The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (13 page)

     “Yes suh, Ah’ll go tell her right ‘way,” Sebastian said with a grin.

     Wilder stuck the note back in his pocket. It read:

Thomas:
Mrs. Scott has invited me to dine with her and some other
Georgetown ladies tomorrow, so I came into town earlier 
today. Please join me at our townhouse for supper this
evening at 6 p.m.       
Lucille

      Harper turned to his friend with a straight face as they ascended the stairs. “Well Tom, I guess you won’t be joining me at the Golden Eagle tonight. Joanne will be so disappointed…”
      Wilder looked grim. “Harps, with my luck, Lucille just wants me to be the first to know that she and the ‘hero of the Black Hawk War’ are not only married, but are expecting twins…” He turned and walked down the hall towards General Scott’s office as Harper laughed softly and headed to Interior’s section of the building.

___________

     The afternoon passed interminably for Tom, who, nonetheless, was dreading his scheduled 6:30 p.m. rendezvous. Even though he really didn’t believe Lucille and Joe were engaged, much less married, there was bound to be a scene tonight. If Lucille had really been upset that he was unavailable when Sebastian came to town in late December, it meant there had been something more in that note than New Year’s wishes.

      And his bravado performance at the conclusion of the G-G’s holiday reception was beginning to haunt him. He should have arranged to meet Candice’s carriage at a side entrance to The Residency. But he was, of course, Irish. And so his response to Lucille’s teasing about Christmas Eve at Arlington had naturally involved throwing the taunt right back in her face by boarding the Samples carriage in full view of the entire exiting crowd on the Main Portico. No doubt she had learned---from her new friend Mrs. Scott, perhaps?---where he had gone for the New Year’s holiday. A ‘holiday’ he had barely since recovered from, he thought, cheering up somewhat.
That Candice is insatiable…it wouldn’t surprise
me if her husband took that header off his horse out of pure exhaustion
…
      Thomas’ amorous reveries were permanently interrupted by the sudden appearance of General Scott in the doorway of the closet that passed for his War Department office. “Lieutenant, I’m wanted at The Residency. As are you. Get your cloak on. Have any idea what this might be about?” The General’s grim demeanor startled Thomas back into reality.
      “No sir. When I left there at noon, all was quiet. The Governor-General was scheduled this afternoon with Major Layne and Sir John Burrell, but it was just the routine monthly briefing session. Nothing out of the ordinary. Other than that, the main topic there is still the Bank.”
        “Well, something’s got the G-G’s attention. Maybe Houston is back, or another of those crackpot Tennesseans. God help us if Davy Crockett’s come to town to tell us he’s started another war with the Creeks while the Congress was home campaigning… Let’s get over there.”
     At five-foot-six, there was no way Thomas’ stubby legs could keep up with his long-limbed six-foot-seven boss, especially when the General went down the steps and across Pennsylvania Avenue in a purposeful stride. The aide had to break into a virtual trot to keep pace. That and the cold rain that had begun in mid-afternoon put a damper on further conversation until they were in The Residency itself. “The Governor-General is awaiting you gentlemen in his office,” the head usher said, after taking their wet cloaks, indicating the way as if Scott, who had been attending business and social events at the mansion since the Madison Administration, and Wilder, who maintained another miniscule office in the building, were first-time visitors. The hallway grandfather’s clock was chiming four-thirty.
       The gaunt Governor-General had his back to the door, leaning on a cane, and was looking out a window toward the Parade Ground and the Long Bridge when Scott and Wilder entered his office. At six-foot-one, Jackson towered over Wilder, but gave away five inches and over 125 pounds to his Army chief. Now, turning slowly while still leaning on the ever-present cane, he eyed them with a fiery stare, not inviting them to sit in the comfortable chairs facing his desk. The Secretary of War, Lewis Cass, already sat in one of them.
       “General, my monthly briefing today with those two Liaison Office types, Layne and Burrell, centered, as usual, on those damn French Canadians up there in Quebec. Layne thinks they’re arming themselves again for another go at independence. Why haven’t you informed me, or the Secretary of War, about this? Or are the Liaison Office’s sources better than yours, eh?”
      Scott stared back at Jackson and Wilder could begin to sense the drill warming up. “Mr. Governor, the Liaison Office’s intelligence agents justify their livelihoods dreaming up French-sponsored plots from Quebec City to the Florida Keys. The French Quebecois are sullen, as usual, but not mutinous. I had a report from Colonel Worth, who’s in command up there, at year’s end to that effect. Worth’s a good officer. I believe him. I’ll forward you the report. Lieutenant, see to it first thing tomorrow morning.”
       “Huh,” snorted Jackson. “Now then,” he glanced down at notes on the desk in front of him. “Have either of you gentlemen heard, by chance, of HMS
Irresistible
? Well?”
      Wilder knew better than to glance over at General Scott, who he knew was maintaining icy eye contact with the heated-up G-G.
       “Of course, Mr. Governor. HMS
Irresistible
is one of the newest Royal Navy frigates. What they call the ‘screw design’ type. One of the fastest and most powerful ships in the Fleet. She was sent over here on a three-year mission of slave ship and smuggling patrol back in ’31…”
       “A mission, General Scott, which was apparently interrupted last month. What do you know about that…and why wasn’t I informed, damn it?” The G-G slammed his cane down on the desk, almost losing his balance in the process. “Layne had the unmitigated gall to tell me that the ship was temporarily detached from patrol duty for a ‘classified’ mission! The arrogant bastard! Too highly classified for the Governor-General of the USBA to know? That’s an insult not just to me, but to this office and all of our citizens!”
       
