The Custom of the Trade

by Shaun Lewis

  ‘Lizzy, I have to ask you this. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  Elizabeth felt confused. She had contented herself with her love for Dick and it had never crossed her mind that they might marry. They were cousins, after all. Tears began to fill her eyes.

  ‘My dearest love. I am quite taken aback at your proposal and need a few minutes to compose myself before I reply. Will you excuse me a short while?’

  She rose from the table and headed to the ladies’ powder room. There she sat at the dressing table to dry her eyes and adjust her make-up. For several minutes she examined her innermost feelings. She had a brother, so was not unused to male company, but in Dick she felt she had a soul mate. He seemed to understand her and had never seriously mocked her for her views on women’s suffrage. She felt she could share any of her inner thoughts with him, without fear of judgement or disclosure. The only other person she had felt this close to was Christabel, but since the start of the arson attacks the year before, Elizabeth had felt betrayed and not seen Christabel again. She admitted to herself that she had been fascinated by Christabel. They had even kissed and often shared a room, but Elizabeth knew that she was not really a lesbian. She had just wanted to explore her sexuality before meeting a real man. In her eyes men were pigs who together conspired to put down women, but she knew Dick didn’t fall into that category.

  She liked all her cousins, but Dick stood head and shoulders over them. Hitherto, she had regarded him as solid and reliable, but not the sort of man a woman could marry. He had changed, though, since that dreadful accident last year. For a start he didn’t go on about religion quite so much. As far as she knew, he still attended church regularly, but she wondered if he had left something of his faith behind at the bottom of the sea. She had once thought him far better suited to a life in the clergy rather than the Navy. It was only natural that a near certain prospect of death might change one, and many of Dick’s shipmates hadn’t survived. He’d confided that the death of his captain had cut him deeply. But there was something else, too. He seemed to have lost some of his supreme assuredness and confidence. She quite liked that. It made him more human and even a little vulnerable. Dear Dick. He deserved this command and she was pleased to see him so happy. She suddenly felt a strange feeling well up in her bosom and recognised that she wanted him, too.

  She looked into the mirror again and regarded carefully the reflection that looked back at her. Are you worthy of such a man, she asked her reflection silently. Could you truly make him happy? Her reflection smiled back at her reassuringly and she knew her answer.

  When she returned to the table, Richard rose to greet her again. He seemed to have lost the colour in his cheeks. Really, she thought, how could this noble and brave man seem so under-confident of her reply? Instead of resuming the seat offered her, she brushed Dick’s dark fringe with the back of her hand.

  ‘Dick dear, you asked me a straight question and I feel a straight question deserves a straight reply. Of course I will marry you.’

  Chapter 15

  June 1914

  In all her thirty-two years of married life, Johanna Miller had never attended a commissioning ceremony before. Today, on the ninety-ninth anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, she only half listened to the naval chaplain conducting the service of dedication at the commissioning of the Royal Navy’s latest addition to the Fleet, HMS E9. She knew it was a proud day for her eldest son, but even so, she could not find joy in the occasion. Next to her sat her husband, Rear Admiral Miller VC, CSC and several other decorations besides, and he was the cause of just one of her irritations that day. As a flag officer, he should have been wearing the traditional frock coat for such a formal occasion. Despite the advancing years, he was still, in her opinion, a handsome man and would have looked most distinguished in the naval finery, but instead, he had opted to dress similarly to the many civilians attending the ceremony, in his morning coat and matching top hat. William’s reasoning was that he was attending in the private capacity of the father of the commanding officer of the new submarine. By not wearing his uniform he had not drawn attention to himself as the senior officer present and left the way clear for Roger Keyes, the Commodore Submarines, to take on the role of the senior naval representative at the service.

