Scandal and Secrets

by Christopher Hoare

  Crawford’s smile was as false as his own. “I don’t believe I did say. I will call my attendant to let you out.”

  Symington Holmes heard a light tap upon his door as he sat trying to read in the light of a candle. He set down the book and shuffled through the papers on the table for his pistol. “Wait a moment. Wait a moment, please.”

  When he reached the door, he cocked the pistol with his right hand braced against his belt and opened the door. A man with a cloak pulled tight around him stood outside. The man opened his hand to show an old royalist medallion. “Mistaire Holmes, it is Henri.”

  “Henri? Do you mean the man who escorted me and McNab to Antwerp last year?”

  “The same. Can I come in before your Dutchmen see me?”

  Holmes opened the door wide for a moment and then closed and bolted it behind his visitor. “Sit down, old Chap. I have wine or Dutch beer.”

  Henri loosened his cloak and sat down. Under the cloak he had a sabre and a cavalry pistol. “Are we alone?”

  “The owner’s wife and children are upstairs, but they will not observe us. You have taken a terrible chance to come here.”

  “Monsieur le Comte has sent me. We need English assistance to clear Napoleon’s forces out of Antwerp.”

  “I am told that Marshal Davout is now Minister of War. There should be no units still accepting orders from Napoleon.”

  “You may try to tell that to the soldiers loyal to King Louis, who have fallen attempting to liberate the city from the rebels.”

  “Why should the Count’s royalists be attempting such a thing? It is surely the responsibility of the Minister of War to make the soldiers stand down.”

  “We do not trust Davout. The country is on the brink of civil war. It is essential that Wellington’s army comes to Antwerp to oblige the Provisional government to act against these rebels.”

  Holmes mulled over these words as Henri downed a tumbler of beer. His messages from London that came to him by naval craft from offshore said no forces remained loyal to Napoleon. The Dutch Loyalists to whom he sent such messages from London had told him that the Arenbergs were trying to keep the Dutch out of Antwerp. One of them was lying.

  “I am informed that the Duke of Wellington’s army is finding resistance as he approaches Brussels,” he said. “Who do you suppose these forces are loyal to, and who commands them?”

  “We understand there are several units of the Old Guard in that area. Another source says Marshal Ney commands them.”

  “Monsieur le Comte might assist Wellington to enter Brussels―then he might have troops he can send to Antwerp. The British army must not participate in any form of civil unrest, certainly not a civil war, but he may support the civil authorities in carrying out their responsibilities. Does Monsieur le Comte have authority from King Louis?”

  “We anticipate that the conditions under which King Louis will accept the invitation to rule from the Provisional Government will soon be agreed. At that time Monsieur le Comte will have Royal authority behind him.”

  “Then that seems to be the whole of what we can do now,” Holmes said. “I will send messages to my government and to the Duke, informing them of your mission. There is one other thing that may be of use. Who is occupying the Palais op de Meir in the centre of Antwerp?”

  “I believe it to be a flunky of the old regime . . . a Count Bertrand.”

  “Thank you, old Chap. Can I let you out? I might have Dutch messengers here soon.”

  Henri fastened his cloak again. “Yes, if you will. Please to not let anyone know you have seen me.”

  “Certainement,” Holmes said as he let him out into the night. He went back to the table and picked up a recent message from the Admiralty. The name Bertrand had been mentioned in one of these papers lately . . . where was it? Ah! There. A Count Gatien Bertrand had been made Napoleon’s Grand Marshal of the Palace just over a year ago. Perhaps he was still Napoleon’s right hand man.

  At that moment a musket shot came from outside, followed by several men shouting. He did not need to go outside to learn what had happened.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Council of War: Raising Moral

  The Antiochus and Regent joined the sailing ships of the blockade off Walcheren for a council of war during their second patrol. New orders had arrived from the Admiralty and from Admiral Keith who commanded the blockade on this stretch of coastline. The senior captain who commanded off the Westerschelde was Captain Maitland of the seventy-four gun Bellerophon, and his ship flew a signal for all commanders and first officers to come to him.

