Point of Honor, page 18
Morris replied to the question with a laugh. “Admiral, it has been quite a week, sir. In fact, Mr. Wake here was a subject of some of your interaction with the army authorities this week.”
There it was. Wake waited for the onslaught of anger. But Morris was still smiling, and Loethen joined him in a chuckle. The admiral turned his face to Wake.
“Young Mr. Wake, I have never met you and yet I have had to deal with you in this last week. It would seem that one of the matters that I inherited from Bluefield was one involving a certain riotous affair that you, sir, evidently initiated after drinking too much Cuban rum in some little hell hole around here.”
Morris wasn’t smiling now and also spoke to Wake. “I would imagine that you recall that incident, Lieutenant, do you not?”
“Ah, yes sir.”
Morris went on, with Loethen listening closely. “And the officer that disparaged the honor of this squadron, do you remember him?”
“Yes, sir, vaguely.”
“And the ensuing riot that required the garrison to be called out of Fort Taylor?”
“No, sir. I do not recall that. I was in a bed and asleep by that point, sir.”
Morris didn’t react to the answer and his manner stayed serious. Loethen wasn’t smiling anymore either as Morris asked further. “And then you left the harbor at sunrise in the St. James and haven’t been seen here since for three weeks or more. Correct?”
“Yes, sir. I departed upon my mission up the coast and have just returned.”
Loethen sat in the chair, sighing as he dropped a heavy hand onto a chart of the Caribbean Sea lying atop the table. Morris shook his head and walked away from Wake, going to his spot by the window as the admiral quietly spoke.
“So, Lieutenant Wake, you understand what happened and acknowledge your role in starting this commotion?”
The moment had arrived. Wake braced himself as he replied.
“Sir. I do acknowledge that I fought with that officer over the honor of this squadron and that I am given to understand that subsequently there was a large disturbance that required the use of the soldiers of Fort Taylor to restore order. I acknowledge that the next morning I departed pursuant to my orders and fulfilled my mission, which culminated in my return today, sir.”
Loethen’s eyes grew as cold as his voice. “And Colonel Grosland, what about him? Do you know of his complaint about your behavior and what he recommends be done with you?”
“No, sir.”
“He says that three of his soldiers were injured by our sailors and that you, sir, were the instigator of it all and should be reduced in ranks to seaman and sent to Portsmouth Naval Prison for mutiny! What say you to that, young Lieutenant Wake?”
A flush of heat filled his face as Wake struggled to remain calm. These men could do just what Grosland had suggested. Confusion gave way to the raw fear of prison but then was replaced by emotion of another kind. Anger swept over Wake, the same cold anger he had when under enemy fire. His entire body tensed, and he knew that he should control the words that were coming as he confronted the admiral’s gray eyes.
“Admiral Loethen, I did as I saw my honor and duty would require of me. I apologize for nothing, sir, and if the army thinks I would not defend the honor of this squadron again then they are very sadly mistaken. Furthermore, sir, I was not present at any riot or disturbance that may have occurred after my fisticuffs with that naval officer, but I can say with certainty, Admiral, that if they had used bluejackets to calm the situation there would have been no more serious bloodshed and all hands would have returned to their ships and barracks without further incident. It is a well-known fact that the soldiers use no common sense in dealing with the sailors and, in fact, look for opportunities to injure and humiliate them.”
Loethen stared at Wake and said nothing, finally glancing over at Morris.
“Well, Morris, you’re right. This young man is a fire-eater. Glad he is on our side. A few more like him and Florida would’ve been ours a couple of years ago. Why don’t you advise Mr. Wake of the outcome of Colonel Grosland’s complaint.”
Morris’s smile reappeared as he sat down with his arm on the windowsill.
“Aye aye, sir. Lieutenant Wake, the colonel commanding the Fifty-second New Jersey Artillery Regiment, Colonel Grosland, did make the complaint against you to Admiral Bluefield. Admiral Bluefield concurred and was pleasantly anticipating your return to his control in order to have a court martial go through its proceedings and endorse his opinion and impose his sentence.”
