Wake paused for a breath, glancing at Morris, who was staring out the window at the ships in the anchorage. Bluefield had no time for a pause.
“God’s teeth, man, get on with the damned report!”
“Aye, sir. Well, we chased her across the Stream and down to the Cuban coast. And then the Spanish Navy came out to intercept us.”
“Oh Lord above. Tell me you did not run afoul of the Spaniards! Do we have a problem with them now? Were you in their waters?”
“No, sir. We were just outside their waters by a mile or two. No problem with the Spanish at all. In fact, they fired on the schooner we were chasing and she fled from that coast, heading along the countercurrent westbound. Couldn’t understand why the Spanish did that at the time, but events solved that riddle for us later, Admiral.”
Wake now had the admiral’s, and Morris’s, undivided attention. They would be responsible for anything Wake did with a foreign power. He could see their minds calculating what damages they might be called upon to explain or mitigate.
“By this point I knew, sir, just knew, that the schooner was something of substantial value and needed to be caught. So we continued the chase and ended up on the Yucatan coast of Mexico.”
The reaction of both senior officers was an identical gasp and a tightening of their hands upon the chair arms. No one said a word for a moment until Bluefield nodded for Wake to resume the story.
Wake, assisted occasionally by Rork, then told the details of how they came to capture the British schooner as the French Navy bore down on them.
“And so, sir, we sailed into the harbor with the Wendy about an hour ago. Upon my return to the ship I will get the armaments off her and over to the armory ashore for safekeeping. My reports have been given to the yeoman for your review, sir.”
During the time taken by the explanation of the capture both Bluefield and Morris were silent as they listened to Wake. They made no sign of approval or disapproval of his actions. Indeed, Morris had been silent the entire time since Wake’s arrival. Now, following the culmination of the narrative given him, the admiral marched over to his desk and picked up a piece of paper lying atop a stack of reports. Thrusting it at Wake, the sneer returned to his face. Bluefield’s voice picked up an octave and he jabbed his finger in the air at Wake and Rork.
“Wake, the capture was a damn lucky thing for you. That is, if what you say is accurate and you’ve not gotten me in some insane mess with the dago or frog navies! That luck that got you that schooner just might have overshadowed your impertinence in gallivanting off to Mexico. Mexico, of all places. Can you believe it, Morris?”
Captain Morris shifted in his seat and said nothing but nodded and adjusted the spectacles on his face while Bluefield returned to Wake.
“But that luck doesn’t compensate for your insulting one of the senior army officers of this area! Read this correspondence, young Mister Wake, and now explain that!”
Wake took the paper from the admiral’s hand and focused on the writing. It had a grandiose letterhead proclaiming it to be stationery of Colonel Jonathan Grosland of the 52nd New Jersey Artillery. As he read it, Wake felt anger surging within himself.
17th day of June, 1864
My Dear Admiral Bluefield,
I find myself writing this missive to you in exasperation over the conduct of one of your junior officers, a Lieutenant Peter Wake, who commands a schooner in these waters. His behavior unfortunately and regretfully necessitates this memorandum.
He and his men were requested by me to search for and return some miscreant deserters. He did this duty quite reluctantly and, upon receiving an invitation to my table at the Regimental Officers’ Mess afterward, cast Disrespect upon this Officer and this Regiment by making impertinent and discourteous remarks to a junior officer of this Regiment regarding the said invitation.
This kind of demeanor indicates a lack of discipline, which in these times of peril for our Republic, shows that a man might not be able to do what is necessary for the attainment of his assignment. It was said and done in front of the enlisted men of the schooner. I beg of you to address this breach of military and naval etiquette, so that the officers of this Regiment will see that the honor of the nation’s Navy is quite as high as that of her Army.
I look forward, as ever, to sharing your thoughts as to the direction of the conflict in this region and our mutual efforts at contributing to the glory of our cause. I shall be in Key West soon to inspect the companies of the 52nd that are manning the guns of Fort Taylor, and would be honored by your presence for dinner at my quarters there.
Your most humble servant,
Col’nl J’nthn Grosland, Cmdg.
52nd New Jersey Art’lry
United States Army
Fortresses Jefferson & Taylor
Florida
His hands were shaking in rage as Wake looked up from the letter to see Bluefield’s face staring at him. Morris, still sitting at the chart table, spoke for the first time.
“Admiral, I see by the clock that we . . .”
“Wait just a moment here, Morris! I want to know what Wake has to say about this mess he has gotten us into.”
The vehemence of Bluefield’s outburst shocked Rork and Wake, but their glance at Morris found that he was not reacting to the admiral’s insult. Wake knew he was in a very dangerous situation. Bluefield appeared out of control. And over a perceived discourtesy. Wake’s rage subsided and he struggled to maintain his composure.
“Admiral, we captured the deserters over at the Marquesas for the colonel, shooting one to death when he resisted. Then
