De Joinville happened to be on the platform, grinning.
“If I might advise you, Major Burke? Travel as a civilian, with no items of uniform about your baggage. Mr Burke from the moment you board ship – there will be English policemen to record your return to Liverpool and you would wish for none to have reason to question your loyalty in England.”
“Thank you! You are very good, sir!”
“One Napoleon is quite sufficient for this century, sir! I have no great love for a slightly shop-worn imitator. While I cannot return to France, Washington is as amusing a place to remain as any, and the Headquarters here charges me no rent – but I have no wish to see this overblown little man take power in a country I rather like.”
“I cannot imagine that I will be able to discover any great support for him in England, Prince.”
“I did not suppose that you would, Major Burke. Will you return to America, do you suppose?”
“I have no plans to do so, Prince, but I like this country, must inevitably come back one day.”
“If I might advise you, sir – do not do so until after this nasty conflict is resolved. There is very little to be gained from so doing, and much to be lost.”
“One’s life included, Prince. Farewell!”
“God be with you, Major!”
The Prince was an exile from France, Dick mused. It was not impossible that he hoped to ingratiate himself sufficiently with the French government to enable his return to his home. The French could not wish to see a close relationship develop between Whitehall and McClellan… Removal of an English officer from McClellan’s staff might be seen as wise.
Dick swore very quietly – he wanted no part of this – there was no profit in it.
Dick endured a tedious journey to New York, civilian travel northwards forced to give way to military traffic hurrying towards Washington. Trainloads of new soldiers passed him cheering mightily in their eagerness to save the Union. Dick laughed – they would learn better!
Arriving in New York he was met as he stepped down from his car, was hustled out of the station and into a cab, thence to a hotel near the waterfront.
“There has been some disquiet aroused in Washington, Major Burke, at the prospect of you representing the General in London. Your departure is known and indeed it is not impossible that a warrant may have been sworn for your detention! It is necessary therefore to speed your passage! You are to sail tomorrow morning, sir, on board, I regret to say, a mixed cargo and passenger ship with only a limited degree of comfort. Have you civilian dress with you?”
“I purchased in Washington, sir. I will make good deficiencies in my wardrobe in London.”
“Excellent! You will discover a deposit made in your name in Liverpool, in an English bank, the Lancashire and Provincial. You are to withdraw the funds in cash and place them to your account elsewhere, thus to prevent them being traced to New York. Make your reports to Mr Wales, in the care of the Governor of New York State – letters will reach him with that address. You should not make direct, or any, contact with Mr Adams at the American Embassy in London.”
“That is quite clear, sir.”
“Good. As a stopgap, I am authorised to place two hundred gold sovereigns in your hand, to cover your necessary expenses on board ship and immediately in Liverpool.”
Dick pocketed the heavy leather purse with a murmur of thanks.
“It will be wiser for you to board ship tonight, Major Burke. Your cabin is prepared, I am assured.”
Another brief cab ride took them into the docks and to the gangplank of his ship, a large, four-masted side-wheeler, Jenny Higham, fully adequate for the Atlantic. He had been expecting something far smaller and shabbier, presumed that the rich New York gentlemen were used to first-class, passenger only screw steamers – the newest of ‘liners’ as they were coming to be called.
He was ushered into a large cabin, mahogany lined, a comfortable bed and an armchair if he should choose privacy at any time. He had expected a couple of days at least in New York, was ill-equipped for the voyage; he asked the steward whether there was a library aboard.
“I send the pusser, sir.”
The accent was heavily German.
The purser arrived a few minutes later, evidently forewarned to look to Dick’s comfort.
“Books, sir? There are a few in the lounge, sir, both English and American authors, I believe. Most of our passengers have found them sufficient, sir. There are only three others on this trip, sir. Two German gentlemen and one other Englishman.”
New York was safe from the Federals - was in many ways independent of Washington in that time of the President's perceived weakness - but Dick remained out of sight in his cabin until they sailed, early in the morning on the tide, accompanied by a raw sleet shower, November at its nastiest on the North Atlantic coastline.
He was still a good sailor, he found, sat in isolation at table that evening and enjoying his meal; the cook was evidently also a German, far more skilled than the average run of American steak-burners. The dessert was particularly good, reminded him of the pecan tarts in Kansas City.
He was leaning on the rail two mornings later, filling his lungs with fresh air and finally clearing the noxious taste of Washington from his passages – he must have gotten used to the foul stink of the city, he decided, had only become aware of it again in its absence. A shout from one of the deckhands drew attention and he saw arms pointing across to starboard. There was a ship, smaller than their own but similarly equipped with paddles and sail; it was on a closing course, he soon decided. It was an ocean; one must expect to discover other vessels floating on it – what was the fuss about?
A plume of water arose close to their bow, accompanied by a bang. They were being fired on! A single cannon in the other ship’s bows showed smoke. He had been told that steamships were far more vulnerable to cannon fire than the old sailing ships had been; a ball in the boiler room could blow up everything, kill every engineer and set the whole ship afire. A sailing ship might well risk running from a smaller attacker, but a steamer dared not.
