Dire Shenanigans (The Making of a Man Series, Book 2) Page 24

  “’Hard men’? These?”

  “Exactly, sir! In their own minds, perhaps, but not on the back streets.”

  Why, if that was the case, bring Dick to be seen here? Identifying him for the ‘hard men’ perhaps? A double, running with hare and hounds and taking an income from both North and South, seemed very likely.

  “You did not mention your name, sir. I must report to Dutch Bob’s people that I am in contact with you.”

  If the man had any sense, he would prefer anonymity. If he was gold-hungry, then he would make very sure his employers knew that he was active.

  “Not that I mention it to every man I meet in this trade, sir, but I am Quintin Donovan, and not unknown to Mr Pinkerton and one or two other like-minded gentlemen!”

  If he was one of Pinkerton’s favoured people then he was as like to be an incompetent fool as a double-agent. It might explain much. It also made Dick determined not to be seen in his company again.

  “Do you know if Bulloch is in Liverpool at the moment, sir?”

  “He is, for sure, though I am not certain where he is to be found. He must be staying as guest with a private gentleman, not in a hotel room.”

  “And Thomas Hanes Dudley, sir?”

  “Not a name I know, I fear.”

  “No matter. Thank you for your time, Mr Donovan. I shall leave first, if that sits well with you. Farewell, sir.”

  Dick wandered out of the front door, glancing up and down the side road that led up to Lime Street. It was empty of vehicles and had a street light just close enough for him to see by. It was still early and there was at least a score of pedestrians wandering in either direction. He walked quietly up to the main thoroughfare and then a couple of hundred yards until he passed a cab just setting down a fare. Half an hour and he was safely at home.

  ‘So, he knew the Confederate agent, Bulloch, but was not even acquainted with the name of Bulloch’s Unionist counterpart, Thomas Hanes Dudley, the Federal consul in Liverpool, a man most active in the business of running down Southern sympathisers in the shipyards.’

  Dick sat down with pen and paper, a letter to Major Hewitt the first need.

  Hewitt appeared in person two days later, knocking at the door and carrying a sheaf of papers for delivery, a mere messenger boy by appearance. The indoor man indignantly sent him round to the back, where he was out of sight, just in case of watchers.

  Dick welcomed him and called for tea.

  “Do you stay, Major Hewitt, or will you return to London later today?”

  “I have a ticket on the last through service this evening, Major Burke. What must you tell me, sir?”

  “Your man Donovan is untrustworthy, I believe. We cannot risk the launching and trials of the ship, for I suspect she would disappear, much to his amazement. The government to step in and purchase the ship, at cost, no more, for the Royal Navy, and the Confederates given a flea in the ear. It is not possible to build large men of war clandestinely now that they cannot be called merchantmen. Mr Bulloch to be visited by two large and flat-footed gentlemen from the Metropolis and informed that potentially criminal actions will not be winked at. The Federal consul to be told of all that has happened and be requested to keep his nose out of Irish affairs – we have enough trouble there without his help!”

  “What of the Confederate gold? They will surely purchase elsewhere.”

  “The only yards building modern warships are to be found in Britain and in France. The Emperor is, from all one hears, rocky on his throne; a word from Whitehall must surely bring him to forbid the French builders to become involved. The delay of a week or two and I shall make Mr Bulloch’s acquaintance and suggest that although it is not possible to build large steam frigates it might well be feasible to produce, I don’t know, say sloops with a pair of heavy pivot guns, their armour plate hidden behind a timber cladding. A flotilla of such vessels might do just as well as a single turret ship and far more easily disguised being little bigger than a tug boat.”

  “At the right moment, we allow for their delivery to his agents and take them up, the gold having been paid over.”

  “We must call for a deposit of say twenty-five per cent as a gesture of good faith on their part, I would suggest. Most yards would wish to have cash in hand before taking so risky a contract.”

  Major Hewitt thought it could be attempted. Certainly they must make sure of the turret ship, and that must be done from London, not a word whispered in the Cotton Belt.

  “The embargo on cotton sales to England is beginning to hurt, Major Burke. Spinning mills are closing their doors and men and women are being thrown out on the street. There would be a lot of feeling in favour of selling a ship that could re-open the Confederate ports.”

  That explained the need for covert action – Dick had wondered why a squad of policemen had not taken up all of those involved in the affair.

  “As ever, we have too few police to prevent rioting, and the Army is more to be found in India and China and Canada and Africa than in England. We cannot use the heavy hand, primarily because we do not possess one.”

  Book Two: The Making

  of a Man Series

  Chapter Ten

  The newspaper carried a bold headline, ‘Disaster at Yard’; the columns underneath told how a launch had gone disastrously wrong – they seemed to like the word ‘disaster’, it appeared six times on the front page alone. As the hull had run down the slip a restraining chain had snapped; not only had that whiplashed through the workers but others had broken under the sudden extra strain and the ship had swung sideways. The slipway itself was damaged and the new hull was probably fit only for scrap. Less importantly by implication, and carried far lower down the page, seven men had died at the scene and an unknown number had been taken to the Infirmary, more or less severely injured. The firm of Bolton and Webb was facing a massive financial loss.

