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The Pig War - by Jeffrey A. Thomas
The Pig War
by Jeffrey A. Thomas
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THE PIG WAR – AN ALTERNATE HISTORY
VICTORIA
THE NEXT DAY
"You did what?"
Governor Douglas had spent the last quarter hour yelling the same question at the hapless Lt. Edmonds. Baynes was doing what he could to mitigate the situation, to little effect.
"Sir, the American was leaving British territorial waters, I didn't think it was necessary to risk the lives of my crew or damage to my ship, to do anything other than see him move on. It was my best judgement of the situation at the time."
"Bah, you ran away. You let an American ship get away. Dismissed, I've no further use for you."
After they left the Governor's house, Baynes put a fatherly hand on the young Lieutenant's shoulder.
"You do know you did the right thing."
"Yes, sir."
"Good, these politicians are getting us into hot water fast."
"Yes sir."
FORT STELIACOOM
THE FOLLOWING DAY
"You did what?" General Harney bellowed at Lt. Jacobson. "You let a British warship get away?"
"I wouldn't describe it as that, sir. I didn't feel that I should risk my ship and crew to fight a ship that wasn't pressing for a battle."
Harney waved, a gesture that took in both Jacobson and his immediate superior, Captain Benjamin Franklin Allen, chief of staff for the North Pacific Squadron.
"Gentlemen, your job is to rid us of these British. I will not for one more minute tolerate their presence on American territory. Get out of here both of you."
The two saluted and left.
As they walked away Allen looked over at Jacobson.
"You did the right thing. That man is trouble."
"Yes sir."
AMERICAN CAMP
SAN JUAN ISLAND
Dawn, a glorious time on San Juan Island. The air was clean, with a good salt smell, the sky clear. The early morning sun reflected off the water. In almost all directions and distances, mountains sprung from the horizon, to varying heights.
The camp lay on the west side of the island, on a gentle slope that ran down to the water. It was wooded, but open. The woods provided fuel and shade for the men in the growing camp. It was good ground.
George Pickett was a happy man. His men had established camp, Roberts, the engineer was constructing earthworks, and a great redoubt to protect it. The cannon had been placed in position, along with a few mortars. It was not yet a fort, but it would be soon. His aide, Forsyth walked up to him and saluted, casually.
"Morning major."
"Good morning Lieutenant."
"Would the Major fancy an egg or two for breakfast?"
Forsyth had some how procured some hens and a couple of roosters. He had them penned up at the edge of the camp, over the hill and away from the water. He seemed to enjoy gathering their eggs every morning. Mostly he gave them to the men, as a sort of reward for had work. Pickett approved of the practice, it was good for morale.
"And to what would I owe this favor? An attempt to get on the good side of your boss? If so I daresay it may work."
Forsyth laughed.
"Well I now know what I need to do to get on your good side, Sir."
"A man's stomach is always a good start."
"On a more serious note, Major, when may we expect reinforcement? The British marines are expanding their camp. They nearly equal us in number now. If they add to their numbers we shall have a problem on our hands."
"Indeed."
The British were camped about ten miles away, on the North side of the Island. So far, they mostly stayed at their end of the Island, as the Americans had at theirs.
"We should have help soon. Keep me posted."
"Yes sir."
"And James"
"Sir?"
"Over easy would be fine."
"Sir!"
GRAYS HARBOR
WASHINGTON TERRITORY
Commodore Garibaldi paced the deck of his flagship, USS Susquehanna restlessly. He was very tall, with a dark complexion. A mustache added to his dashing looks. He had found it necessary to pull into this nearly deserted bay for a few days to do more repairs on his two ships. He was also due to rendezvous with his chief of staff here, before proceeding North. Then he hoped he would have some solid information about the situation.
He had arrived in Astoria only a week earlier, to find that a shooting war had started, and that the North Pacific Squadron was entirely unprepared for it. His predecessor had been uninterested in maintenance, discipline, morale, training or any other military necessity. The ships' bottoms were fouled, the bilge's had not been cleaned in years. The men were sick. He'd set about getting everything ready to fight but it was not an easy task, nor one that would get done quickly.
He had not liked his previous assignment, professor of tactics at the Naval Academy, and had asked repeatedly to be sent back to sea. At the same time he'd also made a pest of himself around Washington, lobbying more money for the Navy from a reluctant Congress. His reputation as a ladies man sometimes added to his problems. Eventually they decided to get him out of the way. So here he was, as far from Congress as one could get, and still be in the United States.
Captain John Winslow, the ship's captain approached him cautiously. The Commodore didn't like the reputation he'd developed, he was not normally a taskmaster, but he'd had to drive everyone hard in his efforts to get ready.
