He excused himself, tottered off towards the bar for much needed sustenance. He did not seek her out again during the two days at sea that remained to them.
"'Mrs Boswell's', that was the name I remember."
The desk clerk at the Western Hotel was able to summon a cab and direct her to the establishment.
Mr Robinson held her newly printed card in his hand, stared blankly.
"'Miss Parsons, of Parsons and Burke, of Washington and Kansas City'; the name, Burke, is obviously very familiar to me, ma'am. Am I to understand that it is the same Mr Burke who is a major shareholder, and in many ways the business genius behind, my company, ma'am?"
"Major Richard Burke, sir, Medal of Honor, I would add."
Sergeant Bill knocked and entered the office, dressed very formally as a senior manager of the firm; he made a half-bow.
"Mr William Williams, ma'am, who acts for Mr Burke during his necessary absence in America."
He passed her card to Sergeant Bill.
"Miss Parsons, how do you do, ma'am?"
They shook hands; Robinson relaxed - she was obviously known to Mr Williams.
"I hold Mr Burke's Power of Attorney in England, ma'am; I am his amanuensis, one might say."
He was proud of that word, had double-checked in his dictionary before venturing it.
She laughed, gently, digging into the little document case she had brought with her.
"I hold the same in America, sir."
She offered him the paper.
He scanned it and accepted it as a true bill, passing it to Robinson for his confirmation.
"I have sold up our extraneous interest in America, Mr Williams, having been able to obtain a very fair price from Mr Carnegie in Pittsburgh, the great steel magnate. You may have heard of him?"
They shook their heads; none of the Robber Barons were yet famous in England.
"It is my intention, gentlemen, to invest our proceeds in a Bessemer Converter and a shipyard in England, with the aim of producing ironclad warships and, eventually, great guns. My engineer, Mr Bleaker, is expected to land in Liverpool within the next three days."
Neither man had heard of a Bessemer before, and both were hazy about the distinction between iron and steel.
She explained very kindly.
"This is England, ma'am."
"I had noticed that, Mr Williams."
"Does your Power of Attorney have legal status here, ma'am? It seems to me that I have the control of Mr Burke's funds in this country."
"You may well have, Mr Williams. My lawyer in Washington said that any dispute between us would go to the High Court of Justice for resolution, taking not less than two years and probably far longer to achieve a judgement. The fees would not, he informed me, be small. It is therefore, I believe, incumbent upon us to come to an amicable agreement."
"True indeed, ma'am."
"Following that, the creation of a joint-stock company would make sense, I think, sir. Shares to be held equally in my name and Major Burke's, apart from just two to be placed in the hands of an arbiter. I believe the Major's father still to be alive, sir?"
Mr Williams smiled and said that he was indeed and might be the very man for their purpose.
"What would the business of this company be, ma'am?"
"The building of warships, sir."
She devoted an hour to explanation of why every ship in the Royal navy was obsolete and must be replaced, first by armoured ships and then by wholly steel vessels.
They had heard of the famous duel between the Monitor and Merrimack, but knew nothing of the gunboats on the Mississippi. She had a line-drawing from a newspaper which was very persuasive.
"The question then arises, ma'am, of funds."
She produced accounts with the Liverpool Cotton Bank, accurate to the previous day.
"I have separated out my personal fortune, Mr Williams, earned wholly from the Parsons family enterprises."
A very healthy eight thousands in her own name, with a note that being single and of age she might handle her own affairs.
"This is a very large sum in the other account, Miss Parsons!"
"A little less than a quarter of a million of English pounds, Mr Williams. Trading tends to be very profitable in wartime conditions."
"It does indeed, ma'am."
Both men were impressed.
"I think, ma'am, that we must consider your proposal most seriously. With your permission, I shall write a letter to Sir Godby - Richard's father - acquainting him with all of this information and begging him to travel here to engage in a fuller discussion of your plans. Do you, by the way, know of Mr Richard's current location?"
"America, sir - and that is a large country!"
