“I have been instructed to wait upon a summons for us to go across the entry hall to Admiralty House. I am led to believe that the First Lord of the Admiralty wishes to be present at our assessment of your ship’s performance.”
Roberta glanced at Lieutenant Worthington, whose face had taken on a markedly red hue. This was indeed some remarkable event to her mind—as it was astounding to an Engineer Lieutenant who was generally never received by the post captain of a ship into his Great Cabin. She had to suspect this prodigious event had something to do with Lord Bond’s interview in Admiralty House the day before.
Sure enough, when they were escorted through several corridors to the room in which the Board of Admiralty customarily met, she saw His Lordship seated with four distinguished gentlemen around the conference table. The clerk who had brought them announced their names to the gentlemen and then introduced them to the First Lord, the Second Viscount Melville, seated at the head of the table; Sir Joseph Sydney Yorke, the First Sea Lord; a Mr. William Dundas, perhaps a relative of the First Lord; and Lord Henry Paulit—another Sea Lord, the designation indicating an experienced seaman and admiral rather than a civilian politician in office.
Sir Joseph began the discussion, taking the reading spectacles from the bridge of his nose. “I must congratulate you on your timely and successful action the other day in the Channel, Miss Stephenson. Not only did you come to the aid of a gentleman conveying vital information to this Board, you have distinguished yourself as the commander of the first steamship to defeat a French warship in action.”
Roberta felt the gravitas of the occasion—not only did Their Lordships have to acknowledge the success of a despised ugly duckling, they had to recognize the part played by a mere woman. Would that incline them more to their favour of her business or less? “I thank you for your kind words, Sir Joseph. I understand that, due to the confidential nature of my proving voyage, it may not be convenient for the Lords of the Admiralty Board to disseminate the particulars of my vessel’s action.”
The First Lord smiled. “Very perspicacious of you, Miss Stephenson. Indeed, it would be as notable for the action not to be recorded in the minutes of the Board as for the commander and captain of the successful vessel to be identified as . . . a lady.”
“And secrecy is important at this juncture,” Lord Bond added, with a warm smile at her.
Lord Paulit nodded gravely. “The French must be allowed to believe their supremacy with these steam pyroscaphes for as long as possible. Any consideration by the Board for the purchase of these steam propelled rams of yours hinges upon their nature being a surprise.”
Roberta recognized the truth immediately, but there was already a problem. “But surely the crew of the sloop we sank will report their action with a steamship?”
Sir Joseph inclined his head in agreement. “Unfortunate, but not an irredeemable problem. We . . . that is, the Board, wish to identify the victor of the action as one of our steam tugs. The Master will be identified as one of our steam tug commanders—only as long as the secrecy must be maintained. When allowable, you and your crew will be given every credit due. Do you find that fair?”
Roberta looked around at the serious faces of the Board. No doubt they would wish to conceal every success of steam over sail, but she had to accept their reasoning. “With one exception, My Lords. My own vessel has a sailing master named Hamish MacRae. Since his ship handling was more than the smaller part played by our officers, I think it appropriate for him to be so identified.”
“That seems to be possible, Miss Stephenson,” the First Lord said. “We will need his particulars of qualification.”
Mr. Dundas spoke for the first time. “Since vessels of your type of ram could possibly—if we secure the government’s agreement to offer the Stephenson shipyard a contract—could possibly, be engaged in other actions during their introduction we might use Master MacRae’s identity to mask the number of vessels involved.”
The other Board members nodded their agreement. Their attention was drawn to Engineering Commander Ripley by his discreet cough. “If I may take the liberty of suggesting, My Lords, that before such considerations as possible contracts for further vessels of this type, it would be appropriate for Lieutenant Worthington to give his full report.”
“He hasn’t already done so?” the First Lord exclaimed. “By all means, give your assessment of the vessel’s machinery at once, Lieutenant.”
With his face as bright as a night-time beacon, Lieutenant Worthington launched into a detailed recitation of the report he had prepared. Their Lordships were not conversant with some of the engineering details and so Roberta and Commander Ripley clarified the technical points as he read from the pages.
For many minutes, the boardroom of the Board of Admiralty was filled with the intricate details of the world of steam. Commander Ripley seemed on top of the world, while Worthington gradually gained confidence and lost his ruddy glow. Only Lord Bond seemed to appreciate the overturning of the old world with discreet amusement that he conveyed to Roberta with a sparkle in his eyes whenever she looked in his direction.
The problem with the engine bearing was examined in detail. Roberta explained the difference between her shipyard’s use of phosphor bronze bearing metal and the customary white metal, and agreed with Commander Ripley that she would be glad to receive a revised specification from him for a more durable design in the next engine produced. The Board members watched this exchange with some astonishment—no doubt the first time any of them had heard a woman discuss anything within this room, let alone on a topic they themselves barely comprehended.
With the technical matters dealt with to the satisfaction of the Engineering Department, and the clarification of the improvements required before the Board could recommend the purchase of a number of such ships to the government, the Engineering officers stood to leave. Roberta stood with them, but the First Lord shook his head. “Please stay, Miss Stephenson. There are further matters we must discuss and Lord Bond suggests you may be able to assist us with them.”
