An Uncertain Peace (The Making of a Man Series, Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Are we to remain in New York for any length of time, Sir Richard?”

  “I do not believe so… I had originally intended to stay here a week or two – it is a rich and interesting town – but I suspect we should take the cars to Washington instead. We might well be better off away from the chance of election riots here. There is a strong likelihood that President Lincoln will not win re-election, and the contest is becoming much heated. We must stay a night or two and the Purser will arrange accommodation for us – it is one of his tasks.”

  The Purser was first off the ship, the moment she was tied up and a gangway was available; he ran to the offices and consulted with the clerks who had hotel rooms and suites reserved for him. Half an hour and he had distributed his passengers appropriately and had arranged for transport for them – the First Class, that was; the rest could get off his ship and out of his way.

  There was a degree of excitement at the hotel, the desk clerks visibly elated.

  “You will not have heard, Sir Richard – the news is only now coming through – but Atlanta is fallen! The Confederacy has received its death sentence and can no longer survive, sir! It is now only a matter of time, of hunting down the last armies and the die-hard generals and politicians. The Union is preserved, sir!”

  So also was President Lincoln – he could not fail to win the election now. Dick was rather pleased – he had small knowledge of Lincoln, had never met the gentleman, but he intensely disliked the nasty little man, the fearful General McLellan.

  The banker came through the door with his wife, was pleased to see they were sharing the same hotel; he discussed the news very happily.

  “Lincoln is far the safer man, Sir Richard. In his hands America will grow together again – there will be a prospect of an end to division and hatred. McLellan would have been a disaster, you know, concerned to remake America as a country of European gentlefolk under a new and greater King. The South would have become another Russia of slaves and Cossacks; the North a declining imitation of France, full of airs and short of industry. Britain would have gained for a few years, I suspect; but I believe we will be far better off for a strong America which will not be a playground for the nations of Europe.”

  “The country will be much weakened for a generation in any event, Mr Hobart – no land can lose so many of its youngest, strongest and best on the field of battle and be unscathed.”

  They agreed that must be true – the death and disablement of more than one half of a million of young men could only be a tragedy.

  “What of the South, sir? Will it not surrender now?”

  The banker did not know, had not had the opportunity yet to talk to his American acquaintance.

  “Realism would demand an immediate call for terms, but the Union insists upon the return of the Confederacy to the fold, the state subservient to the Federal government, and the immediate and total end of slavery – the two issues that truly created the war. The die-hards will fight to the end, for preferring death to dishonour, as they see it, and they will hope for some unexpected stroke of God to give them victory at the last moment.”

  “So, perhaps another one hundred thousand are to die for nothing.”

  “Quite possibly, Sir Richard. I would imagine that the Irish of New York will be inflamed to riot again – the Catholic priests hate the blacks and the poorly paid fear that their wages will be undercut by runaways from the South. I do not intend to stay in the city for more than a few days.”

  Dick booked his tickets to Washington for the next day, instructing a man from the hotel to do the bothersome work of discovering times and seats and rooms at the other end. It was a comfortable world, for the rich.

  The American railroad was not quite the same as the English, Louise discovered; it was in fact far more comfortable though its trains were slower.

  “The distances are greater, my dear – it is rare in England that one travels as much as one hundred miles in any one journey but America is far larger a country. There is a need, therefore, for the passenger to take his ease and to be fed and, as it were, watered. The trains cannot make such high speeds as in England, for being forced to halt frequently to take on coal if they did. In many parts, possibly in most, though I do not know, the engines burn wood rather than coal in any case. It is a different country. Wait until you eat the food in the hotels outside of the few large towns!”

  There were few obvious signs of war from the carriage windows – the farms seemed large and prosperous, the towns they passed through small and comfortable. Other than the use of wood almost exclusively for building it was difficult to see that they were not in rural England.

  “I believe you would discover a number of the crippled in every town now – hobbling on crutches or favouring a missing arm. As well, there will be fewer men than women to be seen, so many of the young in the army or the grave.”

  “I read letters sent by my Grandmama to her affianced husband towards the end of the war with Napoleon, Sir Richard. My own Mama kept them and thought they must be of interest, myself being bookish. They said much the same thing, that many of the young men were gone and never to return. She was a lady of the town of Shaftesbury, which I understand still to be small and bucolic, as are these little places.”

  “The country is changing fast, or so I am told. Coal is being discovered in huge deposits, and there is iron as well, and many another metal. The land needs only people to become very rich.”

  She nodded, not certain that she either liked or disliked this New World – in the East it was very like England.

  They pulled into Washington, delayed by military traffic on the line and tired, and she discovered that she immediately detested the town.

  Dick glanced about him at the familiar scene of degradation that was the capital city of a great nation. Washington was still dirty and it stank even more; there were no fewer soldiers on the streets, and every second one of them was, it seemed, either drunk or about to become so.

  They moved out of the terminus and into a four-wheel cab for the short journey to their hotel, Louise staring with near-horror at the sidewalks.

