“It’s the English,” McGrath said darkly. “Protestant or Catholic — they can’t tell them apart. A Paddy is just a Paddy to them.”
“What do we do?”
“Get some money and get down to the coast. Fishing’s a hard life. We’ll just have to find a fisherman in need of a few bob to take a passenger or two. That’s what we have to do.”
Parliament was in session, and a very boisterous session it was proving to be. It was prime minister’s question time and Benjamin Disraeli, the leader of the opposition, was vying with many others for the attention of the speaker. Once recognized, he climbed to his feet, looked ruefully at Lord Palmerston, and shook his head.
“Would the house agree with the incredulity that the Prime Minister’s words have stirred in my breast? Are we really to believe that Britain is best served by stopping ships at sea, searching and seizing them? Does not memory of 1812 raise certain uncomfortable memories? A useless war started at a time of great peril to this country. Started, if memory serves me correctly, by British men-of-war stopping American ships at sea and pressing their seamen into our service. America would not abide that practice then, and I doubt if they will do so now. The Prime Minister’s reckless policies have led this country into two disastrous wars. Must we now look forward to a third?”
There were shouts of agreement from the floor — mixed with boos and cries of anger. Palmerston rose slowly to his feet, then spoke when the barracking had died down.
“Does the honorable gentleman intend that as a question — or just an exercise in demagoguery? International trade is the heart’s blood of the Empire. While it flows we all profit and live in harmony. Cotton is as essential to the fields of India as it is to the mills of Manchester. I would be remiss if I did not take action against those who threaten that trade — and the Americans are doing just that. The coins in your pocket and the clothes on your back are the profits of international trade. Threaten that and you threaten the Empire, you threaten our very existence as a world power. Britain will rule the seas today and in the foreseeable future — just as she has ruled in the past. The sea-lanes of the world shall not be the pathway of American expansionism. The enemy is at the door, and I for one shall not let them in. Perilous times need positive policies.”
“Like the policy of seizing and imprisoning certain sections of our society?” Disraeli said.
Palmerston was furious. “I have said it before, and repeat it here again — matters of military policy will not be discussed in this house, in public, in the presence of the press. If the honorable leader of the opposition has a legitimate question about matters of government policy — why, the door at Number Ten is always open to him. What I cannot, will not, abide is any mention of these matters in public. Do I make myself clear?”
Disraeli dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. Palmerston would not be drawn out on the matter of the Irish. What was happening was known even to the press, who dared not print it and risk the Prime Minister’s wrath. But Disraeli would keep picking away at the opposition’s dangerous policies. Make them known to the voters, give them something to worry about. An early election might easily see a change of government.
Benjamin Disraeli was looking forward to that day.
TEMPTING FATE
General Sherman came up on deck of the Aurora soon after they had dropped the pilot off at the cutter off Dungeness, when the little yacht had steamed well clear of the shoal waters at the mouth of the Thames. It had been warm and close below, and he now savored the fresh sea air with pleasure. A short while later Fox and Korzhenevski joined him.
“That was too closely run for me,” Fox said. “I thought I was no stranger to fear, yet I am forced to admit that I am still quaking inside. I think that it was something about being so defenseless while being surrounded by one’s enemies. I realize all too clearly now that it is one thing to issue orders to field agents — and another thing altogether to do the job yourself. A most humbling experience. I respected my agents before, but now I have nothing but outright admiration for those who face this kind of danger on a daily basis.”
The Count nodded in agreement; Sherman merely shrugged. “What is past is done. Battles cannot be refought.”
Korzhenevski smiled. “I envy you your calm, General. To a man of war the affair at Greenwich must have been no more than an amusing incident.”
“Quite the opposite. I found it most disconcerting to feel so helpless while surrounded by the enemy. I think I prefer the battlefield.”
“I sincerely regret putting you in such danger,” the Count said. “I will plan better in the future and work hard to avoid such encounters.”
“Then what do you think we should do next?” Sherman asked.
“That is for you to tell me. But you should know that at this moment we are approaching a very sensitive part of Britain. Not too far from here, on the south coast of England, are the main naval ports of Southampton and Plymouth. Almost all of the British fleet is based at one or the other of them. I am sure there will be matters of
great interest at those two ports.”
“Must we risk detection by sailing into military ports?” Fox asked, worried. “I am afraid that last night’s disturbing proximity to the enemy was more than enough for me for the time being.”
“I am tempted to agree with Gus,” Sherman said. “I see no reason to put our heads into the lion’s jaws yet again.”
The Count bowed and clicked his heels. “I acknowledge your superior wisdom and withdraw any suggestion of a visit to either of these seaports. The fact is that I have other agents in England, people who are above suspicion, who can look in on them and chart their ship movements if they are so ordered. Please put the entire matter from your minds.”
Sherman nodded agreement. “Being naval officers, you gentlemen naturally look to the sea and matters maritime. For me it is the land and the terrain that is most important. I would be pleased if we could take that into consideration. I would like to know a good bit more about the English fortresses, countryside, and railroads—”
“But of course!” the Count called out, clapping his hands with pleasure. “I have Russian charts below, but they begin at the coastline and reveal little or nothing of the country’s interior. My general — we must get you a copy of a Bradshaw.”
“I’m afraid that I don’t understand…”
“But I do,” Fox said. “I have one in my library in Washington City — which of course will be of no help to us here. A Bradshaw is an English publication that contains timetables of all the trains that run in the British Isles.”
“I would certainly be pleased to have one.”
“And that you shall,” the Count said. “I had planned a stop at Dover for fresh supplies from the ship’s chandlers there. While that is being done I shall visit a local bookshop. Since Dover is the main port of entry from the continent, they will certainly have this invaluable guide for sale there.”