Ingenious Escape from Old Mill Prison

During the Revolutionary War there were two prisons in England that confined captured enemy sailors. One was Forton Prison in Portsmouth and the other was Old Mill Prison in Plymouth.

Old Mill Prison

At the end of Part I of A Matter of Honor, protagonist Richard Cutler is taken prisoner after a raid on the English seaport of Whitehaven led by Capt. John Paul Jones (the subject of an earlier blog). Richard and several other Americans are carted off to Old Mill Prison, to presumably wait out the war before being tried and hanged as traitors or pirates. (American sailors who fell into British hands were not treated as prisoners of war until after the Battle of Yorktown.) Old Mill was a massive structure with both an inner and outer wall. Within the inner wall were Long Prison, where Americans were held, and another prison across the compound to house French captives.

Old Mill is described in part as follows:

The prison was more massive than he (Richard Cutler) had first imagined. Within the huge rectangular stone structure was another, smaller rectangle of identical construction and proportions, except that at its entrance was a wide-open wooden gate. Between the double walls was a grassy area encircling the entire inner yard. This yard was perhaps twenty feet in width to the east and west, thirty or thirty-five feet to the north and south. Near where Richard stood, between the two north walls, were two substantial stone buildings. One, Richard assumed by the guards posted at the entryway, was most likely the prison offices. The other looked to be a military barracks. Idling about in both the outer and inner yards was a large number of scruffy-looking men walking solo or in small groups.

Among those “scruffy-looking men” Richard would come to know in Old Mill are such future naval heroes (and future characters in the Cutler Family Chronicles) as Silas Talbot, Richard Dale, and Joshua Barney. Although these men and their compatriots had attempted many escapes, few had been successful. Outside the prison walls were legions of local citizens known as “Janners” who were awarded ₤5—a year’s salary for a farm hand—for every escaped prisoner they turned in to the Home Guard. A number of tunnels had been dug and an equal number had been unearthed by snooping prison guards and local militia.

The captured American officers are mulling over their wretched state of affairs one evening after a dinner of land-snail stew. Another tunnel was under construction, this one heading north rather than to the east, which afforded the shortest way out and was the direction to which every tunnel to date had been attempted. The logic of digging to the north was that prison officials would not expect a tunnel to be dug underneath where they worked all day. Thus they would not think to look for one there.

During the meeting Richard Cutler has a sudden notion. In alow but excited voice he tells his fellow inmates that the tunnel has already reached its destination even though it reaches barely beyond the inner wall. His fellow officers stare at him in bewilderment.

What happens next is perhaps best conveyed in dialogue:

“This is nonsense!” Joshua Barney scoffed. “Richard, have you taken leave of your senses? What are you suggesting? That we dig just to the Outer Yard? Hell, boy, we can walk out there any time we want, the gate’s wide open ‘till nightfall. What about the outer wall? We can’t just walk out through the main gate, pretty as we please.” 

Joshua Barney

Richard grinned at him. “Yes we can, Joshua. Yes we can. Hear me out. Silas, how often do they rotate the guards out of here?” 

“Every three months, from what we’ve observed.” 

“Exactly. And how often do they rotate the officers?” 

“Every six months.” 

“Right. So when is the next time officers and guards are rotated out together? Most of them anyway.” 

Talbot gave that some thought. It was Russell who answered. 

“The first of October, three weeks from now. 

Silas Talbot

Richard nodded. “That’s how I figure it.” His right hand was working in quick chopping motions.  

“So on October second, we’ll have a new batch of officers in our midst, plus a fresh rotation of militia guards, most of whom, we can fairly presume, will be strangers to each other. On that one day, an officer could walk in or out of this prison, pretty as you please, as you put it, Joshua, based on one credential: his uniform. Do you agree?” 

The officers stared at Richard, digesting his train of thought. 

“I think we can agree with that, Richard,” Talbot said, scratching his head. “But where are you leading us?” 

Agreen (Crabtree, a fellow midshipman and Richard’s close friend throughout the series) slapped his knee hard. 

“I know where he’s leadin’ us, Silas! Jesus Christ, it’s so obvious we should all have thought of it, long ago. He’s leadin’ us into the Prison Office, the building right between the two gates where they keep the officers’ uniforms. Our tunnel’s headin’ straight for it. Come up through the floor at night, don those uniforms, hide out ‘til dawn, then walk out early before the real officers are awake. Bugger, but I’ll look good in a lieutenant’s uniform!” 

He beamed at Richard. Richard beamed back. 

Talbot held up a hand in caution.  

“Steady on, lads. Steady on. Let’s consider this.”  

Searching for the weak links, Talbot and the other officers ran their minds down the chain of sequential steps that under Richard’s plan would take them from Long Prison under the inner wall, up into the Prison Office, and out through the main gate. They could identify none until Eleazar Johnston asked: “How many uniforms do we reckon are in there?”  

“I don’t know,” Richard confessed. “But there have to be quite a number. Every British officer is issued at least two uniforms in case one gets soiled.” 

“If we’re caught wearin’ those uniforms,” Barney pointed out, “sure as hell we’ll be hanged as spies.” 

Richard acknowledged that.  

“Perhaps, Joshua. But it’s a risk worth taking, don’t you think? Once we’re outside, we can get rid of the red dress coat. The rest of the uniform’s pretty much the same as standard Continental Navy issue.”
Barney pursed his lips reflectively.  

Capt. Richard Dale

“You’re overlooking something,” Richard Dale observed. “I grant you the sentries guarding the gate may be new, but so many officers leaving the compound so early in the morning would certainly arouse suspicion. They’d want to confirm everything with Cowdry (the prison warden) before opening the gate. Don’t forget, their ass would be on the line.” 

Discouraged agreement rumbled among the Americans. The weak link in the chain had apparently been identified. 

Crabtree snapped his fingers. 

“No, wait,” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. “We’ve been thinkin’ about this wrong. We don’t all need t’ be officers. Most of us can be what we are: prisoners. We only need a couple of us in uniform. We go in the buildin’ at night, through the tunnel, just as Richard said. When we come out the next mornin’, the prisoners are bound up, bein’ led out by the officers. For further interrogation on Yarmouth we tell the guards at the gate. On orders from Admiral Digby himself, we say. What sentry, first day at his new post, facin’ the prison brass, would challenge that?” 

 “He’s right,” Russell concurred, and everyone’s mood brightened considerably.

