Dire Shenanigans (The Making of a Man Series, Book 2) Page 25

  “Cost, sir?”

  “Seven thousand pounds each, sir, in gold. A deposit of one thousand each in my hands before the keels are laid.”

  It was an outrageous price.

  “Ninety pounds a ton, sir? Are they to be gold-plated?”

  “The pivot guns will demand nearly one thousand of that in sweeteners, Mr Bulloch. As well, I may have to buy the silence of observant policemen. The men in the yard will need bonuses as well.”

  It was still very steep, but England was going through a period of public rectitude and bribes were historically high as a result. Victorian public officials could be bought, but not cheaply, as Bulloch knew.

  “Six of them, sir, delivery within four months.”

  “Difficult, but not impossible. I will order the steel plate in person by the end of the week. The bronze screw propellers will be cast to order and may be the most awkward to source.”

  “I will wish to inspect the progress of the ships, sir.”

  “Not too frequently, if you please. You are a known figure. I would add that there will be a night guard and he will be armed, sir.”

  Bulloch was increasingly aware that he had been driven into a corner; he had to put his trust in this unknown Englishman.

  “I do not know your identity, sir.”

  “My name is Webb. Mr Bolton is our shipbuilder and designer. I deal with customers and sales, sir.”

  The firm would be desperate after the disaster - it was not unlikely that they might seek to skirt English law to re-establish themselves.

  Bulloch offered his hand to shake on the deal, was relieved to receive a strong, firm, honest handclasp in return as Dick stared him in the eye. The Southerner was convinced that one could always tell an honest man – villains were shifty-eyed weaklings, as all knew

  .

  Bulloch appeared at the yard two weeks later, a letter in his hand.

  Dick happened to be in his office – he had made a point of visiting the yard frequently, thinking he should be seen there. He led Bulloch to the inside window.

  “Six keels on the slip, Mr Bulloch, and ribs on the first two, sir!”

  Bulloch was amazed, said so repeatedly.

  “We keep our men busy, sir!”

  “You do indeed. Not like our bond-servants at home, sir – idlers to a man, impossible to get any work from them without a whip, and precious little then!”

  “So I am told, sir.”

  Dick debated whether to bring the farce to an immediate end by shooting the vicious little beast, but he wanted more of his money first. He could always kill him after he had robbed him.

  “The spar-torpedo, Mr Webb. Do you know of it?”

  “Not at all, sir. Is it a new invention?”

  “It is indeed, sir, a product of Southern genius!”

  That sounded much like a contradiction in terms to Dick, but he would listen.

  “A very small and fast craft, sir. Described to me as little more than a shallow hull carrying a steam engine and screw propeller, probably of less than twenty tons and to work in a bay or estuary where the enemy is close inshore. The bows to have attached a long spar, a horizontal mast of about thirty feet. At the very end, in a waterproof barrel, a gunpowder bomb of some two hundred pounds with a percussion cap and primer, to be rammed into the enemy hull. The bows to be very strong, the hull of steel plate, the wheelhouse low and armoured. A helmsman, an engineer and a stoker the whole crew and to be launched only at night.”

  An explosive charge of two hundred pounds at a distance of thirty feet?

  “The barrel to be covered in sheet iron, Mr Webb, open at the front end so that the force of the blast is projected entirely into the hull.”

  “I assume, Mr Bulloch, that you have a drawing in your letter.”

  It was more of a rough pencil sketch – the Southern genius was evidently no Leonardo.

  “I can pass it to Mr Bolton to work up a blueprint, sir, but it will take some little time to make all of the calculations.”

  “My correspondent in Richmond wishes them to be put aboard ship within two months, sir.”

  “Them?”

  “The first twelve, sir.”

  Dick shook his head.

  “A thousand sovereigns on each, sir, in your hands tomorrow.”

  “I must hire another slip, and workers, Mr Bulloch. Night shifts, I doubt not.”

  “Two thousand apiece, Mr Webb, and a further thousand on delivery.”

  Dick allowed himself to be persuaded.

