Fremantle Volume two

By Roger Hughes

FREMANTLE is a historical novel set in 1863 at the height of the American Civil War. Due to the above average length it is in two volumes.
The main character, Arthur Fremantle, was a real British Coldstream Guards officer who came to America to observe the war.
The book is full of historical information, especially concerning the British involvement, but this is tempered by a heady romance, political intrigue, villainy, and a very different outcome from the real war.
It also contains the answer to why Britain and the European powers would not recognize The Confederate South.
There are battle maps and photographs of all the real participants in the great American struggle.
The book also has three never before published photographs of Fremantle and his wife.
A good read for serious Civil War students and fiction readers alike.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger Hughes
• Release date: Dec 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311006363

Roger Hughes

FREMANTLE was written after I had portrayed Lt. Col. Fremantle in civil war reenactments for ten years. I began to research his life and amassed a great deal of information, much of it published in the book. I enjoyed writing long before this, and have had a number of articles published, notably in yachting magazines—which is my great passion. For anyone interested in sailboats, I have a web site at www.schooner-britannia.com which catalogues the transition of a fifty foot ketch to a Brigantine schooner, along with many internal alterations, including a hot tub.

Book preview

FREMANTLE

By Roger Hughes

Copyright 2014

VOLUME TWO

CONTENTS:

Contents are hyperlinked to the chapters. To return to contents use your back, or return button.

XV INTO PENNSYLVANIA

Maryland—Chambersburg—Longstreet’s camp—Pickett—Buford at Gettysburg—Dawn on 1st July—Opening guns.

XVI HELL ON EARTH

Council of war—Rebel yell—Fierce fighting—The Photographer—Gettysburg—A hospital—Fremantle and Robinson.

XVII GROUND OF OUR CHOOSING

Lee in Gettysburg—General Ewell—The embalmer—Longstreet and Lee—Fremantle and Longstreet—Meade arrives.

XVIII NO OPTION BUT TO FIGHT

Dawn—Longstreet’s scouts—Visit to General Lee—Ewell’s reprieve—Federal Commanders—Council of War.

XIX EXERT SOME INFLUENCE

Lee and Longstreet in the seminary—Fremantle with Ewell—Midnight halt—Into Washington—The Legation—The White House—Lyons and Lincoln.

XX SAVE THE UNION

Lincoln and his cabinet—Fremantle and Goodman—Journey back.

XXI NOT MY VICTORY

Fremantle to Washington—Encounter with Goodman—Meeting Lincoln—Return to the army—Armistice.

XXII TO THE CONFEDERACY

Triumphant march—The review—Celebration.

XXIII A MAJOR STUMBLING BLOCK

A telegram—The Confederate Cabinet.

XXIV A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

Fremantle and Lilly in Washington—Confessions—Lincoln and Stanton—Ford’s—Lyons and Fremantle—Davis and Benjamin—Arrival of Lord Palmerston.

XXV A HEAVY DOSE OF REALITY

Palmerston—The British Legation—Johnson and cabinet—Davis and Palmerston—Davis and Johnson.

XXVI LIKE PLAYING CHESS

Conditions in Washington—negotiations—Palmerston mediates—Lee’s house—Fremantle and Lilly—Bombardment.

XXVII ONLY MEMORIES

Capitulation—Palmerston returns—Fremantle and Lilly in Richmond—Lilly’s godmother—The grand review—Return to Washington.

XXVIII A FOREIGN DIGNITARY

Meeting with Lyons—Return to Richmond—Dignitaries.

XXIX WHAT A DAY THIS HAS BEEN

The Alabama—Assassination attempt—Victoria.

XXX AN INESTIMABLE HONOR

The ceremony—Presentation—Fremantle, Palmerston and Lyons.

Biography

Photographs of all the real participants, including three new images of Arthur Fremantle and his wife.

BIBLIOGRPHY

Containing all the books referred to in this publication.

CHAPTER XV

INTO PENNSYLVANIA

Maryland—Chambersburg—Longstreet’s camp—Pickett—Buford at Gettysburg—Dawn on 1st July—Opening guns.

Prior to leaving Virginia the three comrades decided to visit Winchester, where McMan promptly vanished. I know where he’ll be, grinned Lawley. We just need to find the nearest pub.

They discovered The Town Tavern on Braddock Street. Imaginative name, what? remarked Lawley, pushing through the double doors and peering into the gloomy smoke filled room. McMan was at a table with two others.