As a footnote to history, the plan as depicted above worked. The American officers made good their escape and made their way back to sea. Most of them went on to fight the British until the end of the war.

Photo Credits: The Old Mill Prison From a 19th-century illustration [public domain]; Sketch of en:Joshua Barney circa 1800 [public domain]; Engraved portrait of Silas Talbot, the second captain of the :USS Constitution [public domain]; Captain Richard Dale, USN [public domain].

Navy Football vs. the Tides of History

Indeed it may seem strange to contemplate. How, you may fairly ask, can there possibly be any correlation between a football game played in 2005 and the history profiled in the Cutler Family Chronicles?

Below is an article that appeared in the publication Proceedings magazine (published by the United States Naval Institute) in 2006. The author is Tom Cutler, my acquisitions editor at the Naval Institute Press. That Thomas Cutler is the name of the father of Richard Cutler, the main protagonist in my novels, is an interesting and most gratifying coincidence, but it is not the connection I am referring to. Please read on.

Charlie Weis, 2005 Notre Dame 
football team coach

Our Lady Queen of Class
by Tom Cutler  

Call me a sissy. Call me corny, out-dated, or whatever you think appropriate. But on Saturday, 12 November 2005, I cried. I sat in front of my television with tears streaming down my face. It was not a war movie or a love story on the screen, but a football game!

I had just watched my team, Navy, seriously defeated by a powerhouse Notre Dame squad, 42-21. But that was not the reason for my tears.

When the game ended, a reporter ran up to Charlie Weis, Notre Dame's phenomenal coach. and asked him one of the usual post-game questions. Coach Weis politely, but firmly, told the reporter he had something more important to do and, pushing the microphone aside, headed for the opposite side of the field. With him went the entire Notre Dame team.

What I saw next I will never forget. With their fans looking on, The Fighting Irish joined the midshipmen and stood respectfully with them as the latter sang "Navy Blue and Gold," their alma mater.

An article in The Observer, a South Bend newspaper, described the scene:  "The weather was beautiful, the team looked great, and the home crowd at Notre Dame Stadium had plenty to cheer about on Saturday. However, the most impressive event in that stadium was when 80,795 people did no cheering at all. No yelling, no talking, not even an odd sneeze. Dead silence. That's what the Navy band received at the end of the game while they played their alma mater."

From that moment on, I am forever a Notre Dame fan (though I will still root for Navy when the two teams meet). It was a moment of pure class, of unabashed patriotism, and of true sportsmanship; an all-too-rare combination.

The class part is not too surprising. Though I am not Catholic and have been to Indiana only once, I have long had a healthy respect for Notre Dame as a university with class. Educational standards and the value of tradition have always brought this school much well-deserved respect.

The patriotism part is a bit more complicated. As a Vietnam veteran, I lived through an era when respect for the military was wanting by too many Americans. It was a time when CBS actually considered taking the Army- Navy game off the air. It was a lonely time when no one thanked you for your service.

I suspect that some of the tears I shed in front of the TV were a bit self-indulgent because I saw something I would have given much to have seen in those dark days. But it was not bitterness I felt; it was gratitude-thanks that we are now doing it right.

The sportsmanship part is something that lately we are not getting right. I have all but given up on my beloved NFL because it just isn't much fun anymore, when I have to watch players dance and strut after every routine tackle and wave the football in their opponent's face after scoring a touchdown. I won't say sportsmanship is dead, but it is seriously wounded.

But when those Notre Dame players stood beside their Navy opponents it was a gesture that said more than thousands of words could ever convey. Class, patriotism, sportsmanship-all in one simple, but noble, gesture.

I have since learned from friends who were there that the nobility went well beyond that one moment. I was told that the Notre Dame fans did not boo the opposing players when they first ran onto the field-which is often the case these days. Instead, they cheered them. And at the end of the first quarter, the stadium announcer asked the fans to recognize Navy "on this day after Veteran's Day"-and they gave the midshipmen a long standing ovation.

The Irish band played "Anchors Aweigh" several times during the game, and one witness watched as total strangers walked up to the midshipmen and thanked them for their service. He described it as not "Just one act of manners … it was all day long."

In post-game interviews, I watched spellbound as Notre Dame players spoke not of their own (awesome) achievements on the field, but talked instead of their opponents and how they faced far greater challenges in the future, not on the football field, but on the battlefield. Again, I cried.

Thank you, Charlie Weis, for a class act. Thank you, Notre Dame, for embracing patriotism. Thank you, Navy, for your service.

What Tom is writing about in this article – apart from the deep sense of civility, duty and decorum that largely defined society in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, but in more modern times has become badly eroded – is the gratitude that Americans traditionally have held for those serving in our military. Certainly our early naval officers and sailors – those profiled in the Chronicles – received a hero’s welcome when they returned home from war. Not so, tragically, for those returning from Vietnam in the 1970s, but the spirit of what we Americans hold dear was, as Tom so poignantly notes, recaptured on the day after Veterans’ Day, 2005, in South Bend, Indiana

It behooves us all to never forget that any football game played between any two of the service academies is a game in which every player on the field is willing to lay down his life for every fan watching from the stands or on television. That is something Notre Dame Coach Charlie Weis understood when his team played Navy.

Author Interview

William C. Hammond – Renewing America’s Seafaring Heritage
Quarterdeck, November 2012, used with permission

AMERICA’S rich seafaring heritage comes alive in William C. Hammond’s epic Cutler Family Chronicles, a fictional series set against the backdrop of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.

The award-winning Chronicles, which feature the Cutler family of Hingham, Massachusetts, debuted in 2007 with the publication of A Matter of Honor. The novel introduces young Richard Cutler, who comes of age during the American Revolution. A Matter of Honor was followed by For Love of Country in 2010 and The Power & the Glory in 2011. This month the fourth title in the series – A Call to Arms – will be launched by the Naval Institute Press.

The Chronicles recount the founding days of the United States Navy and feature a broad cast of characters, including historical figures, such as Captains John Paul Jones, Edward Preble, Thomas Truxtun, and Silas Talbot, Lieutenants Stephen Decatur and Richard Sommers, and British Admirals Sir Hyde Parker and Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson.

Quarterdeck recently interviewed the Minnesota-based author:

What led you to writing in the first place?
I grew up in a literary family. My grandmother was a bibliophile of the highest order and surrounded herself with books wherever she went. She always gave books at Christmas to me and my two sisters. My uncle, a professor of English at Yale, was a voracious reader, as was my mother. I credit them for my love of books and my keen desire to someday be an author.

