The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (71 page)

       Harper’s Ferry had been producing and storing USBAA weapons since 1799. It was a treasure chest that General Gaines, now commanding Virginia’s forces---the CSA hadn’t yet formalized its army structure---had targeted as absolutely necessary.

       “There aren’t three ironworks in the entire South capable of producing muskets, side arms and ammunition, let alone artillery,” he had told Calhoun and Governor Floyd. “Even if there were, we don’t have the luxury of waiting for production to commence.  Once Scott’s trained those two corps they’ll be organizing at Carlisle Barracks, he’ll come at us. We’ve got to supply our boys with modern weapons or he’ll roll right over us. And the only way to obtain those weapons is to seize them from the Dominion forts and arsenals.”

      Although Scott had reinforced the meager security garrison at the Ferry---Major Beaufort knew there were some 200 Dominion troops guarding the place---few were on duty this time of morning. Spies---locals loyal to Virginia---had reported that the Ferry’s USBAA commander had divided his men into three shifts, with the ‘graveyard’ detail composed of deadbeats and anyone working off punishments for drunkenness or fighting. With the number of taverns at the Ferry, and with the opportunities for fights and other trouble with both the locals and the construction gangs in town digging the new canal, there was always more than enough to fill the midnight-to-8 a.m. shift. Those on duty at this hour would be worn out from dealing with the usual agenda of Saturday night drunkenness, fighting and petty thievery.

    That meant less than 70 armed soldiers scattered around a five-mile perimeter, with more than half stationed along the rivers and cliffs. Luke had 300 well-armed horsemen on Bolivar Heights who would hit the town from its lightly-guarded rear just before dawn. Half would overrun the USBAA temporary camp located southeast of Washington Street, near the Shenandoah cliffs. The rest would charge through the town, driving the guards back to the Potomac. Once secured, the arsenal would be emptied and the artillery confiscated.  (Luke had little concern about the construction crews; they were disarmed and camped for the most part across the Potomac on Maryland Heights.) The entire operation shouldn’t take more than an hour; they’d be loading their haul by 7 a.m.

        Nor was Beaufort worried about retaliation. His was the only mobile force in northwestern Virginia.
Anywa
y, he thought,
it’ll be early Monday before word gets down to Georgetown. By that time, we’ll be back in the Blue Ridge
. He chuckled.
Like to see the look on Scott’s face when Tommy Wilder gives him the news… Like to see the look on Wilder’s face when he finds out, too…

         He turned to his right. He could begin to make out the grizzled features of Sgt. Isaac Smith in the pre-dawn light. Smith had been top sergeant in Troop B of the Dragoons when Beaufort had joined them in ’27. Luke had been overjoyed to discover Smith, who had retired in ’31 and come home to Virginia, among the first volunteers when the 1
^st
Virginia Cavalry formed less than two weeks ago.

       “Soon as I heard about this ‘mancipation nonsense, I knew it’d come to this,” Smith had said. “Damn Yankees can’t leave well enough alone. Limeys, too. Well, was bored anyway. Not much to do down in Charlottesville, ‘sides pour beer and clean up after the pretty boys at the university.” He had grinned and spit. “’Spect I’ll be seeing some of them, sooner or later. Kind of looking forward to that… Shoe’ll be on the other foot…boot, actually.” Smith had grinned and spit again.

        Major Beaufort took a deep breath and checked his watch: 4:57. “Well, Sergeant, let’s proceed down this hill and obtain General Gaines his ordinance…” He shifted left in his saddle to his second-in-command. Capt. Lewis Washington, a great-nephew of the second G-G, as a resident-planter in the Ferry area had done much of the initial planning for the raid. “Captain, if you’re also ready…” The planter, waving a sword he claimed to be one the original Washington had used at Boston, nodded. “Let’s give those Yankees a little bit of hell…”

___________

   As expected, it was over within an hour. Though to the raw Virginians, it had seemed the longest hour of their lives.

   The astonished perimeter pickets at the foot of Bolivar Heights, looking up into the still-dark western sky, heard the Virginians before they saw them. Beaufort and his men smashed through the perimeter, a small force of pre-designated troopers stopping to round up the pickets.