  It meant that William looked no different from the many functionaries of the shipyard, but her main cause for disgruntlement sat further down the row, next to her son Peter. As usual, Elizabeth was dressed in purple, white and green, the colours of the WSPU. According to her niece, purple stood for the royal blood flowing through the veins of every suffragette, white for purity in private and public life, and green as the colour of hope and the emblem of spring. Before Richard had announced the news of his engagement to Elizabeth, Johanna had always loved her. Ever since the death of Elizabeth’s mother, and despite Johanna’s attempts to offer her niece the love of a mother, she had, nonetheless, become headstrong. And now she was involved in this suffragette nonsense. Edmond should have taken a firmer line with her, but men were always too indulgent of their daughters, even in her native Switzerland.

  Johanna’s thoughts were interrupted temporarily by William. The chaplain had just invited the congregation to sing the Naval Hymn.

  ‘I always find this the best part of Divine Service, my dear. It gets the lungs going,’ William uttered quietly.

  ‘Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave,’ William sang with gusto. He had a fine baritone voice, of which he was proud and not afraid to let ring out for all assembled to hear. Johanna looked across at Richard. He, also, seemed to be giving his all to the hymn.

  ‘Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!’ William’s powerful voice had often carried in the teeth of a gale and was now available to the whole of Barrow. Several people turned to see who owned this lusty and mellow tone. Johanna nudged him.

  ‘William, you’re too loud as usual,’ she hissed.

  ‘Nonsense, my darling. I must do Dick proud. O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard,’ he continued singing.

  Johanna barely heard the rest of the hymn. Her mind was on Elizabeth. Her intuition was that her niece could not make Richard happy. She sensed Elizabeth was still searching for something in her life and might not yet be ready to settle in a serious relationship just now. Worst of all, what if they were to have children? Marriages between cousins might not be illegal, but they were only one step removed from incest. Her grandchildren might turn out to be half-wits! But Richard would not listen to reason. He and Elizabeth had gone ahead and issued the invitations to the wedding for the first weekend of August, to tie in with the bank holiday, despite her quite reasonable objections. William had been of no help either. He had announced that nothing but a war would keep him from his son’s wedding and, if necessary, he would attend without her. Thank God he had stopped singing.

  *

  ‘Hello, Elizabeth. My, you grow more beautiful every day, despite your outfit. Do allow me the pleasure of kissing you.’

  Elizabeth silently seethed at Admiral Miller’s remark. ‘Why, of course, Uncle. You are looking very handsome yourself, although I am disappointed you are not in uniform on such a grand occasion.’ She offered up her cheek to be kissed. ‘As for my outfit, let’s not discuss politics today. I know you quietly agree with our cause.’

  ‘My dear Elizabeth, “quietly” is the operative word, but you are quite right. Now is not the time to debate the merits of militancy. How are the wedding plans coming along?’

  ‘Fine, I suppose,’ Elizabeth answered resignedly.

  ‘Come, dear. You don’t sound too enthusiastic. What’s the issue? Cough up, girl.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I was rather hoping for a quiet and private ceremony, but now it is to be a grand affair in Westminster Cathedral. I don’t mind being married in a Catholic church, but does it have to be on such a big scale?’

  ‘I see. That’s your Aunt Johanna’s
influence, I’m afraid. But is it such a great ordeal? It’s meant to be the happiest day of your life. Why not flaunt it?’

  ‘I don’t know really. Perhaps it’s because neither of my parents will be there. I can’t explain it. All I know is that I want to marry Dick and slink away without any great fuss.’

  ‘Elizabeth, my dear, I hope you will come to look on me more as a father than a proud uncle. I could not be happier to see the two of you entwined.’

  She forgot the earlier patronising comment and gripped William’s left arm for balance, before reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘Dear Uncle, you are such a poppet. But I know Aunt Johanna doesn’t approve of me.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about her. Mothers are always protective of their cubs. No girl could ever be right for one of their sons. I suppose I might have felt the same about a potential son-in-law had I been blessed with a daughter. Your aunt will come round. Especially if you provide her with a grandchild.’

  ‘But is that not just her objection, Uncle? She is convinced that any children of ours will be Mongoloids.’