Is the Cutler Family Chronicles your first entry into writing fiction? What was the genesis for the novels?
No, my first entry into writing fiction was in my mid-twenties, when I lived in Maine with my uncle, and I wrote a novel about fourteenth century Plantagenet England and the Hundred Years’ War. I learned a lot during those eighteen months about the discipline and complexities of writing – and of course it was great fun living with Lance in such a lovely place – but fortunately for American letters that novel was never published. My interest in, and passion for, reading and writing historical novels never left me, however, and at the age of fifty I decided to again cast my fate to the wind and started doing research for A Matter of Honor.

Considering today's market, was it difficult to find a publisher?
It has always been difficult for a debut novelist to find a publisher, and it is especially difficult in today’s publishing industry. Since mainstream publishers don’t know what the future holds for them, they are not investing in young (in terms of experience) authors the way they used to when I entered the industry in 1975. So what we are left with today is essentially “celebrity publishing,” in which mainstream publishers only publish books that have a national “platform” and can all but guarantee them a profit. Of course, there are many excellent smaller royalty-based publishers, but the marketplace is flooded with book proposals and it’s often hard to get their attention. I am fortunate to have a very good agent.

What drew you to nautical fiction, as opposed to another genre?
I grew up on Cape Ann in Massachusetts and learned to sail at a very young age. I love sailing and I love the sea. In addition to sailing I fished twenty-five lobster traps off the coast of Manchester. When after college I began working for Little Brown as a sales rep, I started reading the Hornblower novels, all of which were distributed in the US by Little Brown. What a launching pad that turned out to be!

As your fourth novel is launched, do you consider writing to be your vocation?
I do consider writing my vocation, although not just because of writing my own novels. I am also a ghostwriter (which is more remunerative) and have a number of clients for whom I am writing original material or doing heavy developmental editing on text already written. My dream is to someday live comfortably on my own novels and on Social Security, but today that dream remains exactly that, a dream.

Your new novel, A Call to Arms, once again follows the Cutler family to sea? How far ahead  have you planned the series?
Two more books are planned in the series. The fifth volume, the first draft of which I am soon to complete, will focus on the troubled years (both for the country and for the Cutler family) between the end of the First Barbary War (the backdrop of A Call to Arms) and the start of the War of 1812. The sixth and final volume will focus exclusively on the War of 1812 and will (I trust) tie up all lose ends for readers.

Your novels capture the surroundings in which you place your characters. What inspirations do you use to create these moments and events?
In certain cases, memories. Over the years I have visited a number of the places I write about in the novels. Where I haven’t been, I can get a good sense of a place through photographs and information off of the Internet and in travel books. For example, a lavish picture book on eighteenth century London published a few years ago by David Godine has served me well.

Do you have a particular approach to researching your novels? Do you maintain a research library?
In researching I do a lot of reading, including original texts such as the log John Paul Jones kept on Bonhomme Richard. I have also been to a number of maritime museums, primarily in New England, and I have been aboard USS Constitution, for example, perhaps twenty times. I don’t tend to travel far afield, however, especially after I start work on a manuscript. Travel can be fun and interesting and informative; it can also be time-consuming and an expensive form of pencil- sharpening.

Please describe how you approach writing your novels. 
I suspect that my approach is somewhat different from many other writers. I arise each morning between four and five o’clock (for me, the best time of the day), make coffee, putter around the kitchen to get the blood flowing and my eyes focusing. After reviewing the night’s accumulation of emails, I start in editing the work I had done the previous morning. On some mornings that is all I do. I cannot go on to new text until I am satisfied (for the moment, at least) with what is already written. I impose no minimum word count, no page count, no nothing. What is, is. There are mornings when I spend my entire allotted time on one descriptive paragraph, until I’m convinced I have it right. In sum, therefore I write only one draft. After the draft is finished I edit it, of course, many times over. But I have never felt the necessity to re-write a manuscript per se.

What have been the greatest influences to this point in your writing career?
Certainly the sea has had a major influence. Growing up on the ocean, being on the ocean whenever possible, and reading about the ocean have been pursuits of mine since I can remember. Also, as a child I stuttered. Since I was challenged by the spoken word, I was determined to excel in the written word. Winning several writing prizes while in high school helped set my compass course.

What comes next in your writing? Have you considered writing about other historical periods for your fiction?
I’m not sure what I will work on next after I finish the sixth and final volume of the Cutler Family Chronicles. I want to write a book for my three sons that chronicles the first six years of my marriage to their mother, before we had children. Victoria passed on from cancer last year and her loss has been hard to bear. That book, of course, is meant just for family. But who knows, there may be a way to expand that into another book that has a wider audience. It would be a wonderful way to honor her memory. And as she would want me to do, I will get back to historical fiction and/or nonfiction at some point, assuming my weak vision holds out.

Please describe where you write.
Nothing exotic here, I'm afraid. We have a small study off our kitchen in Minneapolis, and that serves as my quarterdeck. A PC on a desk, no telephone, piles of books everywhere, research notes catalogued in some fashion or other – in other words, a typical writer's lair. It's where I feel most comfortable, and it's near the coffee maker, which, for those early morning hours, is an obvious benefit.

Is there one moment that stands out in your writing career?
I suppose that moment would have to be the day I signed my first contract, an act that carried with it a handsome (to me) royalty advance. I was actually going to be paid for doing what I love to do! The next best moment was when I signed a publishing contract with the Naval Institute Press, after my original publisher decided to suspend operations in early 2009. NIP is truly a wonderful publisher.

When you're not researching, what do you like to read for pleasure? What are your other avocations?
What I read for pleasure is quite eclectic. There are certain modern authors I enjoy, such as Pat Conroy and Philippa Gregory, and of course there are many modern writers of historical/nauti cal fiction whom I admire. And I enjoy going back to the novels of Hemingway and Fitzgerald and Faulkner, and such timeless classics as The Catcher in the Rye and A Separate Peace. So it really is all over the map. When I’m not reading or writing, I enjoy a good walk around a lake and perhaps a sail upon the lake. I have two sons living with me, and spending time with them is always a special occasion.

Do you read your own work after it is published? Do you have a favorite nautical fiction title or series written by others?
I do read my own work after it’s published. I really have to in order to ensure I am carrying forward the right material (e.g., physical attributes, subplots, any sort of loose end) into future books. I realize that the books written by Patrick O’Brian are many people’s favorite nautical fiction series, but I’m still partial to C. S. Forester.