Look out lads, dur British is comin! he said in a loud voice, seeing them threading their way between the tables. He had fallen in with two fellow countrymen, a Corporal and a Private. They showed absolutely no respect whatsoever for Fremantle’s rank as McMan introduced them, continuing to jabber away so fast he had difficulty deciphering more than a few words. Apparently one had been wounded at Chancellorsville.

Don’t you have any scruples fighting your fellow micks from up North? enquired Lawley. "Seems like there’s thousands of Irish Brigades in the Union Army.

Be-Jesus not on y’ur life! retorted the Corporal. If they’re Yankees dey must be no good damnable scum, whatever else da’ be! Anyway Shamus and me don’t go asking ‘em der religion afore we blows der heads off!

That’s civil war for you thought Fremantle—very civil!

McMan offered to treat his impecunious countrymen to dinner, but they were offered an indifferent meal, all but thrown at them by the surly waiter. The two Confederates were for pitching him out on the street as an ungrateful rascal. Had they not just liberated his town from the Yankee invaders? McMan prevailed on them to leave him alone.

It was obvious that Winchester, at the northern head of the Shenandoah Valley, had suffered greatly. Many homes were completely destroyed, their timbers used for firewood or fortifications. Since most of the town’s male population were either away fighting or dead, the women had little alternative but to try to fend for themselves. There had been another pitched battle a few days previously, when the detested Yankee, Milroy, had been driven out by Jackson’s old Corp., now commanded by Richard Ewell. But some said Old Blue Eyes was still leading them from his chariot in the sky. Jackson’s name was second only to God in this area, and above it in some opinions. They had laid him to rest in Lexington, down the valley, in the small cemetery just up the hill from his house, where the grave quickly become a shrine. Opinions differed whether his successor would lead them to even greater victories, but they were out there now, the van’, marching into Pennsylvania.

They said farewell to the Irish Confederates and moved on, intent on catching either Lee or Longstreet’s camp. They did not need an Indian scout to follow the trail, they just followed the mass of troops pressing forward on the dusty roads. Their horses slowed them down, Fremantle’s having thrown a shoe and Lawley’s looking like it might die under him any moment.

We might move quicker if we hitched a ride in one of those wagons, quipped Lawley. Or maybe we could lie on their bayonets like some Fakir, they could prod us along with the flow.

Fremantle felt some trepidation knowing they would soon meet the wide Potomac. He didn’t relish the prospect of fording another river, especially the largest in the area, and was relieved to learn from a trooper they would be crossing on Confederate pontoons. It was mid-afternoon before they arrived at the river, the small town of Williamsport on the opposite bank. Descending the rutted track to the waters edge Fremantle was dismayed to find absolutely nothing spanning the three hundred foot wide stream.

What happened to the Confederate pontoons? he asked an officer coordinating the crossing.

Right in front of you Colonel, he replied grinning. That’s how General Lee crossed, so that’s how y’all cross, don’t worry it aint deep.

Oh very humorous! he thought as he waded in pulling the horse after him. It was swift flowing and excruciatingly cold but as the man said, shallow. The deepest section came only to his knees and thankfully he could also see the bottom as he picked his way with infinite care between the loose stones. Lawley was less careful and slipped midstream, finding himself up to his armpits. The water was shockingly cold and quite took his breath away. They helped him out on the other side, but unlike the Rappahannock there was no fire to welcome them.

I’m all right chaps, let’s press on. I’ll dry as we go and I’m a damn sight more hungry than wet, said Lawley spiritedly as they helped him wring out his jacket. But he had already begun shaking uncontrollably.

Prospects of an early dinner by a roaring fire faded when they learned that Lee and his staff had pressed on to Hagerstown, five miles further north. With Lawley’s teeth constantly chattering they decided against continuing and try to find lodging for the night.

Should be simple enough, suggested Fremantle. I understand Maryland is very pro Southern.

His standing in the eyes of his new friends took a decidedly downwards turn when they discovered the population were not only anti Confederate, they were anti everyone—including Englishmen and Irishmen. Every house was shuttered and barred, the larger ones guarded by Confederate soldiers. Wishing to be particularly careful not to upset the Marylanders, Lee had proclaimed all private property to be out of bounds. If they could be persuaded to declare for the South it would be a major coupe.

The only place they could find was a barn already full of soldiers and pigs, neither showed the slightest respect for Fremantle’s rank. When he asked about hay the soldiers told him to Go to hell and the pigs seemed equally aware that they, like the population, were a protected species. The men had already commandeered every bale to make beds so that was that. A few were persuaded to share their meager rations, hardtack and bacon, but only after Fremantle produced the magic Yankee bills. A feat which renewed his friend’s faith in their leader.