  ‘You’ll prove her wrong. I’m sure of it. There is no scientific basis to such a theory, anyway. Even our great thinker on evolution, Charles Darwin, married his cousin. Just you leave your aunt to me and stop worrying. Oh, stop fussing, lass.’ Elizabeth hugged him tightly.

  ‘Let go, girl. Your brother’s coming across. Good afternoon, Charles. It must be several months since I’ve seen you. I’m pleased you could come to support Dick.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Uncle William,’ Charles replied affably.

  ‘So how’s business then, Charles?’

  ‘Fair to middling. The Caroline is on the stocks and I’ve just signed a contract with the Greeks to build them two cruisers, too. I’m even thinking of building a few of these E-boats. I don’t see why Vickers and Chatham should get all the business.’

  ‘Charles, I’ll leave you and Uncle William to discuss business. Thank you for the chat, Uncle.’ Elizabeth had spotted Peter Miller near the refreshment tables and availed herself of the opportunity to slip away and join him.

  ‘Hello, Peter. You’re looking well. I hear you’ve been taking some leave at Marton Hall.’

  ‘Oh, hello, Lizzy. Yes, I wanted to tell Grandmama about my time in Persia. I met up with one of our cousins, you know?’

  ‘So I’ve heard. Darius wasn’t it?’

  ‘Correct. He was a jolly useful contact actually. He, er, helped me learn the more colloquial and modern features of Persian.’

  ‘I rather fancy you haven’t just been calling on Grandmama. You’re still looking awfully tanned. I suspect a certain young school mistress finds that rather attractive?’

  Peter’s blushes at the reference to Alice, confirmed to Elizabeth that he had indeed been seeing her.

  ‘Yes, I have been catching up with Alice. You two seem to have become thick as thieves whilst I was away. She has been telling me the news of your joint activities with the WSPU. The death of that woman at the Derby last year was clearly a tragedy, but surely there was no need for someone to take a meat cleaver to Velázquez’s Toilet of Venus. It is, after all, a national treasure. Neither you nor Alice had a hand in it, did you?’

  ‘Peter, I despair with you. I’ve had to get used to being patronised, but I don’t have to take it from you. You quote the death of a woman and the damage of a painting in the same sentence, as if they were equally tragic. The Diplomatic Service doesn’t seem to have taught you tact. Can you not see how strongly we feel about the cause of votes for women? I and my sisters are prepared to die to obtain that right for each other.’ Elizabeth felt she could no longer harbour her frustrations. Something seemed to burst within her.

  ‘That painting was just an excuse for men to feast their eyes on an image of a nude woman in the respectability of the National Gallery. Something had to be done to shock you men into understanding the depth of our feelings.’

  Elizabeth’s voice gradually began to rise and her speech attracted several stares from other guests.

  ‘Calm down, Lizzy. I’ve told you before. I’m in favour of the vote for women, but these things take time. I just hope you or Alice aren’t involved with such extremism.’

  Elizabeth cut off his homily. She snapped and started screaming at him.

  ‘Why don’t you understand? You’re just like all the men. You think that by patting us on the heads and saying, “Calm down, dears”, we’ll be satisfied. Well it won’t wash. I will not be patronised. We’re sick of such sentiments. We want real change and far from being your precious and innocent little cousin, I admire the militants and wish I had the courage to be one. In fact I’ll show you.’

  She strode off in the direction of E9 and, just as the Red Sea parted before Moses and the Hebrew people, the crowd of shocked onlookers parted before her fury. She reached the jetty without anyone having the presence of mind to stop her. Hunting amongst the neatly piled stores in the vicinity of the submarine’s gangway she found what she wanted. She stooped, grunted with satisfaction, and angrily slung the can in the direction of the submarine. It was a prodigious effort whose results pleased her. The can hit the fin and, bursting open upon impact, deposited its contents of green paint across the fin and onto the casing.

  ‘That’s what I think of you boys and your toys,’ she shouted with delight.

  Later she recalled that the colour of the paint was a symbol of hope.