What do you think about e-books and electronic readers like Kindle or Nook?
I’m an old print guy and I prefer the tactile feel of paper to a screen. The printed book truly is wonderful technology! But I totally “get” why people like e-readers, and from an author’s perspective, it’s wonderful for a customer to be able to make a buying decision on the spot and access the content within minutes. And with my weakening vision I know I will have to succumb to an e-reader sooner rather than later. When I do, I know I’ll be happy I did, and I will chastise myself for waiting so long!

Is there anything else you would like to share with our readers?
Only that I am very grateful for the praise and encouragement I have received from readers in this country and from around the world. These emails serve as great motivation to get up before dawn each morning and attend to my craft. I hope that in the immediate and more distant future I am able to please readers to the extent they tell me I have so far.

Who Was England’s True Enemy in 1776?

King George III 

What Americans refer to as the “Revolutionary War”, most Brits refer to as the “American War of Independence.” It may seem a fine distinction, but semantically the British are correct. A revolution normally erupts within a country with the aim of overthrowing the rulers of that country, as happened, for example, in France in 1789. On 4 July 1776, the Second Continental Congress declared America an independent nation, and the leaders of the united American states declared their country at war against their British overlords, most of whom were based three thousand miles away across the Atlantic.

No matter how you slice and dice it, however, the war was a civil war. Since the vast majority of the three million people living in the thirteen colonies in 1776 were of British descent, and no other nation had yet recognized the United States as an independent country, it was a conflict in which British citizens fought against British citizens – except, of course, when fighting the thousands of soldiers-for-hire from Hesse-Kassel, Hanover, and other German states of the Holy Roman Empire.

The moonlight Battle of Cape St Vincent    

But what really was at issue for England in this war? Who was at stake? Was it simply to punish the “rebels” for bad behavior and bring them back into the fold of the British Empire? The answer is, in a word, no. As the war in America dragged on and casualties mounted on both sides, many citizens of Great Britain and many members of Parliament became increasingly dissatisfied with the way the inept American Secretary was conducting the war. Why is that? Perhaps it was because, from their perspective, Germaine and his military cohorts were emphasizing the wrong enemy.

Battle of Bunker Hill

To illustrate the point, following is a scene from chapter eight of A Matter of Honor in which protagonist Richard Cutler is taking his daily constitutional with his uncle, William Cutler, on the grounds of the Cutler residence in Fareham, England. Richard is under what is essentially house arrest following a stint in Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, and he is confined to the not inconsequential estate of his uncle for the duration of the war. William Cutler is a prominent member of the rising merchant class in England and has amassed a tidy fortune in partnership with Richard’s father in Massachusetts. Two sugar plantations owned and operated by the Cutlers in the West Indies comprise the bulk of their family wealth. William Cutler starts out speaking.

“I’d like to pick up on a subject we broached last evening,” he said, the gravity in his voice reflecting the time he had devoted since then to clarifying his own views on the subject. “As you recall, I made several references to ‘the war’. Understandably, to you and to most people in America, ‘the war’ means ‘the revolution’. Fact is, England is currently engaged in two wars, each with an entirely separate purpose. The first war is to maintain our empire. That, sadly, involves the civil war in America. At the same time, we are fighting a second war to sustain our empire. That one is against our ancient enemy, France. At stake are the sugar islands of the West Indies -- our islands, Richard, Barbados and Tobago among them. Whoever controls those islands controls the wherewithal to wage a hundred wars. Which is why I am convinced that Spain and Holland will soon enter this war. And other countries too, all allied against us. It then will become a world war, and England will be standing alone. Mind you, these other countries will not be fighting in support of American revolutionary ideals any more than France is. Why would Louis and his chevaliers support open rebellion against a king? No, they’ll be fighting for the same reason they always do, for their own commercial self-interests, this time at the expense of Great Britain. Our navy is over-extended and we’re committing far too many resources to the civil war in America whilst paying scant attention to the real threat in the Indies. We can’t defend our islands properly and our enemies are aware of our weaknesses.” 

The Death of General Montgomery
at the Attack on Quebec    

Richard walked on, pondering what his uncle had said. He had to admit, it made sense. “How would you advise the king and his council, were you able to?” he asked.

“I am able to, and in fact I have done so through my contacts in Westminster. My advice to King George and Parliament is to seek reconciliation as quickly as possible with the former colonies.”

Richard felt his eyebrows involuntarily shoot up. 

“You’d sue for peace?  Grant America her independence?”

“If necessary, yes,” William Cutler said with conviction. “England would be far better off, in my opinion, with the United States as her ally rather than her enemy.  After all, we share a common heritage and system of beliefs. Together, there would be no stopping us. And the civil war is simply not worth the cost. Our military and exchequer are being bled dry in America whilst we put our true source of wealth and prosperity at grave risk. Many Britons agree with me, which is why you’ve found so many people sympathetic to you both here and in the West Country...”

I have to agree with Mr. Cutler, as I believe most British and American historians would today.

Photo credits: George III of the United Kingdom [public domain]; Battle of Bunker Hill by Howard Pyle [public domain]; The moonlight Battle of Cape St Vincent by Francis Holman [public domain]; The Death of General Montgomery at the Attack on Quebec, by John Trumbull, 1786 [public domain].

Bringing History Alive

My new blog is a “blog within a blog” and is based on a recent radio interview I did with Bookmark Radio in Denver.

By Michael Scott, co-host of Bookmark Radio

USS Constellation and L'Insurgente

What better way to learn about the early history of our country than with a series of engrossing novels that also get the facts right and weave in the actual historical figures who played pivotal roles during this era? That’s what it’s all about for Bill Hammond, author of the Cutler Family Chronicles, a series of nautical / historical fiction novels that are meticulously researched and thoroughly vetted.

Bill was my guest on Bookmark Radio on Monday, April 16.  (I was flying solo—my co-host Wendy was not able to make the show but she contributed by texting in some very good questions!)  You can hear the interview online here. The fourth book in his series, A Call to Arms, is scheduled for release in November by the Naval Institute Press in Annapolis, MD. Bill is working diligently on the fifth volume.

The Cutler Family Chronicles cover the years 1774 through 1815 as seen through the eyes of the Cutler family, which has residences in both England and New England, and also on the island of Barbados.  In the first book, A Matter of Honor, protagonist Richard Cutler is a Massachusetts teenager who joins the Continental Navy to avenge the death of his brother, who in turn had been pressed into service by the British. Each book stands alone, but I recommend reading them all in order since the characters evolve throughout the series.