  “Many of the ladies are dressed in, surely, a rather vulgar fashion, Sir Richard. Bold colours and cut lower than one might expect out of doors, and some of them with skirts that display their ankles, their calves even!”

  “Do not point, my dear – they will take umbrage.”

  Dick had seen carriages pelted with mud, and the other substances that littered Washington’s roads, and had no wish to undergo the experience himself.

  “Oh! But, what sort of people are they?”

  Dick shrugged – she was a grown and married woman, it was time for her to discover a few of the less pleasant realities.

  “They are whores, my lady! Scarlet Women, Jezebels, Daughters of Babylon: call them what you will, it is all the same thing.”

  She had heard the words but did not know their true meaning; Dick explained.

  “They do that, for money? With any man who will pay? But… Why?”

  “I do not know the answer to that question, though I much suppose the answer to be because they otherwise have no money at all. Some, I am told, are forced into the trade by wicked men and women; others fall into it by misfortune – the death of parents or husband perhaps; I have heard that some choose the life as a way of becoming rich and that there are those who are betrayed, running away from their homes with a lover and then cast off in a far town. I have never sought their company and certainly have not questioned them – but there are no few of them, just as much in England as here.”

  “Poor souls! They are damned, of course, but can they not be helped?”

  “Not by me! Any man who seeks their company, no matter how much it be to come to their aid, is immediately suspect in the eyes of Society.”

  She was saddened by the poor girls’ plight, but not sufficiently to wish to come personally to their rescue.

  They entered their hotel, found it crowded but not
uncomfortable. Dick made much use of his title and Englishness to obtain preferential treatment; they did not have to wait for a table for dinner and their baggage was literally run up to their rooms.

  “I have some business to do in Washington, Louise. It will be necessary for me to go about that in the mornings but I shall return to accompany you in the afternoons – you will wish to see some of the town and visit the shops, though you may find them disappointing in many ways. Do not leave the hotel unaccompanied, my dear. The streets are simply not safe for a respectable lady. Our first stop must be a bookshop, I think, for your mornings will otherwise be tedious!”

  She suspended her fight with a large and poorly cooked beefsteak to enquire whether it was the American equivalent of haute cuisine. Assured that it was she shook her head wonderingly, commenting that she need not fear putting on flesh in America. She brightened up when the sweets appeared – the hotel evidently had a German pastry-chef.

  “It is often possible to eat well here – but one must know exactly where to go. I shall enquire of my acquaintance. There will be those at the Embassy who will know.”

  She noted that he knew people at the Embassy; very few of the worthies of Dorsetshire would make that claim – her husband was a man of some importance.

  They sat in their room above stairs, hoping to digest dinner, continuing their idle discussion.

  “I still have a pair of volumes of Sir Walter Scott untouched, husband, can occupy myself for a few hours yet. I doubt I would wish to venture unaccompanied into these streets.”

  “Plaistow will be to hand should you need to send Merrett on an errand. He will accompany her.”

  “He is not a very big man, Sir Richard.”

  “Neither am I. Like me, however, he will never venture outdoors unarmed.”

  “You mean with a gun?”

  “With pistols. Revolvers, in fact.”

  “I have never seen such a thing.”

  The request was clear; Dick opened his coat, pulled the thirty-eight from its fitted holster.

  “This is a small revolver, though more than adequate at short ranges. Before you touch it, you must learn the basic lesson: a handgun is always loaded!”

  She snatched her hand back as if it might bite.

  “Good! The very first thing you do, always, is to unload a pistol, unless you intend to use it. Watch.”

  He thumbed the catch and pushed the cylinder to the side, punching down on the central spindle that released the brass cartridges. He took all five out and showed her that it was empty.

  “Only five as a rule, so that the hammer rests flat on an empty chamber. Remember that the only revolver that cannot kill you is the one you have just and personally unloaded.”

  He handed her the weapon, let her feel its weight.

  “It is heavy for a small hand, Sir Richard.”

  “When we find a place with plenty of room, I will show you how to load and fire two-handed. You are intelligent, so you will be able to fire a pistol accurately – shooting such a weapon comes from inside the head as much as it does from the hands.”

  She was not sure that she should learn such a skill.

  “Is it ladylike, Sir Richard?”

  “No, but it can be very useful. More so in America than in England, one suspects. I will show you the bigger handguns later in the week – I suspect they may be too clumsy for you.”

  The following morning Dick made his way to the Embassy and stood before the fresh-faced youth, recently down from Oxford, who had the privilege of sitting at the desk in the lobby. The boy was the repository of all of Oxford’s wisdom and knew nothing of the world, but he had a very fine accent.

  “I am Sir Richard Burke, major, RE, and in the Federal Army. I am expected in Washington and the Military Attaché will wish to see me.”

  The gilded youth sniggered.

  “Perhaps, sir, it would be more correct to say that you wish to see him. I am much afraid that your name does not appear on my list of appointments, sir.”

  “It will not, for I could not predict on what day I would arrive here. You will nonetheless discover that he will make time for me.”