I’m sure it’s nothing personal, commiserated Lawley. I’ve noticed they don’t seem to have much respect even for their own officers, except the ones who’ve proved themselves in the forefront. Those they’ll die for!

Fremantle was up early after a fitful almost sleepless night. The snoring and grunting had been horrendous and he was not sure who was worse, the men or the pigs. Lawley had been shaking and sneezing all night and awoke with a fine cold. He looked dreadful and complained that every bone in his body ached.

Sorry chaps, don’t think I could stay on a horse five minutes. Makes no difference anyway, the blasted thing is as buggered as me! Why don’t you two go on ahead, he coughed. I’ll scrounge a lift in a wagon or something.

It was finally agreed that McMan would stay with Lawley, while Fremantle took the best horse and went for help. On his own he quickly caught up with Longstreet’s entourage, a mile south of Greencastle. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience General. I do realize you’re trying to fight a war, but you know what civilians are.

I do indeed Colonel. Not to worry, we must definitely look after Mr. Lawley. Perhaps, through his columns he will be able to persuade the Great British public to pressure their government into doing the right thing. That would be worth carrying him the length of the country! Major Sorrel, please send an ambulance to pick up the good Colonel’s colleagues.

After directing the driver Fremantle headed for the cookhouse and what he considered a well deserved breakfast, but he had missed the boat, they were striking the tents and moving again. We’ll probably be in Chambersburg tonight, said the cook.

Fremantle suddenly felt desperately tired and decided, instead of pushing on with them he would wait for his pals. He stretched out on a grassy bank to watch the Confederate Army swagger by. Most were led by their musicians playing popular tunes, mainly Dixie’s Land and Maryland, My Maryland, to the tune of tannenbaum which he knew so well. The troops were in high spirits, which stuck him as odd since they were marching into Pennsylvania, decidedly enemy territory. On the other hand, they understood why they were ordered to leave Maryland alone, but Pennsylvania, that was real Yankee land and ripe for plucking. Having seen the ruins of Culpeper and the war torn streets of Winchester, Fremantle thought their reserve highly commendable, especially since some of the locals were antagonistic and not afraid to show it.

He watched a well proportioned, red faced woman defending her gate like she was on the battlements of some castle. The Stars and Stripes were draped over her ample bosom, and she taunted the passing columns with Reb’s go home, and Dirty stinking Reb’s. Most swaggered by without a second glance, but when a group of Hood’s Texans came up and she began deriding them, one astute wag warned her in a loud voice. Y’all have a care ma’am, we’s Hood’s boys an’ we’s famous for stormin’ breastworks, spec’ly when the Yankee flag is on ‘em. The woman colored and beat a hasty retreat into the house, to whoops and howls of laughter.

He dozed off in the warm sunlight, only to be awakened by a familiar shout. Wake up thur ya’ lazy devil. What would you think to be doin’, kippin’ when there’s a war on? If you don’t come along dis minute you’re likely to be missin it all. McMan was perched on the tailgate of the wagon, his legs hanging out the back. Lawley was on one of the stretchers sound asleep. Fremantle hobbled stiffly down the verge and scrambled on the slow moving wagon, hitching his horse to the back.

Looks like he could do with getin’ in as well, poor blighter, said McMan as they jolted their way past a broken wooden sign marked, Mason and Dixon Line, and entered the State of Pennsylvania.

Fremantle felt some pride in recalling that astronomer Charles Mason and surveyor Jeremiah Dixon were both Englishman, who around one hundred years before had surveyed the demarcation border between Maryland and Pennsylvania, now considered the cultural divide between North and South.

At Chambersburg Lawley had not improved, sneezing and coughing horrendously and clearly in need of a doctor and medicine. They decided he would be better off under a proper roof, but found only a dismal little room at the Franklin Hotel. As McMan headed for the bar, Fremantle set off to find the local physician. Being a stranger in neither blue nor gray, he found himself accosted by the locals asking whether he was Yankee or a Reb’. The doctor explained, Folks in these parts are of Dutch heritage and hate both sides, just wanting it to end. He promised to call on Lawley.

Having seen him safely tucked up, and with McMan pledging to keep an eye on him, Fremantle set off to find Longstreet’s headquarters. He found the General lounging in his chair by the fire, sipping a mug of steaming coffee. Help yourself Arthur? he said, pointing to a blackened, encrusted pot simmering on a gantry.

