‘I daresay it could,’ replied Clay. ‘They weigh little more than the twelve-pounder long guns they replaced.’
‘Their manufacture is by no means straightforward,’ said Vansittart. ‘But I am sure our ironmasters could make some for export, for friends of our nation.’
The two visitors let the comment pass, and followed Taylor below deck. It was soon clear that neither man was familiar with life onboard a warship, if only from the repeated occasions that they struck their heads. But they took their buffeting with good humour, continuing to peer into each part of the frigate with polite interest.
‘How many sailors does your ship have, Mr Taylor,’ asked the count, as they stood in the middle of a lower deck packed with men taking their ease around the mess tables.
‘Two hundred and fifty is our full compliment, your lordship,’ said Taylor. ‘But not above half are rated as sailors.’
‘You surprise me, sir,’ remarked von Pahlen. ‘What can all the rest be required to do?’
‘Forty are marines, that is a type of soldier who is trained to fight on ships,’ he explained. ‘Then we have the officers, of course, and the rest are what we name idlers. Cooks, armourers, carpenters, coopers, sail makers, gunners and the like. We are something of a floating town, you see, able to shift for ourselves, even when we are far from home.’
‘Thank you, Mr Taylor,’ said Clay, at the end of the tour. ‘Would you care to follow me to my quarters for a little refreshment now, gentlemen?’
In Clay’s cabin the table had been set for four. Through the stern windows, the Gulf of Finland opened between shores of fir on either side. The green water sparkled in the sunshine, dotted with ice flows to the horizon.
‘I like your English navy,’ announced von Bennigsen, accepting a glass of wine from Harte, and placing a hand on Clay’s. ‘You have good ship, I think.’
‘The late Tsarina Catherine invited some of your brother officers to come and help train our navy before the war,’ added von Pahlen. ‘One Scottish officer, in particular, was very well received. Were you acquainted with the late Captain John Elphinstone?’
‘Good man,’ added his fellow Russian. He struck his other hand against his chest. ‘Show our sailors how to be heart of oak. Catherine make him Russian admiral, and he kill many, many Turk.’
‘I regret he served before my time in the navy, gentlemen,’ said Clay, sliding his hand from beneath von Bennigsen’s. ‘But it is useful to be reminded of an occasion when our nations were on friendlier terms. Perhaps we might drink to their return?’ The toast was drunk, and the glasses held out to be refilled by Harte.
‘I understand you are Military Governor of St Petersburg, Count,’ said his host to von Pahlen. Von Bennigsen laughed out loud, before his friend could reply.
‘Now, yes, but next week? Who can tell?’ he scoffed.
‘Ah, I had heard that Tsar Paul’s favour can be a little—shall we say volatile, Count?’ said Vansittart. Von Pahlen shrugged his shoulders.
‘Last August I was relieved of my duties,’ he said. ‘Then in October, the tsar chose to favour me once more.’
‘That must be very vexing,’ said the diplomat, ‘having to serve a master with such a capricious nature.’
‘Serving is always both an honour and a burden,’ said the count.
‘Quite so, although perhaps more of the later, under the present tsar?’ asked Vansittart.
‘Tsar is fool,’ said von Bennigsen. ‘Fool when he forced me from army, and more fool now.’
‘Perhaps he compounds his folly by also leaving you at liberty to act, General,’ said Vansittart. ‘I believe it was Machiavelli who urged that, “If an injury is done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need never be feared.” Let us hope that those around the tsar are not urging him to apply those principles in your case.’ Conversation dried for a moment, as Harte and his assistants served the first course and replenished the wine.
‘Tell me, Captain, do you speak French as fluently as Mr Vansittart here?’ asked the count.
‘Not as well as that, but I can understand it tolerably,’ replied Clay.
‘Perhaps we could use it to converse, then?’ asked von Pahlen. ‘It is the language of educated Russia, and my friend here speaks it much better than English. It will also permit us to speak more freely.’ The count looked significantly towards Harte.
‘As you please, monsieur le comte,’ said Clay, switching to the language.