  Captain Worthington had seemed in two minds when choosing his companion in the gig, but Roberta had changed into more ladylike attire and by her manner made it plain that she expected to be included. Several other boats were in the water at the same time, Lieutenant Farley’s from the Regent and the officers of the frigates Astrea and Eridanus, who she had never met. She was also surprised to see a Dutch fishing vessel already tied up alongside when they arrived at Bellerophon and was pleased to see Mr. Holmes and van Aa when she reached the quarterdeck.

  Mr. Holmes and Worthington both appeared ready to introduce her to Captain Maitland, but Mr. Holmes quietly backed away with a wistful smile when he saw how possessive was Worthington’s manner. Maitland did not seem surprised to see her. “Welcome aboard, Lady Bond. I believe we have some items of mail from England for you that you must collect before you leave.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  They gathered in the ship’s Great Cabin and chatted until Maitland asked everyone to find a seat. “First, I must ask if everyone has read the Admiralty’s new orders,” he said.

  It seemed that Captain Barnes of the Eridanus had not and so they first discussed these. “The Emperor Napoleon has abdicated and requested a British passport, with which he could have our protection to go to America. The British government has refused both,” Maitland said.

  “In consequence, all ships of the blockade—indeed, all Royal Navy ships at sea—are required to search all vessels they find, merchant or naval, to ensure Napoleon is not aboard. There are several French frigates in sailing order in Atlantic ports that Admiralty is concerned about . . . Yes, Lady Bond?”

  “I received a letter from my husband, who is now acting as British Chargé d’Affaires in Paris, that tells me the supporters of the Bourbon monarchy have mobilised to prevent Napoleon from reaching the ports where the frigates are waiting. As a consequence, he may be almost anywhere in France at the moment.”

  “Yes, very interesting,” Maitland said, “but we are directly concerned with Naval matters at the moment. Perhaps those of you who have other sources of relevant information will offer them to the discussion later.”

  Mr. Holmes stood. “I would suggest that Lady Bond’s information may be very relevant for us, Captain Maitland. If I may be allowed to speak.”

  Maitland shrugged. “Well, if you must. For those of you who do not know, the reason for Mr. Holmes’ presence here is that he is directly responsible to the Admiralty for all intelligence gathering in the Low Countries.”

  Several other officers seemed surprised and a buzz of conversation ensued.

  “I will be very brief with my interruption, gentlemen,” Mr. Holmes said, bringing the cabin to silence. “A Royalist messenger reached me the other night with some requests, but as I spoke with him he imparted the information that Napoleon’s Grand Master of the Palace, Count Bertrand, is presently occupying the Palais op de Meir in Antwerp. Napoleon could well be planning to leave Europe via the Westerschelde.”

  “Also,” van Aa said, “there is an American schooner making ready for sea at Neuzen.”

  Maitland nodded. “Then I would impress upon you all that this force may very well find itself at the centre of important action. What about the state of the French ironclad battleship, Mr. Holmes . . . or Captain Worthington.”

  “Mr. van Aa will be leaving for his contacts outside Antwerp today,” Mr. Holmes s
aid. “We expect he will find that the ship has been repaired and is ready for sea.”

  Captain Worthington looked directly at Captain Maitland. “I believe that we are under different admirals, Sir. Am I correct in believing that you will be responsible for Admiral Keith’s blockade watch offshore, while I will continue to follow Admiral Hotham’s instructions via the Duke of Wellington to patrol the Westerschelde with the Antiochus?”

  “I believe so, Sir. How may we keep in contact?”

  “I will have the Regent or another spiteful in company at all times,” Worthington said. “I will detach it to speak with a frigate of yours if the French show signs of action. Perhaps you might station one near Flushing.”

  Maitland nodded. “Very well. If you go into action with the French ironclad, I intend to be very close with the Bellerophon as well.”