It was almost inevitable that Bill would take on this mammoth literary project.  He grew up in Massachusetts on Cape Ann (“fifty feet from the ocean”) and learned to sail at age eight. His family was very literary and all were voracious readers.  Bill loved history and was a college history major. It all ties together so well!

Interest in nautical fiction, a subcategory of historical fiction, is growing according to Bill. He points out there are many excellent writers in this genre including C.S. Forester and Patrick O’Brian. The Cutler Family Chronicles tell the story of this era from the American perspective (the Continental Navy and the U.S. Navy) rather than the more common British viewpoint.

Look for the books from the Cutler Family Chronicles in your local bookstore and, of course, through Amazon and other on-line sources. Be sure to check out Bill’s website, www.bill-hammond.com, if only to see the beautiful cover artwork on these books!  My thanks to Bill Hammond for taking the time to join us on Book Mark Radio!

Michael Scott is co-host of the weekly radio show, Bookmark Radio.  www.bookmarkradio.com. It is on air live at 4:00 MDT in Denver, Colorado.  Follow the show on Twitter: @BookmarkRadio.  Please “LIKE” the show at www.facebook.com/bookmarkradio

High Stakes in Paris, 1778

The War of Independence was now entering its third year, and the fate of the infant republic hung on one man’s ability to bring the French in on America’s side in a formal military alliance.

Most historians agree that the Battle of Saratoga (NY) in October 1777 was a seminal event in the American Revolution. “Gentleman Johnny” Burgoyne may have been an exquisite Peer of the Realm who drank too much champagne on his campaign southward from Canada, but he commanded a sizable and seasoned army, and he was considered a competent general. That his army was defeated by a rag-tag band of rebels had sent shock-waves across the Atlantic into the courts of King George III and King Louis XVI. For perhaps the first time since the Revolution began, it occurred to the French that, sacré bleu, these American upstarts might actually win the war.

Still, serious questions lingered about how long General Washington’s army could remain a viable military threat to British land forces. Saratoga had marked the end of the fall campaign; freezing weather had since swept in upon the former colonies; in the coming months, how many Continentals would desert the harsh conditions of Valley Forge for the warmth and embrace of sweethearts and home? France had been quick to recognize America’s independence and it had already sent clandestine aid to the American patriots. But if France were to enter into a formal military alliance with the fledgling United States, that could be a game-changer.

From the first days of the revolution, it was evident to American High Command in the Continental Army and Continental Congress that the United States could not win the war without massive aid from France. What the United States desperately required were French warships in addition to French shiploads of ordnance, supplies, and money.

Benjamin Franklin, 1778

Who would Congress now call on to save the revolution? The answer was never in serious doubt. It would call on perhaps the most famous man in the world and certainly the most beloved man in France: Benjamin Franklin.

Franklin was nearly seventy when he sailed to France in 1776 as his nation’s consul in Paris. Two other Americans diplomats joined him in what passed for the American embassy in Passy, a village of the rich and famous located between Paris and the royal court at Versailles. But it was Franklin who stole the show. Silas Deane was competent enough, but the inept Arthur Lee would eventually be replaced by John Adams.

Every French man and woman of every station adored Ben Franklin. His homespun clothes and coonskin cap and down home humor captivated everyone. It was said that the number of French chateaux plus the number of ordinary French maisons that did not have an image of Franklin hanging on a wall could be counted on one hand. It was even reported that Queen Marie Antoinette carried a small silhouetted image of Franklin’s head on whatever necklace she happened to be wearing. That Franklin was fond of the ladies, and the ladies fond of him despite his advanced age and infirmities, only added to his mystique and charm. And the fact that Franklin taught himself to speak fluent French before taking the job endeared him to a nation.

Following is an excerpt taken from chapter four of A Matter of Honor. It depicts a meeting between Benjamin Franklin and Charles Gravier, Count of Vergennes and the French Foreign Minister.. Franklin was trying to persuade Vergennes to forge a formal military alliance with the United States.

Charles Gravier
Count of Vergennes

“My friends,” he said across the table to Vergennes and his three assistants, “you may be assured that the United States government appreciates all that France has done and continues to do on its behalf. Your supplies and support have maintained our army in the field. Without them, all might have been lost. As to France recognizing our independence, it is an unparalleled blessing to be applauded by free men everywhere who believe and put their trust in the ideals and principles espoused by our revolution. Even if she were to do nothing further, France has earned the eternal respect of a grateful nation.”

As one, the four French officials inclined their heads forward.

“But, gentlemen,” Franklin continued, “I must explain the realities of our situation. America can win this war against Great Britain. But to achieve victory we need armies, not just arms; ships of the line, not just frigates and dispatch vessels; field cannon, not just muskets. In short, what America requires is a nation in open alliance with her, a great nation seeking to fulfill her own destiny and claim her rightful place on the world stage.”

Vergennes nodded sympathetically.

“Well spoken, Dr. Franklin. Your words are heart-felt and inspirational. You have my promise and the promise of my king that France will continue to do everything in her power to support your revolution. Your enemy is our enemy. But as I have said, forging a military alliance between our two countries will take time.”

“We may not have that time,” Franklin responded. He gave Vergennes a hard look, his tone taking on a sudden sense of urgency blended with a hint of rebuke. “Are you aware, sir, that my fellow commissioners and I were approached yesterday by Lord Stormont?” He was referring to the British ambassador to France.

“No, sir, I am not,” said Vergennes, caution entering his voice. “Might I ask the reason for this approach?”

Franklin shrugged. “From what I understand, the British are now prepared to concede to us everything we sought before the revolution began: home rule; our own parliament making our own laws and taxes; our own prime minister. A separate country from England, in effect, bound together with her by a common heritage and love of liberty, not to mention mercantile and military interests. A very intriguing proposal, I must say. Totally unexpected.”

Vergennes shifted uneasily in his chair. “Why do you think the British are offering this?”

Franklin held up his hands exactly as Vergennes had done.

“The British want peace, it seems. More to the point, they no longer want war with America. We are speaking today of national interests, are we not? Apparently, Great Britain has come to a better realization of where her national interests might lie.”

“You would accept such an offer?” Vergennes demanded, aghast.

Franklin shrugged a second time.