‘Let us be frank with one another,’ said von Pahlen, adjusting the position of his plate a little. ‘Impressive as your delightful ship is, Captain Clay, I have no doubt there was more than a desire to share it with us behind your kind invitation.’
‘No indeed,’ said Vansittart. ‘I principally wanted to discuss the state of trade between our two nations.’
‘Trade!’ spluttered von Bennigsen.
‘Quite so,’ continued the diplomat. ‘I was given to understand that many at court will be impoverished should trade with my country not restart in the spring, not least you two gentlemen. Ah, trade! It is such a vital part of making life civilised, do you not agree? So much of what one finds here in St Petersburg is provided by it.’ Without waiting for a reply, Vansittart started indicating objects on the table. ‘Porcelain plates; the wine in my glass; why, even the glass itself; this silver fork...’
‘We have silversmiths aplenty in St Petersburg,’ protested von Pahlen.
‘And where, pray, do they get their silver from, Count? Like almost all of Russia’s trade, it comes by sea. I trust your palace was kept warm this winter, General, with all the Whitby coal delivered last summer. Mind, stocks in the city must be running low now.’
‘It is not only the English who have coal, you know,’ said von Bennigsen.
‘That is so, there are others who can supply you, at a price,’ agreed Vansittart. ‘And how will such coal ships arrive, when there is a British fleet in the Baltic, blockading your coast, General?’
‘What fleet?’ scoffed von Bennigsen. ‘This little frigate?’
‘We are but the advance party, sent ahead to help our many friends in Russia avoid a costly and needless war,’ explained the diplomat. ‘Be assured that should we fail, the fleet will follow. By now Lord Nelson will already be in control of the mouth of the Baltic as he approaches Copenhagen.’
‘Nelson?’ queried von Pahlen. ‘The young admiral who won that victory in Egypt?’
‘The very same,’ said Vansittart. ‘We take the threat of war very seriously, as you see, but I cannot but think that the whole prospect of war is unnecessary. We have no desire to fight you. We simply wish to buy, for a fair price, your tar and hemp, while you wish to continue to trade with the world. It is hard to comprehend why we should come to blows.’
‘Your navy insists on stopping Russian ships,’ said the general, pointing his glass at Clay.
‘Only to ascertain that they are not bound for France, after which they are allowed to proceed,’ said Clay. ‘It is the right of any nation at war to do so.’
‘The only person to gain from our falling out will be the Corsican tyrant in Paris, gentlemen,’ continued Vansittart. ‘I come here, in good faith, with complete discretion from my cabinet to negotiate an end to this folly, and your tsar will not even meet with me! What do you suggest I do?’
Clay watched the two Russians exchange glances across the table, and thought he detected the slightest nod from von Bennigsen.
‘We, too, have no desire for war,’ said von Pahlen. ‘Tell me what is it you need from us?’
‘I need to be able to negotiate with your tsar,’ said the diplomat.
‘But I understood you to say that he refuses to see you,’ said the count. Vansittart rolled the wine around his glass for a moment before replying.
‘That is so,’ he said. ‘Which is why I did not choose to name which tsar.’ The silence that followed was so profound that Clay was aware of all the shipboard sounds around him. A snatch of
laughter from the wardroom beneath his feet, the slosh of a wave against the rudder, the hum of the wind through the mizzen shrouds. Then von Bennigsen cleared his throat.
‘Have a care, old friend,’ he growled. ‘You speak treason.’
‘Perhaps, but I believe you also know that I talk sense,’ said Vansittart. ‘Paul is not fit to rule a great nation like yours, and the late Tsarina Catherine never intended that he should. Why else would she have locked him away, all the time schooling his son, Grand Duke Alexander, to be tsar after her? The accession was a dreadful mistake. There is plenty of precedent in both our countries for those with power correcting such errors. We could even say that it is their duty to do so.’
‘And how do you suppose that it will be done?’ asked the count.
‘I suggest nothing violent, of course,’ said Vansittart. ‘Simply that he must be persuaded to abdicate in favour of his son, and allowed to return to playing with his toy soldiers.’
‘You think it will be so simple, Nikolai?’ asked von Bennigsen.
