The admiral paused. Morris regarded Wake intently and calmly added his opinion. “Lieutenant, it’s refreshing to hear a man who abides by the point of honor, in both his personal and professional lives. An old-fashioned virtue of strength in this time of rather . . . adaptable . . . standards.”
Wake didn’t understand the sudden change in demeanor of his superiors. He didn’t understand any of this, but realized he should say something. “Thank you, sir. Thank you both for those kind words.”
Loethen shook his head. “Well, you just might not thank us in a moment, Lieutenant. Things are about to change quite a bit for you, wouldn’t you say that, Commander Morris?”
“Yes, sir. His situation will change considerably. Give him his orders, sir?”
“Yes, go right on ahead there, Commander, and give our young Mister ‘Honor and Love’ his new orders.”
Morris chuckled and handed Wake the paper he had been holding, the same that had flown off the desk in the gust of the wind. Outside, the breeze was starting to gain in velocity, no longer just a fitful burst but now a steady force making the palm trees swish and flutter. Wake read the memorandum while Admiral Loethen and Commander Morris watched. When he was finished he looked up at the two, a puzzled look betraying his confusion.
“Sir, I don’t understand. Is there some sort of mistake here? This orders me to take command of the Hunt. She’s an armed steam tug. Those usually have been commands for regular officers, or at least volunteer officers with years of steam experience. I’m a volunteer officer and have no steam experience, sir.”
Loethen pursed his lips, wrinkled his brow and nodded. “Sit down, Lieutenant. I don’t usually take time to explain my decisions for lieutenants, but I think you probably would understand it better than most. Sit down, son.”
Wake brought a chair over for himself and sat as Morris did the same next to him.
Loethen continued. “I told you that we’ve been devastated in this squadron by the yellow jack. One of the ships hit hardest was the Hunt. She’s been here three months from Philadelphia and had a lieutenant, a master, a third assistant engineer, and two ensigns aboard, along with eighty-two petty officers and men. Now there are but forty-nine effectives among her crew, with none of the officers among them. The officers are all dead except for the engineer, and a third of the ones taken sick by the fever died as well. The remainder of the sick are trying to recuperate in the hospital.”
Morris reached forward and touched the orders in Wake’s hand. “Lieutenant, the Hunt is much more than a tug to us. I had hell to pay to get her assigned down here to us, instead of to the squadron at Charleston. She’s a four-year-old seagoing screw steamer with tug capability because of the large towing bitts on her afterdeck. And she’s armed with two twelve-pounders, one on either side. With her shallow draft of six feet and speed of ten knots she can be used as a gunboat or a tug. Her versatility is crucial to us.”
Wake had seen the Hunt one time at anchor in the Key West harbor, but hadn’t examined her closely. Several questions came to his mind, but he decided a simple reply was the best. “I see, sir.”
Loethen shook his head sadly. “I think you are beginning to, Lieutenant Wake, but let me give you some further information.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Hunt needs to be ready to get under way as soon as possible. There are several priority assignments waiting, and I don’t have any other assets in this squadron with her capabilities. I need that ship, and I need her now.”
“I can understand that, sir.”
“Good. Her crew is demoralized and has shown some signs of, shall we say, reluctance. They are all new to this clime and the onslaught of the yellow fever among them has unmanned them, which, frankly, I can understand. Now they need a commanding officer who can get them past that point and back into the United States Navy and doing their duty. Quickly.”
“Yes, sir. Quickly.”
Loethen’s tone became tense, as if he was about to say something painful. “I’ve run out of experienced steam line officers, regular or volunteer, to put aboard her. You’ll have to learn about steam as you go. I expect you to learn that function rapidly, Wake.
The assistant engineer is a volunteer who is unknown to me. There’ll be no time for slowly getting acquainted with running a steamer.”
Morris picked a paper off the desk and handed it to Wake. “You’ll be shorthanded as well, Lieutenant. There are no other officers to give you right now. But you can take two senior petty officers with you from the St. James or whatever ship that’s in port right now. You’re also getting these ten men,” he pointed to a list on the paper just handed to Wake, “to replace the thirty-three lost, dead, and ill, by the sickness aboard her.”
Wake was unable to reply beyond the minimum. “Yes, sir.”
Admiral Loethen picked up where Morris had ended in the story of the Hunt. “She’s at anchor now. There’s been no fever aboard her for two weeks. Senior man aboard is a bosun’s mate by the name of Dane. The harbor boats are loading her with provisions right now, and through the night. You’ll go aboard and take command in the morning. By noon at the latest you’ll be under way to Jupiter Inlet on the east coast of Florida. The steam gunboat Epson is there with a sick crew and unable to work the ship. You’ll tow her back here.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Tell the yeoman outside who you want for those two petty