  “Well, I will not, I fear, sir, for I have no intention of disturbing him. He is a very busy man, as you will appreciate.”

  Dick smiled and leaned his hands on the desk.

  “You have a bell-pull under the left side of the desk top, little man. I suggest you use it now.”

  “But, that is for use in case of emergency only…”

  “Quite right, sir!”

  “But…”

  “In approximately ten seconds I shall push a gun under your nose, sir, and I shall then lead you out to the front steps and kick you down them. Does that qualify as an emergency?”

  Evidently it did.

  The door behind the desk opened cautiously and a head peeked through. Seeing no bloodshed the figure advanced into the lobby.

  “This beast has demanded audience of the Military Attaché, sir, and has since threatened me!”

  “I am afraid that sometimes occurs in America, Fanshawe.”

  The newcomer gave a short bow to Dick and announced himself as Third Secretary.

  “My pleasure, sir. I am Major Sir Richard Burke, Royal Engineers and of the Army of the Union.”

  “Congressional Medal of Honour, I believe, Sir Richard; distinguished at the First Battle of Bull Run and in various other parts since and not unknown to Lord Palmerston himself. You are, of course, a most welcome and distinguished visitor, sir. Would you come through?”

  Dick walked through the door, delayed while the Third Secretary austerely informed Fanshawe that he was ‘a tit’ and should make some attempt to discover who was who in their world.

  “A horrible youth, Sir Richard, but his mama is sister by marriage to the eldest cousin of Lord Cardigan and one must therefore put up with him.”

  “One presumes he shares in the talents of his family, sir. A pity he cannot find his own Valley of Death to charge into!”

  “Perhaps we could borrow a Cossack or two from the Russian Embassy, Sir Richard. I shall make the suggestion to His Excellency.”

  The Third Secretary ushered Dick into the Military Attaché’s office.

  There was considerable interest in the Civil War now in Whitehall; the Union especially had introduced new weapons and tactics which some at least of the British Army and Navy considered worth investigation. The Attaché was a lieutenant-colonel of some seniority, and not of the Guards, intellectual capacity having been considered of importance to the appointment.

  “Goring, Sir Richard. I am familiar with your reports to the Embassy, of course, and am pleased to meet you, sir. I received a note to the effect that your presence might be expected, but know nothing else.”

  “I am to make my number with General Grant, sir. I have met the gentleman before and believe that my medal came at his recommendation, so he may well recall my face. I am to discuss his Irish battalions with him, particularly the suggestions being made that they might be set loose in Canada on the ending of the current conflict.”

  Colonel Goring shook his head.

  “There has been mention of the possibility, Sir Richard, but I believe it to be hot air more than actual policy. Neither General Grant nor Sherman would countenance such a prospect, and they are far the most influential of the military now. It will be as well to discuss the matter, however. The word could then percolate down the ranks of the officer corps – there are hotheads at a more junior level who might believe that they could commit the Union to the policy by leading an unauthorised incursion and then demanding rescue.”

  “I am to mention to you, sir, that the Royal Navy is building ironclad frigates and gunboats and that there will be line-of-battleships carrying turret guns within a very few years. Word of this might well be permitted to spread, it is suggested.”

  “Thus to counter Monitor and the River Turtles, one presumes, Sir Richard.”

  “Exactly, Colonel.
The Royal Navy will have the iron-clad capacity to escort Atlantic convoys within a very short while. Should the need arise then troops will be brought across the waters in comparative safety. There will be no easy, swift conquest of Canada.”

  “Noted, Sir Richard. What of Mexico?”

  “No business of ours, Colonel. The French have bitten off more than they can chew and have been refused British aid. It is our opinion that Mexico is an American problem and under no circumstances can Her Majesty’s Government consider offering insult to the United States by intervening in the internal affairs of her neighbours.”

  “I shall whisper that message into the appropriate ears, Sir Richard. It will be welcome in the presidential offices.”

  “Quite. Best it should not come from the Ambassador or we might be thought to be under pressure from the President.”

  “Noted, Sir Richard. One may inform HE after the event.”

  “I presume that the re-election of Mr Lincoln is now fairly much a certainty, Colonel Goring?”

  “It would require a quite remarkable set of reverses for it not to be, Sir Richard. The ineffable General McLellan is now consigned to the more obscure reaches of the outer darkness, it would seem.”

  “Excellent! A detestable little chap, Colonel. I had the great privilege of being invited onto his staff after Bull Run. He then discovered that I had some slight degree of popular fame for having run more slowly than the rest of the Union after that battle and he instantly took against me. The function of a member of his staff is to be a mirror to his glory, it would seem. I have often wondered what he might have been if he were only three inches taller – he never bestrides a charger of less than seventeen hands, you know!”

  Colonel Goring laughed, realising that it was a true statement.

  “How very sad, Sir Richard! The Duke of Wellington had the advantage of height, of course… I wonder if it is so important to the well-being of a soldier. Perhaps we might propose a rule that commissions may in future be sold only to six-footers – we might massively improve the leadership of our army!”