  Chapter 16

  July 1914

  ‘Darling very much regret may need to postpone wedding STOP All leave cancelled pending international developments STOP Much love Dick’.

  When Richard had commenced his leave in readiness for his wedding, there had been no talk of war. E9 had just begun a period of maintenance and his First Lieutenant, Lieutenant Reginald Ashridge, had had everything under control. Now, just four days before his wedding, he had received a telegram ordering him to re-join his submarine, in Immingham of all places. Richard was confused as he had previously understood the Eight Submarine Flotilla’s war station to be Harwich. Papa had not been able to explain much either. Even before the telegram had arrived, he had hurriedly packed his bags and announced he would be sleeping at the Admiralty until further notice. All Richard had been able to glean was that the Austro-Hungarian Empire had declared war on Serbia and that Germany had rejected Britain’s calls for an international conference to settle the differences between the warring nations. He had tried ringing Elizabeth but, not being able to reach her, had with great sadness sent her the telegram suggesting that the wedding might have to be postponed. To his surprise Mutti had not seemed too distressed at the thought of cancelling all the arrangements.

  On arrival at Immingham a day later, Richard had discovered the depot ship, Maidstone, and eight of her submarines had moved there earlier in the week. All leave for the submarine service had been cancelled by Keyes and the submarines ordered to prepare for war. Ashridge had efficiently arranged for the embarkation of the spare torpedoes, warheads, fuel and stores, as well as charging the batteries. There seemed little else that Richard could do except to await developments.

  It was not until the following day, the thirtieth of July, when all submarines were ordered to move to Harwich, that Richard had finally reconciled himself to the fact that he would not be getting married on the Saturday after all. There followed two days of practice attacks on the Maidstone and another depot ship, HMS Adamant, before berthing in Harwich and further fuelling and storing.

  Richard found the weekend frustrating, but he was not alone in that. All his fellow submarine officers in Harwich seemed to feel the same. Keyes had now raised his pennant in Maidstone and called his submarine COs together for a conference on the Sunday night.

  ‘Gentlemen, before I brief you on my plans, let me bring you up to date with the latest news. Some of you, no doubt, have been keeping abreast of events through the newspapers, but I have learned not to place my faith in journalists.’ Richard did not join
in with the polite tittering of some of the other COs.

  ‘Following the declaration of war by Austria-Hungary on Serbia, the Grand Fleet has sailed to its war station at Scapa Flow. The Austrians have started to bombard the Serb capital of Belgrade and this has enticed the Russians to come to the support of their Slav allies. As for the Germans, they have moved their more modern ships through the Kiel Canal to north-coast ports. Closer to home, the German yachts have withdrawn from the Cowes regatta and I view this as ominous.

  ‘Last night Germany declared war on Russia and warned her ally, France, to remain neutral. The view at the Admiralty is that France is unlikely to comply. The French have long memories and are spoiling for a fight to avenge themselves for their defeat in the 1870s. Which, of course, means that at any hour our nearest neighbour may be at war with Germany, too. Is everybody with me so far?’

  Most of those present merely nodded, but the CO of E7, Feilmann, had a question.

  ‘Sir, if France goes to war, are we then not committed to join her? Is that why we are readying ourselves for war?’

  ‘That is a question our illustrious Cabinet has been debating all weekend. The sea-lawyers are maintaining that the Entente Cordiale is not an alliance and does not bind us to come to the aid of France.’ This comment provoked a roar of outrage amongst the COs.

  ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. Settle down. Please.’ Keyes managed to restore order within a very short while. ‘The Admiralty has no wish to see French ports in the Channel bombarded by the Germans. It has persuaded the Cabinet to warn the Germans that the Royal Navy will intervene should the Imperial German Navy undertake any hostile acts against the French in the North Sea or Channel. My understanding is that, perhaps at this very moment, our ambassador is delivering the message to the Germans. I can assure you, gentlemen, that the First Sea Lord believes if France declares war on Germany, then we will stand by her.’