Spies and Subterfuge

by Christopher Hoare

  Roberta twisted in her seat, and could remain in ignorance of the issues no longer. “Have you read the letter in its entirety, Captain? I am beside myself with anxiety as I wait to read.”

  Bell handed her the letter. “I have not quite finished, Miss Stephenson, but would not wish to enlarge your distress by withholding the missive. I have but a few more lines to follow, and can do so after you have finished.”

  With that, Roberta took the letter from his hand and began to read. The letterhead announced the fact that it had been penned by President Madison to Ambassador Crawford personally. Its salutations and preamble of a personal sort were quite short. In the very next paragraph the President announced the United States, having no national bank, was so close to bankruptcy that he feared they could not keep forces in the field above a few more months and must consequently lose the war if they could not obtain an immediate loan from Napoleon.

  She gave an involuntary gasp, but even that news did not account for Captain Bell’s outburst.

  Her eyes returned to the letter. The next paragraph discussed the nature of the persuasion he, the ambassador, might use in his discussions with the French authorities and the persons the President felt could most assist in bringing about a satisfactory resolution to the request. The amount of the loan was subject to discussion next and Roberta could not but exclaim, “They ask for fifteen million dollars!”

  Lord Bond leaned toward her and smiled. “The same amount that they paid Napoleon for Louisiana in 1803, I believe. I can only doubt that the Emperor would reimburse the entire purchase price, even as a loan.”

  Roberta read on, the next sentences laying out the inducements the Americans might offer to sweeten the request for such a sum. Several offers of scarce and valuable items of trade were made at very generous prices, but then the very last offer was that America should send the French armies expert intelligence officers, familiar with England and its army, who could provide valuable assistance to the invasion force being prepared. “Surely they would not do such a thing,” she exclaimed.

  Lord Bond shrugged. “Nations in the exigencies of war have done worse. I expect the offer would even be increased to the addition of troops as well if the means of getting them to France existed.”

  “It does not,” Captain Bell growled. “And will not as long as we have ships to stop them.”

  Lord Bond muttered his assent. “So that brings me to my intentions for the letter. I must send it on to the Ambassador when I return to Antwerp, but not until we have made copies of it for Whitehall.”

  “Surely you will not send it,” the Captain protested, “the Americans must not succeed in this calumny.”

  “Now the plans are discovered, they may not be the blow to England that you fear, Sir. The letter will embroil the French and Americans in discussions that might entail valuable delays that England can use in its preparations. The fact that the secret has been learned will give our government a strong lever to influence our erstwhile allies, Russia particularly, to launch a campaign in the rear of the invasion—an undertaking that, I have on good authority, is being contemplated in the capitals of Europe.

  “But I must ask a very great indulgence from you, Captain. It is known in Paris that these dispatches are being conveyed aboard the Reaper—it is imperative therefore, that Reaper dock in the Schelde to satisfy that knowledge.”

  “But the Reaper is a prize, My Lord. Under International Law it is only appropriately sent at once to England and the Prize Court.”

  “But you must see that in this instance it must first dock in France. I assure you that I do not intend that the vessel should remain there.”

  Captain Bell frowned. “Such diversion does not constitute the procedure required for a cartel ship—such as one conveying prisoners of war—in my experience, My Lord.”

  “No, not exactly, but I believe under the authority granted my mission by the Admiralty, I may sign a document accepting the prize on behalf of their Lordships, and so remove your responsibility for taking the prize to an allied port. Of course, I still ask for a hand-picked crew from the squadron to take the vessel to land.”

  Roberta watched the two men with a jaundiced eye. Here was an opportunity to counter a great threat to Britain and the two were quibbling over responsibility and who should be paid the value of the ship. She had to admit Lord Bond’s expertise impressed her, but she saw a weakness in his propensity to becoming distracted. Could she be a sober guide for him under such circumstances? She must speak.