Somewhat surprised, she resumed her seat and smiled at Commander Ripley and Lieutenant Worthington as they stood to attention at the door and saluted. They clearly desired further discussion with her as well, and she nodded her assent before they left.
When the door closed behind the engineers, the First Lord turned to Lord Bond. “I would like you to tell the assembled board the information you gave me yesterday. Your new intelligence of the French indicates we are clearly at a juncture in the conduct of the war.” He regarded each in turn, even Roberta. “The strategy we have always used to prevent a successful invasion of England across the Channel has met an implacable counter. I must consider this to be the greatest threat this kingdom has met in three hundred years.”
Chapter Twelve
More Days In London
Lord Bond stood and walked to the large globe in the window before starting to speak. He spun the globe slowly as he marshaled his thoughts.
“Having friends of my family in Amsterdam since the alliances between England and the United Netherlands in the last century, I began my spying mission in that city. I remained there long enough to establish my identity as an American and my business as a sot-weed factor.”
“You possessed a passport as a neutral, My Lord?” Mr. Dundas enquired.
“Not at first. Through friends, I acquired the passport of a Gideon Paine, a citizen of New Bedford. I still have it and believe I could safely use it again—should the need arise.” He exchanged a knowing look with Viscount Melville. “It has one defect—that it includes the accompaniment of a wife. I must admit that I have never made the acquaintance of this lady, who seems to have left Mr. Paine’s bed and board for parts unknown during the past year.”
“And the trade in tobacco?”
“I was able to obtain part of a cargo of that weed from a merchant vessel taken as a prize by the Royal Navy in the Channel.”
Miss Stephenson sh
owed signs of having a question. “Yes, Miss Stephenson?”
“Where does your yacht, the Foresight, come into this?”
“I used the vessel to go to Amsterdam. I ordered Bloggins to remain there, sheltered by friends, until I sent word where to meet me for my return to England.”
“The Hollanders can be trusted?” Sir Joseph asked. “Ever since Napoleon’s brother became king—and then the country’s annexation to France—the French grip on the populace has tightened.”
“My friends are patrons of a small but dedicated resistance. I do not fear for their loyalty, but I do take precautions against their discovery by Napoleon’s minions.”
“I think we might profitably put those concerns aside for the moment, Sir Joseph,” the First Lord said. “Please continue with your observations on the continent, Lord Bond.”
“Yes, My Lord. My first destination was Flushing, where the construction and gathering of barges for the invasion has been in progress for a year. The required number is recorded to be two hundred and fifty, but the number of completions is reputed to be between one hundred and twenty and two hundred—with the lesser number more nearly correct. The same is true for the gunboats under construction—of one hundred gunboats ordered, less than fifty are completed.”
“So the French will need another year for their preparations,” Lord Paulit commented.
“Just so, My Lord. However I learned something unexpected while observing the activities at Flushing. One of the rumoured steam vessels appeared—I presume on a trial run. It became apparent to me that the vessels are being built at Antwerp.”
“What did you understand from your sighting of the vessel?” Sir Joseph asked.
“I did not get a good view—the day was rainy and the vessel turned about to return up the Westerschelde before it reached the open sea. However, I estimated it to be a steamship with two low masts, and of about a hundred and twenty feet on the waterline, travelling at times about six knots and upstream against the current at about the same rate of progress.”
“The current being?” the First Sea Lord asked.
“Two knots, Sir Joseph—making the vessel’s true speed to be perhaps eight.”
“What do you think, Miss Stephenson?” Viscount Melville said with a smile.
“If the vessel was indeed on a trial run—which seems likely from its brief visit to the waters off Flushing—I would suppose its commander to be running at half power; perhaps two thirds of its maximum speed.”
Lord Bond watched her thoughtful manner and her omission of formality with interest. This was a woman of considerable self-possession and logical deliberation—unlike any other he had known. And that included Elise, who had fulfilled the requirement for a Madam Paine during his time on the Continent—another cool head who could be relied upon to dare any danger and to expect her measured response to be exactly what the situation required. He wondered, with a little apprehension, how she had fared when they split up at Gravelines and she took the east road with the carriage to decoy away any following Frenchmen.
“Hmm,” Sir Joseph muttered through his steepled fingers. “Its capabilities in sheltered waters gives us little knowledge of its stability in the open Channel.”
Miss Stephenson had a ready answer. “The information about the original Pyroscaphe my father gleaned indicated it was long and narrow, like a canal barge—not a very stable form for the open sea. Did you form any opinion of this ratio of breadth to length during your observation, Lord Bond?”
“It turned about only the once, and at its greatest distance from my view, but I would venture to say that my impression was of a somewhat sloop-like form, but that may have been exaggerated by the presence of its side paddle-wheels.”
“And its burthen? Would you say greater or lesser than my own, Spiteful?”
“Somewhat lesser. Perhaps nearer five hundred tons than Spiteful’s eight hundred.”
“So we come to the point, Miss Stephenson,” Viscount Melville said. “Can your vessels, built to the same plan as the Spiteful, catch and destroy these pyroscaphes by ramming?”
