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

by Andrew Wareham

  The ideal was to grow the company using as little of his own cash as was possible, paying out a dividend to the shareholders only after allowing for salary and expenses to himself.

  If all worked out then a very few years would see him Chairman of a large and respectable company. His own fees would be substantial, of course, and it would be easy enough as well to divert additional sums through the accounts, various unspecified payments to imaginary suppliers, that would end up in his bank. He could always issue himself with more shares, on the quiet, and dribble them out on the Stock Exchange when he wanted cash. It was not so many years since George Hudson, the Railway King, had made his hundreds of thousands through grand and open theft; Dick thought he could make millions with the exercise of a little more care.

  First the patent medicines; then a chain of chemists shops throughout the North Country before spreading nationally; after that it might become possible to buy up suppliers overseas, in the colonies, to become part of this new Empire that was suddenly being talked about.

  But he had to set the company up first, with a proper set of Directors' names on the Register. It did seem that a Peer of the Realm would be very useful, ideally one who would come for free.

  There was no choice – profit must come before personal preference - he must make contact with his father - which would have the advantage, he consoled himself, that he could add a baronet to the list as well.

  Would the Old Man be inclined to forgive and forget? Personally, he would be far more inclined to put a bullet into any man, son or no, who had treated him in that fashion. Perhaps a letter to Sergeant Bill first.

  "The silks and satins, ma'am, have returned a very respectable profit indeed!"

  The Washington manager of Parsons Importers was very respectful. His highly successful employer was, apparently, on the verge of travelling overseas and had not yet confirmed that he would take effective charge of their Eastern operations.

  Miss Parsons was inclined to be regretful that necessity had driven her to import more of luxuries than of the sinews of war her country so desperately needed - but she had to put profit in front of patriotism, it was only right that she should look after the interests of the family firm.

  "What of the medical goods, Mr Larson?"

  "Much appreciated, ma'am, by the officials in the appropriate departments. We are selling at very little more than cost, as they know, and are creating an enviable reputation for probity as a result. I am in contact with a new body - a Women's Sanitary Commission - which seeks to create hospitals for the troops in response to the obvious shortcomings displayed after the Battle of Bull Run, ma'am. We will be able to sell to them, the Army being willing to issue them almost nothing from official stores, for regarding them as unladylike - but the profit will be very low."

  "Yet the value to our name will be high, Mr Larson. Send to England, to Major Burke, for all that he can ship to us. The tonnage will not be high, the shipping space quite small, yet the gains could be significant; he has access to opium for pills and morphine to be injected - and neither is in any great supply here as yet. There is still a need for the importation of bandages as well, and probably of blankets. What of this other matter you mentioned, Mr Larson?"

  Larson had spent many sleepless hours choosing his words for the proposition he was about to make. Was Miss Parsons to take the matter badly then he could find himself jobless in the street in a very few minutes.

  "Silks, ma'am, and satins, and lace; brandy and fine wines; possibly caviar and foie gras in stoneware jars, smoked oysters perhaps - luxury stuffs, in fact, such as we sell in the North already."

  'In the North' - she seized upon the relevant words instantly.

  "Before you respond, ma'am, consider that these are not goods than can in any way render assistance to the Confederacy in its heinous struggle against our sacred Union! In fact, ma'am, one might argue quite the opposite - for we shall be taking payment in gold that might otherwise purchase English guns and powder!"

  She was not entirely convinced by that last argument, though she could see its relevance. More important was that the Union blockade was becoming increasingly efficient; every week brought its story of Southern runners captured or sunk on the high seas, and their cargoes could not be insured.

  "Exactly, ma'am - each such capture forces up the prices of goods in Richmond and the South as a whole. It is the land blockade that concerns me more, ma'am - far more difficult to block every road and back trail from Washington to Kansas City and then south! It is, in fact, quite impossible. A car load sent across the rails, dropped off in a siding in a backwoods town, unloaded onto freight wagons and then taken apparently to the West - who can police all such consignments, ma'am?"

  Larson produced figures for costs - rail shipping then overland by wagon - that seemed very attractive, remarkably low in fact.

  "The wagons are already at work, ma'am. They are bringing bales of cotton up from the South, and some tobacco and not a little of molasses and sugar - the demand for all of which is high in the North. They are finding very little to carry South, however, being aware that if they took gunpowder, for example, they would soon draw attention to themselves. Northern agents would seek the source of munitions and would wish to expose the traitors who carried them - but silk dresses and ladies' other clothing? I doubt that would be seen as an appropriate field for them to investigate. The Federal agent who ended the trade in stays and corsets would do little for his career, one suspects!"

  Larson then put a list of prices in front of her - three and four times as high as the already inflated figures for the North.

  "In gold, not in shin-plasters?"

  The Confederate paper dollar was already viewed with disdain.

  "Coin or bar, ma'am - nothing less; except that it is sometimes the case that impoverished Southerners will offer gemstones, selling off the family treasures."

  The demand for jewellery was low in the North, because of the war, but she had no doubt it would be high in England. There could be another substantial profit there.

  "What have we in stock, Mr Larson?"