‘Oh, I have no doubt it will be anything but simple, General,’ said the diplomat. ‘But you have the confidence of the army, and the count here controls those who guard the tsar. Between you, I am sure you will find a way to persuade him, and of course the captain and I are here to assist you in any way we can.’
Clay tried to keep his face empty of his surprise at this announcement.
‘The tsar is deeply unpopular, and there has been much talk at court along the lines you speak,’ said von Pahlen. ‘I myself have broached the matter, in private, with the Grand Duke Alexander. Nothing can be accomplished without his support, you understand. While I know him to be very much opposed to war with your country, he is also not yet persuaded it is his duty to replace his father.’
‘Then he must be convinced,’ said Vansittart. ‘Tell him that Paul plans to move against him.’
‘He will require proof.’
‘So give it to him,’ said the diplomat. ‘Go and see Paul with rumours that his son is plotting to overthrow him and ask for permission to arrest him. Then you can show that order to Alexander.’
‘Will it work?’ asked von Bennigsen of his colleague. ‘What if the tsar asks for proof of his son’s betrayal?’
‘I very much doubt that he will, General,’ said Vansittart. ‘There is only one thing you can be certain about a paranoid man. Tell him that his deepest fears are real, and he will always believe you.’
‘The vengeance of a tsar can be awful,’ said von Pahlen.
‘True, but it is of Paul the Simple we speak, not Ivan the Terrible, gentlemen,’ said Vansittart. ‘If matters should go ill, which I very much doubt, find a way of coming aboard this ship. You shall be quite safe.’
‘Simple for you to say such things,’ muttered von Bennigsen.
‘That is so, but if you fear Paul so much, you must certainly act against him,’ said the diplomat. ‘If he is truly the arbitrary and unreasoning person you fear, he will soon learn of your presence here and believe that you conspire against him, whether you do so or not.’
Chapter 11
Mikhailovsky
The letter had been delivered by a smart-looking naval launch that came alongside the frigate. The bearer was a young officer in a beautiful white uniform. His gleaming cavalry boots and trailing sabre had made climbing the ship’s side a perilous struggle, and most of the anchor watch had been willing him to fall, but both he and the letter had eventually arrived dry. Clay flexed the thick cream paper between his fingers and then held the seal up to the light. A double-headed eagle with the elaborate arms of Imperial Russia was embossed into the disc of burgundy wax.
‘Pass the word for Mr Vansittart, if you please,’ he called towards the cabin door. He heard the marine sentry repeat the order to his colleague on the deck below, and a few minutes later the diplomat was shown in. Clay passed the letter across.
‘An invitation, Captain,’ said Vansittart, once he had opened and read the letter. ‘Like all Imperial documents it is written in French, so they have made a sad hash of my name. No matter. We are commanded to attend a banquet with the Tsar of all the Russias and his son, Grand Duke Alexander, at the Palace of Mikhailovsky tonight.’ He tapped the letter with his long index finger. ‘Now, I wonder what may be afoot?’
‘You hold it to be something more than a courtesy, sir?’ asked Clay.
‘Naturally,’ said the diplomat. ‘I can’t imagine that Tsar Paul wants us there, which means that someone else must be behind our invitation.’
‘The gentlemen who visited us a few days ago, perchance?’
‘Indisputably,’ confirmed Vansittart. ‘I am familiar with the Winter Palace and the Hermitage, but not with the Mikhailovsky, which is newly built. Still, it lies in the heart of the city, so we have a long boat ride ahead of us, Captain. In fact we are to go in the launch that brought the invitation. It states that it will return for us at five, whatever that may be in those bells of yours.’
‘Two bells, sir,’ said Clay. ‘I must confess to being uncomfortable with attending. Admiralty regulations forbid me from leaving my ship in time of war, except when ordered to do so by a superior officer.’
‘Well, that is easily done,’ said Vansittart. ‘You forget that I am a representative of the king with full powers to treat on his behalf. I can oblige you with that order if you require it of me, Captain.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘In any event, we are in Russian waters and in receipt of an Imperial command. I cannot see how it can be refused.’
‘No, I daresay you are right.’
‘Besides, I would value your council and support tonight. May I be frank with you, Clay?’