  “Surely we might resolve those details at our leisure, gentlemen. What are we to do in order to send the vessel into a French port?”

  Lord Bond laughed. “A very good point, my Dear. We must make haste to copy the documents, because I suggest Reaper leave for the Low Countries under cover of darkness tonight. I would ask you personally to make one copy, Miss Roberta, your hand being very legible and your knowledge of the material already existent. I must ask you, Captain, that you nominate some other scribe to make the second copy. What about the Chaplain? A man of the cloth should be a trustworthy assistant.”

  Bell nodded. “You may have Chaplain Jenkins’ assistance, by all means, My Lord.”

  “I will call upon him immediately,” Lord Bond said, rising from his seat. “I trust we may have the use of your chart table and day cabin for the purpose, Captain. This writing must be carried out in great secrecy.”

  Lord Bond left the Captain’s day cabin and immediately went in search of the Chaplain, whom he found in the wardroom. “Reverend Jenkins, may I speak to you in private?”

  “Of course, My Lord.” The chaplain rose from his seat at the wardroom table and followed him to the weather deck where they found a secluded place. Lord Bond apprised him of the delicate nature of the task he proposed he undertake and the chaplain, with a somewhat bemused expression, agreed.

  “The copying will be carried out in the Captain’s day cabin, where Miss Stephenson is even now preparing the suitable paper and implements for the task. You will understand the need for great secrecy once you have read the diplomatic papers in question. The originals must be delivered in Paris, but we are making copies to go to the Government in Whitehall.”

  “Yes, I think I comprehend the secrecy of the task, My Lord. But two copies?”

  “Captain Bell will detach one of the brigs to take the message to England tomorrow, and the second copy will remain aboard Medusa as a secure repository in the event the brig comes to harm.” He put on a reassuring smile that faded as he began to consider his next matter. “I also have another request that I ask you to keep equally confidential until I have spoken privately with Miss Stephenson. You are able to perform a marriage ceremony aboard this ship, I presume?” He took out a parchment from an inside pocket. “I have a special license here signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury . . . if you will be so good as to examine it.”

  The chaplain took the license with as much bewilderment as he had accepted the assignment of document copying. Once he had read it, he looked up. “I see no reason why I may not conduct such a ceremony, My Lord. But it does seem an unusual undertaking. Is the lady agreeable?”

  “She does not know of it as yet, but I obtained her father’s permission for the betrothal before I left him in his Clydebank shipyard. She was called away immediately after I spoke with her father and so I could not pursue my suit at that time. This instance—aboard the Medusa—is the first time we have met since.”

  “She is in agreement, I hope.”

  “I have every confidence that she will look kindly upon my suit, but she is a very strong-willed young lady who can be expected to want more time to consider it. Time, unfortunately, is what we do not have. It is imperative in my mission for the Admiralty that I leave tonight for the Low Countries, and equally important that we travel together as man and wife.”

  Roberta finished her copy of the documents in the mid-afternoon and left the chaplain alone in the day cabin to finish his. She went up onto the qua
rterdeck to find Lord Bond and Captain Bell organizing a new crew for the Reaper. The sailors and tradesmen who had carried out the necessary repairs to the rigging were returned to Medusa, and a crew of men who could take the Reaper into land under Lieutenant Farley were assembled from the ships of the squadron.

  The American sailors were being brought aboard Medusa to be locked up in the frigate’s hold, but apparently five of them had elected to take parole and join the Royal Navy to stay with Reaper. “It just goes to show that not all the colonists are against Britain,” Lord Bond remarked. “I found that people from the Northeastern states, who had ties with Canada across the border, were less supportive of the war. These men are all from those states.”

  Captain Hawkins of the Marines had selected a dozen well-armed men to station aboard the schooner, in the event they might have to fight their way out of the Low Countries when Lord Bond’s mission was completed. It seemed that Lord Bond wanted to use his American disguise to sell some of the cargo and so strengthen his identity. He had whispered to her that the instructions intercepted in Antwerp had required the real Gideon Paine to send the diplomatic bag to Paris through French official channels. It seemed a dangerous ploy to her, but she had to hope that His Lordship knew what he was doing.