Morris paused for effect in the quiet room. Wake was suddenly aware of the stifling heat in the room.
“However, unforeseen events in Washington intervened and he was recalled before he could implement his desires. In fact, Lieutenant Wake, his recall was so immediate that he had no time to even write orders to set formal disciplinary proceedings into motion. He left the same day Admiral Loethen here brought the orders of his relief. Do you comprehend thus far?”
Wake had no idea what had occurred “thus far,” but answered in the affirmative. Morris eyed him sharply and went on.
“Very good. To continue, when Admiral Loethen took command he had already received some background on the situation from sources in Washington. It seems that Colonel Grosland had written to the War Department and General Hunter in Carolina that he was going to rid Florida of a particular young pup of a naval lieutenant who had no idea of how to conduct himself as an officer and a gentleman. What do you think of that, Mr. Wake?”
Wake didn’t know how to answer that question so replied as neutrally as he could.
“I am concerned over that opinion, sir.”
Loethen laughed hard and pounded the table.
“Good Lord, Morris! Young Wake is ‘concerned.’ He has an army full colonel with connections in Washington trying to ram and sink him and he is ‘concerned.’ Do you have any others like him I’ve not met yet?”
Morris grinned again. “A few, Admiral, a few.”
“Well tell him the rest then, Morris.”
“Aye, sir. A long story very short, Mr. Wake. Admiral Loethen here reviewed the matter and found that you should be counseled against a public, repeat public, display of violence with a brother, not to mention superior, officer in the future. Consider yourself counseled. As for the rest, he believes that the complaint of Colonel Grosland against you is unfounded. No further action is necessary. There will be no other discipline.”
Morris stopped abruptly. Wake, thinking a reply was expected, was about to speak but noticed Loethen was getting up from his chair and putting on his uniform coat. The admiral’s tone was angry, his face in a grimace.
“Damn them all to hell and back! In all my years of duty in ships at sea and even in the snake pits of Washington, I have never seen such an accumulation of bilge scum as I did in those memoranda of Grosland and Bluefield. I’ve known poxy trollops with more sense of perspective than those two. And I will not take one of the few men who have exhibited leadership and innovation in this squadron and subject him to the small-minded petty revenge of some bureaucratic nitwits who’ve not the least idea of which end the shot comes out.”
Loethen stood there, an imposing figure in the gold braid of his uniform, with his hands held open in the fervor of his comments. Wake was very appreciative the admiral was not against him. He would be a dangerous and unrelenting enemy to have.
“Wake, continue to fight the war! That is what we are about, not some social fawning and promenading around to make old men feel important and secure. Fight the war, sir! Do what you do best. Now do you understand?”
Wake was stunned and could say nothing. Was it possible that this man, whom he did not know and who had never met him, had really decided to ignore that entire matter of the riot? Wake had never heard any superior speak of an even higher superior in this way. It all made him very nervous. Loethen was now gathering up some papers and heading for the door, speaking to Wake as he walked.
“I said, do you understand, Lieutenant? You have enemies, sir. One of them is this Colonel Grosland, who can do you damage on this island. But as long as you continue to fight against the damned Confederates as you have, I’ll not participate in the cheap assaults of parade ground puppets upon you. Now get out there and do your duty, and God speed to you.”
There was only one answer Wake could make to that kind of statement. “Aye aye, sir.”
Loethen slapped Wake on the arm and turned to his chief of staff.
“Morris, I am off to meet with the U.S. Attorney on that seizure the Spanish are acting so vexed about. Makes you wonder what the deuce they are really all about too. Damned Spanish grandees. As if we don’t have enough to worry about with the Rebels.”
Without waiting for a reply he swept out of the room, leaving Morris sitting at the chart table with a bemused look on his face and Wake standing in the middle of the room with thoughts swirling in his mind.
