The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (15 page)

___________

     Despite the last four days of cold but calm weather that had restored his appetite and color, Captain Harry Bratton could not wait to get his feet back on dry land. He had vowed, hundreds of times, during the crossing that even if the Duke’s political mission---they had agreed it would be billed publicly as a ‘tour of the Dominion’---ended before summer, he, Harry Bratton, was not making another Atlantic crossing until June, or preferably July, or maybe, never. He had lost at least 1 1/2 stone and knew he would not be himself for close to a week.
Bloody nonsense, crossing this damn Ocean in January…
    The Duke, on the other hand, had gradually adapted to the
Irresistible
and had hardly seemed to notice the conditions during the second half of the crossing. 
He’s eager to get
started and actually seems to be relishing the idea of a crisis over here,
Bratton thought
.
    Sir Stephen escorted them down off the ship and, barely glancing at the two USBAA officers, quickly looked around the inner harbor. “It appears word of our crossing is as yet unknown on this side of the Atlantic, Your Grace. There is no Liaison Office here in Baltimore, but I’ll send someone to speed the arrival of the Station commandant, whom we signaled on the way in. Our Naval Station is a few hundred yards to the east. You may have noticed it as we entered the harbor.”
      “I did, Sir Stephen. And wondered why we were not docking there,” said the Duke.
       “The Station returned signal, Your Grace. Their anchorage is filled up. Happens, this time of year. No one really relishes those North Atlantic gales, eh Captain Bratton?”
      Now that he was on dry land, the Colonial Office man could, and did, vigorously shake his head in disgust without again feeling sick.

___________

     Perhaps it was because he was, in fact, becoming a trained intelligence officer, or, perhaps, because portraits of the Duke hung in various places at the Point and the Department, as well as in The Residency. Then again, there was only one hook nose in the world like the one visible on the older gentleman’s face. For whatever reason, Lt. Thomas Wilder, USBAA, suddenly and firmly realized that he was staring at the world’s foremost soldier.

       Jaysus, Mary and Joseph
, he breathed to himself.
Wait till Scott and the G-G find out
about this
!

      Captain Judge was gazing at the visitors with a distinct lack of love when he heard Thomas’ mutterings. He turned and looked down on the Lieutenant’s excited face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Mr. Wilder, or else George Washington. Which is it?”
     Thomas looked up at the Captain. “Captain Judge, set yourself. After I finish, I suggest you turn slowly and casually. The older gentleman speaking with the Royal Naval officer is, I am positive, the Duke of Wellington. We wondered what
Irresistible
was bringing from London! Little did we realize…”
     Judge stared down and then slowly turned. “I’ll be damned, Lieutenant, you could be right.” He could also see the younger of the two gentlemen with the naval officer, both in civilian dress, look him and Wilder over. The man, over six-foot and well-built, with a rapidly receding hairline, said a word to the hook-nosed older man and walked toward them.
      “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I recognize the uniform. Are you the official Fort McHenry welcoming committee, or is there another reason for you to be waiting here at the dock?”
      As the ranking officer, Captain Judge looked Bratton over.
Careful, Brian,
this one’s polished, but a hard man
at the core.
“I’m Captain Judge, second-in-command of Fort McHenry. This is Lieutenant Wilder from Georgetown. And you Sir?” It was a deliberately ambiguous though honest answer.
What are we doing at this dock? This is
  
our country, you arrogant SOB
… 
      “I am Harry Bratton, of the Colonial, err American, Office in London. I ask again, are you the official welcoming committee? If not, what are you doing here?”
      The tension between the two was thickening, so Lieutenant Wilder decided to defuse the situation somewhat. “Mr. Bratton, I work for both the Governor-General and the USBAA commander, General Scott. I was assigned to meet the
Irresistible
if and when she landed, and ascertain how I could be of assistance.  In the absence of the post commander, who is ill, Captain Judge commands at the Fort. So it is also his duty and responsibility to be here to meet
Irresistible
.
      “Now then, how best can we assist you and the Duke?” Tom was matter-of-fact, though his pulse had climbed rapidly. He had purposely saved the announcement of his identification of the older man as Wellington for last.
      Bratton was a professional and thus managed to keep his surprise covered, except for the look in his eyes. “Very good, Lieutenant. Not every USBAA junior officer, on seeing a somewhat elderly gentleman wrapped tightly in his winter cloak, would recognize the Duke himself at first glance. If you gentlemen will follow me, you will discover what, if anything, His Grace, the Duke of Wellington might have in mind for you.”
     As they walked, the two USBAA officers exchanged looks of disgust. Upon getting to know one another the previous evening, they found themselves in agreement in their contempt for the English nobility’s titles and airs. The Captain’s people had left Cornwall in the late 1600s because of their refusal to kowtow to the local aristocracy, while Wilder, of course, was Irish Catholic…
      Another Royal Naval officer was riding toward Wellington and Sir Stephen from the direction of the RNS as Bratton escorted the USBAA officers to the gangway. Bratton’s group arrived first.
      “Your Grace, these USBAA officers are Captain Judge, in command this morning at Fort McHenry, and Lieutenant Wilder, a representatives of the powers-that-be in Georgetown. They were assigned to meet
Irresistible
if and when she arrived and provide any wanted or needed assistance. Lieutenant Wilder, by the way, recognized you as we came down the plank.”
      Wellington looked them over as Wilder supposed he might a pair of carriage horses he was considering purchasing. Peering down his long nose he suddenly snapped: “How is it that Georgetown knew
Irresistible
was landing today…or coming at all? Or does the USBAA have such an abundance of junior officers that it can assign one to this harbor on the off chance a British man-of-war might sail in? Eh? And how did the Governor-General, or General Scott, know I would be aboard?”
     