“It is not for me to accept or decline any offer, sir. I am but a humble printer asked to speak on behalf of my country. Congress must decide. And Congress will act, I suspect, based on what it perceives our national interests to be. In the same way France must now act.”

Vergennes pursed his lips, his mind apparently absorbed in a chessboard on which the might of the British Empire was combined with the resources and latent power of the United States in a military and mercantile alliance that would checkmate Britain’s ancient enemy, France.

“Thank you for sharing this information with me, Doctor,” Vergennes said, unable to conceal an edge to his voice. “Be assured, I will use it to our mutual advantage. In the meantime, may I beg your indulgence in keeping this overture confidential?”

“I shall try, sir. But I cannot guarantee results. As I have said many times, three men may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

As it turned out, the overture from Lord Stormont was real, and Franklin used it to his maximum advantage. Soon thereafter, France entered into a formal military alliance with the United States and the war was won. Had Franklin failed in his mission, many Americans today might still be speaking with a British accent.

Photo Credits: 

1. USPOD 13-cent American Bicentennial stamp issued in 1977 for the 200th anniversary of the surrender of General John Burgoyne (1723-1792) (British commander} to General Horatio Gates (1726–1806) (US commander) at Saratoga.

by Serjmooradian at en.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons.

2. Benjamin Franklin by Joseph-Siffred Duplessis [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

3. Charles Gravier Count of Vergennes and French Ambassador, in Turkish Attire; oil on canvas By Antoine de Favray (Pera Museum) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Royal Navy Prisons and Prison Ships

Throughout history, man’s inhumanity to man has perhaps best been exemplified by the brutal conditions to which prisoners of war have too often been subjected. Whether due to physical torture or psychological terror, the end result for many prisoners has been either death or a survival that would make death seem a better alternative.

Interior of the HMS Jersey

Few places in history have harbored worse conditions for prisoners than did New York during the Revolutionary War. Since New York served as the principle British base in North America during the conflict, it was here that the most gut-wrenching atrocities were perpetrated. This is not to suggest that Americans were saintly in their treatment of British prisoners of war. It is simply to say that the historical record on the British side is far more revealing.

The principle reason why the British treated American prisoners so poorly is because they did not recognize captured Americans as prisoners of war. Since to their minds the revolution was a traitorous act, American rebels captured by the British deserved to die a traitor’s death. What happened to these individuals as a consequence of falling into British hands was of no great concern to either the British military or British citizenry.   

HMS Jersey

British prisons in America were mostly in old decrepit ships known as “prison hulks,” the worst of which was HMS Jersey, a former 60-gun fourth rate ship of the line that was dismantled at the start of the war. Save for a fortunate few who managed to escape its clutches, being sentenced to this horrific hulk of oak was tantamount to a death sentence. Stripped of its spas and rigging and lower decks, Jersey was anchored in Wallabout Bay (later to become the site of the Brooklyn Navy Yard). Once hauled aboard, captured American sailors and soldiers were shoved below into a black hole of purposeful neglect and untold misery. On average, eight American prisoners died each day in Jersey, their bodies picked up each morning by a boat and taken ashore to the mud flats for a quick and unceremonial burial.

During the course of the rebellion, 11,500 men and woman died aboard these prison hulks, more than twice the number of Americans who died in every battle of the Revolution combined. On one prison hulk, the Whitby, desperate prisoners set the ship ablaze, preferring a quick death by fire to a slow and painful death by starvation.

In England, American prisoners were treated somewhat better, in large part because they normally shared a compound with French prisoners. Great Britain was also at war with France at the time, and captured French military personnel were awarded prisoner of war status. One such prison is profiled in A Matter of Honor, Volume I of the Cutler Family Chronicles. The compound is Old Mill Prison in Falmouth, England, and it is here that protagonist Richard Cutler is incarcerated following his capture during the raid on Whitehaven. (See a previous blog, Raid on Whitehaven.) In Old Mill he meets fellow prisoners and future naval heroes Silas Talbot, the second captain of USS Constitution, with whom Richard serves briefly in The Power and the Glory (published October 2011 by the Naval Institute Press), and Richard Dale, commodore of the first Mediterranean squadron in A Call To Arms (to be published in October 2012). Following is an excerpt from chapter seven:

“Diversions from soul-dulling drudgery were created by bored men and mandated by their morose conditions. Whittling had become a popular past-time, an activity encouraged by wardens who ensured that ample supplies of wood were made available around the inner yard. They even gave prisoners, upon request, small knives with blunted tips to use for whittling. Such curios as model ships, ladles, and makeshift mallets were sculpted from wood and sold to local citizens visiting Old Mill on Sunday afternoons. Whatever coins the prisoners received was more often than not snapped up by other locals hawking their wares in every corner of the compound. Barter was also a mainstay of commerce. In exchange for a toy pistol Richard had fashioned from a slab of oak, an elderly woman agreed to post a letter he had written to his family in Hingham [Massachusetts], telling them simply where he was and that he was in good health. She was a kind and caring woman, for she had paid good money for an object that any discerning eye would agree was a poor replica of a pistol. Richard felt certain she would actually post the letter; whether it would ever reach Hingham was another matter.”

   

Not much to write home about, perhaps, but one has a hard time imagining local citizens and merchants of New York fancying a row out to the prison ship Jersey on a summer Sunday afternoon, to buy or sell anything.. 

Christianity vs. Islam, 1788 vs. 2012

Barbary Coast

The struggles between Christians and Muslims have been gong on for centuries. So what have been the central issues involved in these struggles and how far have we come during the past two centuries in addressing them? Below is one perspective provided by a conversation between Richard Cutler, the main protagonist in the Cutler Family Chronicles, and Jeremy Hardcastle, a post captain attached to the Royal Navy’s Mediterranean Squadron. Richard is dining with his brother-in-law in the after cabin of HMS Invincible, Jeremy’s 64-gun third rate ship-of-the-line, prior to Richard’s cruise to the Barbary Coast of North Africa in the schooner Falcon to rescue his brother Caleb and his shipmates from captivity in Algiers. The dialogue is extracted from chapter six of For Love of Country, Volume II of the Chronicles.

“There are essentially three points you need to understand,” Jeremy said, settling into an explanation that Richard suspected had by now become quite familiar to him. “I’ll try to keep them brief and simple -- though admittedly there is precious little about our Muslim friends that fits comfortably under either of those terms.