‘I would like that above all things, sir.’
‘My presence at your court martial was not wholly driven by a desire to prevent an injustice, you know,’ explained Vansittart. ‘You were also marked as a man of discretion with some familiarity with the more clandestine side of warfare.’
‘God bless my soul!’ exclaimed Clay. ‘You amaze me, sir. How have I earned such an unwarranted reputation?’
‘From Lord Nelson, for one,’ said the diplomat. ‘He spoke highly of the manner with which you negotiated with the authorities in Naples on his behalf, back in ninety-seven. And then there were your activities in support of the French Royalists last year that were so unfortunately compromised by Major Fraser.’
‘Heavens, is that how the Admiralty think of me?’ said Clay, shaking his head. ‘I will naturally assist in any way I can, sir. What do you suppose may occur tonight?’
‘That I cannot say,’ said Vansittart. ‘Nine chances in ten it will be no more than a good dinner, but we must be prepared for all eventualities.’ He looked across at the stoop-shouldered Harte who stood by the cabin door. ‘To that end, it is customary for men of rank to attend such functions accompanied by a servant of some kind. I suggest you chose one who will be of value in case of need.’
‘Then I will chose my coxswain, Sedgwick, sir,’ said Clay. ‘Discreet, intelligent and useful in the event of trouble.’ Vansittart threw back his head and laughed.
‘The negro? Goodness! It will be worth a guinea just to see what the Russians make of him,’ he chuckled. ‘For my part I shall take Rankin.’
******
The second stroke had just rung out from the belfry as Clay emerged from his cabin, once more in the glory of his full dress uniform. It was a cool spring evening, with a gentle breeze from the shore bringing the scent of pine forest, although the rain clouds that had been gathering for much of the day had begun to look threatening. Most of the crew were below, leaving the upper deck to the officers. Clay noticed Preston and Miss Hockley up on the forecastle, standing with their heads angled towards each other, while her father glared at them from the quarterdeck rail. I need to get a grip of that situation, before there is trouble, he decided, as his first lieutenant came over and touched his hat in salute.
‘Fine evening, is it not, Mr Taylor?’
said Clay.
‘For now, although you may require your boat cloak later, sir,’ replied the older man, eyeing the clouds. ‘The Russian launch is on the larboard side, and Mr Vansittart and the others are waiting by the entry port.’
‘Thank you, I shall go there directly. Do keep an eye on Mr Hockley, would you? He seems rather vexed by the attention Mr Preston is paying to his daughter. Try and see that nothing is said that might be regretted later.’
‘Aye aye, sir. I shall do my best,’ said Taylor. ‘Would you care for some agreeable tidings?’
‘Very much so. What do you have to report?’
‘Mr Armstrong has his marine chronometer back, undamaged, and the ne’er-do-well who stole it is in the custody of the Master-at-Arms, sir.’
‘Splendid!’ enthused Clay. ‘Who was the culprit?’
‘William Ludlow, landsman in the starboard watch, sir,’ said the first lieutenant. ‘We received word anonymously that it was he. Apparently he was a notorious cut-purse before he joined the ship.’
‘Word from one of the crew?’ queried Clay. ‘That is unusual. They generally resolve such matters without reference to us. But no matter, at least he has been apprehended. Now I must be away. It wouldn’t do to keep the tsar waiting. You are in command until I return. If I am not back by dawn, you will find the ship’s orders in the top drawer of my desk.’
‘Aye aye, sir. And good luck.’
The boat was indeed the same launch that had brought the invitation. Clay and Vansittart settled into the stern sheets, while Sedgwick and Rankin went to join the Russian sailors in the bow. The diplomat nudged Clay, then looked towards the front of the boat, where the crew were shifting out of the way to make plenty of room for his coxswain. One seaman with a dark beard pulled a small icon from under his shirt and kissed the image, while the others observed the former slave with suspicion. As soon as they were all settled in place, the naval officer in charge barked an order, and the crew hauled a big lug sail and jib aloft to catch the evening breeze. The boat left the frigate’s side and headed for the channel cut through the fast-disappearing sea ice.
In Northern Seas Page 18
