William, meanwhile, appears to have given the ice venture little thought, and to have spent his time enjoying the beef-steak-and-oyster dinners held weekly by members of a Boston literary society he had helped found called the Anthology Club. He had given business a try on his trip to Europe a few years earlier, and felt he had no talent or taste for it. As he did not need to earn a living, he preferred the pleasant company of Boston’s young literati. It is a wonder that Frederic persuaded him to get involved in the ice trade as winter closed in on Boston in 1805. But he went along with his younger brother’s plans, which were, on the face of it, quite straightforward.
European colonial powers in the West Indies each had a different set of laws and regulations relating to trade, all of them subject to rapid change as treaties were made and broken. It was the year of the Battle of Trafalgar, when Nelson won his famous victory over the combined French and Spanish fleets off the southern coast of Spain. Though the West Indies were thousands of miles away, such momentous European events sent ripples across the ocean. With its newly won independence America was con tinually adjusting its policies on trade to take into account the shifts of European power and allegiance. For reasons that were never made clear, Frederic decided the best bet for his first venture was the French island of Martinique. Maybe he feared that the most promising market, which was certainly Havana, would draw too much attention to his venture too early, or perhaps the tension between Spain and America at the time warned him off.
Wherever he sent the ice, Frederic wanted to have an officially sanctioned monopoly on the trade, for without it he was certain prices would be driven down by competition and he would not make the profits he dreamed of. Both his brother William and his cousin James spoke French, and his mother had many friends and contacts in France, so they felt they had a good chance of presenting their case to the colonial governor, or Prefect, on Martinique. The principal town on the island, St Pierre, had a population of 30,000, a Tivoli pleasure garden and sufficient perspiring expatriates to provide willing buyers of Rockwood ice.
As there was unlikely to be any ice to cut until January 1806, there was time for William and James to sail to Martinique and seek to establish exclusive rights. Once this was done they would make some short hops to other islands which might be interested in putting in advance orders for a spring delivery of the Tudors’ luxury cargo. Frederic would stay behind and make preparations for the first shipment. The whole enterprise would be funded by him, as Harrison Gray Otis had politely declined any involvement, though he thought the scheme ‘plausible’.
As more people learned of the venture in Boston, Frederic discovered that it was not competition he had to contend with, so much as ridicule. The Judge, in particular, who still believed he was going to make a killing with his South Boston land speculation, urged Frederic to abandon his crazy ice scheme. Robert Gardiner, who was Frederic’s most enthusiastic supporter, would write in his Early Recollections:
The idea was considered so utterly absurd by the sober minded merchants as to be the vagary of a disordered brain, and few men would have been willing to stand the scoffs and sneers from those whose assistance it was necessary to obtain, to aid [Frederic] in his enterprise… Merchants were not willing to charter their vessels to carry ice. The offices declined to insure and sailors were afraid to trust themselves with such a cargo.
But Frederic was a stubborn and determined young man who seemed to thrive on the challenge of accomplishing something that others regarded as impossible and foolhardy. He fancied he cut a dashing figure around town, a dapper little man in a blue coat who was going to make a fortune out of a very big and brilliant idea.
Frederic Tudor was always meticulous in keeping financial accounts. He recorded in his diary that he paid $1.50 to the boatman who rowed William and James out to the brig Jane which would take them to Martinique. It was already 2 November 1805, and it would take them at least a month to reach Martinique. They would need time to deliver their letters of introduction and arrange meetings. Frederic had set his two envoys a whole range of tasks, and was anxious that they took the enterprise seriously and did not consider this an excuse for a holiday. They were to arrange for gifts of ice to be offered to prominent French officials, to find an agent to handle sales, and to check out likely sites for an ice-house in St Pierre. Most important of all, they should negotiate the privilege of a monopoly in supplying the island. As soon as they had news they were to send Frederic a letter. This would take at least a month to arrive, by which time the Boston winter should have set in, ensuring that he had a supply of ice.
Once he had bade William and James farewell, Frederic set to work to prepare for the collection and shipping of the ice. It was a lonely and difficult time for him. Many people had now discovered what he was up to, and were making fun of him. He wrote defiantly in his diary, ‘Let those who win laugh.’ His father urged him to cut his losses and stay in Boston: ‘Every person is in wondering mood at our going to the West Indies and the Judge is continually told what a pity it is and how dangerous too and what a miserable prospect there is of success and I have a lecture every morning urging me to abandon the voyage which he says without knowing our plan is wild and ruinous.’
Had Frederic known what William and James were experiencing, he might have taken more notice of this advice; it was not all plain sailing on board the Jane, and there were hazards enough at the end of the voyage. James kept some notes of their adventures, which he later wrote up in the form of a diary. It is perhaps significant that there is not a single mention in his account of what anybody thought about their ice enterprise – did he himself take it seriously? Frederic certainly doubted the commitment of both his cousin and his brother.
By Wednesday, 27 November the Jane had come through some rough weather, but was expected to reach St Pierre by Sunday the following week. On the Saturday James noted: ‘We have spread all sail with a fine fresh breeze and strained our eyes “to see what was not to be seen”.’ As they scanned the horizon for a glimpse of land they saw instead another ship bearing down on them from the north-east. ‘We feared she was a Spanish privateer and dreaded being plundered and ill-treated; or she might be English and order us to another island, altho’ our papers are fair.’ Though the great age of piracy in these seas had ended a century earlier, there were still privateers waylaying ships with a view to stealing what they could. At first James’s fears appeared to be justified, for the ship fired across their bows as a signal to ‘hove to’. They were asked where they had sailed from and where they were going. The captain of the Jane was ordered aboard the ship, which according to James was ‘a handsome schooner with men of all colors on board’. To everyone’s great relief the captain returned within a quarter of an hour to report that it was a French privateer just out from Martinique, and that he had been well treated – in fact he had been offered fruit and liqueurs.
They were