Allison; Taking Control

Chapter 11

But it wasn’t his house. Inside there were broken deck beams, buckling supports and seawater was pouring in through gaping shot holes. Small fires had also broken out and more sickening smoke wafted in the air amid the moans and screams of dying men. Those who weren’t injured seemed to run about aimlessly in panic, abandoning their duties of firing the guns or shoring up damage. He didn’t know why, but he started to stumble his way aft toward the stern. Partway there he came upon the dismembered body of Captain Wilson which had by all appearances been torn apart by enemy shot. He was a bloody mess and had been cleanly decapitated. The severed head made a grim sight as it lay next to what was left of the body to which it was once attached. But suddenly the eyes opened and the head spoke to him as it lay on its side

“Didn’t I send you to Philadelphia?” it asked, harshly.

He was sorry - so very very sorry he hadn’t made it there. He had failed his captain. He was so ashamed he wished he could hide.

But now someone was yelling to him.

“Sir! Please, sir!”

He couldn’t find who was calling out to him.

“Sir!”

He had to find them and help them, he was their captain! He was responsible for this!

“Please sir! Wake up sir!!”

Allison sat up at his desk with a start. Doing his best to shake off the disorientation, he half believed he had actually yelled out loud when he woke from that horrid dream, but he wasn’t quite sure. Midshipman Peter Fortescue stood over him, hat in hand, and looking nervous. The fact that one of his midshipmen had come upon him asleep at his desk, face-planted into the middle of a logbook was inexcusable. Allison wondered why Fortescue had entered without permission.

“Mr. Fortescue, do you make a habit out of entering a senior officer’s quarters without permission?” Allison asked sternly and with annoyance.

“No sir. My apologies sir, but... it’s that time sir. The one thing you said you wanted to know about immediately. I certainly would not have disturbed you otherwise, sir.”

“Indeed?” Allison asked, the tone in his voice hinting that Fortescue had forgotten something. He was willing to let the indecorous situation in which he had been discovered slide, but Fortescue would make his report properly. That was a formality that would not be neglected.

Fortescue picked up on his insinuation instantly. He stood at attention, hat beneath his arm and delivered his report. “The First Lieutenant sends his compliments and wishes to inform you that we will cross thirty-two degrees, eighteen minutes north latitude at a point proximate to the middle distance between Bermuda and the coastal Carolinas in less than fifteen minutes, as set down in your orders. The time of arrival will be approximately six hours behind, sir.”

Not bad, all things considered, thought Allison . Despite the storm, which had at one point actually threatened to keep them from weathering the Carolina barrier islands, they had made up a great deal of time.

“Very well, Mr. Fortescue, my thanks. You may return to duty,” he replied.

The midshipman turned and was about to head out the door when Allison stopped him.

“Oh, and Mr. Fortescue, I’m sure that when I walk about I won’t overhear any of the crew snickering about the captain being found with his nose buried in a logbook on his desk?”

Fortescue looked serious. “No sir. I would never!”

Allison made an obviously feigned look of honesty. “You are of course aware that a certain derangement of my eyesight makes reading difficult and that I often have to get my eyes very close to make out what’s written on the page? Don’t you? We can’t all have the eagle eyes of men like you who can make out the sails of a small cutter, hull down, on the horizon!”

His midshipman smiled at the shared joke and Allison immediately knew the incident would never be mentioned again to anyone. “Yes sir,” he answered, “of course!”

“There’s a good man! Dismissed.”

Fortescue obediently left and shut the door behind him. He was a good young man. Promising things lay ahead for him if he continued to work hard and Allison would do everything he could to make sure he was ready. Fortunately he would be better able to assess the progress of that young gentleman as well as the rest of the crew, now that he would know their mission.

He leaned back in his chair with a smile, reflecting upon everything that had happened up to this point. The hour which had all but obsessed him since he had been appointed to this command was nearly at hand! He reached down and patted the locked drawer. I’ve waited this long. I might as well do this properly and wait until we’re actually there.

Once again, his thoughts wandered off to muse upon the night he spent in Trenton and his arrival in Philadelphia.