  The discussion lasted into the afternoon when Roberta reminded Captain Worthington that they had better get back to Antiochus if she was to raise steam for them to be on station at the mouth of the Westerschelde by dark.

  She had collected her mail and looked at the addressing as she sat in the gig carrying them back to the Antiochus. One letter had been redirected in London and bore the information “for Lady Bond, care of Admiralty”. The other was from her father, and she decided to open it first.

  After she had read a page or two, she turned to Worthington, seated beside her. “This may amuse you, Captain. My father says he has had a visit from an American gentleman who is a partner in a new steamship venture planning to send ships regularly every month from New York to a port in Europe, either Liverpool or Glasgow, carrying both goods and passengers. They call themselves the Black Ball Line.”

  “Steamships across the Atlantic,” he said with a smile. “I believe I see you laughing at me for siding with Lord Bond when we dismissed your assertion last year.”

  “Well, Sir. Does it seem such a far-fetched idea now as it did then?”

  “I will own that we have progressed a long way in the past year, My Lady. What did the gentleman want of your father?”

  “He asked if we would like to tender for a steamship of two thousand tons that they might consider employing on the route.”

  “Two thousand? Do you think the traffic would support that?”

  “How many schooners will such a ship displace do you suppose? Three, perhaps, even twice that when the Atlantic winds are not fair. There will be less need for such heavily manned and delicate ships now the war with America is over.”

  “Hmm, it do bear thinking about,” he acceded. “Even I could need such a post once the war ends and the Admiralty puts me on half pay.”

  She put the letter down to look at him. When would this long year of indecision end? When would she learn about her fate? She ached to take his hands in hers and ask him . . . no, beg him to join her in such adventures. Together, they might build steamships for the whole world, but they dare not even dream of it as long as she was tied to this travesty of a marriage.

  He must have had a similar thought because he looked at her with such longing in his eyes that she felt herself redden and had to look away. When her vision answered again to her mind, she saw they were almost at their destination. “I had better put these letters aside for later. I will need to rush to change into my boilersuit. Would you please send a midshipman to tell my stokers to get ready?”

  The Regent steamed about two nautical miles ahead of them when the steam squadron advanced into the Westerschelde at dawn. Worthington took the Antiochus a long cannon shot away from Flushing to test the mettle of any gunners still in the coastal fort. Contrary to Mr. Holmes’ information they were still there; they received a “salute” of six guns, but not a shot touched them.

  To the south of them was the sad sight of the beached and wrecked HMS Ironside. His lieutenants all trained their telescopes and murmured together. The seamen too recognised what they saw and grew long faces. He had the petty officers keep them busy on the port side of the ship, but eventually accepted that some fighting words were due from him.

  He had all hands lined up on the fore-deck below the navigating bridge, so he might speak to them man to man. “Yon ship were a proud mistake,” he said. “All we who sailed wi’t spitefuls could see’t weakness. If tha must cast tha’s eyes upon it as we pass, then do so t’ honour memory o’ they that gave their lives. Be thoughtful o’ tha own duty and remember that our paddlewheels at stern makes they safe from enemy cannon fire. Such were not t’ case with Ironside.

  “When I see’t French ironclad tha may be assured I shall not turn my arse toward it . . .” He had to pause for laughter. “Our weapon is’t great iron ram in’t bow. I will keep it pointed at Frenchman’s side until it smashes through into his orlop deck. His iron sides will protect him from destruction as little as did t’ Ironside’s. Nah, be upon tha’s work and keep tha mind fixed upon tha’s duty. We shall beat t’ Frenchman and avenge they what could not.”

  As they continued into the waterway, he kept a good eye on the chart prepared from Lieutenant Farley’s soundings in Reaper last year, but the tide was high and he felt confident that they were in the dredged channel created by Napoleon’s project to open Antwerp as his empire’s answer to the Port of London. He and his deck officers scanned the harbour at Flushing for warships, but only invasion craft that had not joined the French invasion fleet when it went to Boulogne seemed to be there.

