Page 48 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
Chapter 24
Dinner with the Rear Admiral
Washington D.C., The United States of America, August 1814
After the ignominious defeat at the Battle of Bladensburg, Washington had fallen. Jonathan and Jake had put up a valiant attempt at defending the city with a last-minute charge to the enemy but to no avail. The seamen in Jonathan’s command had halted the British for a moment. However, their superior numbers and better training soon got the better of them. This last line of American defense disintegrated, resulting in the capture of many including Jonathan and Jake.
Afterward, the enemy arrived in the city around sunset, prompting a U.S. captain to order the Washington Navy Yard set ablaze, including two warships, much timber, and a sawmill. Around the same time, the British burned down a private residence from which some Americans had just fired at them. For the most part, though, the British left private property alone, focusing their attention instead on the city’s government buildings.
Seeking revenge for the sacking of York in Canada by the Americans, the British had first stopped at the still-uncompleted Capitol, where they piled up furniture in both the House and Senate wings, mixed in rocket powder and applied the torch. Within minutes, flames were shooting out through the windows and roof, damaging not only the congressional chambers, but also the Library of Congress and the Supreme Court, which were located inside.
Afterward, about one hundred and fifty men marched down Pennsylvania Avenue to President’s House. Upon consuming food and wine that had been set out for forty people, they stole some keepsakes, like Madison’s medicine chest, and started a new inferno that left the structure a charred wreck. The adjacent Treasury building was also burned, although much to their disappointment, the British found no money inside. As they camped that night on Capitol Hill, the glow from the fires could be seen as far away as Baltimore.
It was how it stood as Jonathan hobbled to the largest tent in the British camp. During the battle, a British regular had shot him in the thigh. After that, his men had fled, leaving Jonathan, Jake and a few of the braver sorts behind. Their eventual capture had been unavoidable.
The soldier accompanying Jonathan held up the flap to the tent. “The Rear Admiral will see you now, sir,” he said.
Jonathan nodded. “Thank you.” He stepped inside.
“Good evening, sir. You and your men have given us the only fighting we have had,” Cockburn declared of Jonathan and his seamen. He had a wry grin on his face. “It is a pleasure to meet the man who led them in a such a valiant charge.”
“You honor me, sir,” said Jonathan. He swayed on his legs in the command tent set up for Rear Admiral Cockburn. It was located a little further afield from his men in the center of Washington D.C. The tent was lit by a series of sconces, lining the side of the temporary abode. The temperature was stifling inside. Something told Jonathan that a storm was in the making.
“I say…you are a brave man. Your origins must be English,” continued Cockburn with a smirk on his face.
“Scottish actually, sir,” said Jonathan. He felt a stabbing pain in his thigh from where the musket ball had passed clean through it. The British surgeon had patched him up as best he could. He, Jake and what was left of his command were now prisoners of war.
“Ah, I see. You are from the land that births some of the finest warriors. I have heard of tales of the Scottish regiments marching unimpeded against the French in Spain and Portugal. You, sir, certainly have their blood. Your charge earlier today was miraculous and brave, to say the least. Had you had more men, you might have turned the tide of the battle, and I might be standing before you your prisoner,” said Cockburn.
“But we didn’t; the day was yours, sir.” Jonathan eyed the tall man with the long face. He resembled a man who knew victory and his illustrious career spoke of many successes.
“Please sit down, sir.” The Rear Admiral frowned. “How’s the leg. I hope it doesn’t ail you too much?”
“I was fortunate that your surgeon knows his trade. He removed the musket ball without much trouble,” said Jonathan, gratefully taking a seat opposite his captor.
Cockburn chuckled. “He’s had a lot of practice as of late…with the wars in Europe and here.” He dipped his head to the servant standing by the side of the large tent. “May I offer you some wine? It is rather good, courtesy of your president. My men obtained it at President’s House earlier today.”
“Yes, I don’t mind if I do.” His words were courteous, but his thoughts were not. It rankled him that Washington had fallen so easily. That fool General Winder was most probably miles away in ignominious retreat. He had made a big mess of the battle with his dithering. Instead of attacking the British, he had allowed them to march all the way up the side of the Patuxent River to Bladensburg.
“To victory,” said Cockburn, raising his short claret glass. He emitted a throaty laugh when he saw Jonathan’s reluctance. “Come now, sir, be a good sport. This was our victory, but maybe tomorrow will be yours.” He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I never asked for your name, sir.”
Jonathan could not help but like the man who had been his nemesis ever since he arrived in America from his winter quarters on the Island of Bermuda in the spring of that year. Ever since he took command, the British position in the southern theater of war grew stronger. “Commodore Jonathan Mitchell, sir…at your service.”
“Well, Commodore Jonathan Mitchell, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The Rear Admiral’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “To your daring last-minute attempt to save the day,” he said, inclining his glass a little more. “And, of course, to your speedy recovery,” he added.
Jonathan managed a smile. “I can drink to that, sir.”
“Good…” The two men clinked glasses. They remained silent as each of them savored the rich taste of the wine for a few moments.
“What do you have in mind for my men and I, sir?” asked Jonathan, placing his glass on the desk before him.
“You are to be my guest this evening and tomorrow you shall be released.”
“Oh!” This surprised Jonathan.
“Well, I can’t very well detain a brave man who did what I would have done had the situation been reversed. It would not be honorable and not becoming of an officer and a gentleman,” said Cockburn.
“I thank you for your conduct, sir. It is not often that one encounters a gentleman and a navy man with such morals.” Jonathan raised his glass again. “To an end to the war.”