  Bolton was appalled, protested that the project smacked of insanity.

  “It is called ‘Southern Genius’, sir.”

  “I call it raving bloody lunacy, Sir Richard! Poking a bomb into a hull some thirty feet distant! At speed, as well!”

  “They will pay three thousand in gold coin, for each of twelve, Mr Bolton.”

  “Which proves my point, Sir Richard! The man must be daft!”

  “Do they not say, sir, ‘that a fool and his gold are soon parted’?”

  “Samuel Smiles, I believe, Sir Richard, in one of his moral tomes. A very good point, sir. Who am I to protest at the natural order of things?”

  The sight of the gold coins next day did even more to sooth his qualms.

  Dick took the train south, obligated, he felt, to spend a week in Dorset – he had business there as well, must not neglect the alliance he hoped to create.

  "Bolton and Webb, Mr Sudbury, a shipyard, small yet but in the very forefront of modern design! I shall be wise to spend more time there than I had hoped, sir - most of the next three months, in fact - but that does not prevent me from begging your permission to speak to Miss Louise. I should, perhaps, outline my circumstances to you, sir..."

  Sudbury was impressed, particularly by the proposals made to guarantee his daughter an income on Dick's death.

  "You are a rich man, Sir Richard!"

  "I am, sir, and only partly by my own endeavour. It is not difficult to become rich in time of war, it would seem. I mentioned that I have landholdings in the Western states of Missouri and Kansas, Mr Sudbury. I think they would make a fine living for a younger son - but I do not know their extent, my agent still purchasing for me. I will not place them in an English entail, for the legal problems that might ensue are quite horrendous. Suffice it to say that they will be left by Will, I think."

  Sudbury was quite overwhelmed - the mythical, golden land of the West as well! He gave full approval for an immediate approach to his daughter.

  Louise had been well primed by her mother and knew exactly what she must say and do. She thanked Dick for his most pleasing offer, which she was flattered to accept. She gave him her lips, as ordered, was not at all sure she enjoyed the process. Not to worry, no doubt she would become accustomed to such intimacies.

  "A wedding in spring would be very suitable, if you agreed, Louise. There is building work at Burkes for the meanwhile - I am modernising the house internally. I find I enjoy my domestic comforts, as will you, I trust. A ring is an immediate essential, however, and I am unsure where best one may be procured. Is there a jeweller of quality in Dorchester or Poole, do you know?"

  Consultation with Mr Sudbury decided that there was a gentleman in Dorchester who might meet their needs.

  They agreed to take the family coach next morning.

  Dick made his way into Blandford and sought a letter from his bank manager to guarantee his cheque to the jeweller.

  "Have you a sum in mind, Sir Richard?"

  "Not specifically, sir, but one might well drop a thousand on such a matter."

  "You will not, if you will pardon my frankness, Sir Richard, find a ring at one half of that price in a provincial gemsmith's emporium!"

  "A gift as well will not come amiss, I expect, sir."

  The manager was inclined to regret that his only girl was ten years old - another few years on her and he would certainly have tried to put her in Sir Richard's way.

  A diamond at four hundred pound
s was more than welcome while a brooch and necklace to match left the Sudburys open-mouthed - which was the aim of the exercise.

  "Briggs informs me that the music room is well on its way to completion, Louise, and that delivery of a pianoforte is promised for December. The house will be liveable before Easter."

  Dick felt he had made his point - he might be short on gentlemanly lineage, but he had money and to spare.

  Mr Bolton was a troubled man - he had been approached by a most peculiar character and knew that the gate guard had been tipped five sovereigns in gold to answer questions.

  "Fortunately, Sir Richard, Seamus is a most trustworthy man. He took the bribe and told his interlocutor some very clever lies. He was a soldier and has no patience with revolutionaries be they red, green or, he says, sky-blue pink!"

  Dick nodded and smiled, asked just what information had been asked for.

  "Primarily, sir, your identity! I told them that you were a nephew of the original Mr Webb and Seamus said that you had long been the money man behind the yard. I did not give the question any long thought, Sir Richard, gave a very glib answer, and flatter myself that the Paddy may have believed me. Not too much of an accent, but that brogue is always there, you know."