  Dick wrote a polite and brief letter to the managing director of the company, introducing himself as a potential investor. He suggested that they might wish ‘to have a little chat’. He received a reply return of post begging him to come to their office at his earliest convenience.

  ‘Let bankruptcy be the order of the day, it would seem,’ he mused.

  Ten o’clock the next morning – not too early, let them sweat a little first – saw Dick turning into the front gate over on the Birkenhead side of the River Mersey. The yard was silent.

  ‘Mourning; or no orders, no work, no future?’

  The gatekeeper was aware of his name and took him through to the offices – again, empty and idle except for one gentleman who was delighted to meet him.

  “Mr Josiah Bolton, sir. Sole Proprietor of the Firm, Mr Webb having been my father’s partner and died without issue.”

  “Sir Richard Burke, Mr Bolton, of Parsons and Burke in Washington and other places.”

  Dick produced his business card, carefully distinct from the social card that carried the address of Burkes and ignored his commercial activities.

  “I had not known Washington to be a centre for shipbuilding, Sir Richard.”

  “Stronger in finance, perhaps, sir. I am looking for a modern yard in England, one that is to produce the latest in steam-powered warships, possibly iron-clad, perhaps wholly of steel construction.”

  Mr Bolton was a little downcast – they had never built a warship and nor for that matter had they ever exceeded a two thousand tonner.

  “What happened last week, Mr Bolton?”

  “We bought in a new chain, wrought-iron links, from our usual supplier, and it was faulty. A link snapped, and showed a massive piece of slag in the iron. Inexcusable, sir! I have placed the matter in the hands of my solicitor and have no doubt of a judgement against them. But that will take years in the courts. For the meanwhile, I have a suit against me for failure to deliver the ship that was on the slip – for the hull is irrecoverable. The customer is sympathetic, but requires his money, for he will have to charter a vessel now rather than use hi
s own. I must place eight thousands in his hands at soonest, and of course have a slip to repair and then custom to solicit on the back of a calamity.”

  It was reasonable - ill-luck rather than bad management. It made Bolton worth a risk.

  “Small vessels, sir. Made all of steel; screw propeller; carrying perhaps a single pivot or turret gun; fast and ideally of no great draft. The aim might be to tow them close to a harbour which they are then to penetrate and cause havoc.”

  Bolton was sure he could design and make such a vessel, and at no huge expense. But, only if he had a yard, which was a very dubious proposition just at the moment.

  “What will your costs be, Mr Bolton?”

  Three hours later they sat back from Bolton’s desk, calculations complete.

  “Twenty thousand pounds, cash in hand, with immediate effect. Ten thousand more at the end of two months, and as much again two months later. Seventeen weeks from now, you will expect to launch the first of the small gunboats. I am to provide the cash and discover the purchasers. You offer the yard and a skilled workforce. I could eventually create a firm from new that would be all my own – but it would be several years before I had the workers that you possess now. I do not have years to spare, and there are few yards for sale; so I need you if I am to enter this industry, sir. The question is, of course, to what extent you need me.”

  Bolton knew that he must close his doors by the end of the week if he could find no rescuer. He had been very lucky to be contacted by Sir Richard, could not hope to find a second potential investor.

  “We turn the yard into a limited company, sir, under the new Act, you to have fifty per cent of the shares.”

  “Fifty-one, sir – we must have a decision taker in case of disagreement. That is to be me.”

  Dick did not utter the words ‘take it or leave it’; Bolton knew they were unsaid.

  “Done, Sir Richard. Fifty years of building a family firm come to an end, courtesy of a bad piece of wrought-iron!”

  “Luck, sir – no more or less. If we are successful then you will soon have almost one half of a far greater concern. We must make haste to create the company and I shall place the initial twenty thousand in your hands today as an earnest of my good faith. We would wish your men to be back to work as soon as may be possible.”

  “I will spread the word today, Sir Richard – a placard at the gate to say that we reopen at six tomorrow morning. The news will spread faster than you could imagine, sir. The men must fear that their jobs are lost and will be so relieved to discover they still have work, have lost only a few days pay.”

  They debated briefly whether they might make a payment to the men for the days without work, but it was clear to them that the accident was not their fault and they had no obligation to cover the hands' losses.

  "An Act of God, in effect, Sir Richard, which I much regret, of course, but which I must conclude is no responsibility of mine."

  Dick was inclined to be impatient - he had never imagined that he had the slightest obligation in the matter.

  “Very good! A set of drawings, if you please, by the end of the week. I have a customer in mind and wish to catch him quickly.”

  A letter to Hewitt and a response inside forty-eight hours – the Post Office was a wonderful machine, reliable even if not cheap at a whole penny a letter.

  Mr Bulloch was to be found at a little hotel out on the Welsh side of Birkenhead, a place more suited to a commercial traveller than to the representative of a government, and hence ideal for a man in his line of business who preferred to be invisible. The Consul who openly represented the Federal government had a large and public office very close to the Municipal buildings, as near to the official centre of government as existed in Liverpool.