Well, at least we know this doesn’t involve Davy Crockett
, thought Wilder.
I know
how the General detests
him
. I can’t wait to hear this explaination, though…
        The drill was still aimed at the G-G who apparently was beginning to feel some of its sting, for Jackson dropped into a chair and indicated the two military men to do the same.
You know something, Mr. Governor,
Scott thought,
one of these days these
ridiculous temper tantrums are going to put you in the ground. Then we’ll see how Van
Buren deals with taxing the slaveholders, or whatever it is London’s
up to.
         “Mr. Governor, I was informed the day after the ship sailed that HMS
Irresistible
had pulled anchor in Baltimore harbor with England as its apparent destination. In case Major Layne failed to mention the fact,
Irresistible
left most of its armaments harbor side, under Royal Marine guard, where they remain at this minute. Neither the Royal Navy nor the Liaison Office informed the Coastal Guard of the ship’s departure or the rather unusual stripping of most of its guns.”
    Jackson’s seething glare had faded to a cold, calculating expression as Scott paused for a second.
      “Our own forces at Fort McHenry observed the entire operation and alerted me. Subsequently, I had Lieutenant Wilder attempt to ascertain a rationale for what amounts to a covert action, since our own people in Baltimore reported that
Irresistible
had been ready to pull anchor for three or four days. Ultimately, we discovered they’d been waiting for a pouch that was delivered on the evening of December 15
^th
. I was subsequently informed that the pouch contained the plebiscite returns, which were not officially announced until the next day.”
      “So why wasn’t I informed, General? Damn it all! And what about Mr. Cass here?” The famed Jacksonian temper was rising but seemed to have no visible effect on the USBAA commander.
      “Inform you of what, Mr. Governor? That the Royal Navy has turned one of its premier war vessels into a mail ship? Until we can discover why
Irresistible
stripped down for a fast and potentially dangerous midwinter North Atlantic crossing, any conjecture would be useless and fruitless guessing.”
Even though I’ve been doing
just
that for a month
. “For all we know, King William and Lord Palmerston had a bet on the plebiscite.”
       A crafty, mirthless smile began to break out at the corners of Jackson’s mouth. “That’s a very convincing sugar-coating, General Scott. But
I
didn’t get to The Residency and
you
didn’t get to run the Army by being naive… Now tell me what you and this young man think London is up to. Straight and unvarnished.”
       Wilder was startled as the office clock banged out the half hour in the sudden silence.
Five-thirty already. And I promised Lucille I’d be at the Latoure townhouse in an hour! This could go on all night, once they start analyzing the possibilities. I’m stuck here and Lucille will think I purposefully broke our supper engagement. Of all the damn nights for the G-G to find out about
Irresistible
!
    “Well, General, cat got your tongue?” The Secretary of War had been sitting in the right chair in front of Jackson’s desk. He now moved it so that he was facing both the G-G and the two officers. Scott, who had resumed his staring contest with Jackson during the enforced verbal silence brought on by the clock’s noise, barely glanced at his politically-appointed boss. As young commanders, they had clashed bitterly over tactics during the Upper Louisiana Territory campaign years before. Scott resented the fact that Cass had turned his less-than-glorious service in that war into an extended---18-year---governorship of the Michigan Territory. Jackson, for strictly political reasons, had put him in charge of the War Department 18 months before. The relationship between Secretary and Army commander was tenuous, at best.
         “No, Mr. Secretary, I’m trying to frame a confusing and perhaps unexplainable situation in an understandable ‘straight and unvarnished’ way.
          “Mr. Governor, neither the Lieutenant nor I know for certain why London apparently wanted the plebiscite results so quickly that they ordered the stripping down of one of the Royal Navy’s newest and fastest warships. Even in ’28, the results were sent by the first available merchantman. Since the situation here is not in turmoil, which even your biggest detractors in London would acknowledge…”
        “Huh,” the G-G less-than-successfully tried to cover a laugh with a snort.