"Come on over John, you look like you have something on your mind."
"An idea, that might give us just a bit of an edge, should we be called on to fight."
"Go ahead, I'm open to anything that will help."
"The harbor master here has a great bit of unused chain. They use it to link logs together to tow them to the mill."
"Yes," Commodore Garibaldi was puzzled, where was this going.
"We could hang lengths of chain over the sides of the ships, particularly over the engine spaces. It might help keep out the British shot."
"Won't that make the ships a bit tender? Seems like added weight topside would make us unstable."
"We can compensate with ballast, and this time of year the seas here are generally calm. I think we can handle it."
Garibaldi nodded.
"I like it. Proceed."
Winslow saluted and left to organize a work party.
VICTORIA
Admiral Baynes stood on the dock and watched the ships being loaded. All manner of stores were being carted aboard by all available hands. The Governor stood next to him, hands clasped behind his back.
"Should be a jolly good show, eh, Admiral?"
As he had expected Baynes found himself being given detailed orders by Governor Douglas. Even though it was expected it still galled him to be handed a silly plan by some one with no knowledge of naval tactics.
The Governor wanted to put Ganges off the American camp to supply artillery support for an attack by the Marines. The two smallest ships, Plumper and Satellite would patrol Admiralty Inlet, to prevent an American move out of Puget Sound. Tribune and Plyadies would patrol the straight of Juan de Fuca, to prevent American reinforcements from moving into the area. They would also protect Victoria from counterattack.
Baynes didn't like it a bit. Ganges was next to useless. She could be anchored off Victoria harbor, to guard the town and the rest of the ships should be kept together. Splitting them up invited defeat in detail. But the Governor was sure he was a military genius and over rode any attempt at a sensible plan. He had also ordered Baynes to accompany him on Ganges. He was sure they would route the Americans in an afternoon and wanted to be on hand to watch.
"Governor, there is great potential here for many men to be killed or hurt. I would not call that ‘a jolly good show.'"
Stung, the governor walked away silently.
GRAYS HARBOR
Captain Allen's courier boat arrived at Gray's Harbor in the afternoon. As always the bar at the mouth of the harbor made for a rough ride, but Allen had been here before and was used to it. He was furious with the British. HMS Satellite had stopped them as they left Puget Sound, even though they were clearly in American territorial water. He had suspected that something like that might happen, and so had not worn his uniform. After inspecting his ship they let him proceed, but it was an affront to his national pride.
As his boat bumped up against the side of Susquehanna he gave a curious glance to the men hanging chain over the sides of the ship. He could see Winslow on the deck above him peering down at him.
"Permission to come aboard Captain?"
Winslow grinned, "NO!"
"Fine, then, stand by to be boarded!" Allen yelled as he began climbing the ladder.
A moment ladder he was on deck. Shaking Winslow's hand.
"Good to see you Ben, this is Commodore Garibaldi, our new commander."
"A pleasure, sir."
"Pleased to meet you sir."
The two men sized each other up. Commodore Garibaldi found himself looking at man of medium height and build, a beard shot with gray and a face weathered from years at sea. Garibaldi was himself shorter and darker, with sharp features.
"Well let's get down to business," said the Commodore, "what can you tell me about British dispositions and intentions? Let's go to my cabin and discuss the situation."
As they walked aft, trailed a Captain Winslow and a couple of junior officers Garibaldi asked, "Is this Harney character a complete idiot? My orders are to destroy the British fleet. He seems to think doing that will be about as complicated as squashing a bug."
"I'll bet a week's pay it is!" Piped up one of the younger officers.
Allen looked back over his shoulder, "I'll take that, if you promise to pay me in pounds sterling."
"Sir?"
"Well that will be the currency we'll be using if we really stir up the British Navy."
"I agree," said Garibaldi, "if we lined up both fleets and had a go at it, they'd likely sink us without reloading."
They arrived at the Commodores cabin and a map was spread out on a thick, heavily polished table.
Allen pulled out a thin knife, and used it for a pointer.
"I was stopped and searched here at Admiralty Inlet, just as we came out of Puget Sound. I had no identification as Navy, so they let us go on. Irritated me. It is obviously American Territory, but they clearly want to stop anything heading up to San Juan to help Pickett."
He pointed toward Victoria with his knife.
"The town is a beehive of activity, I'm certain they will make a move soon."
"What do you expect they'll do."
"If I were the British Commander I'd anchor Ganges off Victoria harbor as protection there. She's near to useless for anything else. By the way Harney chewed out one of his aids for not knowing how many guns she has."
"Which is?" Garibaldi asked.