     Washington peeled off with his select force and thundered down on the USBAA encampment.  A few of the Dominion soldiers---mainly those who had stayed near their tents the previous evening---got off shots. Two Virginians were wounded, one seriously, and one killed, though it was determined he had broken his neck in a fall from his horse. The Dominion casualties were also light; most of the hung-over men surrendered without picking up a musket. The same, unfortunately, couldn’t be said for their unlucky commander. Maj. Stephen Daley fell mortally wounded, bullet holes in his stomach and shoulder and a sword incision deep in his chest.  The encampment was secured by 5:45 a.m.

      Major Beaufort and the remainder of the 1
^st
raced through the Ferry itself, detachments surrounding and securing the government buildings. The pickets made an initial stand at the intersection of High and Gillmore Streets but fell further back into the sack. They made a last stand on a line anchored by the Wager House Hotel and Galt’s Saloon near the confluence of the two rivers. Here Major Beaufort dismounted his remaining men---somewhere over 100, by later estimate---and formed a line.

       “How many you think they’ve got?” he yelled to Sergeant Smith, who had stayed close since the charge began. They were standing at the corner of one in a series of unconnected buildings, which apparently were shops. The men had formed between and on either side of the row.

       “Not more than 20, but they’re well armed and we’ve lost the advantage of coming out of the dark.” It was now 5:30 and becoming brighter by the minute.

       The Dominion men had put together a piecemeal barricade of overturned wagons, carriages and furniture hastily dragged from the two buildings. USBAA sharpshooters were in the process of picking off foolhardy upright Virginians whose wild charge had left them with an undue sense of invulnerability.

    Smith saw that first and motioned the boys to the ground. “We’ve got to drop back some, Major. Pull back to this line of shops; that’ll give us some protection.”

      Beaufort looked around and nodded. “You’re right. Even lying flat, out front here we’re sitting ducks. Those Yankees can keep picking us off one by one as long as their ammunition holds out. Let’s get them back…” He waved his sword in a backward motion and several non-commissioned officers began pushing the troopers backwards.

         At least a half-dozen more Virginians went down in the retreat, but the Dominion fire suddenly stopped. When Beaufort realized it, he ordered his own cease-fire.

       “What do you think, Isaac? Think they’ve had enough?”

      “In a way, Major. I think they’re out of bullets. Don’t see any white flag yet, though.” He turned and looked back through the town. “Horseman coming in from the west, too, Sir.”

       Beaufort looked that way as the rider drew close enough to expose the grey distinguishing cloths tied around both arms and on his hat. “Appears to be a messenger from Captain Washington. Sounds like the gunfire out that way has died off, too.”

       After receiving the messenger’s report of the encampment’s surrender, Luke had a white flag of his own raised. Despite Smith’s grumblings that he was taking an unnecessary chance, the Mississippian marched under it and across the street, pausing midway.

      “Identify yourself.” The shout came from behind the barricade.

       “I’m Major Beaufort, commanding 1
^st
Virginia Cavalry. Who’s in command back there?”

       “Hell, ain’t nobody in command. And ain’t nobody ever heard of the 1
^st
Virginia Cavalry, neither.” The laughter was loud and bitter.

       “But, since you got us cornered and we’re out of ammunition, looks like we’ll be surrendering to you anyways…”

        A different voice: “Unless that white flag means you come to surrender
to us
…” 

     Beaufort smiled, the tension suddenly gone. “Right the first time, soldiers. You put up a hell of a fight. Come out with your hands up and you’ll be treated honorably.”

       So ended the first battle.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The Residency

Georgetown, D.C.

August 19, 1833, 4:15 p.m.:

    “Major Daley will be mourned throughout the North as the first fallen hero of the struggle.”

     Scott snorted. “That may be, Sir. But if he had lived, I’d have cashiered the damn fool. Three shifts instead of two…and a majority of the guards, apparently, along the riverbanks! What the hell was he thinking? That they’d sail up the Shenandoah and try an amphibious landing?”

    The report had come in around noon from an exhausted USBAA messenger dispatched after the rebel cavalry vacated the Ferry late yesterday afternoon. The arsenal and its artillery park had been striped clean. Moments after the firing ended, wagons had appeared from Bolivar Heights. The Virginians had piled in muskets, side arms and boxes of ammunition and had seized enough Dominion wagons and carriages to carry the overflow. Casualties had been relatively light: 19 USBAA, including six dead; the raiders had 14 dead, mostly in front of the Wager House, and carried away several wounded.

