Chapter 24

Later that day Grant personally dug a grave at the top of the hill; a grave that would overlook the Potomac, but would never overlook the nation’s capital. A city would probably be built there someday, but it wouldn’t be called Washington and the District of Columbia would never be created. At dusk the sounds of a lone piper playing Amazing Grace came from the boat’s speakers. The haunting melody hung over the hills and dales, forests and swamps like the early morning fog over the salt marsh. All eyes were filled with tears, and that also seemed fitting.

Afterwards a meeting was held and decisions were made. The Virginians would rally their survivors and push southward, while Marion’s men would go back to Charleston and begin a push northward. The consensus was if the Blades could prevent the British from being resupplied the Colonists could defeat the remaining Redcoats. In fact, some of the British soldiers were already out of ammunition and supplies. They’d started laying down their weapons and uniforms and either surrendering or walking off into the wilderness.

A group of men had ridden over to Port Conway earlier in the afternoon, only to report back the entire Madison family had been killed. Another block in the legacy of this nation was demolished before it could even be truly formed. By the evening meal Grant was in a general funk and Barbara and others were extremely concerned. Without any further direction the crew was preparing the boat to leave.

Barbara approached Grant cautiously. She didn’t want to tip his delicate emotional balance, but there was still a problem that needed to be resolved. “Grant?” she said.

“Yes, Barbara.”

“We’re preparing to leave and we need to know what to do about the three husbands in the brig.”

“Barbara, please have them brought to me on the dock. Keep their hands and feet free, but we need a couple of armed guards to keep them from doing something stupid.”

“I’ll get Zeke right on it.”

A few minutes later Zeke and one of Marion’s men brought the three prisoners to the dock. “Gentlemen, I try to keep my promises. If you top the hill turn right and follow the river. Alexandria is just a few miles, and you should know where things are from there.”

Malcolm Isley responded to Grant’s statement by holding out his hand for a shake. He wasn’t sure what to do when Grant didn’t move or say another word. Finally, the three men started up the hill, following Grants directions. By the top of the hill they were laughing and joking with each other like a group of young boys.

Grant returned to the deck of the boat, and said, “Ensign Young, take us back downstream.”

As the deep-throated sound of the diesel engines began to back away from the dock Grant stood at attention and saluted, for the last time, the man buried at the top of the hill. When the boat moved to where Grant could no longer see the hill he completed his salute and returned to the conning tower, where he could stand alone in his thoughts.

Grant’s peace was interrupted a short time later by the intercom telling him he was wanted on the radio. He climbed down the ladder, closing the conning tower hatch behind him. Once inside the control room Grant picked up the headphones, and answered, “Grant.”

“Captain, this is Ben McGraw. I tried to reach you earlier, but you were off the net.”

“I’m sorry about that Commander, we had to go up the Potomac and we must have passed beyond radio range.”

“Were you able to save General Washington?”

“I’m afraid not. He died with me standing beside him. I found out, later, they’d first been attacked almost thirty-six hours earlier. Martha was killed, but we’re not sure if it was from the fire or a bullet. Her body couldn’t be identified among the ashes of the house. What’s your status?”

“Manhattan is nothing but ashes, but most of New Jersey and Connecticut and Rhode Island are untouched. Boston was hit hard near the Harbor, but within a mile or so from the water the militia began to hold pockets of resistance. A mile further inland and the destruction is limited to a few houses here and there.”

“And I’d bet those houses were all of people on the list,” replied Grant.

“I can’t get any verification at this point, but I wouldn’t take that bet.”

“What about British ships?”

“Most had moved off shore as the militia took control of the battle. They’re currently visiting Davy Jones’ Locker.”

“Then it sounds like New England has things under control. Do you have enough fuel and supplies to maintain a patrol in the area?”

“Maybe for a week, but I need to find out if you want more muskets and metal from here?”

“Have they got ships available?” asked a surprised Grant.

“It seems the fighting broke out before the British ships arrived, and many of the Captains either sailed into the southern part of the bay or down the coast to Plymouth.”