  Dudley had given his word as a gentleman, and had sources on the fringes of Whitehall as well, better ways of discovering information. Add to that, Major Hewitt had said that Washington was keeping the purse-strings shut of recent months, since he had failed to stop the Alabama sailing. Most likely to be Bulloch hiring Irish assistance, possibly with his remaining gold, perhaps with promises for the future assistance of a Southern government in the Irish Cause.

  Dick stayed in the office, bringing himself up to date with progress on the small ships and launches, and noting that they were if anything ahead on the schedule. As dark fell and the yard emptied he made his way to the gate.

  "Mr Bolton tells me that you have been in the way of doing me a favour, Seamus." Dick put ten sovereigns into the outstretched hand.

  "My thanks, sorr, but it was not needful. My loyalty is not to be sold."

  "You have proved that already. Have you a gun here?"

  "Mr Bolton was thinking of such, sorr, but he is a peaceful sort of a man when it comes down to it."

  "There might be the attempt to burn the yard out when the customer for these little ships discovers they are not to be delivered to Confederate hands, and that his money is lost as well. I could put a pair of revolvers into your hands, Seamus, if that was your wish."

  Dick brought the pair of Colts next evening, watched while the ex-soldier showed well able to load them.

  Bolton had given Dick a description of the fellow who had approached him and said he was sure he had seen him hanging around in the vicinity since with a nasty tough at his shoulder.

  It sounded remarkably like Quintin Donovan, who might perhaps be playing his own game, a cat's paw of neither Federals nor Confederates.

  This Irish dimension was becoming a problem, Dick felt, not least because he knew remarkably little about its background. In common with any educated man he knew of the Great Famine of the Forties, and of the Irish population falling from seven to four millions in that terrible decade. It was a tragedy, but inevitable – English cleric and expert on population matters, the Reverend Malthus had predicted such an event many years previously. Many of the Irish had migrated, more or less willingly, to America and Australia and there some had made money and were using it apparently to seek revenge on the English. A pointless activity, as revenge commonly was, even if understandable, but it complicated the issues of the Civil War most alarmingly.

  The Irish of New York - the greatest and poorest single community in the States - favoured the Confederates, mainly, it was said, because their priests were determined in their hatred of the blacks and support for slavery. The Irish of the rest of the Union had responded to the call for volunteers and had provided a disproportionately large number of fighting regiments. Add to that there was the problem of the Protestant Irish - of whom there were not a few in the South, it seemed, and well-represented in the Confederate ranks.

  What the effect of all this would be on the Liverpool Irish, Dick could not imagine, but he did not want them involved in his little scheme. Major Hewitt had given him a name and he ventured into the police station off Lime Street next morning.

  "Chief Inspector Bertram, if you please, constable. My name is Major Sir Richard Burke. Please to tell him that I am interested in the Dutch Bob case."

  A small office with a double-locked door and no external window - hence no target for a rifle at a distance. Bertram was young for his rank, most Chief Inspectors had twenty-five years of service but he was in his early thirties.

  "Major Hewitt mentioned your name, Sir Richard, and I am aware of your activities in the world of shipping. I am told that much of Mr Bulloch's gold has left his hands, sir."

  "The remainder will do so within the month, I expect, sir. It will make sense to put him aboard ship at that juncture, I would imagine."

  "That is the intent, Sir Richard."

  "I am concerned, however, that he seems to be involved with some Irish people, Chief Inspector. His counterpart, Thomas Hanes Dudley, has agreed to end his current involvement with the Irish Republican Brotherhood, but I fear Bulloch has hired them, or some of them."

  Bertram sighed; he had difficulties enough already without American encouragement of revolutionary activity.

  "Have you names, Sir Richard?"

  "Quintin Donovan, who is habitually accompanied by a bodyguard and so must be of some importance, in his own mind at least. I believe he has been taking money from North and South, and may have his own personal set of ambitions quite separate from them."