The fire had died down to glowing embers. Allison had lain in bed looking at the ceiling with wide open eyes for hours, noting every change in the light that emanated from the hearth as it gradually diminished in strength. Restless, he got up and walked to the fireplace. He laid kindling and grabbed a poker to stir the ashes and try to bring it back to life. But the poker looked a lot like the one the soldiers used to torture the spy at the storehouse that night and just touching it made him feel sick. He had seen, first-hand, some of the nastiest corporal punishment the Navy prescribed for a crew at sea, and yet the grim happenings at the end of the night still haunted him. He replaced the metal rod where he found it and forgot all about rebuilding the blaze.

Even though his accommodations were quite superior to those he had endured in the New Jersey countryside the previous night, Allison couldn’t sleep. He had been out so late that there wasn’t a thing to be had from the kitchen at the inn when he finally returned, but he was sure he couldn’t have eaten anyway. His appetite had been all but wiped out. The brutal treatment of the French spy certainly had a lot to do with that, but he had to admit he was a good bit disappointed with himself as well and that rankled almost as much. He had allowed the enemy to lay hands on the information he carried, which wouldn’t have happened if he had simply thrown it into the fire the night before. He had noticed a few subtle facts, particularly about the coachman, which seemed out of place; but they hadn’t prompted him to take any action or precautions. True, drawing the right conclusion in that instance would have been difficult in the extreme given his situation, and of course the mysterious “H” had actually warned him against drawing conclusions in the very document around which the whole debacle revolved.

Feeling restive, he lit a taper, sat down at the small table in his quarters and re-read the letter Maxwell presented him with at the tavern:

12 September, 1757

Lieutenant Rane Allison , formerly of HM Warship Praetorian,

If you find yourself reading this message, then all has proceeded according to plan, and the assessment of Major Maxwell was made in your favor. I congratulate you on passing this very necessary, but admittedly very clandestine test.

At the time of my writing this, there is no way for me to know exactly how your journey progressed and what may have transpired during the time you have been traveling. I can only say that your cooperation and compliance is appreciated far more than you could ever know as you read this note.

Barring unforeseen difficulties, you will arrive at the Pennsylvania State House in Philadelphia, before the end of the day tomorrow. At eight in the evening, you will be met there by Lieutenant Henry Caldwell of the Royal Navy, who will have been personally instructed on what you are to do upon reaching that destination.

I must take this opportunity to reiterate my previous request regarding speculation and conclusions about your near future. Be assured, full knowledge of that most important of subjects is very close at hand.

Once again, you are directed to destroy this message in the most complete manner possible after reading it.

Your obedient servant,

H.

Allison immediately got up, walked back to the now nearly cold hearth and placed the paper and envelope on top of the ashes. He held the lighted taper to two of the four corners and watched as “H’s” latest message was consumed and obliterated. It had been a far more personal communication than the first letter he had received from the mysterious sender, and gave hints that he knew something about the “convergence” of operations Maxwell had mentioned. Allison hoped this latest communication truly heralded the coming of an explanation as it promised. When will this all start to make sense?

The letter had burned down to nothing in a matter of seconds and Allison now blew out the candle, allowing the room to be shrouded in near total darkness. As he stood there in the gloom, he couldn’t believe what he had been through in just two days. Before that time, he had conducted himself in a manner that did him credit aboard Praetorian and finally earned his commission as a result. But, in the blink of an eye, all order and stability in his life had been whisked away, leaving him almost completely ignorant of why. In short order, he had been constantly subjected to cold, wind and rain, was drugged by a French spy, had lost a secret document, personally waded in the mud to free a broken down carriage, and was party to a rather violent interrogation which would almost certainly result in a public hanging for the subject in question on the morrow. Allison was glad he was not required to be present for the last part.

But something else weighed heavily on his thoughts. The words unorthodox and irregular, laden with foreboding, just wouldn’t leave his mind. Maxwell’s peculiar talent for scrutiny and presentation had driven them into the deepest recesses of his brain from where they could not be expelled. The arrogant Scotsman had a way about him that he swore could make even the most hardened of battlefield veterans uncomfortable and put them squarely on a knife’s edge. Even so, Allison had to grudgingly admit it probably made the man a good commander and a very effective leader.

So now that this experience in Trenton was through, witnessed to the fullest by Allison , just what did it portend for him? The Major’s domineering litanies told Allison that his propensity for action had to become more polished. His repertoire would need to include uncommon tactics that weren’t likely to be found amongst accustomed training regimens. He had also been told that sharp wits were an asset in his new appointment, but to what end? One could say that about a great deal of military occupations.