A World on Fire_ Britain's Crucial Role in the American Civil War - Amanda Foreman [237]
The virtually friendless Rubery needed a second for his duel with Tompkins. An acquaintance put him in touch with Asbury Harpending, a Confederate veteran who had fought at Shiloh. Only a year older than Rubery, Harpending seemed to be living proof that fantasies can come true. Brought up in Kentucky, he had run away from home as a teenager and made his way to Mexico, where he discovered a gold mine, becoming rich overnight. But the chronic anarchy and violence that bedeviled Mexico soon separated Harpending from his new source of wealth. Undaunted, when the war began, he went to San Francisco with fresh schemes in mind. His first idea was to organize a chapter of the Knights of the Golden Circle, a secret pro-Southern society, and have each member recruit a hundred volunteers. This, he reckoned, would give him a big enough force to seize California’s government buildings and declare the state’s allegiance to the South. When that failed, he somehow got himself to Richmond, where he wrangled an officer’s commission in the Confederate navy.
Harpending returned to San Francisco with a new plan. He and a friend named Ridgley Greathouse were going to charter a ship, sail it into Mexican waters, and lie in wait for the Pacific Mail steamer and its cargo of California gold. After offloading the passengers, they would equip the steamer as a privateer and send the gold to Richmond. Thus armed, they would prey on Californian cargo ships and, with luck, disrupt the supply of gold to the North. The only hitch to the plan was the $25,000 required to see it through to execution. Harpending was therefore delighted to meet the pro-Southern and apparently well-heeled Rubery.
But first, Harpending had to rescue his friend from the duel with Tompkins. Alfred Rubery’s physical prowess lagged far behind his enthusiasm. “I tried him at pistol practice,” recalled Harpending, “and found that, with extra good luck, at ten paces he could hit a barn.” The American could fast-talk his way out of anything; he used his gift now to make the duel disappear. With Tompkins safely dispatched, the three conspirators began looking for a suitable ship. They soon happened upon the J. M. Chapman, a ninety-ton schooner that had just made a record-breaking voyage from New York. As soon as ownership was transferred to them, they proceeded to hire a crew and purchase enough firepower to make a formidable warship. “It only remained to secure a navigator who could be implicitly trusted,” wrote Harpending. When none materialized, they were forced to engage William Law, a sea captain and ex–slave trader who had been dismissed by the Pacific Mail Company. Law had only eight fingers and “was the most repulsive reptile in appearance that I ever set eyes on,” wrote Harpending. His antipathy proved well founded.
The day of departure was set for March 15, 1863. The night before, Harpending and Rubery hid in a dark alley behind the American Exchange Hotel and waited for the crew to arrive. They then divided into three squads to avoid suspicion and “slipped through the dimly lighted streets, past roaring saloons and sailor boarding houses” and reached an unfrequented part of the waterfront unnoticed, where the privateer was moored. Rubery and Harpending “were exultant.” But,
when we scrambled aboard the Chapman, Greathouse was pacing the deck in agitation. Law was not there. I experienced a shock such as a man receives when a bucket of ice water is emptied on him in his sleep. The suggestion of treachery could not be