         “…then it stands that the rationale for being so rapidly informed  as to the results must stem from something emanating, or about to emanate, over there. I had Lieutenant Wilder here intensively review all correspondence between the War Department and the various military ministries in London dating back six months. While he was at it, he also reviewed Residency correspondence with #10 Downing Street.”
         Cass leaned forward in his seat and broke in: “You had this Lieutenant reviewing high-level Dominion correspondence with London? I consider that a startling breach…”
       “That’s his job, Lewis,” the G-G said dryly. “Continue, General Scott. What did this ‘intensive review’ uncover?”
        “Nothing that justified the sudden departure of
Irresistible
, Mr. Governor. However, the Lieutenant did discover an unusual information request from the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s Office to Interior. Lieutenant, tell the gentlemen what Exchequer wanted.”
        Thomas had remained silent for the almost 90 minutes the meeting had thus far lasted and had not expected to participate in the conversation to any meaningful degree. Fortunately, he had worked closely enough with both Jackson and Scott that he was less nervous than resigned that his supper engagement---and any hope of a future---with Lucille had probably just taken a devastating body-blow.
       “Mr. Governor-General,” (Thomas always used the complete title when addressing Jackson) “last Spring the Chancellery asked Interior for a detailed, state-by-state breakdown of the slave population in the Dominion, including total number and percentage of each state’s population…”
       He could see Jackson wince visibly at the first mention of slavery. Cass, on the other hand, remained impassive, though perhaps on the defensive after the G-G’s brush-off of his earlier tirade.
       “And Interior gathered this information and sent it to London, I assume? How did they gather it?” Jackson was again becoming angry. “I saw no correspondence on this,” he added, glaring from Scott to Cass. Scott nodded for Thomas to continue.
      “Apparently they sat on the request, knowing the census report was being finalized. Then they simply extracted the necessary information, copied it and sent it on to the Exchequer. As I understand it, there has been no follow-up correspondence.” He looked at the General, wondering whether to proceed. Scott, however, broke back in.
       “Mr. Governor, Exchequer’s interest in the numbers of slaves in the various states indicates to us that some sort of tax or tariff on slaves, and/or their sale here, is possibly being considered by the Whig government in London…”
      “I fail to see the connection to the plebiscite, General Scott,” Secretary Cass interrupted. “One does not…”
      “I see the connection, Mr. Cass.” The G-G’s voice had lowered, thought Thomas, to the hiss of a rattlesnake. “General Scott has skillfully danced around it, but his conclusion is obvious, Lewis: The General is saying London may be about to propose a tax on slaves…and, just maybe, they don’t trust me to enforce it. They wanted the results in a hurry on the possibility that I might have been defeated. That would have helped grease the skids in Parliament for an easier passage…as well as easier enforcement.”
      The silence in the room was deafening. Cass sat with his jaw ajar, unable to speak. Jackson and Scott were again staring at one another, but this time in mutual recognition of the potential crisis Thomas’ supposition presented. It was Scott who spoke first:
      “I see no other rationale that in any way connects the questions raised by both 
Irresistible’s
voyage and the preceding Exchequer information request. However, we may be entirely wrong and the two issues are not connected. Maybe Exchequer was cooking up a study on slavery throughout the Empire: the total value of the slave population, Empire-wide, perhaps. And, again, perhaps there was a high level wager on the plebiscite. Or perhaps Quincy Adams and the rest of the USBA delegation asked the Admiralty to expedite the news. I will say this Mr. Governor: I do believe Mr. Wilder is on to something here. Yet I am not entirely certain we have drawn the correct conclusion…”
      Thomas’ was not the only head that jerked up at Scott’s words.
       “I am certain, however, of one thing: It is useless conjecture to sit here guessing what this is all about. There is nothing we can do until London decides to inform us of their plans, if any. According to Mr. Wilder’s calculations, the earliest
Irresistible
could get back here is month’s end. From a military standpoint, the issue is on hold until then. From a political standpoint, well, that is another matter. Mr. Jackson, I do not believe it is proper for me to participate in any such discussions. I ask permission to withdraw.”