  "An amount of goods which I have held back for the purpose, ma'am."

  "Do it, sir. Full and exact figures to me, if you please, and twenty per centum of the profit to you."

  He asked for forty, settled on the twenty-five that was the absolute most he had ever hoped for.

  "I presume that any paperwork will be discreet, Mr Larson - and the sole name appearing will be yours - in return for your quarter share, sir!"

  The first consignment was put together and loaded onto a single boxcar, indistinguishable from the forty or fifty others that made up the train. It was despatched on a roundabout route north to Chicago and shunted in the yards there to go south to St Louis where it was put on the end of a local going into the agricultural farmlands, invisible to city dwellers.

  Four hours to the south the engine stopped by a small siding for five minutes while the wagon was uncoupled. Ten dollars dropped into the hands of driver, fireman and brakeman and they steamed away, innocent of all wrongdoing. The points were switched briefly and the wagon was pushed into the siding by a dozen sweating men, a hundred yards or so off the line and into the shelter of a barn, loading point for the local harvest in season, abandoned for almost all of the rest of the year.

  Five waiting four-horse wagons were quickly loaded from the boxcar and pulled away on the unmade track, crossing the line and disappearing into the network of dirt roads that served the farmsteads. The wagons had unloaded thirty bales of cotton which were quickly packed into the car. The door was bolted and the boxcar was pushed back onto the siding, close to the line, ready to be picked up by the returning engine and be carried off to St Louis and then to New York and the waiting mills.

  The men dispersed, walking off to their farms, a few more dollars earned. They would come back again in three days, as per instructions. Most of the men brewed their own moonshine; none paid any taxes they could po
ssibly avoid or evade. The little bit of smuggling they had just engaged in was a perfectly normal local practice - the government, any government, was the natural enemy of the barefoot dirt farmer - they felt no guilt at all. They certainly would not open their mouths.

  The wagons rolled their way south until they came to a landing by the Mississippi where they offloaded into a black-painted flatboat, picking up cotton in exchange. The boat would work its way down the river, mostly at night, occasionally diverting into the swamps, but normally unseen on the great waters. A fortnight, at most, would see the crew tied up at Natchez. They would carry the cash back up with them on their next run with cotton.

  Just six weeks after loading the first consignment Miss Parsons and Mr Larson sat in their office, the doors locked and the blinds drawn, counting out their booty.

  "We risked thirty thousand dollars, Mr Larson. What does this total?"

  There were Spanish and French gold coins of different denominations; American silver dollars; British sovereigns; ancient Maria Theresa dollars and a few Dutch guilders. In addition there were a few loose gem stones and a single diamond necklace whose worth they could not even guess at.

  "We dare not take this to a bank in Washington, ma'am. Its source is obvious."

  "Then I shall carry it to New York, Mr Larson. The banks there will not care in the slightest, and they will send the jewellery to England by their secure mailing service, I doubt not."

  A week and slightly more than one hundred thousand was credited to their account, the gems to be an extra when they were eventually sold.

  After they had paid all of their costs there was a surplus of some sixty thousands to split between them.

  Miss Parsons doubled her orders for silks and female apparel from Liverpool and sent a letter to Major Burke regretting that it would be quite impossible for her to leave Washington for another six months, at least.

  Sir Godby Burke visited his solicitor in the little, old-fashioned market town of Blandford, deep in the Dorset sticks. The lawyer was an elderly gentleman in a quaintly antique frock-coat, obviously out of touch with modern times, a seemingly peculiar choice of adviser for a businessman whose relationship with legality tended to be ambiguous. The casual observer might have expected Sir Godby to choose a younger, sharper legal front for his enterprises. Mr Peckham, however, was no stranger to the greyer corners of the statute book and had in his time represented some of the less visible shipping firms of the wild port of Poole, as well as having taken a leading role in the promotion of a number of railway lines, few of which had returned a dividend to their shareholders. Additionally, Mr Peckham had two sons who had followed him into the profitable aspects of legal practice.

  “I wonder, Mr Peckham, if you became aware of enquiries being made about me in the area just a few months ago?”

  “There was a show of interest displayed by a policeman hailing from Bristol, Sir Godby; last September, as I remember. I had occasion to address a few words to the Superintendent in Dorchester, the Bristol man being out of his own manor, as the police so singularly express it. I understand the gentleman was sent back onto his train with a flea in his ear and a complaint to his own superior officer. Other than that, Sir Godby, there was a private enquiry agent busy in the area some four months ago, asking questions about the family. He, it transpired, was in the employ of a solicitor from Liverpool – he addressed a letter by mail to his principal. I have a copy of it on file, if you are interested, sir.”

  Sir Godby was a little surprised, having imagined the Royal Mail to be sacrosanct.

  “Letters are always delivered, Sir Godby. Just occasionally they may be delayed for a day while their contents are discovered – but one never abstracts valuables from them, for example, that would be severely frowned upon.”

  Sir Godby made a mental note to be more careful in his writing – never a word that he would not wish to hear in court.