So the Duke possesses a drill about as sharp as General Scott,
Wilder thought
. Let’s hope he’s as honest and straightforward
. “Your…Grace…”
Let them think I’m nervous
.
It’s probably better than them knowing how distasteful that is to spit out.

    
“…no one in Georgetown had any idea you might be aboard. However, the Governor-General and General Scott, recognizing the, err, ‘singularity’ of
Irresistible’s
mission to London last December, anticipated an early return. The Coastal Guard projected a possible arrival period of between yesterday and about February 5
^th
.
       “I arrived day before yesterday to take up the watch. One of Captain Judge’s lookouts spotted a ship at approximately 5:35 this morning. By 6:30, we had the ship identified.”
     “Well Captain, I commend your command on its eyesight.” The Duke was dry. Turning back to Thomas, he demanded: “And why did Jackson and Scott send you in particular? What did Captain Bratton say your title was?”
       Well, so this hard case from the Colonial Office has a military title, too
. “I am an aide at the War Department and at The Residency, Sir. I gather, review and analyze information in both positions, though my official Residency title is that of social aide.”
       “A social aide to Andy, eh? Does that mean you keep him from dueling…or do you fight his duels for him? Never mind, I withdraw the question. Come to think on it, I don’t envy you that portion of your job!”
      The second RN officer had dismounted, saluted and carried on a brief side conversation with Sir Stephen while the Duke grilled Lieutenant Wilder.  Sir Stephen now turned and addressed the Duke: “Your Grace, this is Commodore Jeffrey Fischer, commandant of RNS Baltimore.” The Commodore saluted sharply. “An unexpected honor, Your Grace. However, we are prepared to offer accommodations, transportation or anything else your party requires.”
      “That’s a fine animal, Commodore. Do you have two more like him? That and some provisions and we’ll be on our way.”
      “Certainly, Your Grace. The Royal Marines keep a fine stable. Ah, provisions for how long, Sir?”
       The Duke turned to Lieutenant Wilder. “Well, Lieutenant? How far to Georgetown? You’ll escort Captain Bratton and me. How many nights’ provisions?”
       Wilder swallowed both his astonishment and a smile. “If we leave by 10 a.m., Your Grace, we can make Georgetown tomorrow afternoon. As for provisions, well, there are satisfactory inns on the way. Provisions can be limited to something to eat while we rest the horses this afternoon.”
        “A good plan, Lieutenant. Commodore, arrange for satisfactory mounts and some light provisions. Sir Stephen, see that our trunks are unloaded and given to a Royal Marine detail that should follow us later today. I’ll expect them at the Liaison Office in Georgetown tomorrow night, Commodore Fischer. Now, Lieutenant, see to your transportation. We will depart this harbor for Georgetown in exactly…” the Duke glanced at his pocket watch, “…86 minutes.”
         Thomas and Captain Judge saluted and walked towards the rowboat which would return the Captain to the Fort. Thomas spoke in a quiet voice: “Two things, Captain, if you would. While I get my horse from the stable, if you could send the crew for my things. More importantly, we need to alert the General.  Better get a rider out of here before we leave. If the War Department is closed by the time he makes Georgetown, he should have secondary orders that can direct him to General Scott’s home.”
          “Not a problem, Mr. Wilder. Our distinguished visitors will never know what’s going on. The message will be brief:  ‘Lt. Wilder escorting Duke of Wellington and staff aide to Georgetown, departing 10 a.m. Stopover expected undetermined inn Georgetown-Baltimore Road. Arrive 2/2/33 late morning.’ I’ll see to this immediately. What’s this all about? Do you have a clue?”
        Thomas squinted up into the sun’s glare, which made the Captain’s face unrecognizable. “I’m not sure, Captain Judge. If worst comes to worst, you may retire a Major, though.” He saluted and turned to walk to the stable situated on a side street.
        