  "I know the gentleman. Rather well, in fact. He has an American passport, unfortunately, so I am unable simply to arrest him and throw him into a deep cell. I can, and will, put him on a ship out of Liverpool. I will do so this day, that I assure you!"

  Dick assumed that Donovan was also on Bertram's payroll - he was an enterprising gentleman!

  "I must speak with Major Hewitt regarding our next steps, Chief Inspector, but I should not leave Liverpool just at the moment."

  "I must keep him informed, will beg his presence here, sir."

  "We have a problem, Major Burke!"

  There was nothing new in that, Dick thought.

  "What exactly, Major Hewitt?"

  "Bertram's people took Donovan up yesterday, but his bodyguard showed fight and was shot. All in a quiet enough place, the great mass wholly unaware and no repercussions in the newspapers - Bertram has his warrants and can suppress an issue if need arises, and the editors know not to cross his path!"

  "He is not by way of being an ordinary policeman, it seems, Major Hewitt."

  "He is not. Every police force in the country - well, all of the big, urban forces - has his like. I doubt you would find him in Dorsetshire, I would imagine, but there is the man in most forces who talks with the Home Office people and is not unknown to the Army's department, and probably the Navy as well. He knows just who pays what bribes, and which local politician has habits that are better not published in the columns of The Times, as well as making occasional arrangements to silence would-be blackmailers. He seeks out spies as necessary, and is ever anxious to suppress the revolutionary. Always on the quiet - there is no need to upset the masses!"

  "And he makes the arrests and his policemen carry revolvers, I presume."

  "Many policemen do, but his always. In this case, the bodyguard pulled his own gun and was shot dead and Donovan was taken away sobbing most bitterly and calling the man's name in the most piteous fashion - to the laughter of the policemen, of course!"

  "Ah... I presume there was a relationship between them?"

  "So it seems, Major Burke. Most unpleasant - I cannot imagine why the law permits such a thing!"

  Dick was surprised by that comment; he would have expected it from a cracker pre
acher in the American backwoods, but hardly from an English gentleman. Times were changing it seemed. He must remember to be shocked and disgusted in public if that were the case.

  "Well, whatever the Law may be in its wisdom, Donovan was put aboard ship on last night's tide and was sent off to the States, vowing and declaring he would have blood for his vengeance and naming you as the man who must be behind it all. He may have passed his knowledge of you to Bulloch, and so we have placed him under restraint as well, taking him as he left the packet from Belfast not an hour ago, bringing with him a trunk containing gold - just about twenty thousands, all that remains to him - and a number of slow fuzes and a length of quarrying match as well."

  "Bomb making devices, Major Hewitt?"

  "Just so, Major Burke."

  "Has he diplomatic immunity?"

  "He cannot have, as the Confederacy has never achieved recognition. He must not, however, be treated as a simple criminal - for it is still not impossible that there might be a peaceful solution to the conflict, or even a Southern victory. A solution must be sought. He was necessarily taken on the quayside, so was seen to be arrested by the bulk of passengers and crew; he cannot simply disappear."

  "Return him to America, that would be my advice, Major Hewitt. By way of the port of San Francisco!"

  "On a clipper ship, around Cape Horn... What a sensible idea, Major Burke! Two hundred days, or thereabouts, at sea. Out of harm's way and unable to send so much as a letter, yet not under arrest and in fact wholly free of restraint."

  Hewitt left Dick for a few minutes while he spoke to Bertram; he came back smiling.

  "Mr Bertram is much struck by your solution, Major Burke. He is to consult the harbourmaster's list of sailings, and if there is a ship outbound this week to San Francisco, Bulloch will be on it. If not, then it may be necessary to send him by way of Sydney."

  "It occurs to me, Major Hewitt, that I may not be a popular man in New York just as soon as Donovan reaches that city."

  Hewitt nodded - the same point had struck him.

  "The Irish gangs will have your name, undoubtedly. The Fenians will know of you, they being closely associated with them. You would be well-advised to travel by way of Boston or Baltimore in future, Major Burke."