  “I returned the compliment, as one might say, Sir Godby, and employed my own man to discover all that might be of interest in Liverpool. The client of the solicitor in question transpired to be Mr Richard Burke – Major Burke of the Union Army – an officer of some slight renown in the United States and a member of General McClellan’s staff, currently on extended furlough. He made a visit to London recently, by the way, sir, the details of which are unclear but may well involve some degree of politicking. He is comfortably well-off and has become a principal in a patent-medicine firm which he is expanding rapidly and, one presumes, profitably. There is some talk that he retains a relationship of sorts with Washington – I expect to hear a little more of this in the near future, hence my delay in reporting to you.”

  Sir Godby was pleased to hear that his son was making money – the blood ran true, it seemed.

  “When you say ‘of renown’, Mr Peckham, you refer I presume to distinction on the field of battle? I had thought the Union was defeated in its only battle last year.”

  “It was, Sir Godby. The defeat, it is said, would have been worse was it not for an extemporised line of defence set up by an enterprising young officer who persuaded fleeing troops to hold under his command.”

  “Richard? Dickydido?”

  “Mr Richard Burke, indeed, sir.” Peckham was no stranger to the vulgarity but preferred it not to be heard in his offices.

  “Well I’m damned!”

  That seemed highly probable to Peckham, but a good lawyer did not make such comments aloud.

  “I doubt he would wish to seem to beg my forgiveness, Mr Peckham. I cannot really expect him to contact me, for I am aware that I was much at fault in my dealings with him. He is, nonetheless, my heir, and one of the major causes of our estrangement is now dead. Would you be so good as to send him a letter, an invitation to Burke’s?”

  “Might I be so bold as to remind you, Sir Godby, that you have yet to write a Will?”

  “I am not perhaps as young as I was, Mr Peckham. It is time that I gave the matter some thought… The boy must inherit the great bulk of my wealth, but I shall not give him a free hand with it – I owe him something for the stick I walk with. And that was a damned good horse he took! Tell me, Mr Peckham, how best can I irritate him for every day of the rest of his life?”

  Letters from America, from the Prince de Joinville in particular, disclosed that McClellan had finally been forced to move, had launched a great amphibious attack upon Richmond. He had assembled more steamships than had ever been seen in one fleet before and had sent them down to capture the peninsula before Richmond, being convinced that to take the capital and its immediate surroundings was to end the Secession.

  ‘Others have asked what he intends to do about the Confederate armies, for he seems to think only of conquering land, not of fighting and destroying his enemy. He appears to think that bloodshed can be averted even yet, and wishes, I believe, to bring the fighting to an end with an armistice, to be followed by negotiations which will unite the country again, presumably with him as President. He has several times referred to the ‘gratitude of the ordinary people’ which will be his, and of the ‘burden of service’ which he will bear, probably for the rest of his life. King George the First of the McClellan Dynasty? He has more than once commented that with so vast a set of armies the nation could then bring the whole of North America, from Panama to the frozen northern wastes, under one government, as God intended that it should be. He has not mentioned precisely how he became aware of God’s opinion in this matter – but there are those who accuse him of Messianic delusion.’

  Dick took a train to London.

  That evening he enquired of the assistant manager at his favourite hotel whether there were any plays of interest that season; he might wish to be entertained. In passing he also commented that he had been in correspondence with some gentlemen in Washington, not unimportant figures and possessed of a little of both political and military knowledge.

  Major Hewitt sent him an invitation to dinner at his club in Pall Mall for the following eveni
ng, ‘if he happened still to be in Town’.

  “The Army and Navy, Mr Burke – a respectable old place, I believe.”

  “I had thought you might have joined a more diplomatic venue, Major Hewitt.”

  “Not yet, sir – ‘The Rag’ will do me for the while. Another promotion and the need will be greater – I will be forced then to rub shoulders with the generals in the United Service Club – but one is less visible here.”

  They dined in a small room eating a not particularly well cooked meal – overdone beef and boiled vegetables prominent.

  “The bulk of the officers here are used to mess cooking, Mr Burke. This is haute cuisine to them.”

  “The wines are good though, Major.”

  “The brandy is better – the bulk of our officers are drunks, I fear me. Service in India and Africa does them no good at all, and almost every officer in the army has done his years in the Empire. Of course, many of them have been posted to Ireland as well, and have picked up the worst of habits there!”

  “I know nothing of that island, sir. Indeed, as you know, my military knowledge is very limited. I have a letter from the Prince, sir, that I thought might be of interest – but I am not sure of all of its implications.”

  Hewitt read the couple of pages with increasing disbelief; he turned back and started again in case he had missed a few important words.

  “He believes that he may end the war cheaply, Mr Burke. He will take, he hopes, the South’s seat of government while leaving their military intact. The effect will be, he assumes, that the South will feel forced to come to the negotiating table. Unsaid is that Lincoln must accept peace overtures – there is no love for the war in much of the North. Once the fighting stops it will be very difficult to raise a sense of outrage again. The South will be able to make demands which Lincoln will be forced to concede. When the next election comes Lincoln will be seen as a failure and McClellan as the saviour of the country. He is using the Army of the Potomac as his springboard to power.”