not be detected. There may be some degradation of the signal between Canada and Norfolk, but nothing that would cause them to note or worry.”

“The messages are not in cipher?” Seward asked.

“None so far,” Welles responded, “although that may be a future problem if something is sent from London to Canada in code and not decoded before being sent on. In truth, I do not believe they will use cipher, as their signals are often weak and distorted, along with being almost maddeningly slow. During the couple of days we’ve listened in, several times they’ve had to repeat messages that weren’t understood. Using code would be a recipe for disaster, as no one would know whether they’d received gibberish or a true message. No, they appear blissfully unaware that we are copying them.”

“And we shall keep it that way,” Lincoln said. “How many know of this besides us?”

“There were seven in the ship that found the cable, and the two telegraphers I mentioned were also instrumental in running our cable from the Maryland shore to the British cable. Other than ourselves, that is nine. My assistant. Mr. Fox, the man to whom they directly reported, makes it ten.”

“More than two is not a secret, goes the old saying,” Lincoln said. “Yet, no pun intended, I cannot fathom any other way it could have been done, Mr. Welles, you have done an excellent job,”

Welles flushed happily. “Thank you, sir,”

“And what is the crew of that so-called fishing boat doing now?” Seward asked.

Stanton chuckled. “Why, sir, they continue to fish the area. Their presence is considered routine and, thus, they are able to guard our illicit cable connection. They also provide some senior officers in the navy department with excellent seafood.”

“What we must do,” Lincoln said after the laughter died down, “is the obvious, We shall listen and wait, and never let them know what we have done, Tell me, have you learned anything of note?”

“Well it’s only been a couple of days, Mr. President, and it would be so much more interesting if we could read the London-to-Canada messages directly, but we do get the sense that London is not happy with the situation in Canada, and with Lord Cardigan in particular.”

“We suspected that,” injected Seward. He was both intrigued and perturbed. He didn’t like being upstaged, but was delighted at the possibility of knowing the secrets of the Union’s enemies.

Welles continued. “A General Napier is on his way to Richmond to discuss military matters with Lord Lyons. I also have the sense that England is puzzled by the lack of aggressiveness shown to date by the Confederate armies. I think they would like the Confederacy to assault the Army of the Potomac and take pressure off their problem in Canada.”

“Excellent,” said Stanton. “This shows their marriage of convenience is far from perfect. If there ever was a honeymoon, it may be over. Each partner is waiting for the other to win the war for them.”

“I agree,” said Lincoln. “But now what do we do next? I do not wish clerks copying voluminous information multitudes of times to ensure that we all get what we need, Mr. Welles, are your telegraphers capable of transcribing what they hear?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent, Then let us meet each day and go over what we have learned, If necessary, one of us may read and make notes of pertinent areas of the transcription; however, no other copies shall be made. Of necessity and despite our promises to keep this group small, it will be necessary to enlarge the group somewhat, as there will be times when one or more of us cannot be here. Therefore, we shall each name a substitute. Mr. Welles, may I presume yours will be the able Mr. Fox?”

“It will.” Welles said, pleased.

“Mine shall be General Halleck,” Stanton said, “and God help him if the old gossip tells a living soul.”

Seward chuckled. “I shall use Mr. Charles Adams, our former ambassador to London. His insights could be invaluable, and, as the direct descendant of two presidents, his discretion is absolute.”

“Very good,” said Lincoln. “As I do not wish to be left out, I shall utilize the services of General Scott in my absence. Are there any objections?” There were none. “Then let us depart and fervently hope this results in damnation to our enemies.”

Lincoln rose to his full height. There was the hint of fire in his eyes. “Now if only General Grant can provide us with information that is equally felicitous.”

* * * *

Rebecca Devon had called on General Scott for the purpose of inquiring into the condition of Nathan Hunter. She had not heard from him since he had departed north from Grant’s Ohio camp to Detroit. She presumed that he was with Grant in Canada, but she had no idea if he was well or not. Mail service between Washington and Grant’s army was limited at best, and telegrams were almost entirely limited to military matters.

Scott received her cordially. Any question of her late husband’s ill repute seemed to have disappeared; either that, she thought, or Scott had been unaware of the suspicions surrounding him.

Scott had assured her that, to the best of his knowledge, Nathan was well, and informed her that he was a brevet colonel on Grant’s staff. She was about to depart when a messenger from the State Department arrived and hurriedly deposited an envelope. Scott read the brief note and sagged into a chair, despair and anguish on his face.

“Are you all right, sir?” she inquired. He looked pale and shaken. His left hand began to quiver.