“First, you must recognize that Muslims do not believe that what they are doing violates civil or Islamic law. To the contrary, their religion encourages a holy war, or jihad, against non-believers. That most definitely includes you and me, and everyone else who does not pay homage to the prophet Muhammad or follow the Koran, the Islamic sacred book that Muslims accept as the word of God dictated to the Prophet. So you see, all this has a religious undertone to it.

“However – and this is my second point -- while religion is important to the Muslim mind, its role is secondary in affairs of State. Put another way, what to you and me is piracy on the open seas is, to the dey (of Algiers) and his council, simply good business. The tribute he receives from European powers to protect their shipping in these waters, and the ransoms he receives for the release of captured sailors, are critical to the economy of Algiers and the other Barbary States.”

“So the dey not only supports acts of piracy, he directs them.”

“Just so. And I might add that he earns a pretty penny in the process: one-fifth of every tribute paid, one-fifth of every ransom paid, one- fifth of the value of every foreign cargo seized. The captain and owners of the corsair receive half, and her crew and soldiers divide up the balance. A rather tidy arrangement, isn’t it? Does it happen to remind you of anything?”

“Privateering?”

“Well done. Bravo. As I recall, during our recent squabbles your privateers were quite active in the Atlantic and Caribbean doing precisely what Barbary corsairs are doing today in the Mediterranean.”

“

That’s hardly a fair comparison, Jeremy,” Richard protested. “America was at war with England at the time. Every nation accepts privateering as a legitimate activity in times of war.”

“Ah, there’s the nub of it. You’ve put your legal finger right on it. Brilliant.” Jeremy raised his glass in a silent toast. To Richard’s confused expression he explained: “To you and me, Richard, and to everyone else of a Western mind, peace exists until a state of war is declared between two nations. Muslims, however, tend to look at things a bit differently. They believe that a state of war exists ipso facto with an infidel country until a temporary peace has been declared with that country. Such a notion has its roots in Islam, since Islam is forever fighting what Muslims believe is a holy war against non-believers. That’s just my opinion, of course. You’ll not find that in the Koran. And incidentally, the purpose of jihad is not strictly to convert non-believers by force. It is rather to remove obstacles to their conversion to Islam. To achieve that goal, force often becomes necessary.”

Richard contemplated that. “And a temporary peace can only be declared if and when another nation pays a financial gift, or tribute, to the Barbary State?”

“Exactly so.”

“We call that blackmail in America, Jeremy.”

“We call it blackmail in England too, Richard. But to repeat myself, the Muslims don’t see things our way. Mind you, the dey does not desire peace with every nation, only the most powerful ones, such as England. The others he’d prefer to prey upon, and take his profit from their cargoes and sailors. Cheers.” Jeremy drained his glass, gripped the bottle, and after glancing over at Richard’s half-filled glass, filled his own. “And by the bye, you may be interested to know that in Arabic, the word ‘corsair’ does not mean ‘pirate’ as many people believe. It means ‘privateer’.”

Richard settled back in his chair.

“What’s your third point?”

“Sorry?”

“Your third point. You said there were three points I need to understand.”

“So I did. Let me see…I should let up a bit on the wine…Ah yes. My third point is simply that taking innocent people for slaves has been going on for centuries, by Christians and Muslims alike. Barbary corsairs have raided the coasts of Ireland and England and as far north as Iceland to cart off and sell off whoever and whatever they can. Britain has returned the favor by raiding villages in North and sub-Saharan Africa, and making slaves of Berbers, Moors, and Negroes. France, Spain, Holland, you name it, they have all followed our example. As have you chaps over there in the colonies, quite enthusiastically I might add. So you see, Richard, we are all guilty in the eyes of God – or Allah, if you prefer.”

This is one man’s perspective, of course, but it nonetheless is a perspective worth noting?

Terror in Whitehaven, 1778

Attack on Whitehaven
painting by Col. Charles Waterhouse

In the 1770's the town of Whitehaven was one of England's busiest seaports. Located near the shores of the Irish Sea, it looked out upon the Solway Firth that comprised the westernmost boundary between England and Scotland. Because Whitehaven was near where John Paul Jones was born and raised in the Scottish Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, it was where Jones decided to launch his one-ship invasion of England. Although this raid was strongly opposed by most of his officer corps, especially by First Lieutenant Thomas Simpson, it was sanctioned by a host of American dignitaries, including America's emissary in Paris, Benjamin Franklin.

John Paul Jones monument
in Whitehaven

Just after midnight on April 23, 1778, Jones ordered two ship's boats lowered away from the weather deck of the Continental sloop of war Ranger. Thirty sailors and Marines clambered down into the boats. Jones objectives: to first spike the guns of the English fort protecting the entrance to the harbor and the firth, and then to set fire to the three hundred or so vessels nested together at anchor in the harbor -- most of them either coastal merchantmen or coal transports. If the fires spread to the town, so much the better. Jones had no military objectives. Whitehaven held no strategic importance to him or to anyone else. It was simply a town that Jones had sailed in and out of many times in his boyhood, and it was here that he proposed to strike fear and panic among the citizens of Whitehaven – and by extension, among the entire British nation.

Despite a prolonged row ashore caused by shifting winds and a strong ebb tide, Jones realized his first objective. During the first inklings of dawn, he and his captain of Marines, Lt. Wallingford, entered the lightly garrisoned fort and spiked its cannon, temporarily disabling them. Jones, however, failed to realize his second objective, in part because the lanterns in both boats ran out of fuel sufficient to light a conflagration, and in part because a member of his raiding party, an Irishman, slipped away as dawn approached and ran along a harbor street of Whitehaven shouting out a Paul Revere-style warning. Only a single vessel, the collier Thompson, was set aflame, and the domino effect of one burning mast collapsing onto another mast did not materialize. Meanwhile, a fire alarm was sounded, Whitehaven's fire-fighting equipment was mobilized, and large numbers of townsfolk came running to the quays dressed in nightclothes and brandishing family weapons. Jones was forced to retreat to his two boats and back to Ranger, which he did without incident under the silence of the fort's spiked cannon.

We Americans do not like to think of ourselves as perpetrating any overt act of terrorism at any time in our history. But the raid on Whitehaven was one such act. As stated above, it had no military objective, other than perhaps to draw ships of the Royal Navy away from the Channel in pursuit of Ranger. Its primary purpose was to spread panic among British citizenry and it succeeded in doing just that. Britons were not accustomed to having their country invaded, even by a single ship, and few people living long the coast could rest easily at night knowing that ship was prowling offshore, ready, willing and able to strike again. As Midshipman Richard Cutler responds to Captain Jones in Ranger's after cabin when asked for his opinion of the proposed raid in A Matter of Honor, "It's a bold plan, Captain, because it does not rely on success. American Marines landing on British soil will have its effect, no matter the outcome." As it turned out, he was right.