  When the last of the transfers of crew were completed, Lord Bond approached her for a private word. Apparently he had the use of the captain’s day cabin for more than a scrutiny of the accuracy of the document copies. She felt rather apprehensive of his intention, but when they first went through the copies to compare them, her suspicions were somewhat dispelled, until he asked her to sit under the stern windows and pulled up a low stool to face her.

  “Miss Roberta, I wanted to have this interview with you before we both departed Clydebank, but your being suddenly called away prevented that. I wish that had not been the case because I feel your response to what I have to say would have been given in a more comforting setting for you than it must be here today.

  “That being said, I must assure you that I would not be speaking about this matter in these circumstances at all if it were not both a matter of my duty as well as of my heart. Dear Miss Roberta, I wish to ask you to consent to marry me. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  Roberta’s breath faltered. Her skin immediately felt clammy, as if she had developed a fever. Why was he asking her now? He was about to leave her for the voyage to the Low Countries—did he suspect he might not return? She stared into his face, saying nothing until his long held expression of anticipation required her to say something. “This is most unexpected, My Lord. You have taken me by surprise and must agree to allow me the opportunity to compose myself and my answer before I speak.”

  “I assure you that I would be most agreeable with answering your request, if time did not grow so short. I am aware that the last thing we all want—myself, the Admiralty, and our missing friends ashore—would be to have you join us in the perils of Antwerp, but the circumstances are such that I need your expert eyes so desperately that I ask you to come with me as Mrs. Paine. Do not suppose I will allow the subterfuge to harm you and your reputation in any way. I am asking you to truly be Lady Bond, with all the necessary prerogatives and holy blessings of true matrimony as your protection. A holy union that shall bind us both—forever.”

  Roberta could not prevent her expression from mirroring the great confusion she felt. “But how can this be accomplished, My Lord? We are on a warship at sea . . .”

  Lord Bond reached into his jacket and handed her a parchment. “I had this prepared in the event the use of it would become necessary. I must impress upon you my great dismay that circumstances have conspired to make that necessity a fact even though it distresses my very heart and bosom to place you in such a situation of stress. I well know that your scrupulous and careful nature must be sorely tried by my sudden assault, though I earnestly assure you that such a trial is the last thing I wish to bring you.”

  The parchment proved to be a special marriage license issued by the Holy See of Canterbury. Roberta was so conflicted that she could hardly compose a single sentence. “But where . . . would we marry?”

  “Chaplain Jenkins will marry us, this afternoon—immediately—if you will consent to this espousal. It may seem sudden to you but I have rehearsed the words I wanted to say to you so many times these past two months—words that have all flown from my head now the time has come for me to utter them. Please look as kindly as you can on the poor inducements I have offered instead. I promise faithfully to do everything in my power to make amends when we are safely back in England.”

  Roberta strove to remember why she had formed such powerful reasons for refusing him earlier, but she was no less confounded by the situation than he. His presumption was perhaps his greatest fault; but it was the presumption of a man of a caste that believed themselves masters of the world. Could she accept this in him?

  “I have been warned about your very serious misadventures in love, My Lord. What can you say about them?”

  “All true, I must admit to my everlasting shame, but please consider them as the actions of a spoiled and headstrong youth. I am no longer that youth. You may consider them over.”

  “So I can be assured that you have sufficient feeling for me that you would never repeat any such offences against morality that we hear ascribed to husbands in every newspaper in England? Please consider your answer carefully, My Lord, because I believe any such lapse would mortally wound such feelings as I admit to holding in my heart for you.”