“Not what you were prepared for, I’m guessing, Mr. Wake. Am I correct?”
“Quite correct, Commander. I am a bit dazed, sir. Pleased but dazed.”
“Don’t be too pleased, Wake. The subject of your lady friend is well known to Colonel Grosland. He hates you, and she and her Rebel family are tools for him to use against you. There is blood in the water and he is a shark on the prowl. You are the prey. The admiral knows about Linda Donahue. He can only do so much, and he can’t protect you against yourself. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. But I am still confused about Admiral Bluefield and the disturbance and all of that.”
“Admiral Loethen heard about your exploits when the prizes came in from Deadman’s Bay last week. Was impressed by your initiative. Later he read the letters from Grosland and Bluefield. They arrived after he learned of your victory. A matter of timing, Wake. Pure luck, which this time was on your side. Next time you might not be so lucky. Think about that.”
“The prizes, sir. Did a bosun named—”
Nodding his head in agreement, Morris interrupted Wake.
“Rork was his name. Came in and made quite a report about your leadership. Admiral Loethen was not only impressed by what you did, he was impressed about the way the bosun spoke so highly of you. The admiral is an admirer of loyalty and those that inspire it. Remember that.”
“Thank you, sir. I will do just that.”
“All right then, you will receive your orders tomorrow noon. Reprovision, supply and water your ship. You will have three days personal liberty here, with permission to stay ashore, and then go back to the coast again. Possibly up to where you just were. I don’t know yet exactly where.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And Wake . . .”
“Sir?”
“I know what you probably thought of Admiral Bluefield. And me, for that matter. Just know this. Someday, since you have decided to make this a career, you will change from a volunteer to a regular officer and may very well rise to the position where you direct and are responsible for the lives of hundreds or thousands of men.”
Morris stood a few feet from Wake, fixing his eyes upon him with a sadness that was disarming. His tone echoed the look in his eyes.
“Loyalty to one’s commander can be trying, but it is the honorable thing to do. You spoke of honor this morning in regard to that drunken brawl you engaged in. I can assure you it is much harder when you’re sober and have to do it day in and day out for a man whose company you might not personally enjoy.”
Morris put his hand out and Wake clasped it, bowing his head gently toward the commander.
“Yes, sir, I understand that. I understand it even more now. Thank you, Commander Morris, and I am sorry for any problems I may have inadvertently caused.”
“Onward and upward, Lieutenant Wake. You have things to do. Remember what was said here—there are men, and not just army officers, who view you as an enemy or an obstruction. Don’t forget to keep a keen lookout astern. Now go, son.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Wake made his way out of the admiral’s office, through the anteroom, and into the outer waiting room of the building. His ears were ringing and his head aching from the multitude of worries and hopes racing through it. The sun was blinding when he stepped outside, the heat radiating off the whitewashed stucco walls with ovenlike intensity. He moved over to the shade of a coconut tree and leaned one hand against it, pausing to think out what he had just heard and seen.
Bluefield, his obvious antagonist, was gone from the scene. Gone in a very odd way, too, suddenly, without recourse or delay. To Washington, where he would be among his own kind, secure in some staff position of rank and respect but without the command consequences of life and death decisions. A parlor admiral, Wake had heard someone say one night over a drink of rum at the Rum and Randy. The kind that can tell a good story to the ladies.
Morris, the man he had thought a lackey to Bluefield, was still here and not the person Wake had previously gauged him to be. Evidently not an antagonist, but maybe not a proponent either. Still, a man to be reckoned with.
Grosland was the one constant. His minor annoyance with Wake had escalated into a serious dislike, based on the perceived infraction of his ego. The fact that his opinion of Wake had gotten to Washington and been circulated enough that Loethen over in the Navy Department had heard of it was troubling. The additional fact that Grosland was in command of the army operations in this part of Florida, and thus the martial law, made him extremely dangerous to Linda. He was the kind who would stop at nothing to harass her as long as she was on the island of Key West.