“What’s their attitude toward the British?”

“Don’t even offer to pay them in British currency ... even British coins are being defaced. As soon as a new government is formed they’ll be issuing new currency.”

“Tell them I’ll be paying in Spanish Gold, but they better have a fair exchange or I won’t make the deal. Tell them to trade fairly with us and we all win; try to gouge us and they’ll lose us as a trading partner. You can also tell them we’d be interested in any meetings or conventions regarding forming a new government.”

“I can do that, as they’re very receptive, right now, to any trading partner other than England. They also recognize it was our ships that kept the British from reinforcing and resupplying the troops that had already landed. Grant, it was close enough here that those four northbound ships you sank off Virginia would have tipped the battle the other way.”

“That’s good to hear, and I’ll pass that on to my crew ... especially the two teenagers who handled fire control. Also, Ben, now that we’re back in the net, you can link to Santee. Check with them about things we might need from Boston.”

“I’ll do that.”

“We hear you two in the background,” Beth announced. “Now get off the line so we can talk to our husband.”

Both men laughed and Grant, now in a much better mood, answered “Yes, Dears.”

Sabrina added, “And Ben, we need lots of fabric and sewing notions and any tailors and cobblers who want to get in on the ground floor of a good opportunity. We desperately need clothing and boots with winter coming on. We also need nails, saws and tools of all types, as well as carpenters and brick masons.”

“Whoa woman,” Grant exclaimed. “I thought you wanted to talk to your husband.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sabrina. “I’m afraid I got a little carried away and there’s so much to do and so little time to get it all done before people start getting sick.”

“I don’t mind you telling Ben what you need. Just don’t have he and I stop our conversation because you wanted to talk to me, and then you start talking to him instead.”

“I understand,” responded Sabrina. “Ben, I’ll call you back when we finish giving our husband hell for disappearing like he did.” You could still hear the laughter from Cutlass before the mike was turned off.

“What do you mean, I disappeared? I talked to you six miles from Mount Vernon and never went further than that.”

“You mean that just six miles made that much difference? We called and called and couldn’t reach you, or Cutlass.”

“Not reaching Cutlass would make sense, as my radio acts as a repeater to extend the signal to his radio. If we were out of the net, then he was out of the net. I thought by the time he got to Boston, it would be pushing things, but I had no idea you couldn’t reach me.”

“Grant,” said Beth in a softer tone, “with everything that has happened I’m afraid we both panicked a bit when no one could reach you. Will you forgive us for getting so upset?”

“Of course, as there’s nothing to forgive. I’d have been upset too, if I had been in your shoes.”

“Were you able to save Washington? I’m sure you covered this with Ben, but we didn’t hear it.”

“Beth, he died at my side, giving me a direct order.”

“Really, what was the order?”

“This time, get it right.”

“Puts you on the spot, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. I’ve spent a number of years commenting on this problem or that, but this is no longer arguing politics over a couple of beers ... this is real life.”

“When are you coming home?” asked Sabrina.

“We’re going to make a quick sweep off shore when we get back to the Chesapeake, and then head home. We should be home sometime late tonight or early in the morning.”

“Good, we miss you.”

“And I you,” answered Grant. “Now, get your list ready for Ben while I talk to him for a minute. Once I head south he’ll soon drop off the net, and I want him to know that.”

“I heard,” replied Ben.

“We’ve definitely got to find a more private way to have these husband and wife conversations,” laughed Grant.

“From my side,” commented Ben, “I was waiting for the phone sex.”

Beth laughed, and said, “Ben, there had better be some real sex before we try phone sex.”

“Youuuu mean?” stuttered Commander Ben McGraw.

“We haven’t had time to do more than talk or cuddle since we arrived,” Beth admitted, “and that’s got to change.”

“Ben, before these two start telling you my short size, I wanted to advise you I’d be open to renting or buying a ship or two and if you can fill a boat of craftsmen that want to move south, we’ll pay a Captain and crew to make the trip. Now, I’m going to get some rest.”

