Wake realized that it was now or never. “I have been insulted, sergeant, and I’m informing the station commandant right now about the behavior of his men. I certainly expected better of a veteran such as yourself.” He started walking to the main street and called over his shoulder, “And you can have your officer of the guard meet me at the commandant’s home, straight away.”
Behind him Wake heard the rifle being brought up to fire, then the sergeant quickly telling the Marine, “For Christ’s sake, put that weapon down. He’s just a damn fool Yankee.”
Wake walked back toward the rope walk, momentarily relieved, but he knew that now he would have to explain it to Warner and Stark. Five minutes later he was back on the verandah and walked up to Warner, who was talking with the Falmouth mayor, just as an agitated Marine subaltern arrived at the doorway, looking around the crowd for the senior officer.
Wake plunged in. “Captain Warner, pardon me for interrupting, but I have the unfortunate duty, sir, to report a breach of naval respect toward me by one of your Royal Marines a moment ago. I knew you’d want to know of it.”
Warner turned to Wake with an annoyed look. “What, you say? Disrespect by a Royal Marine?”
The subaltern was making his way through the crowd as Wake went on. “Yes, sir. I was accosted by a Marine sentry as I made my way back from the officers’ head to the party. The man held me prisoner at gunpoint. Of course, once the sergeant got there cooler heads prevailed. But I did think it bizarre, sir, that a Marine would do that to an allied naval officer.”
Wake knew that, technically, the American and Royal navies were not allies, but by this point everyone on the verandah could hear the conversation and he saw that the mayor and several other guests were shocked at the allegation. He also saw Laporte and Brogan come up and stand behind him, their jaws set and eyes leveled at Warner.
“Sir! I have to report that one of our sentries just discovered this American officer in a prohibited area,” announced the subaltern to Warner.
“Oh? And where was that?” asked Warner.
“At the capstan dock, sir.”
Wake cut in. “Captain, this is ridiculous. The only thing there is a maintenance shed and the old capstans used to warp Nelson’s ships into the dock. I was taking a walk back from the head, sir, and those men obviously went way over the line of respect and discipline.”
The civilians were nodding their heads in agreement and starting to voice objections when Warner held up his hands. “Yes, Lieutenant. Perhaps they were a bit overzealous. After all, it’s just an old dock and shed there.”
“Thank you, sir. I was certain you’d understand and rectify the situation.”
“Oh, yes, Lieutenant Wake,” Warner growled low so that the others couldn’t hear it. “I believe I understand exactly what happened. . . .”
“But, sir!” protested the subaltern. “This man was—”
Warner held up a hand. “Enough said. It was a misunderstanding. Send a report to my office in the morning.”
Then he turned back to Wake. “Lieutenant Wake, quarters for you and your officers are ready. The dinner and party are concluded. Thank you for coming. I’ll have you escorted to your quarters by an officer so you won’t get lost in the dark again. Tomorrow after breakfast you will be driven back to St. John’s.”
The British officer spoke that part loud enough that the other guests and officers started to file back into the home and descend the stairs. Wake, following inside, was unnerved by the look in Warner’s eye and his tone—there was no doubt he knew what Wake had been up to. This whole situation was out of control, Wake thought, worried about the consequences of his getting caught.
“Why thank you, sir,” he tried to say nonchalantly. “We are much obliged.”
Warner stopped on the stairwell. “I will see you at the church service tomorrow, Lieutenant. Please make sure your captain is there. I need to speak with him and I’d rather see him ashore than have to go out to your ship.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
5
Nelson’s Ghost
The Christmas Eve service at the Anglican Cathedral of St. John the Divine started at four in the afternoon and ended two hours later. Everyone who was anyone on the island was in attendance within the massive church. It had been devastated by an earthquake in 1843, but the island leaders had rebuilt it even larger in 1847, with a structure of coral stone and façade of gray cement wash on the outside. Dark pitchpine paneling covered every inch of the interior to provide additional protection against earthquakes and hurricanes, lending an Old World ambience. The open side doors allowed the breeze to cleanse the air, unlike so many damp musty churches in New England that Wake had known as a youth. He had never seen anything like it and could appreciate why the islanders were exceedingly proud of what they had built.
The somber ceremony began after the governor and senior imperial staff members arrived and sat in the first pew, with clergy and second ranked civil leaders behind them. Gardiner, Wake, 1st Engineer Grimsrud, Ensign Chisholm, and Consul Gustavius Williams sat in the third pew, next to the senior Royal Navy officers. No mention of the incident the night before was made to Gardiner or Wake, but Captain Warner’s demeanor was anything but friendly, his cold gray eyes staring ahead. Wake, who grew up Episcopalian in Massachusetts but attended the Methodist church when in Pensacola, remembered the mass service from his youth and attempted to ignore the cold looks