The engine noise fell away and the paddles slowed in their thrashing; he heard steam winches turning as the sails were taken in and booms were hauled up. The ship turned slowly bows-on to the sea, just holding sufficient way to prevent her rolling into the trough.
The purser shouted, called Dick into the passenger quarters.
“Privateer, of all damned things! We are taken, Mr Burke. We cannot fight.”
Two boats rowed across and armed men climbed aboard. There was no resistance and no shots were fired. A few minutes and a uniformed officer came into the cabin.
“Second Mate Forrester, gentlemen. I am a boarding officer on the private ship of war, Phenix. I regret to say that your voyage will be interrupted.”
Dick shrugged – it was a nuisance, but he was running to no timetable. He said that he was English, had no part in their conflict, hoped he might get away with it.
The two Germans made a fuss of presenting their documents and demanding that they should be permitted to continue their voyage with the least possible delay. The other English passenger, green about the face and hiccoughing, said very little other than to beg to return to his bed as soon as might be.
Forrester turned to Dick, thanked him for waiting on his convenience, apologised for discommoding him. Dick produced documents showing him to be bound for Liverpool, returning to Britain.
“Richard Burke, sir. English. I had been travelling in the west and was in Kansas when this unfortunate business commenced and have made my way as I could back to the East and am on my voyage home. I must inform you, sir, that I have a rifle and two pistols in my cabin, my personal arms. Do you wish me to surrender them?”
“No, sir. As a neutral civilian there is no occasion for you to do so. Any gentleman will expect to carry his own defence with him. I much regret, sir, that I must take you into port but assure you that you will be able to find passage, probably to Be
rmuda in the first instance, very rapidly. The Union blockade is more in name than reality as yet. We will seek to enter Wilmington in North Carolina, sir.”
It was all very gentlemanly, and more than a little shame-faced at this stage of the war. Preying upon civilian traffic, though no doubt necessary, smacked of dishonour and the Confederacy much wanted British support.
They saw no ships as they made Cape Fear and then the passage upriver to Wilmington itself, tying up in the large docks there to considerable applause from a growing crowd. Jenny Higham was the first substantial prize to have been brought into port and there was great excitement, tempered when they realised that she had been east-bound not west. A cargo of American wheat, wool and timber was of very little interest to local merchants; they would have to send her to Bermuda, in fact, to move it at all. Nothing could be done until she was declared legal prize in the Admiralty Court, a process that would certainly take some weeks.
Dick and the other three passengers showed their papers to the port officials and received confirmation of their standing as citizens of neutral countries, uninvolved in the current unpleasantness and seeking immediate passage out of the South.
“Best you take passage out to Bermuda, gentlemen, on one of the runners. I will introduce you immediately if you wish.”
The other three passengers were inclined to be indignant; particularly, they had no wish to travel unlawfully and at personal risk. They would be able to obtain passes to cross the lines back to the North, slowly overland, then to make their way to Canada and safe passage. Dick thought it better to get out of America quickly; he might not wish to be recognised as having fought for the Union.
The Confederacy had banned the export of cotton, in the hope that the spinners and weavers in England would demand intervention by their government to reinstate supplies. The greatest export by bulk was therefore not available, lawfully, but some tobacco was still going out, as well as molasses brought in by rail from deeper in the South. Fast blockade-runners were already in commission and had brought cargoes of powder and arms in from Bermuda, where English merchants were setting up warehouses as fast as they could fill them with profitable cargo. Rumour insisted that the merchandise available consisted more of luxuries for the rich than of armaments and medical supplies for the soldiers.
It was made clear to Dick that he would have to buy cabin space – he would not be given a free ticket. There was little choice in the matter if he was to sail and he announced that he was carrying a small sum in English gold, if any ship’s master was interested.
The Rattlesnake, a fast screw ship of a little less than five hundred tons, was to sail four nights hence, as soon as the moon was right, and he paid over thirty of his sovereigns to her captain, much to that gentleman’s pleasure.
“Cain’t get hold of gold nohow, Mr Burke, sir. Paper money, in plenty, sir, but I do declare that gold is nowhere to be seen!”
“Gresham’s Law, I believe, sir.”
The captain, who was not unintelligent - as his trade demanded - had not read in the field of political economy; he knew nothing of Gresham.
“People who have the opportunity will save good money – the gold coins – and spend bad paper which they do not trust. The good disappears, driven out by the bad.”
“That, sir, makes good sense!”
“It does, unfortunately, sir. A wise man will save nothing in paper money, especially in time of war.”
“But, Mr Burke, I am unable to lay hands on any other sort, except rarely, as in your case.”
“Whiskey, sir?”
“I do not quite follow you, Mr Burke.”
“A warehouse full of whiskey will always have value, I suspect, Captain… I am sorry, I did not catch your name, sir.”
“Rodgers, Mr Burke – but I beg you will not be too free with it! I suspect that a warrant issued by the Union might remain in force for many years!”
Captain Rodgers seemed to believe he was on the losing side in the long run; logic said he was right, the industrialised must win in the end, but there were big profits to be made from a desperate loser.
“If the war comes to an unfortunate end then the man with a full warehouse cannot be in too bad a position, Captain Rodgers.”