“I am certain that they can, My Lord. We have our kinetic energy in favour and can match the speed of twelve knots in sheltered water.”
“But in the open Channel?”
“That would be a function of the seaworthiness of the pyroscaphes, My Lord. I need to know their freeboard, their centre of pressure against the waves, even the capacity of their boilers to provide sufficient steam to work up to full speed in a rough sea. Estimation is a poor substitute for hard figures and precise calculation.”
Lord Bond almost laughed as he caught the look that passed between the two Sea Lords—accustomed to judgment founded upon years of experience rather than measurements and figuring. They were as far from their element as a ploughman on a First Rate’s quarterdeck, and so, as a matter of fact, was he. But where the Sea Lords’ reaction was to surrender the field of discourse he felt challenged to understand more. He was not about to let Miss Stephenson escape to her Clydebank shipyard without engaging him in a great deal more discourse. He glanced at her figure—still youthful though she must be all of twenty-five—and recognized he felt other interests as well.
“I think we must now turn to your discoveries in Antwerp,” Viscount Melville suggested.
“Yes, My Lord. I was unable to penetrate the workshops and slipways of the shipyards along the river, but my first observation was that there were no fewer than five pyroscaphes in the river, under various stages of completion.”
“Can your shipyard match that production, Miss Stephenson?” the First Lord enquired.
She smiled at him. “That depends upon the premium the Admiralty is prepared to pay for an accelerated rate of production. The Spiteful was completed in two hundred days. If the contract were signed immediately, my yard could complete three more by a year hence. If the premium were enough I could contract production in three more neighbouring yards—say another six ships.”
All the men around the table chuckled at her ready answer and cool demands. “And we understand that you have no husband to perfect these pecuniary negotiations upon?” Viscount Melville said with a smile.
Miss Stephenson’s expression suggested great forbearance. “My answer was merely founded upon my knowledge of the business, My Lord—and some calculations I made in preparation for this interview.”
“Excellent. I hope you may furnish us with a detailed summary of the considerations for our request to Parliament.”
“Are we ready for the last discovery of my journey, My Lord?” Lord Bond enquired.
The First Lord’s humour stilled and his face grew a serious mien. “Yes. We are ready now.”
“While I was not able to penetrate the shipyard or see anything of the vessel I must report, I did have access to a senior official who knew the project, for a day and a half.” He did not explain that such time was as long as Elise was able to keep the man drunk and besotted with her person. “The French have embarked on a new and entirely novel form of warship that they are constructing at Antwerp. It is, in brief, a steam powered battleship protected with iron plates from the impact of hostile fire.”
Everyone stared—even Miss Stephenson.
Viscount Melville placed his hands palm down on the conference table. “I have considered this at length since Lord Bond apprised me of the project. We will, of course, conduct much more discussion of the matter over the next week or two. That will be the time I estimate for the Government to deliberate on the proposal we submit for the procurement of the steam rams. My most forceful impression is that this vessel, if practical as completed, would circumvent our blockade of the French Emperor’s line of battle ships—their escape to sea would be unnecessary. It would constitute a new threat to our inshore craft and frigates that must constitute our last line of defence against a hostile invasion.”
“What is the force of this ship, Lord Bond?” Sir Joseph asked.
“I will relate what I was
told, My Lords. This is not my assessment of the information—merely what I gathered from our interrogation of the official. They have taken two hulls from vessels previously under construction and cut them down to a single gun deck. Into these hulls they have loaded the steam machinery and a battery of twenty-four pounder cannon. On the outside of the hulls they will affix plates of iron of sufficient thickness to repel the impact of enemy cannonballs. The coal supply for its steam power will be sufficient for this vessel to remain at sea in the Channel while the invasion fleet makes its transit, and protect it from our warships.”
“Can your Spiteful fight a vessel such as this, Miss Stephenson?” Mr. Dundas asked.
She stared down at the table for several minutes before looking up at the two Sea Lords. “Two vessels of such strength in the decks that can carry these cannon; add to that the weight of a very powerful steam engine and that of the iron plates—what tonnage would you suppose?”
Lord Paulit looked at Sir Joseph. “My first supposition would be that two vessels of fifteen hundred tons would be the basis, though I have no conception how they might be joined.”
Sir Joseph nodded his concurrence.
“I could not undertake to set the Spiteful against a ship more than three times its size, My Lords.”
“A larger Spiteful could be built?” Lord Bond suggested. “Perhaps doubling the calculations that have gone into the smaller?”
“Scaling up a design is a practical measure, My Lord. Increasing the size generally reduces seaworthiness considerations. The engines might be a different matter.”
Viscount Melville wagged his head. “But you could offer the Board some concrete figures—in the time it takes the Cabinet to digest the information we will be presenting it. Say, fourteen days.”
“Rather sketchy figures, My Lords. I would need to know much more of this French project first. Its size; its speed; its handling in a seaway; the strength of its iron plates—and whether they are merely added on or whether they add strength to the hull. The best I can do is provide an upper and lower limit for the design of a ship to meet it.”
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