"And what is this of a 'Medal of Honor', if I might be so bold as to ask, ma'am?"
"I believe it to have been inspired by the British Victoria Cross, sir."
There was an exaggerated cult of hero-worship, veneration almost, for those few who had won a VC and lived; the medal was awarded rarely and conveyed great prestige.
They drew deep breaths - what an addition to the list of directors, on the headed notepaper!
"I am told, gentlemen, that ship-building is favoured more on the East Coast than in Liverpool now."
"I believe it may be, ma'am, inasmuch that the iron industry is growing more in that part of the country."
"Perhaps I should make an exploratory visit to those parts, sir?"
They agreed that she should, though not without trepidation - the thought of a young lady conducting such an expedition, without the benefit of male guidance, was very worrying. Mr Robinson would have volunteered to accompany her, but as a single man that was quite ineligible.
"Before we end our meeting, gentlemen, productive as it has already been, there is one other matter I must broach, and this as a customer, I believe."
She explained the existence of the veterans of the conflict in the States.
"There are many thousands who have lost a limb and some - how many is uncounted - who have survived a wound to the chest, or, less commonly, the stomach. These poor, brave men have been discharged from the Army to the care of their families, sent home, often still in anguish. Many will, it would seem, never be wholly without pain again. There are few doctors in the rural areas, for most have gone to the wars. Thus a medicine, a tonic, that offered relief from their agony and also aided them to rebuild their lost strength would be of the greatest value, gentlemen. It would sell in substantial quantity, I have no doubt."
"You say 'many thousands', Miss Parsons."
"There are no exact figures to hand, Mr Williams. The lists published from the battlefields suggest more than ten thousands already of severely wounded and discharged veterans. Many of those poor souls will have died in hospital, days or weeks later - how many, who knows?"
Sergeant Bill shook his head - as a soldier he had seen only minor conflicts in Ireland and in the industrial streets of England; just sufficient to know that 'medical care' was an alien concept to armies.
"Mr Robinson, can we do anything for these unfortunates?"
"Of course, Mr Williams, medical science can offer a palliative at least. I will go immediately to my laboratory and will produce a mixture just as soon as I may! We have bottles and crates in stock which could be used to ship our product to the Americas. Labels, sir, must be printed."
"I will do that, just as soon as we have decided upon their nature. What would be best for America, ma'am?"
An hour of discussion, of pencil and paper and discarded drawings, created 'Mrs Mary Boswell's Old English Remedy for the Brave Soldier', to be printed in martial crimson on a Royal Blue backing with a frieze of roses.
"What do you envisage as the ingredients of your medicine, Mr Robinson?"
"A suspending base of medical alcohol, ma'am - to preserve the ingredients and protect their powers; an amount of morphine or opium - I am not immediately certain which would be best; this to combat the pain. Then i
t becomes necessary to build the sufferer's strength and fortify the blood - iron, ma'am, springs to mind. As well, there are herbs of known efficacy which may be added. Give me but one week, ma'am, ten days at most, and we shall have a tonic for these heroic young men that will give almost immediate aid and relief from their sufferings."
"And the cost, sir?"
"That is more Mr Williams' province than mine, ma'am."
"Much the same as the existing remedies, I would expect, ma'am. Perhaps a little more for being somewhat stronger in the base, I suspect. What quantities are we considering, ma'am?"
"Ten thousand bottles a week, sir, in the first instance. If my Mr Larson does his job, then that will increase in the early future."
"That will very soon demand a factory in its own right, ma'am - what an attractive prospect. Let us trust the poor wounded live long with the aid of their new tonic!"
Book Two: The Making
of a Man Series
Chapter Six
Dick received a frosty welcome at the shipyard. Mr Oakes greeted him formally and offered a brief written report on recent events; his daughter was not to be seen.
“No doubt your friend, or should we say ‘business partner’, Mr Fisk, will be glad to bring you up to date, Major Burke. Very little has changed since last you were here, sir, except that the price of cables has risen again – but no doubt you know that!”