Grant started for his quarters and thought of Ensign Young sitting watchfully at the helm. he said, “Ensign, every time I looked you’ve been at this helm. When have you had time to sleep?”

“Captain, the Admiral had the helm for a while yesterday, until we entered the Potomac. Then, as soon as we tied up at the dock, I was sent to bed. I’ve actually had a lot more sleep than you, but thanks for checking on me.”

“You’re welcome, and good night.”

Grant wandered into the galley and perused the mid-rats. He put together a simple sandwich, grabbed a bottle of cold water and headed to his cabin. This time he made the trip successfully and slept for six hours. He would have loved to sleep longer, but a soft hand gently squeezing his shoulder slowly restored him to wakefulness.

He opened his eyes and saw Tina waiting for him to become alert. He said, “Yes, Tina?”

“Victor wanted you to come to the control room. I think we’re about to go to general quarters.”

“Then scoot so I can get my pants on,” Grant responded.

The attractive Commander left the room and Grant jumped out of bed as soon as the door closed. He splashed water on his face, ran a razor across his stubble, and put on fresh fatigues. Within ten minutes of Tina first trying to get him awake Grant entered the Command Room, and asked, “What’s up, Victor?”

“Cutlass and Saber are both reporting multiple ships at the extent of their radar range. We’re about to come out of the blind area created by Cape Charles, and I suspect we’ll get similar activity.”

“Raise your radar and video masts and you can probably get a picture of the open water and make sure we’re not moving into some sort of trap.”

A surprised Victor responded, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I didn’t either,” added Ensign Young.

Grant showed them two switches on the board. One was labeled R Mast and the other was labeled V Mast. Grant explained, “Push the switch toward the top of the board and the mast rises. Pull it downward and the mast lowers. The LED beside the switch turns red if the mast is extended at maximum and will turn green when it’s fully retracted.”

Grant extended the masts while he was talking, and suddenly both displays were full of information. There must have been twenty ships showing on the radar and the camera confirmed the leading four were warships. Grant zoomed in the video and confirmed that they were all Fourth Rates, each having fifty cannon. He redirected the camera to another ship, and saw numerous redcoats standing at the rails. He almost let it go at that point, but he zoomed in on one of the ships furthest from the shore. Its deck revealed several civilians, including women.

Grant picked up the radio and sent, “Broadsword to Santee base and all Blades. Please respond.”

“Santee Base” said Sioux, who added, “No one’s on Stiletto at the moment.”

“Saber here.”

“Cutlass here.”

“Rapier here.”

“We’ve found three groups of ships approaching the entrance to Virginia and the Chesapeake Bay. The front four are warships; all Fourth Rates. The next six were all troop carriers and from the best we can tell, the other ten are a combination of cargo and passenger ships. Here are the rules of engagement. The warships and troop carriers are to be destroyed, even if they turn and run. If they strike their colors and surrender, accept such and render everyone on board weaponless and the cannon should be spiked. The powder magazine should be well guarded until such time as the ship reaches port in Boston or Charleston, and the crew is removed from the ship. Boston officials are to be told the ships and goods are our property, but we’ll pay for guards for both the crew and the ships. The cargo and passenger ships have a choice. They can return to England or turn south to Charleston or north to Boston. There, we’ll evaluate their cargo and we’ll pay a fair price for what we choose to keep. If they don’t agree with the price, or have merchandise we don’t want, then their ship and any cargo not purchased will be allowed to return to England. In no way will any ship or cargo be confiscated. The passengers will be offered the opportunity to immigrate to the new land, but they must verbally, and in writing, rescind any allegiance to England, Great Britain or to the King of either. They’re also to be questioned regarding their past. Murderers, serious thieves and general scoundrels are to be returned to England, while whores, minor thieves and debtors will be given a chance to start a new life in America. If you have serious doubts concerning someone, reject them. You also have the right to search through the Captain’s papers, as well as those of the people on board. Are there any questions or comments?”

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Support the author's future writing by purchasing this book from Bookapy

Winds of Change

Mike Lowe aka The Scot

$5.95