      Scott glanced at the report. “Our wounded are being cared for at the Dispensary and in several of the local churches…”

      Burr looked over gravely: “Their wounded won’t get far…”

      “They won’t have to. I’m betting they’ve already been left with local farmers along the way back.”

      The G-G was shaking his head. “I actually didn’t believe, deep down, that this day would come.” He sighed and pulled out a paper that had been locked in a desk drawer.

      “I had Mr. Donelson prepare this proclamation some days ago, after your initial report on officer resignations, General. It authorizes and calls for the 30,000 volunteers projected in your contingency plan.

       “I will issue it tomorrow morning. I’m also ordering you to activate the remainder of the contingency plan. Including putting a garrison around this city…”

      “I’m putting together a makeshift garrison now, Mr. Governor. We’ll utilize the 4
^th
Artillery, the other Army troops in and around Georgetown and the ceremonial Marine detachment. Additionally, I’ve sent a rider to Fort McHenry. By tomorrow afternoon, Major Judge and most of his command will be on the march here.”

      A-G Butler’s eyebrows rose questioningly.

      “The Royal Navy at RNS Baltimore will augment the skeleton force Judge is leaving behind. I don’t expect any trouble there…”

      “But you are worried about Georgetown, General.” Colonel Burr’s tone indicated a statement of fact rather than a formal question.

        Scott’s face was hard. “Until Colonel Thayer gets here with the Corps of Cadets---whom I’ve already ordered down---and we receive those battle-hardened Illinois and Ohio volunteers the plan calls for, yes.”

        Van Buren turned to look out the window toward the Potomac as if he expected to see rebel forces poised on Arlington Hill. “What’s the likelihood of a rebel attack in the next week or so, General?”

        “This morning I’d have said negligible, Mr. Governor. But that was before this came in.” He indicated the Harper’s Ferry report he still clutched in his huge paw. “I must admit they’ve surprised me: that raid seems to have been professionally organized and commanded. Didn’t think Gaines was capable…”

          Cass was startled: “Gaines? You think Gaines is commanding the rebels?”

         “Not enough time for any of the other possibilities like Zach Taylor or Davy Twiggs to have gotten up to Richmond yet. Twiggs, to the best of my knowledge, is still at Fortress Monroe, wearing a blue uniform. No, it’s Gaines.” He paused. “And, Mr. Secretary, this raid was commanded by someone you may also recall, if vaguely.”

        He looked down at the report once more. “Their commander identified himself as ‘Major Beaufort.’ You may remember my secretary, Lt. Luke Beaufort of Mississippi. Resigned August 1
^st
. When I called him to Georgetown, he was serving in Bull Sumner’s Dragoons. Seems his new command is something called the 1
^st
Virginia Cavalry.”

        The G-G was grave: “How many more of these, shall we say, ‘instantaneous’ regiments can they field, General?”

        The leonine head shook and the blue eyes seemed to frost. “None, I pray, Mr. Governor. At least till Brian Judge gets here. Even then, it will be dangerous for some weeks.”

     The General paused and glanced toward the Potomac himself. Speaking softly, almost as if to himself, he continued: “I expect they’re slapping other units together now, but my belief is it will take several weeks to put together enough to threaten us. My guess is this 1
^st
Virginia Cavalry raid was a one-shot deal: the best riders and marksmen available, under crack professional officers. It will take time to duplicate. Also, to form up and train infantry. 

       “Any attack would be little more than a nuisance raid; conducted for its shock value…”

       Van Buren had sat back behind his desk. Now he jumped to his feet again. “Militarily perhaps simply a ‘nuisance,’ General. Politically, a disaster of the gravest consequences. If nothing else, think of the ramifications. Think of London’s view. We must demonstrate to the British our ability to put down this apparently all-too-real revolt. Harper’s Ferry can be explained away: a surprise attack, etc. Losing the capital, now…” He looked around the room. “Gentlemen, we simply can not allow it. Georgetown must be held…at all costs!”