  He slipped from his stool to kneel before her. “I must assure you of my great love and devotion. Even though my actions may still seem selfish and capricious at times, I have not been able to contemplate my life without you ever since we met upon these waters two months ago and you saved our lives. Please say you will share yourself with this errant wretch and make him not only whole, but also the happiest man alive.”

  Roberta could find no words of refusal. Her objections seemed selfish, given the circumstances, and she could not find it in herself to deny all the reasons for her acceptance he had laid before her. Their friends, her friends, were missing—perhaps discovered by the French. She was now the only person who could take up the task they had undertaken.

  She also had a role to play in assisting Lord Bond in his subterfuge in this new vital task of foiling the American plot. Just hours before she had recognised her ability to fulfill the role of helpmate to him—a partner in marriage and not merely an ornament to sit in some aristocratic drawing room and make small talk with other ladies. She might even accept the loss of her work as her Father’s partner if a new world would open up as the wife of a man of great affairs. Perhaps even the leader of government one day.

  He professed to have always loved her, from the moment they met, but she had to admit her own feelings had been propelled by the thoughts of advantage such a marriage might bring her. Did she also have love for him in her heart—the kind of love that was so deep and sustained between two individuals that it was a tremendous self-sacrifice as much as a personal desire for fulfilment? The covenant that is love is self-giving as well as a recognition of the fragility and the sanctity of its humanity. Was she equal to that, or was she balking at shadows? If she were not equal to this test, could she ever bring herself to love another?

  She regarded him without answering until his attitude and expectation demanded she speak. “I must impress upon you that I have deep reservations, My Lord. I need your promise that we will have all the discussions a betrothed couple must settle before the marriage.”

  “I give you my promise, my darling,” he said.

  “Then with that assurance I will accept your suit and marry you.” She paused for a breath. “I am . . .”

  He leaped to his feet and folded her into his arms, cutting off her words with a long kiss.

  Chapter Nine

  Life Sentence

  The wives aboard Medusa took the news of the nuptials in th
eir stride. Within two hours they had taken the still stunned Roberta in hand and decked her out as a perfect bride. They set her auburn hair in ringlets, and applied blushes of alkanet to her cheeks and a rose salve to brighten her lips with the same colouration. The one gown of quality she had thought prudent to bring had been furbished and pressed. All of them had assisted her toilet and dressing with such good heart that she might have been the beloved daughter of any of them.

  When Captain Bell knocked on the cabin door to offer his arm for their processional to his day cabin where the ceremony was to take place, they all prepared to follow behind as bridesmaids.

  Roberta took his arm gingerly, but could not leave the cabin without letting a muffled sob escape her lips and asking Annie to fetch a handkerchief from her trunk. “I know I am being foolish, but I must confess I have such an urge to cry. What is the matter with me?”

  “Ah, there be nought wrong, my dear girl. There have been many a bride who have cried before her wedding,” Bertha, the Master’s wife, pronounced solemnly.

  “Better afore than after,” Lucy added.

  Captain Bell stood patiently to await her restoration of composure. “Holy Matrimony is perforce a great leap of courage, my Dear. Do not think less of yourself for any last minute assault of doubts. I would not be doing my duty if I did not remind you that you must be perfectly sure now you are doing the right thing. There is no going back, after the vows are exchanged.”

  His words were no more than the sober truth, but they only increased her trembling and the flow of tears. She tried to reason with her qualms, but they would not stand fast to be cast down like false fears should. She had no real reason to refuse the marriage, but it was in her nature to think long and carefully upon her actions, and this haste had refused her the privilege.

  She had no doubt but that it was her duty to accompany Lord Bond into the Low Countries to complete his task. It was also her responsibility to see the investigation of the French steamships carried out to a satisfactory conclusion. As for her anxiety for the safety of Mr. Holmes and Captain McNab, that threatened to let loose another flood of tears, she knew she would reproach herself for the rest of her life for doing nothing at all when she might be of some help in Antwerp assisting in the search for their fate.