Dick nodded, glanced through the report and made his farewells. It was clear that some of his business dealings had become public knowledge, particularly his acceptance of shares in Mr Fisher’s enterprise. Jim Fisk had opened his mouth, it seemed; he was an intelligent man and would have done so for a purpose, probably not as an error.
Next step must be to visit Mr Fisk and discover who he had spoken to and why; he had not made his disclosures to the general public – that news would have reached Washington in hours and would have been in General Grant’s hands soon after. So, what was in Fisk’s nasty mind? And why was he able to risk opening his mouth about an acquaintance he must have heard was a gunman?
Dick rode into St Louis and took a room in the largest hotel he could discover, close to the railroad. He was welcomed at the desk as a known figure – there had been newspaper reports of his deeds down the river and he was in good odour with the press, was indeed one of the minor heroes of the moment. He debated enquiring whether that entitled him to a discount on his bill, decided it might be seen as tasteless. Of importance was that the word about him had been given only to a select few, possibly exclusively to Oakes and his daughter at Carondelet – hotel managers always had their ears to the ground, were aware of all of the latest gossip, would know if he was blown upon.
He had his bags taken up to his room and visited the stables at the rear to drop a dollar in the hands of the head groom and indicate that more would be available if his four animals were well looked after. Not only was a tip always welcome but the groom and lads had respect for a man who showed he cared about his horses, and they heard even more gossip and rumour than the manager.
“Jim Fisk still in town, do you know?”
He was, and flourished, a well-known man with the ear of all of the biggest dealers in St Louis.
Dick debated his best course – a message or simply turn up at Fisk’s office. A note would be more courteous, but would give Fisk the opportunity to arrange a welcome for him if that was in his mind… Better to walk down to see the man. As an insurance he told the desk clerk where he was going, mentioning as his excuse that he did not yet know whether he would be dining that evening.
“Mr Fisk has a table here, sir, reserved every night unless he has an engagement elsewhere… let me see… Yes, he intends to dine here this evening, sir.”
“Then you may assume that I shall eat here as well, sir.”
Jim Fisk was perhaps a little fatter and his moustache was a fraction more extravagant; otherwise he was his ordinary overpowering self. He made Dick welcome with flattering allusions to his recent military prowess.
“I have, Major Burke, made so bold as to accept shareholdings for you in two other major enterprises in our little area. The certificates are in the hands of your attorney-at-law, sir, and a small transfer of funds has been made to your account in Chicago – a matter of twenty or thirty thousands or thereabouts.”
Dick had never named his lawyer to Fisk or given him details of his bank.
“I visited at the Carondelet yard this morning, Mr Fisk.”
“Call me Jim, Major Burke – everyone does, you know, old chap!”
“And I am known as Dick to my associates and friends, Jim.”
“My pleasure, Dick! Oakes at the yard, yes – a stiff-necked sort of fellow, you know, Dick. I begged him to accept a small honorarium from Mr Fisher and made a mistake – I freely admit it, I was in error! As I say, I told him that you had seen fit to accept a place in Mr Fisher’s circle of friends and business acquaintances and he was most displeased, presumed to give me a lecture – me, Jim Fisk! He tried to tell me some damned nonsense about ‘business ethics’, or some-such. Damned old fool! Good-looking girl, though. I gave her a smile and suggested she might enjoy a dinner in my company and damned if she didn’t tear off at me as well! Mudsill, psalm-singing No-Nothings turned Democrats, if you ask me, sir!”
It seemed unlikely to Dick judging by the little he knew of American politics and people, but he was happy to discover the source of the Oakes’ disapproval of him. Fisk had tried to use his name as a lever, and had failed; in what seemed to be typical fashion, he had taken a risk with another man's reputation. A reckless man in some ways, Mr Fisk, one who could easily die young; he would make a rich and flamboyant corpse, Dick thought, debating whether he should bring about that desirable end himself. Fisk spread his bribes thickly, however, and there would be any number of lawmen upset at their income disappearing; better not to have a falling out with him in the street.
