The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [264]
“Do they find some sport in this? I only imagine this to be some sort of perverse game. Lord Germain, Lord North, prancing around the drawing rooms of their grand estates in a brandy-soaked quest for some new means to torment me. It is a game they have mastered. This one, however, I must assuredly credit to Lord Sandwich. As first lord of the Admiralty, this would be his doing.”
The conversation was one-sided, and Cornwallis knew the rest of the officers would simply endure.
He was not surprised that Admiral Lord Howe was gone, had already returned to England. The two brothers Howe were in many ways a team, and though each man had responsibility for his own branch of the service, no one truly expected Richard Lord Howe to remain in America while William Howe was skewered by Parliament.
Before he had sailed from England, Cornwallis had been summoned to the official hearings, but would not provide ammunition for William Howe’s detractors. It was always so simple for the king’s opponents to make a target of one man, to hold him up as a symbol of so many failures of policy. Cornwallis knew both the successes and the failings of William Howe, knew that it was the failings that would plague Howe for the rest of his life. It was not up to Parliament to make it worse.
Admiral Howe’s replacements thus far had been a strange merry-go-round of inept commanders, and Cornwallis had observed the appointments from England with bewilderment. It was as though Lord Sandwich was toying with American naval operations as a means to provide his aging commanders their one final hurrah. As each man was shuffled into place, his incompetence would be revealed usually as an unwillingness to perform any real duty at all. For several months, the result had been a powerful navy willed into inaction by men who cared more for the peaceful glory of retirement than for actually confronting the French.
Clinton’s fury was directed at yet another man who had been dredged from the halls of the Admiralty, Marriot Arbuthnot, perhaps the most abrasive, unpleasant, and bombastic officer in the navy. Arbuthnot had been commander of the naval force in Halifax. Now, growing feeble in his late sixties, he was the latest selection by Lord Sandwich to rescue the war from the army and in the process, torment Henry Clinton.
“We will be graced presently by another of the highly exalted Old Ladies of the Admiralty. Certainly most of you have some acquaintance with Admiral Arbuthnot.”
There were small groans, and Clinton seemed pleased at the response.
“Yes, well, we shall come to know him in much more detail. If there is one benefit to his arrival, it is that he will not remain here long. There is some urgency in London that this command provide assistance to the governor of Jamaica. Apparently, the French fleet in the West Indies is preparing an invasion of that island, for what reason I have no possible idea. However, such a threat to the king’s interests must be answered, and this command has been ordered to supply troops. It is of no concern to Lord Germain that this post has already been depleted to the extreme. However, orders will be obeyed. Admiral Arbuthnot is to sail to Jamaica, transporting a force numbering some four thousand men. Someone in this room will command that force. Despite my better judgment, I would ask for your involvement.”
Cornwallis felt a ray of light cutting through him, said, “If it is acceptable, sir, I will go.”
The room fell quiet, and Cornwallis could see the surprise on Clinton’s face, twisting slowly into a smile.
“I am greatly pleased by your suggestion, General. I had thought a junior man, but, no, this matter requires our most serious consideration. You are a most appropriate choice. So it will be!”
LATE SEPTEMBER 1779
The mission was organized with astounding speed, and Cornwallis had no doubt that Clinton’s sudden efficiency had much more to do with his glee over his departure than with any concerns for Jamaica.
He had thought little of