"Seventy-two. She's an old third-rate. No engines, hard to maneuver in tight water, that's why I'd put her there."
"I see."
"I'd keep the other ships together. Their force of four ships would have our three badly outgunned. But they have Satellite guarding Admiralty Inlet so that leaves the other three to support operations of San Juan."
"What do you think our response should be?"
Allen rubbed his beard thoughtfully, he was starting to like this Commodore.
"Well as long as you're asking…"
For several minutes he spoke, gesturing at the map as he did so, discussing the lay of the land, currents, and other factors.
When he was done there was a moment of silence.
Garibaldi looked down at the map.
"You can do that?"
"I'm sure of it sir."
"You've done it before?"
"Oh, no sir. I don't think anybody has."
"Well, it's your life. Get back up there immediately and get it going. I will bring this fleet up in, say four days."
"Very good sir."
Allen saluted and left.
HARO STRAIGHT
Baynes stood on the stern of the Ganges, hands clasped behind his back, watching Victoria harbor recede into the distance. Again it was another beautiful summer day, but he had no mood to enjoy it.
"What a silly way to go to war," he thought. Ahead of the Ganges' bow the side-paddle steamer Jarvis pulled the great ship from the end of a two rope. He refused to look forward, the sight pained him too much. But it was the only way to get the ponderous ship into position of San Juan Island.
A bit to his left that is to starboard he could see Tribune and Plyadies moving west, to take station in the straight of Juan de Fuca. Even further to his left, Plumper, repaired from her recent brush with the American was moving south to join Satellite. They were moving out a day or two sooner than they planned. The move had been prompted by the news that two American frigates had anchored near the western end of the Straight the evening before.
He hoped his American counterpart had a cool head. The whole affair had spun wildly out of control. Governor Douglas was all worked up to throw the Americans off of a silly little island. And as the Queen's direct representative he had the authority to do as he saw fit. It was the only way to run a place so far from home, but Baynes didn't like it. And it seemed the American General, Harney, was also all set to have a set to.
"And so this is how it starts."
STRAIGHT OF JUAN DE FUCA
Commodore Garibaldi watched the two British ships approaching through his telescope. He had anticipated meeting three ships, further east, but this might be even better if the other one had joined Satellite. If he could keep them here for a few hours this fight might be over.
"Winslow!"
"Sir."
"Open fire at extreme range. I want to keep these two busy. They outgun us, but we should have an advantage in speed by a knot or two. "
"Aye aye, sir!"
Aboard Tribune Captain Hornby, commanding the squadron was startled when the Americans opened fire at a considerable distance.
"A dare say, they seem a bit anxious don't they?" his aide commented.
"Well the United States isn't a real naval power. I expect will run them off fairly quickly," (a remark he would soon regret) "then we can get on over to San Juan where we belong. That's what Admiral Baynes wanted. He doesn't like the Governor's disposition of the ships."
"Shall we commence firing sir?"
"Yes, but not full broadsides. Just keep them on their toes."
Four guns thundered out at the enemy, and Hornby watched incredulously through his telescope as a cannon ball bounced harmlessly off the side of the nearer ship. Then even more surprised he saw the ships turn away.
"Well that was easy." Some one said.
Two hours later he stood dripping sweat in the hot noontime sun, his face blackened with soot and powder smoke. A sulphurous smell hung in the air. Neither side had much damaged the other, but he was growing tired of a crazy game of cat and mouse.
If he got close enough to the Americans to really start to fight, they broke off and slipped away. As soon as he turned east they came back at him. Now they were running again. The Americans had just enough advantage in speed to define the battle. The whole affair had been fought in slow motion.
One of the men climbed up into the rigging.
"You stupid bloody yank," he yelled, stand up and fight like a man!"
Suddenly Hornby's blood ran cold.
"Turn the ships, now!" he ordered, "make for San Juan Island immediately!"
"What, why are running sir?" One of the younger officers asked.
"We are not running."
Hornby pointed at the American ships.
"That man could have me no more immobilized if he'd nailed my feet to the deck. I don't know why he wants me here, but he's got a reason and I'm going to find out what's happening."
Commodore Garibaldi watched the enemy turn away. After a few minutes of moving toward them he realized they weren't turning back.
"Seems they've figured out the game," Winslow said.
Garibaldi pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it.
"Indeed, but I expect that Allen has matters well in hand by now."
Had he contemplated the idea that, instead of waltzing in unopposed, Allen was about to take on a seventy-two gun ship of the line with a thirteen gun sloop; he might have been less confident.
Copyright © 2003 by Jeffrey A. Thomas
Please send comments to Jeffrey A. Thomas at:
sneakythomas@hotmail.com
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