“Certainly a good-looking girl, Jim, and I had the pleasure of dining with her on one occasion. I had wondered whether I might not seek to further the acquaintance, but that is not a possibility now, or so it would seem. I am probably better off out of any entanglement there in any case.”
“Many more fish in the sea, Dick – just as well-looking in many cases and far less demanding. Nothing without a wedding ring there, or so I would wager, Dick!”
“I think you may well be right at that, Jim. What is the word of the war, Jim? You will know far more than I have been told officially.”
Fisk had all of the latest inside news; he knew that General McClellan had thrown himself finally and openly into the Democrat camp and would be their nominee for President at the next election, and that informed opinion was that he would make a showing against Lincoln but that the betting was that he would lose by a handsome majority when the votes were counted.
“In the end, Dick, what has Little Mac to offer? He has lost his every battle, or all the ones that counted, and the word is that he is a laughing stock in the South for running away from wooden cannon and non-existent foot soldiers. It is known now that Magruder had not one quarter of the men McClellan credited him with and frightened him away by marching them up and down outside Richmond to make twenty-five thousand look like a hundred in his timid eyes!”
“He is considered to be a coward now?”
“By his own soldiers he is thought to be a hero – because he would not risk the most of them in battle! By the Republicans, a different matter. Some say he is a traitor, some call him chicken! Who knows?”
It would have been useful to Dick to know, so that he could have sent a final and definitive report back to London – but he could hardly mention that ambition to Fisk.
“Is there a replacement for him in command?”
Fisk shrugged – there was no single Union general of the perceived quality of Lee or Stonewall Jackson. A man would arise, eventually – that was how things happened in America, he said. When there was a need, a man arose to fulfil it.
“I must return to Washington, I believe, Jim. Then it’s off to Pittsburgh for me, to meet Miss Parsons, I trust.”
Fisk knew almost nothing of Pittsburgh, other than that it was Carnegie’s town and competition was not especially welcome.
“While I think of it, Dick, I picked up some railroad shares recently – a business deal went sour for an acquaintance and he had to lay his hands on cash in a hurry, let me have a hundred thousand of stock in the new tracks of the Kansas City and Dodge company. Railway building is big in the state at the moment, there must be a dozen lines projected. I would be happy to move them on, railroads not being my sort of business, you know. I could run to maybe ten points under their current value on the Exchange.”
Buy railroad shares from Jim Fisk? At a discount? Not bloody likely! If Fisk wanted rid of them then it was because they were valueless, or about to become so. Dick sought the appropriate words, decided finally to suggest that he was expecting to return to England in the very near future, would be unable to keep an eye on his affairs in the States for the next half year or so. Fisk shrugged his shoulders, said that it was a pity but that he would be very happy to do business with him again in the future.
“Will you be staying with the Inspector General’s boys, Dick?”
“Only in a way, Jim. I might be more interested in what the Southrons are playin’ at in other places.”
It was a meaningless statement, but it could offer interesting implications to a man as wholly criminal as Fisk; one who looked for the hidden meaning in every word said to him.
“You do that, Dick. You can be good and sure I’ll look out for you in St Louis, sir!”
It seemed likely to Fisk that Major Burke was indulging in some sort of covert business, spying or hunting out traitors or some such, and should be kept on terms of very good friendship. To Fisk, amiability was counted in dollars; he was worth millions and could certainly push money in Major Burke’s direction both to keep him sweet now and to provide a potential for blackmail later. Dick was aware that Fisk, being a criminal, would display the normal honour between thieves, that he would use every dishonest trick in the book to control him; as he intended to return to England and probably stay there this time, he was not at all worried. Accusations of misconduct in America made against a businessman in good odour in England would simply be ignored; they might even be the cause of laughter that a ‘good Englishman had done the Yankees down’.
Dire Shenanigans (The Making of a Man Series, Book 2) Page 13