Thank you sir, but I now have my own brew. Might I have a little hot water, if it’s not too much trouble?

The other pot said Longstreet eyeing him curiously as he fumbled in his haversack. He watched him pull out an enameled tin and what looked like a pair of spoons hinged together like scissors. He scooped a spoon full of black stuff and snapped the two halves shut with a click. He then placed the device in a mug of boiling water. After a minute he stirred the brew round, removed the spoons, opened them and shook a gooey mass out onto the grass.

Well I reckon I’ve seen it all now and I can definitely die a happy man, said Longstreet, shaking his head in amazement. I don’t know how you English manage it, is it some sort of addiction?

Oh, you mean the brewing ritual replied Fremantle, wondering at first what he was talking about. Suppose it is really, they’re Lawley’s, kindly let me borrow them while he’s in dock. I seem to remember you chaps prized our tea once, until you went and tipped it all into some harbor or other. He chuckled then asked seriously. Do you think there’s a fight brewing? Oh! if you’ll forgive the pun? More and more troops seem to be arriving.

They are, and I don’t suppose it matters if you know, General Lee has ordered the army to converge at a town about twenty miles further down the road. All roads meet there and we’ll move over in the morning, apparently there’s some boot factory or other. Sounds like we might be able to refit the whole army. Place called Gettysburg.

A flash of inspiration suddenly entered Fremantle’s head. If this factory was on a hill, would it be called boot hill? It made him chuckle, but seeing Longstreet’s seriousness he decided to keep it to himself, perhaps he might use it on Lawley.

As to a fight, we don’t even know where the Fed’s are. Haven’t heard a darned word from Stuart since he went swanning off on his own over a week ago. The General’s quite worried, and so he should be, it’s not at all healthy not knowing the whereabouts or strength of your enemy in his own territory. Ten-to-one he knows where we are.

Do you give much credence to that, er, scout, Harrison general? I must say I thought him a very slippery individual.

They all are, it’s the nature of their job, that’s how they stay alive. Harrison has been reliable before and we confirmed what he told us, Hooker’s been replaced by Meade. We’re not so much concerned about who’s in charge though, they change so regularly nobody can keep pace anyway. We’re more interested to know where, and how many.

The arrival of a group of horsemen brought the conversation to an end. Longstreet got up from his chair. Oh Oh!, here comes the reinforcements!

An elegantly dressed rider dismounted and strode purposefully towards Longstreet, halted, snapped to attention and saluted.

George, good to see you, is your division up?

Good evening General Longstreet sir, no ‘fraid not, not yet anyway. Won’t be until tomorrow evening or maybe the next day. I decided to come on ahead to find out what all the fuss was about. Sounds like we are in for a scrap. What’s the position, where’s the old man?

Up the road a-ways, you better get over there and let him know where your people are. Oh, by the way George, allow me to present our newest recruit. He beckoned Fremantle. General George Pickett, this is Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Fremantle, Her Majesty’s Coldstream Guards all the way from the old country.

Ah-ha, yes I heard we had a redcoat in our midst. The fame of your regiment precedes you Colonel. Your daddy wasn’t by any chance involved in the last altercation over here was he? Pickett stuck his hand out with a smile.

Not my father general, but my grandfather was unfortunately with Cornwallis at Yorktown, replied Fremantle defensively.

Oh, no problem old boy, just enquiring, he replied. You might rightly assume we Americans were not content with that success. Having thrown out our imperial overlords we are now dedicated to dismantling the institution we put in their place, and knocking the stuffing out of each other in the process. Ironic don’t you think?

Fremantle glanced at Longstreet who simply shrugged. He took an instant liking to the flamboyant officer who was about 5’8" but very slim, which made him seem taller. He was clad in an immaculate gray frock coat with ornately embroidered cuffs and white kid gloves with the same embellishments. A red sash was tied round his waist over which the black, highly polished sword belt was strapped. The boots were also immaculate and carried no hint of his long ride. The ensemble was topped with a gray Kepi under which hung long dark curls. I’d be court marshaled if I showed up to my commanding officer with hair like that, thought Fremantle.

Coffee George, or maybe you’d like some of Fremantle’s tea.

Oh rather. China or Indian?

Fraid I have no idea sir, I borrowed it, tastes fine though. Allow me to brew you a cup, no milk I’m afraid.

Good grief George, you’ve only been here five minutes and you’re already acting more English than Fremantle. Longstreet showed a broad smile through his beard. You’re never going to get those Georgia boys of yours moving by shouting tally ho you know.

