A Call to Arms by William C. Hammond Page A

squadron.”
    â€œYou reckon correctly.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œIn late July or early August. And we are sailing in company with the squadron’s flagship.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œ Constitution, Jamie’s ship.”
    â€œ Constitution ? Well, damn me. That means . . .”
    Richard nodded. “That means that Captain Preble is commodore of the squadron. Richard Dale was offered the post, but he declined because the Navy wouldn’t make him an admiral. The fact that the Navy doesn’t confer that rank made no difference to him. Commodore Barry”—referring to the Continental navy hero and the U.S. Navy’s first flag officer—“was also considered but is deathly ill in his home in Philadelphia. So the honor has fallen to Captain Preble.”
    â€œAnd I’d wager he’s as happy as a clam in the sand at high tide.”
    â€œI’d say so. Preble’s connections in Washington have apparently paid off. But he’s also the best man for the job. Now, finally, we’ll get something done over there. Mark my words, Agee: under Preble’s command, we’ll show the bastards!”

Five
USS Constitution, August–September 1803
    E NLISTING A CREW turned out to be a hell of a mess,” commented Agreen Crabtree over supper one evening at the home of Will and Adele Cutler on Ship Street in Hingham. The other guests at the young hosts’ table—Richard, Katherine, and Diana Cutler and Agreen’s wife, Lizzy—nodded their agreement. Will and Adele had meant to hold a family dinner, but Jamie was unable to join them because Constitution’s officers and crew were denied shore leave in anticipation of weighing anchor on Friday, August 12, five days hence. Caleb and Joan were attending a social event in Boston that evening but planned to see Richard and Agreen off from Long Wharf the next day.
    â€œAt least Portsmouth has her full complement,” Agreen concluded. “ Constitution is still short a few hands, including a midshipman and a fourth lieutenant,” he explained to his wife. “Preble will likely have them transferred from another ship in the squadron. And from what Jamie tells us, her crew contains a bucket-full of foreigners. Her officers may be Americans, but her muster book has Spaniards, Dutchmen, Malays—you name it—and a few British tars who don’t take kindly t’ the Royal Navy and don’t trust merchantmen t’ protect ’em. Captain Preble will have himself a grand old time with that rabble. He’ll be talkin’ as much with the whip as with his voice. So you might say, my darlin’, that the cat’s got his tongue!”
    Lizzy did her best to smile at her husband’s feeble stab at humor. Yesterday’s post had brought devastating news from her brother John Cutler in England. John’s letter told her that their father, William Cutler, had suffered a debilitating stroke and would likely have passed away by the time she received the letter. Richard understood and shared Lizzy’s pain. His uncle was a much-beloved man who had shaped the lives of many people, including Richard. Lizzy had agreed to accompany Agreen tonight only because two of those present at the table would be gone by noon tomorrow. One of them was the man to whom she had pledged her life, the other a cousin she had held dear since those early days together in England a quarter-century ago.
    â€œIs that why Captain Preble denied shore leave to his crew?” Adele inquired. “To keep everybody aboard, lest anyone has a mind to desert?”
    â€œThat’s a fair assumption,” Richard said, giving her an appreciative smile. Adele was not only a good wife for his son, he thought, she was also an excellent business partner. Her grasp of numbers, on the one hand, and of human nature, on the other, reminded him often of his cousin Robin Cutler in Barbados.
    â€œWhere are you