  Hewitt was of the opinion that Bulloch ran too small an operation – for shortage of funds – to keep a watch on the consulate. Dick hoped he was right as he ambled inside and begged a few minutes of Thomas Hanes Dudley’s time. He addressed the clerk with an absolute certainty that he would receive immediate audience.

  “Major Sir Richard Burke, sir, of the Union army and also of the British, and recently of the Inspector-General’s department in Washington.”

  He hoped that was sufficient to make him interesting.

  Dudley was an active and well-informed man and welcomed Dick into his office.

  “This is for your information, sir, and in confidence, though you must eventually speak to your masters in Washington, I doubt not. Her Majesty’s Government is increasingly irritated by the actions of the man Bulloch. The Alabama stretched the limits of neutrality – and I am aware that you feel it surpassed them, sir – but the attempts to build major ships of war are simply unacceptable to Her Majesty's Government. As you know, because to a great extent it results from your efforts, both ships have been bought into the Royal Navy. You may not know that the Emperor in France has been persuaded that he will have no part in similar affairs. Bulloch will buy no battleships in Europe. He has an amount of gold remaining in his hands and will use it to commission the building of smaller but still dangerous vessels. He will be permitted to make his clandestine orders and the small ships will be constructed, but they and his gold will disappear without trace at delivery time. We will thus end his activities in Europe, we believe.”

  “That is guaranteed, I trust, Sir Richard.”

  “It is, sir, unless I become very careless indeed, in which case I expect I shall disappear without trace instead, under the waters of the River Mersey.”

  Dudley managed to smile at the prospect.

  “Why are you telling me of this, Sir Richard?”

  “To keep you out of the hands of the Irish Republican Brotherhood; Fenians, so they call themselves in the States, sir. They are in the way of constructing gunpowder bombs and using them in England again. I do not wish to discover that you have been paying for their services to thwart Mr Bulloch, sir.”

  Half truths were far better than outright lies when it came to this sort of business.

  “Blunt, Sir Richard, but effective. Nothing will be imported into Britain that might in any way aid or comfort that organisation, or others of a similar nature, while Mr Bulloch’s aims are brought to failure.”

  Dick accepted that pledge and made no further comment. He asked how the war was progressing and commiserated on the latest failure of the Union.

  “We will win, eventually, sir. But the cost in blood is horrendous. As a final thought, sir, you may have met a gentleman who calls himself Mr Quintin Donovan? He is, I believe, taking money from Her Majesty’s Government and from Mr Bulloch.”

  “I know of him, Sir Richard, and have paid him myself on occasion.”

  “Strange, he said he had never heard your name, sir! I thought him a liar at the time. I would wish to see him removed from the scene, sir, being too untrustworthy.”

  Dudley made no objection; Dick presumed he would warn Donovan off.

  It was Bulloch’s habit to worship at a small chapel close to his hotel almost unfailingly of a Sunday morning. Dick tipped his hat to him as he left, unescorted and surrounded by the Godly of Birkenhead and hence unwilling to reach for the gun under his greatcoat.

  “I am the owner of Bolton and Webb of Birkenhead, Mr Bulloch. You might be interested to inspect some plans to be discovered in my offices, sir.”

  “The shipbuilders who suffered disaster recently, sir?”

  “And changed owners as a result. Hence a yard that is without custom at the moment and is willing to take on new commissions. We have some ideas that might, as I said, be of interest to you, sir.”

  “How did you know to find me here?”

  “A contact in Cammel Laird who is annoyed that the turret ship is taken by the Navy at cost. Not a penny of profit and he has no doubt that their designs will be made open to other favoured constructors in England, by way of punishment.”

  “Will that not happen to you, sir?”

  “Smaller ships are less visible, an
d we will keep them out of government’s sight, I assure you, sir.”

  Bulloch had nothing to lose except his personal liberty. Had the aim been assassination, then he would be dead in the road, he realised. An arrest could have been made even more easily. It was worth taking a chance, for he was almost out of options, but he did not like to be accosted by unknown Englishmen.

  “Small, fast boats, sir, able to make their way from port to port, inlet to bay to harbour all unseen, yet capable of doing much harm to a wooden blockader.”

  Bulloch examined the drawings.

  “All steel, sir, and of fifty tons burthen. A single screw propeller which we calculate to offer twelve knots. One large pivot gun, such as Alabama carried, sixty-eight pounder and rifled, firing an explosive shell. Captain; Gunner; Engineer Officer; two stokers, eight gun crew, six sailors and a cook. Twenty men in total. Coal bunker of only twelve tons, which is the greatest drawback. By increasing her to eighty tons we could add another thirty of coal, to give her more than two hundred miles of range at full speed.”

  “She could not cross the Atlantic.”

  Dick produced another drawing, of a wooden lighter to be towed behind a blockade runner.

  “Two of the gunboats, sir. The barge to be built round them and add a disguise in their final weeks of construction.”

  Bulloch was convinced; quite probably he wished to be, as the Southern cause needed to break the blockade and quickly.