“While it is neither burned down, nor confiscated, I believe you are right, sir. A degree of concealment might be sensible, but that apart, I am glad to accept your wise advice, Mr Burke. Whiskey, of course, will mature and gain in value and so may be kept very sensibly, arousing no suspicion, for a year or two.”
“Can you tell me of a hotel where I may stay until you sail, sir?”
“I will lead you to one, sir. I keep a room there myself, sir!”
A pair of black porters had emptied Dick’s cabin and trailed behind them to the hotel, decorously named Mrs Matthews’ Guest House.
“Don’t know just who the lady might have been, Mr Burke, but the hotel been here this fifty years. Cook ain’t that bad and the rooms are fair. Company’s real good though!”
Dick glanced round, saw a preponderance of young ladies occupying the settles in the lounge, was able to come to a rapid conclusion as to the nature of the establishment, quiet as yet in mid-afternoon.
Unusually, the clerk at the desk was female.
“Four nights, sir? Most certainly.”
Dick paid four sovereigns down in advance, rapidly realised that a very little of gold bought anything in the hotel; not a lot of gold could have purchased everything in the town, he suspected.
“Does the hotel become very busy of an evening, Captain Rodgers?”
“The officers from the regiments in training hereabouts generally come in, Mr Burke. Their food is not of the best out in their tents, and they commonly seek other forms of relaxation as well.”
Dick made a note not to remain late in the public rooms – he had no wish to keep company with drunken military men. He said as much to Captain Rodgers, received only qualified agreement.
“Most of them claim to be Southern gentlemen, sir. It is rare that any cause a ruckus.”
“Is this the sole house of relaxation for the officers, Captain Rodgers?”
“No, sir, though little mention is made of it, there is Mr Matthews’ Guest House not so many doors from here. You will not notice the place – it has no sign up!”
Dick pasted an appropriate frown to his face, shook his head deploringly, as seemed to be demanded of him. He did not personally care in the slightest, but the churches were listened to in America and it was wiser not to cause offence to local prejudices.
“Is it my imagination, Captain Rodgers, or do I see the bulk of men here to be armed?”
Many carried a pistol in their waistband, less commonly in a holster; more showed suspicious bulges at armpit level.
“Most men carry as a matter of course, Mr Burke. A gentleman who is tender of his honour will wish to display the means and determination to protect it. Besides that, the bond-servants are restless, seduced from their loyalty by Northern propagandists, and just lately, of course, that damned Smalls has upset them all!”
Captain Rodgers assumed Smalls’ name to be well known; discovering that Dick had never heard of him he briefly explained that he was a slave who had been given both trust and a degree of education by a foolish master and had proceeded, naturally, to use his advantages to behave disgracefully.
“Damned fool had him taught to read and write and then made him pilot of his steamboat on the coast hereabouts. Put into Charleston harbour of a night, the captain and crew went ashore and this damned traitor set another dozen blacks and their families aboard, together with his own, raised steam – the engine room was all black – and sailed out bold as brass, saluting the forts as he passed them, seven in a row. Come dawn he found a Yankee blockader and ran up under her lee with the Union flag flying! They, the uncivilised apes that they are, instead of sending him back to his master kept the ship and made him captain in it and are running it on their coast now!”
/> Dick stifled his grin and censored his instinctive admiration of the man’s daring; he shook his head in dismay.
“Beyond belief, sir! Advanced as he was, living no doubt in comfort, and showing such ingratitude!”
Dick settled into his room, pulling the Navy Colt out of a valise and holstering it comfortably at his belt. He liked the feel of a pistol at his side in a strange town.
He dined with Captain Rodgers, enjoying the food – the hotel had bought a cook trained in New Orleans. Southern food, on the coast at least, was far better than that generally to be found in the north.
“Large lumps of cow, seared to the consistency of boot leather, are not my definition of haute cuisine, Captain Rodgers!”
“I agree, sir, most heartily! I have sailed into most of the ports of the North, sir, and have never found a meal worth the effort of the chewing involved.”
A pair of young ladies joined them as they sat with a companionable after-dinner glass; one was obviously Captain Rodger’s habitual associate, the other attached herself to Dick. He had no objections.
His lady friend stayed at his side for his few days in the hotel and escorted him into town, taking him to the bookshop at his particular request.
“I must expect to be a month at sea, Marcie, and cannot be without reading for so long.”
She did not quite understand why but led him the furlong or so through the small town centre.
“Ten thousand folks living here, Mr Richard, before the war and the soldiers come to the camp.”
She seemed to believe that made Wilmington one of the world’s great cities.
It did not matter – the bookshop stocked every one of Sir Walter Scott’s works and a sufficiency of others. He was able to buy Thackeray and Trollope as well as the works of chivalric imagination so dear to the South. His reading previously had been mostly of the Greek and Roman classics and he was not unhappy to discover a little more of the civilised world of the novelist. The shopman recommended Jane Austen to him as elegant, and strongly discouraged him from dabbling in Dickens – ‘a very low taste in melodrama’, he said, one who romanticised the poor and the ill-favoured.
A Victorian Gent (The Making of a Man Series, Book 1) Page 16