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Georgetown-Baltimore Road
February 1, 1833:
       They had actually gotten started by 9:45 a.m. The Royal Marines indeed kept a fine stable and provided Wellington and Bratton with their two finest mounts. Wilder had been waiting with Bay Ridge, the beautiful blue-black stallion his parents had given him as a West Point graduation gift which had seen him through his Dragoon days in Arkansas, when the two British officials reemerged from
Irresistible
. They had climbed aboard their horses immediately and, with little fanfare, followed Thomas through the narrow streets and out of Baltimore.
      If they had seen him confer a last time with Captain Judge, no mention was made of it. The Captain indicated that, as planned, the second USBAA rider had left for Georgetown at 8:50 with the message for General Scott. Their commander would have the astonishing news by early evening, if all went according to plan.
The G-G doesn’t
know it yet, but he and his kitchen cabinet will be burning the midnight
oil again tonight
.
Only this time, they won’t be discussing that damn Bank. I wish I could be there to see the look on Jackson’s face when Scott gives him the
news. Hell, I’d give a month’s pay to see the look on the
General’s
face when he reads Judge’s note!

___________

        They rode at a brisk pace, but one moderated by Thomas to allow the USBAA messenger to outdistance them. (On his way to Baltimore, Thomas had alerted farmers along the route holding Army replacement mount contracts to be ready; this was not the first time express service between the capital and its major port would be required. The two veteran Fort McHenry riders selected by Captain Judge were well-acquainted with the remount stops.) The Englishmen seemed to accept Tom’s pace, while the wind and cold kept conversation to a minimum until they stopped in early afternoon to rest and water their horses at still another roadside farm.
       As they stood eating the cold RNS provisions, and enjoying some hot tea provided by the farmer’s wife, Wellington, after a brief inquiry into Wilder’s background and qualifications for the information-gathering positions, probed for comments on the political climate in the capital and the country. Bratton said little, but seemed to study the Lieutenant intently.
        “From your two vantage points you must have a good view of the political situation, Lieutenant,” the Duke said. “Did the plebiscite returns surprise you? Or the electorate as a whole?”
      General Scott had repeatedly warned the Lieutenant to shy away from political discussions, especially with high-ranking officials. Few came any higher than the Duke of Wellington, but a direct question required a direct answer. “Well, Your Grace,” he began, thinking how much it galled him to be forced to repeatedly use that damn title, “the plebiscite was generally quiet and its outcome more or less expected. Much more so than in ‘28, as I recall. Mr. Clay’s candidacy never seemed to catch fire, if you’ll understand the expression. General Jackson even picked up some significant support in the Northeast, where he was routed the last time.”
      “Why do you think that was, Lieutenant? Jackson picking up support in the Northeast, I mean,” Wellington asked.
      “Well Sir.”
To hell with the damn ‘Your Grace’ every other sentence!
“New England appreciated his strong stand on nullification, as many people up there think South Carolina was testing the waters. Also, the Vice G-G elect, Mr. Van Buren, is considered the politician of the age. I know General Scott admired the way he organized General Jackson’s campaign. Said it was a model of sound strategy and tactics; compared it to a military campaign.”
       The Duke turned and, sipping his tea, looked briefly at Bratton. “Yes, I’ve heard of Van Buren’s mastery of politics. Has a nickname, does he not? ‘The Little Magician,’ I believe. But I’m interested in this ‘testing the waters’ business. What’s that about, eh?  Not familiar with the phrase. Are you, Captain Bratton?”
         “I believe, Your Grace, that ‘testing the waters’ is an American colloquialism that we might better understand as a ‘test case.’ Am I right, Lieutenant?”
       “That’s a good comparison, Captain,” Tom began before the Duke interrupted:
        “A ‘test case?’ A test case for what, Mr.Wilder?”
        “Sir, the abolition movement is gaining strength in New England. Its proponents see the nullification battle over tariffs as a, err, ‘test case,’ if you will, for the day when they will introduce emancipation legislation in the Congress. You see, Your Grace,”
(Thomas
didn’t mind using the term when he doing the lecturing)
“if a state has the right to nullify one Dominion law it dislikes, how could it be stopped from nullifying any other? In other words, if nullification was to become an accepted legislative practice, what use would a Dominion emancipation bill be? If the states at which it was aimed---those where slavery now flourishes---could simply ‘nullify’ the law and continue on their merry ways?
        “That, at any rate, Sir, is the abolitionist argument. And, to bring this full circle, why General Jackson gained increased Northeastern support.”
        The Duke and Captain Bratton were staring at one another. “Hmm, very interesting, Lieutenant, and well done. I begin to see why General Scott has you at the War Department. We’ll continue this discussion tonight at whatever inn we stay. Meanwhile, gentlemen, we’ve still a long way to go, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Wilder?”
         They remounted and continued southwest to Georgetown: the two Britons with a slightly different perspective on the sophistication of the USBA’s political process, and Thomas, cheerful for the first time in a week, basking in the Duke’s offhanded praise.