McClellan saw that some of the decoy ships were still putting out smoke, but others were shot up and drifting with the tide. Two were awash to their gunwales. McClellan hoped their crews had been able to swim free. One of the outbound transport steamers passed close enough by for McClellan to observe it through the smoke. It showed a hole of blown-out timbers, fortunately above the water line. Suddenly a solid shot came screaming out of the smoke about twenty feet over the deck. It passed before McClellan had time to duck. He thanked the fates that the fort had only fired a single shot instead of a volley. Perhaps they were already starting to feel the pinch of an ammunition shortage.
I hope those devils run out of ammunition before they learn how to lead for deflection and to shoot to hole our ships below the waterline.
The smoke thinned as they neared the docks. McClellan saw the Statehouse, or rather what was left of it, on the hill in the center of town. In happier days it had reminded him of the “City on the Hill” as the Puritan founders had thought of Boston. Today it was a smoking hulk. The Rebels must have holed up inside and tried to make a stand, causing his men to signal for broadsides from the warships to knock it down. The fire from the warships had ripped through some of the adjoining residences and commercial buildings as well, leaving them in ruins.
The good news for the Confederates was that the Rebels had not had time to burn the commercial docks or the dozens of ships moored to them.
We were right to run the risk of seizing Boston Harbor by a coup de main! We have captured at least half the ships in New England!
“What shall we do with all these captured vessels?” McClellan asked Butler. “I don’t think I want to leave them in the hands of the Rebels. They’ll move them off to Halifax and go on conducting trade through the Canadas with their friends in the Free States.”
“Why don’t we wait to see how the people of Boston behave?” suggested Butler. “Let’s judge them by their conduct. Let’s allow those who take the Oath of Loyalty to the Confederate Union to resume their trade. Those who won’t take their pledge will have their ships sold at auction to those who will.”
“Yes,” agreed McClellan. “I expect that the opportunity to resume commerce will persuade most merchants to see things the right way. Business interest is a powerful persuader, especially to New England merchants!”
“They were during the 1812 War,” said Butler. “My father told me that the British-occupied ports in Maine did a land office business with the Redcoats. He said the Portland merchants bought more British war bonds with the profits of their trade than American. They were sorry to see the British leave. They hated President Madison and his party. I think they really would have followed through on their threat to leave the Union if the war hadn’t ended when it did.”
McClellan shook his head and sighed.
“The New Englanders are strange birds. They’re good hearted people with a strong sense of justice. But they do let their heads get turned by crazy ideas. I blame them more than the Southerners for inciting this war. If they hadn’t inflamed the South by financing John Brown’s Raid I doubt that Yancey would have schemed up his raid against the Free States. There wouldn’t have been any Battle of Delphi and no Secession of the North. We would have whitewashed our sectional differences for another generation and by then progress in the development of industry and communications would have made the General Government too strong for any sectional group to overthrow.”
“I am a New Englander born and bred,” replied Butler. “And I know how annoying some of us can be. But we’re Americans. America can’t be America without us.”
“That’s why Douglas and now Davis insist on bringing New England and the other Free States back into the fold,” concurred McClellan. “If they became independent they’d ally with the British Empire. Then we’d have British troops on the Ohio instead of the St. Lawrence and the British fleet based at Boston instead of Halifax. The British are our cousins by blood and sentiment, but it is best that they live in the European House and we live in the American House. I don’t like them even being in the Canadas. North America should be one country under one flag north of the Rio Grande.”
That is why I asked President Davis and the Confederate Union Congress to authorize the building of an ocean-going navy. If we ever have to fight the British, we will not get them out of North America until after we have defeated them at sea.
The steamer docked and McClellan and Butler debarked. Brigadier General Dan Sickles, commanding the military garrison inside the city, had gone in with the troops the day before. McClellan and Butler were directed to the office he had set up at a requisitioned building.
Sickles and McClellan congratulated themselves on the success of the landings. McClellan wanted to know how Confederate authority was being received. “Has there been any trouble from the people?”
“No mass disturbances so far,” answered Sickles, “but plenty of passive resistance. The men have torn down some Confederate Union flags and the women are insulting the soldiers.”
“I’ll soon put a stop to that,” said Butler. “Both the flag and the soldiers will be respected. Where are the Free State elected officials? I want to address them as soon as possible and make it clear that they, as the people’s representatives, will be held responsible for persuading the people to maintain civil order.”
“Unfortunately, Governor Andrew and most of the state legislators are deceased,” said Sickles with a sneer. “They thought they were going to turn the Statehouse into a latter day Alamo. Did you see what the broadsides from our warships did to it? We pulled only a few out alive after the building collapsed, and they won’t be walking any time soon.”
“Damn stupid of them to throw their lives away,” said McClellan, with anguish in his voice. I could have won those peoples’ loyalty if they hadn’t acted so rashly.
“Damn, stupid Rebs is right,” hissed Sickles, a course New York City Democrat with political ambitions. “F--ers thought they were better than the rest of us. Had to have their own country. Well f-- them. They got what they deserved.”
McClellan looked at Butler and raised his eyebrow. If we ever need to crack down on these Rebels we have the man here who’ll do it. We need a few men like him to win this war. Butler nodded, indicating that he had been thinking the same.
“We might as well get Butler quartered in the Governor’s House,” added Sickles. “The late Governor Andrew won’t be needing it any more. I’ll send some men over to kick his damn family out of there and get the place ready for you to move into this evening.”
McClellan put his hand on Sickles’ shoulder. “Don’t be harsh with his family, Dan. Move them out gently, even if it takes until tomorrow evening. When you get them out of there, save a room for me. I want to make my office there too. Oh, and you’d better dismiss Andrew’s staff too. Wouldn’t want the cook to poison us. Call Lawton’s in to cater our meals. They serve an excellent braised lamb. Excellent lobster too. Let’s have dinner there tonight, say at seven?”
Butler and Sickles nodded agreement.
McClellan looked outside. “I want to have a look around town, if you’ll be so kind as to round up a couple men to accompany me. I want to see how Jeb Stuart is doing in organizing his cavalry for the raids on the Springfield and Hartford armories. He’s equipping his men with horses from the city, you know.”
“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Butler. “I want to see for myself how the city is faring under our administration.”
McClellan and Butler set off to the livery yards to find Jeb Stuart. They found him watching in mild amusement as one of his quartermasters haggled for horses.