Heck no! laughed Pickett, But just imagine a poor old fox back in some rolling English meadow hearing a Rebel yell, probably die of fright I wouldn’t doubt!

Actually, I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing this famous stridulation yet, interjected Fremantle, beginning the tea ritual. I understand it is enough to strike terror into the stoutest hearts, do you think you could arrange a demonstration?

Both Americans stared at each other and Longstreet shook his head in disbelief, I have a strange feeling you might be getting a dose of the real thing shortly Arthur.

On a more serious note Colonel if I may? Pickett’s tone caused Fremantle to look up from pouring the water. I would very much value an opportunity to discuss with you the political situation in England, namely the recognition question, when we have more leisure you understand.

Of course General, but please understand I’m a professional soldier like yourselves, and I don’t have the ear of Government. I could only express my own opinion as a sort of lay person you understand. That should cover every eventuality he thought, handing Pickett a steaming mug of tea.

Excellent, I look forward to another teatime with you. Until then, with your permission Pete I shall pay my respects of our venerable leader. Can I take this with me?

Longstreet nodded and Pickett deftly mounted his jet black stallion with one hand still clutching the mug. He held it high as he trotted off, exhibiting his trophy.

I must say General, said Fremantle shaking his head. You really do have some amazing characters in this army of yours. He hesitated seeing Longstreet’s sideways glance. By that I didn’t mean to infer…well, that you’re, you know, weird or anything. I use the word in the finest possible sense you understand. He paused, wondering how he might extricate himself from this one, as he felt Longstreet eyeing him intently as he felt compelled to continue. You all seem to me to—to be very much like we English in that respect. Indeed, General Lee himself told me he is a member of the Church of England. You could have knocked me over with a feather! Then there’s General Pickett here and Stuart, who I have had the pleasure of meeting already. Both larger than life characters, who might have come straight out of a picture book. I never had the privilege of meeting General Jackson but I understand he also was someone who one would, shall we say, remember. I was told he recommended a night counter attack across the river after Burnside’s repulse at Fredericksburg. But to avoid confusion in the dark, he suggested you should all go in perfectly naked... He broke off, thinking perhaps he had made matters worse, daring to even refer to the revered icon in those terms.

That’s a new one on me, but there are so many stories. Thomas was a character all right. Longstreet sighed, I suppose we all miss him for that as much as his brilliance. But you’ve had your share of eccentrics, what about Wellington and Nelson, they were both as you say, characters, weren’t they?

Oh yes indeed they were. Fremantle fell silent for a moment fingering the sword hanging loosely by his side and picturing his great uncle aboard the Neptune, Second in the line behind Victory at Trafalgar. You know General, a relative of mine actually commanded a first-rater at Trafalgar. He was a great pal of Lord Nelson, one of his band of brothers, as he liked to call them. Finished up as a Vice Admiral. I say, talking of sailors, I don’t suppose you know Raphael Semmes by any chance do you? Capital fellow—for the navy that is, he chuckled.

Heard of him of course, never actually met him though. His brother’s here, McLaw’s division, Georgians.

Really! Well I’m jiggered! That would be Paul Semmes who I met in Richmond. I must definitely look him up tomorrow. My goodness this is really a family war isn’t it?

Too much so if you ask me, responded Longstreet sardonically. Time I turned in, I have a nasty feeling we will need all our energy in the next few days, ’night Arthur. He eased himself slowly out of the chair, stretched and disappeared into his tent.

Fremantle sat alone, musing as he poked the ashes of the dying fire. It was probable the Yankees were out there somewhere, and highly unlikely they would allow their enemy to roam all over Pennsylvania at will. Everyone seemed the think there was bound to be a big one pretty soon. Perhaps it would decide the war one way or the other, then there would be no need for the arrangement with Davis. Lilly’s face came into his thoughts and he wondered where she was. Funny how people drift into each others lives, then out again, sometimes for ever. Like that new song everyone was humming, it may be a year or it may be forever. His head lolled forward, tea spilling over his boots. He strolled over to the tent he was sharing with Moses and as he rolled up his tunic to make a pillow he was thankful he was only an observer.

United States Cavalry General, John Buford, had not the slightest idea when he might get some sleep. He was about two miles west of Gettysburg, nearer than Fremantle could possibly have imagined. He was standing on a gentle slope they called Herr’s Ridge, after the name of the nearby tavern on the Chambersburg Road. Buford had a pretty good idea Lee’s army was up that road. His men nearly run into them yesterday. Now he was busy deploying his front line along the undulating slope.