The Lore Of Port Royal, Jamaica

Illustration of pre-1692 Port Royal, Jamaica.

Port Royal, Jamaica has a rich history. Founded in 1618, it is located at the end of a spit of land at the mouth of Kingston Harbor.  From its earliest days it served as a refuge for English privateers preying on Spanish treasure ships sailing home from the New to the Old World.  When the British Parliament began limiting the number of letters of marque – official documents that essentially transformed a privately owned vessel into a government-sanctioned ship of war -- many privateers tossed aside the thin veil of legitimacy and resorted to outright piracy.

Whatever their means of income, the wealth they amassed and liberally circulated in Port Royal turned that commercial center into one of the gaudiest and most depraved ports-of-call in the seven seas.  To quote from The Power and the Glory, the third volume of the Cutler Family Chronicles:  

“Richard Cutler knew something of the history of Port Royal, as did most people familiar with the West Indies.  Situated at the western tip of a long, thin spit of land shaped like an ostrich leg with an Italy-shaped boot at its western end, it was, in its heyday in the late 1600’s, the largest, richest and most debauched British municipality in the Western Hemisphere, justly earning its dubious distinction as “Sodom of the West Indies.”  With an economy heaped in gold bullion plundered by English privateers off Spanish treasure fleets, Port Royal served as a safe-haven for pirates, buccaneers, cutthroats, and other low-lives keeping intimate company with the thieves, whores and other opportunists keen to pick a farthing or a florin from an unsuspecting tar dead to the world on a alehouse floor or in a dark alley rife with the stench of human waste and proliferation.  In 1680, Port Royal was said to host a tavern for every ten residents.  Inside those taverns, or on the streets outside, prostitutes brazenly plied their wares, their oft-used bodies tantalizing pie-eyed sailors too long away at sea.  

Henry Morgan, Pirate of the
Caribbean, 18th century lithography.

Tottering at the tip of the societal pyramid, the town’s few respectable citizens – merchants, mainland planters, an Anglican priest or two -- pooled their resources and appointed Henry Morgan, the renowned buccaneer and sworn enemy of propriety and Puritanism, as lieutenant governor.  It was a seemingly insane gamble that paid off.  Elevated from the base to the apex of society, Morgan found religion and set about to clean up the unholy mess, publicly hanging many of those with whom just a few weeks before he had been in cahoots.  His efforts, however, proved too little, too late.  At eleven forty-two in the morning of June 7, 1692, in what was widely perceived as divine punishment for its manifold sins and wickedness, Port Royal was rocked to its core by a violent earthquake that sent much of the city sinking, Atlantis-like, into the sea.  Those few who managed to survive the holocaust fled across the bay to the mainland, where, in collaboration with the sugar planters and wealthier merchants already living there, they established a new commercial center.  With the devastation of Port Royal fresh in their minds, these citizens of Kingston, as the new community came to be called, lived and worked and prayed as paragons of sobriety and Christian morals – until memories faded. 

What remained of Port Royal, meanwhile, was appropriated by the Royal Navy and re-built as its flagship base in the West Indies.”

At the end of the eighteenth century, as the United States and France waged an undeclared war known to history as the Quasi-War, the Royal Navy opened all of its West Indian bases, including its flagship base at Port Royal, to the fledgling American navy.  Why?  Because as Rear Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson famously explained to My Lords of the Admiralty, “Every American gun aimed at a French warship is one less English gun aimed at a French warship.”  Such good feelings between the United Sates and Great Britain were to extend into the first four years of the 1800’s.  After that, relations deteriorated, due to England’s fight for national survival against Napoleon and the commercial war in which the United States found herself inevitably entangled.   Despite the war raging in Europe and subsequent events, Port Royal retained its vitality (if not its depravity) until 1905, when Great Britain closed what was once one of its premier navy yards in the Western Hemisphere. 

The Miracle of Yorktown

There are those who to this day insist that the United States was born by an act of divine intervention. How else, such people argue, could a ragtag band of farmers, silversmiths and shopkeepers prevail against the world's mightiest military, especially in 1780 when rebel enthusiasm for the Glorious Cause was clearly on the wane. America desperately needed a victory on land, and she desperately needed French control of the sea to ensure that victory.

America's prayers were answered in a small town located on the York River in southeastern Virginia.

Unsuccessful in its campaigns in the North, in 1780 the British High Command settled on a “southern strategy.” At the core of this strategy lay the assumption that living in Georgia and the Carolinas were legions of Tories loyal to King George who would flock to his banner if offered the opportunity. Once General  Cornwallis had subdued the Carolinas, he could march north, conquer Virginia, and restore the entire South to the British Empire.

There were, however, several problems with this theory. First, while indeed there were numerous Tories living in the South, as it turned out precious few of them were willing to spill their blood for the British king. And second, Cornwallis’s superior, Sir Henry Clinton, was in New York, many miles away, and the two generals had little use for each other. They communicated directly with American Secretary Germaine in London rather than with each other, and they refused to coordinate military tactics in any meaningful way. Sadly, for the British, Germaine’s views of the war were almost child-like in their naivety and optimism.

After a series of battles in the Carolinas produced no conclusive outcomes, Cornwallis finally marched north into Virginia. There, a perilous game of chess was being played between British and American forces, each side jockeying for position between the Virginia capes and Richmond, the state capital. Meanwhile, in Rhode Island, le Comte de Rochambeau had landed in Newport with a French army and le Comte de Barras had sailed in with a fleet of battle cruisers. From the West Indies le Comte de Grasse wrote General Washington that he would be sailing with a far greater naval force for the Chesapeake, where his services would be available to the Americans until the end of hurricane season.

Inspired by this delightful piece of news, General Washington, who had long favored a siege of New York, now suddenly changed strategy and ordered his ragged Continentals and the superbly uniformed French army on a forced march to the Chesapeake.

What happened next was a checkmate for the ages. Cornwallis’s army was defeated at Yorktown, but it was a victory made possible by yet another collosal wave of British blunders in an epic sea battle fought between de Grasse and Adm. Sir Thomas Graves.

The benevolence of a divine providence? Perhaps. You decide.