The only thing he could do would be to admit failure and join Lizard, Firefly, and Thorn off St. Augustine. He had grimaced, nigh-winced, as he’d thought of how he’d word a fresh report to Admiralty. The only slightly cheering idea that had come to him was his estimation of Consul Hereford, which he would also send to the British Ambassador in Washington. If he needed a good excuse, “His Excellency” R. L. E. Hereford would do quite nicely!
Idly stroking the cats, now they had calmed down from frantic welcome, and lifting his mug now and again for a sip of beer, Lewrie tallied up what little he did know, so far.
Firstly, he could safely rule out any privateering activity from North Carolina. Their hired Consul, Mr. Osgoode Moore, and his old friend, “Kit” Cashman, had an eye on things, from Topsail Island to Lockwood Folly Inlet. What might transpire North of Topsail Island from Beaufort, or the Albemarle or Pamlico Sounds, was beyond their ken, but… most British convoys made sure that they were well out to sea, and clear of any risk of being driven onto the Hatteras Banks, the Graveyard of the Atlantic, and his orders from Admiralty had not mentioned any losses from those convoys that far up the American coast.
Secondly, Mr. Cotton at Charleston had established good relations with the trading firms and chandleries in South Carolina waters, and was fairly sure that Georgetown and Winyah Bay, where so many rivers joined, dealt mostly in rice exports.
Charleston had the Ashley and the Cooper Rivers, but the only traffic on them was barges and small boats, and Charleston was not so far up-river from the sea. It was the most important seaport in the American South, but it was open, garrisoned by American troops, with Revenue cutters and Navy gunboats, and even if there were major shipyards, and many chandleries and trading firms that could be in collusion with enemy privateers, Cotton had left Lewrie with the impression that, but for the presence of Mollien’s privateer schooner, the problem lay elsewere. If there was indeed a problem!
Lewrie felt that he could have been hunting leprechaun’s gold, for all the good of it, so far, yet… Mollien had been there, sure sign that he was hunting British ships somewhat close to Spanish Florida. He might have put into Charleston to flaunt his country’s flag, or to call upon a decent tailor.
Stono Inlet had been a bust, as had Edisto, too. Port Royal, and the other Beaufort (in North Carolina it was “Bo”; in South Carolina is was “Bew”) had seemed intriguing, but had little in the way of ship chandlers or trading houses, little shipbuilding beyond large fishing boats, and no one they had encountered could recall French or Spanish vessels of any description entering the sound in ages, so Lewrie might be able to rule them out.
“Top-lofty bastard,” Lewrie muttered to himself, thinking about Hereford.
“Sir?” Pettus asked, from the bed-space, where he was sponging Lewrie’s best-dress coat.
“Just maunderin’, Pettus,” Lewrie assured him. “Thinkin’ of a man I met in Savannah.”
“Oh, sir,” Pettus replied, “before Lights Out, sir, I think we need a pot of water boiled in the tea-pot. Your sash got all crumpled up in your coat pocket, and it needs a good steaming before it goes back into its box.”
“Aye, boil away,” Lewrie allowed. “Have Cooke heat up an iron in the galley, if ye think it’s needful.”
“Brr, sir!” Pettus commented with his mouth pursed. “Got to be careful with silk or satin, sir. A too-hot iron will scorch them something horrid.”
“Whichever ye think best,” Lewrie said, bringing the mug to his mouth. There was only a swallow left, and he thought of ordering Pettus to tap a second, but forbore.
Georgia… bloody Georgia, he silently mused; the worst maze o’ creeks, inlets, sounds, and channels back o’ the islands of all I’ve seen, so far. Worse than the bayous in Louisiana! If ever a place was made for pirates, smugglers, and privateers, that’d be it. I wish t’God I could linger long enough, I’d be sure t’find something.
Lewrie wondered if his suspicious feeling had more to do with his anger over Hereford’s sloth-like reaction to his suggestion, and his haughty rejection of looking into even the most overt violations of American neutrality, standing on his lofty and too-fine sense of personal honour. If Hereford wouldn’t look into things, and Lewrie couldn’t stay long enough to do it himself, then that left the coast of Georgia, and the port of Savannah, the last area that had not been absolved.
What’d they say? That all the rogues went to Georgia? Lewrie thought with a mirthless grin; Or gets sent there, an Crown expense, to do nothing!
On their carriage tour, their coachee, a Free Black fellow, had pointed out several of the sights, naming each square, and indicating the stately homes by their owners’ names, assuring them that they were all prominent Savannah residents of long standing. He had seemed delighted to mention who the significant patriots of the Revolution were, and what roles they had played. Some homes had temporarily been used by British “occupiers” for headquarters, officers’ residences, barracks, or stables, the churches and their pew-boxes being grand horse stalls. “And o’ course, gennelmuns, dat house on de right, dar, be yo’ Consul’s home, dat Mistah Hereford.”
Dammit, it had been grand; not as large and imposing as its neighbours, the other manses that lined the streets or fronted upon the green public-squares, but it had been impressive enough.
And it didn’t look as if there were any plasterers or painters workin’ on it, either, Lewrie fumed; It was a lot finer than Mister Cotton’s at Charleston. And, just how much does a consul get paid on a foreign station?
Britain’s public services, and government offices, were rife with jobbery, graft, and “interest”. There was good reason for families to wheedle a minor clerk’s job for their sons, for aspiring men to spend as much as ?5,000 to gain a government post that paid no more than ?300 or ?500 a year. Once in place, and assured a life-long living, the sky was the limit on how much they could earn on the sly in bribes. Christ, they even knighted some of the bastards at the end of a long career!
Lewrie wondered if Hereford’s eagerness to see him off quickly was due to catching him asleep in his offices, and most remiss in his duties overall, or did Hereford fear that he might learn something criminal about his dealings if he stayed a night or two?
Hereford could be a haughty, useless fool with a private income from his family in England, or have umpteen thousands in the Three Percents and a slew of annual interest, Lewrie considered. The British pound sterling was worth a lot more than any unit of currency that the United States could ever issue, so an hundred pounds could go a very long way towards purchasing, or running up, a house. A private income, plus his annual pay and expenses for a residence and offices, could be a more-than-tidy sum.
Or, he could be a shifty criminal in league with his country’s enemies! At the very least, making money on the side by looking away, not looking at all, from the dealings of a Savannah businessman.
Damme! Lewrie chid himself of a sudden; If I hadn’t been so angry, I should’ve looked up… what were their names?
During the Quasi-War ’twixt France and the United States over high-handed French boarding and seizure of American merchants who were not trading with France, there had been a “hostilities only” bought-in ship, the U.S. Armed Brig Oglethorpe, fitted out and armed by eager public subscription in Savannah, and crewed by merchant masters, mates, and sailors, for the most part, with a sprinkling of U.S. Navy officers who had no ships in which to serve. She, Captain McGilliveray’s Thomas Sumter, and the U.S. Frigate Hancock, had formed a squadron in the West Indies to protect their country’s shipping, and seek out any French merchantmen they could find, and, most honourably, fight and take any French warship or privateer they encountered, too.