The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War

Lovell smiled approvingly, then strolled to the stern rail where he stared at the fleet, marveling that Massachusetts had assembled so many ships so quickly. Lying closest to the Warren was a brig, the Diligent, that had been captured from Britain’s Royal Navy, and beyond her was a sloop, the Providence, which had captured her, both vessels with twelve guns and both belonging to the Continental Navy. Anchored behind them, and flying the pine-tree flag of the Massachusetts Navy, were two brigs, the Tyrannicide and Hazard, and a brigantine, the Active. All were armed with fourteen cannon and, like the Warren, were now fully manned because the General Court and the Board of War had given permission for press-gangs to take sailors from Boston’s taverns and from merchant vessels in the harbor.

The Warren, with its eighteen-pounder and twelve-pounder cannon, was the most powerful ship in the fleet, but a further seven ships could all match or outgun any one of the three British sloops that were reported to be waiting at Majabigwaduce. Those seven ships were all privateers. The Hector and the Hunter carried eighteen guns apiece, while Charming Sally, General Putnam, Black Prince, Monmouth, and Vengeance carried twenty guns each. There were smaller privateers too, like the Sky Rocket with her sixteen guns. In all, eighteen warships would sail to Majabigwaduce and those vessels mounted more than three hundred cannon, while the twenty-one transport ships would carry the men, the supplies, the guns, and the fervent hopes of Massachusetts. Lovell was proud of his state. It had made up the deficiencies in the supplies, and the ships now carried enough food to feed sixteen hundred men for two months. Why, there were six tons of flour alone! Six tons!

Lovell, thinking of the extraordinary efforts that had been made to provision the expedition, slowly became aware that men were shouting at the Warren from other ships. The anchor was still not raised, but the bosun ordered the seamen to stop their chant and their work. It seemed the fleet would not leave after all. Commodore Saltonstall, who had been standing by the frigate’s wheel, turned and paced back to Lovell. “It appears,” the commodore said sourly, “that the commander of your artillery is not aboard his ship.”

“He must be,” Lovell said.

“Must?”

“The orders were plain. Officers were to be aboard last night.”

“The Samuel reports that Colonel Revere is not on board. So what shall we do, General?”

Lovell was startled by the question. He had thought he was being given information, not being asked to make a decision. He stared across the sun-sparkling water as though the distant Samuel, a brig that was carrying the expedition’s cannon, might suggest an answer.

“Well?” Saltonstall pressed, “do we sail without him and his officers?”

“His officers?” Lovell asked.

“It transpires,” Saltonstall appeared to relish delivering the bad news, “that Colonel Revere allowed his officers to spend a last night ashore.”

“Ashore?” Lovell asked, astonished, then stared again at the distant brig. “We need Colonel Revere,” he said.

“We do?” Saltonstall asked sarcastically.

“Oh, a good officer!” Lovell said enthusiastically. “He was one of the men who rode to warn Concord and Lexington. Doctor Warren, God rest his soul, sent them, and this ship is named for Doctor Warren, is it not?”

“Is it?” Saltonstall asked carelessly.

“A very great patriot, Doctor Warren,” Lovell said feelingly.

“And how does that affect Colonel Revere’s absence?” Saltonstall asked bluntly.

“It,” Lovell began and realized he had no idea what he could answer, and so he straightened and squared his shoulders. “We shall wait,” he announced firmly.

“We shall wait!” Saltonstall called to his officers. He began pacing his quarterdeck again, starboard to larboard and larboard to starboard, occasionally shooting a malevolent look at Lovell as though the general was personally responsible for the missing officer. Lovell found the commodore’s hostility uncomfortable and so turned to stare at the fleet again. Many ships had loosed their topsails and men now scrambled along the yards to furl the canvas.

“General Lovell?” a new voice disturbed him and Lovell turned to see a tall marine officer whose sudden presence made the general take an involuntary step backwards. There was an intensity in the marine’s face, and a ferocity, that made the face formidable. Just to see this man was to be impressed. He was even taller than Lovell, who was not a short man, and he had broad shoulders that strained the green cloth of his uniform jacket. He was holding his hat respectfully, revealing black hair that was cropped short over most of his scalp, but which he had allowed to grow long at the back so he could wear a short pigtail that was hardened with tar. “My name is Welch, sir,” the marine said in a voice deep enough to match his hard face, “Captain John Welch of the Continental Marines.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain Welch,” Lovell said, and that was true. If a man must sail into battle then he would pray to have a man like Welch at his side. The hilt of Welch’s saber was worn down by use and, like its owner, seemed made for the efficient use of pure violence.

“I’ve spoken to the commodore, sir,” Welch said very formally, “and he gave his consent that my men should be at your disposal when not required for naval duties.”

“That’s most encouraging,” Lovell said.

“Two hundred and twenty-seven marines, sir, fit for duty. Good men, sir.”

“I’ve no doubt.”

“Well-trained,” Welch went on, his unblinking gaze fixed on Lovell’s eyes, “and well-disciplined.”

“A most valuable addition to our force,” Lovell said, unsure what else he could say.

“I want to fight, sir,” Welch said, as if he suspected Lovell might not use his marines.

“I am confident the opportunity will come,” Lovell said uneasily.

“I hope so, sir,” Welch said, then at last turned his gaze away from the general and nodded towards a fine- looking ship, the General Putnam, one of four privateers that had been commandeered by the Massachusetts Navy because their owners had balked at volunteering their craft. The General Putnam carried twenty cannons, all of them nine-pounders, and she was reckoned one of the finest ships on the New England coast. “We put a score of marines on the Putnam, sir,” Welch said, “and they’re led by Captain Carnes. You know him, sir?”

“I know John Carnes,” Lovell said, “he captains the Hector.”

“This is his brother, sir, and a fine officer. He served under General Washington as a captain of artillery.”

“A fine posting,” Lovell said, “yet he left it for the marines?”

“Captain Carnes prefers to see men up close as he kills them, sir,” Welch said evenly, “but he knows his artillery, sir. He’s a very competent gunner.”

Lovell understood immediately that Saltonstall had despatched Welch with the news, implicitly suggesting that Colonel Revere could be left behind and replaced by Captain Carnes, and Lovell bristled at the suggestion. “We need Colonel Revere and his officers,” he said.

“I never suggested otherwise, sir,” Welch said, “merely that Captain Carnes has an expertise that might be useful to you.”

Lovell felt acutely uncomfortable. He sensed that Welch had little faith in the militia and was trying to stiffen Lovell’s force with the professionalism of his marines, but Lovell was determined that Massachusetts should reap the credit for the expulsion of the British. “I’m sure Colonel Revere knows his business,” Lovell said stoutly. Welch did not reply to that, but stared at Lovell who again felt disconcerted by the intensity of the gaze. “Of course, any advice Captain Carnes has . . .” Lovell said, and let his voice trail away.

“I just wanted you to know we have an artilleryman in the marines, sir,” Welch said, then stepped a pace back and offered Lovell a salute.

“Thank you, Captain,” Lovell said, and felt relieved when the huge marine strode away.

The minutes passed. The church clocks in Boston struck the hour, the quarters, and then the hour again. Major William Todd, one of the expedition’s two brigade majors, brought the general a mug of tea. “Newly made in