And Loethen. What of him? He sounded and looked the part of an old sea officer, but Wake was not familiar with his name. That was not surprising since Wake was relatively new to the navy, but it would have to be corrected soon. It was imperative to know about how Loethen would react to the plan that Wake was soon to implement.
Two things must be done before the plan could unfold. First find Rork and ascertain the situation in the squadron and particularly in Key West. Then find Linda and determine her willingness to do what Wake would ask. By the look of the clouds toward the east, Wake judged he had about three hours to accomplish both those things before a storm would be unleashed on the town.
***
Finding Rork wasn’t difficult. The Anchor Inn, shoreside home of the bosuns and other deck petty officers, was dark inside after the white glare of the sun out on the street. Closing one eye before going in, an old trick sailors used before going below decks on sunny days, Wake was able to see a little when he got inside and made his way to the plank bar. That an officer was in the Anchor was unusual, but that he ordered a beer as if he belonged there was exceptional. Wake saw the eyes watch him as he moved to the darkest corner, where Rork was seated with one of the women who worked there. Rork waved him over.
“Afternoon, Captain. I saw that ye’d gotten to port. Tried to get o’er ta the Saint afore ye went to see that new admiral we’ve landed, but was a bit astern of ya. Ol’ Mac said you’d set off already. Please, sir, sit down and rest your oars. This little darlin’ is called Louisa, an’ she’s a wee bit thirsty, aren’t ya, dear?”
Looking at his bosun and the dark-haired girl, Wake raised his mug in simulated salute.
“Thank you, Rork, I will.”
He sat on a crude stool and smiled at Louisa, who smiled back as she tossed down a glass of evil-looking rum in one try. Wake shook his head at the memory of drinking rum. Rork saw his look and laughed. His eyes were glassy and words came out thickly.
“Rememberin’ the excitement of your last liberty, Captain?”
“No, Rork, just the misery of the morning after the rum-soaked night before. I do not want to repeat that episode . . . ever.”
“Aye, been on that reef my ownself, Captain. Many a sailor has made that vow. An’ I bet Louisa here has made them forget it the next time they came to the Anchor with a jingle in their pockets, didn’t ya, my sweet darlin’?”
The fact that Louisa seemed not to reply didn’t faze Rork. It was appearing that soon not much would faze him. Wake realized that he would have to broach the subject he had come to discuss while Rork was still in a condition to speak. Meanwhile, Louisa was staring at Wake, evaluating him with wide, frank brown eyes.
“Louisa, my dear. Would you please excuse Rork and myself for just a moment? Perhaps you would be kind enough to get us all a glass of your finest rum?”
Louisa kissed Rork on the cheek and smiled at Wake, then got up and sauntered seductively over to the barman. Wake still had not heard her speak. Like many of the women in the bars, she was of an age difficult to determine, but her experience in manipulating customers was obvious.
Wake turned to his bosun. “Rork, listen carefully, for I have a serious question.”
Rork brought himself upright on his stool and faced his lieutenant.
“Aye, sir. Ye look more troubled than a soldier in a shipwreck.”
“Rork, first, thank you for the kind words you gave the admiral about me when you reported in a few days ago. They did much to smooth out the turmoil I had expected to be plunged into upon my return.”
“Jus’ tol’ the God’s honest truth, Captain.”
“Secondly, what do you know of this Admiral Loethen?”
“Only what I’ve picked up from the others, mainly in here. He arrived one day without warnin’. Down from the Navy Department he came, an’ took over the same day. Admiral Bluefield was out of here like harlot from a church, sir. Same ship, same day. Gone like magic, they said.
“Heard that Loethen went into an early retirement at the start of the war. Man is from South Carolina and many in Washington worried about his loyalty, so he up and left the navy, after thirty years. They got him to come back a month ago as an acting rear admiral to run the blockade of Florida.”