  He wondered how Hawke was getting on with the HMS Spiteful he now commanded at Boulogne in place of Wallace. Admiral Spear’s flotilla was part of the blockading force ensuring the pyroscaphes and sailing craft possibly carrying wanted members of Napoleon’s regime did not put to sea without being inspected. Four completed spitefuls rotated duties off Boulogne while he had the use of Regent and Wallace to secure the Westerschelde flank of the Duke of Wellington’s army―that was now past Ghent, according to the last information received from Admiral Hotham.

  Much of what was happening ashore was relayed from Dutch informers through Mr. Holmes, but the movement of ships from Antwerp was beyond their vision. At the meeting yesterday they had speculated how long the war would continue here once the Duke occupied Brussels and Antwerp.

  If Napoleon was indeed in Antwerp, the arrival of the first cavalry scouts at the gates would surely flush him out. Would he go by land or by sea? They could learn that answer this very day.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Duty Satisfied

  Another two hours of steaming took them offshore from Neuzen. Lieutenant Farley took Regent close to look into the Oostkade for the American schooner. The Susquehannah was not in sight.

  When he saw Regent hoist the signal flag “I wish to communicate with you”, Captain Worthington ordered “half astern” and then “stop” from Lady Bond in the engineroom to wait for Farley to return to the main channel. When the two ships were alongside one another and moving at about two knots up the estuary, they conversed through voice trumpets.

  “You are quite sure the schooner could not be hidden farther into the canal?” Worthington called.

  “No, Sir. I am quite familiar with both the Oostkade and the canal entrance from the time I spent here last year in the Reaper. The ship has definitely up-anchored.”

  “Then we must consider which way they has gone. Could he have escaped from the Westerschelde during the hours of darkness with ourselves and the frigate Astrea on station?”

  “I would doubt it, Captain, but a bold master could possibly have risked the shallows and hugged the shore.”

  Worthington considered a moment. Would a ship master have taken the risk of running aground with such a passenger as Napoleon aboard? It would have been tantamount to offering his ship and cargo to anyone who might see them by daylight. “I doubt that anyone would, but if he did then Napoleon is gone, and some other ship will receive the accolades of capturing him. We must continue toward Antwerp and the river mouth as our duty demands.”

  The Westerschelde made a wide swin
g to the north a half hour’s steaming from Neuzen and here the Admiralty chart came to the end of Farley’s new soundings. Worthington had him take Regent ahead to sound for the deep channel. They perforce had to reduce speed while Farley probed carefully for hidden shallows.

  At this point, Worthington had no sense of haste. He would reach the river proper in some good time, and if it were then growing dark, would anchor and wait there until morning. He doubted any bold Frenchman would attempt a night boarding attack on two steamships.

  What he would do come morning would have to wait until the hour. The French ironclad captain would be even less likely than he to steam into the unknown in the dark if he had the responsibility of an important traveller to consider. What if Napoleon were aboard the ironclad instead of the American? A moment’s thought told him that he could not alter his tactics upon such a supposition. If Napoleon went down with the ship it would be from the cause of his deliberate decision. Whether he would attempt to save anyone in the water would depend upon the threat to his own command.

  By the time they reached the second turn in the channel, where the Westerschelde turned south again, the fine summer weather they had enjoyed since the first of August chose to change, with storms and lightning coming north off the land. It was then mid-day and he sent the watches to a breakfast of boiled beef and cabbage.

  Farley aboard Regent continued with the slow progress. His vessel grounded at one point and the warning signal flag with its two horizontal yellow stripes went up immediately. Worthington set the engineroom telegraph to “stop” and spoke with Lady Bond through the voice pipe. “I will wait to see if he gets himself off before I ask for you to increase steam pressure.”

  “Very well, Captain. Do you have much manoeuvre room?”