Spies and Subterfuge

by Christopher Hoare

  The fellow looked at him with contempt. “Of course not. We made sure to secure his effects. Are you a friend of his, perchance?”

  “I was asked to meet Mr. Paine here. Is he in some distress?”

  The fellow did not conceal his laugh. “His floozy ran out on him two night’s back, did she not? Took most of his money and his papers—although he has not told us of his circumstances.”

  “Then how do you know his story?”

  The fellow laughed again. “The floozy warned us, did she not? ‘Do not let him leave until he has received assistance,’ she said, ‘he has but three francs to his name.’ Are you that assistance, Monsieur?”

  Bond could not keep a smile from his face. Elise had done a thorough job of immobilizing the man. “It would seem that I must be that assistance. I had horse troubles myself last night and will go to my hotel to rest, but tell Monsieur Paine to look for me at Le Metropole at six. He must ask for Richard Davis of Baltimore.”

  Bond left the establishment with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He had used the name of an acquaintance made when he was in America in 1811 testing the American stomach for war. It should suffice, as long as the new French demand for identity papers did not extend this far from the seacoast; two Gideon Paines in Ghent might raise a few eyebrows in the Prefecture. He looked forward to a few hours of sleep before Paine came looking for help—he certainly needed them after two nights during which he had hardly closed an eye.

  Colonel Riviere remained with them until they had completed their shopping and then found them a carriage to take them back to their hotel. “If you return before one of the clock you may meet me at the courtyard entrance to the Palais op de Meir. Ask one of the soldiers on guard for me. I will find you a good vantage point.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Roberta had said. But, when their parcels had been loaded and they had taken their seats within, she turned to Elise and asked, “What place is this he speaks of?”

  Elise pointed out of the window. “We have just passed the Palais. It is the mansion Napoleon bought in the city to be his headquarters for the invasion preparations. No doubt he resides there today.”

  “Ah, I see. I hope we will be able to return here through the crowd.”

  Elise shrugged. “We must be early. It should not take us a great time to dress if we merely adorn the dress we already wear.” She smiled broadly. “You did spend a lot.”

  Roberta had bought new hats, jewelled parasols, gold combs, gemstones, and bows in velvet for their hair, lace-embroidered overskirts reaching halfway to the ground, as well as a bolero jacket in velvet and silver thread for Elise and a gold-embroidered jacket for herself. She had spent more money in the morning than she had ever dispensed for frivolities in her life, but the money was well directed if they succeeded in getting the colonel to take them to the inspection stand for the steamship sail past everyone said was expected.

  When they returned to de Meir a little after noon, all eyes in the crowd turned to their dress, to the hats crowned with feathers, to the diamond broach from her husband, and to the parasols they twirled discreetly as they strolled. When they reached the Palais and found the courtyard gate, the sentries all came to attention.

  “What is your business, ladies?” the guard commander enquired.

  “We were instructed to ask for Engineer Colonel Riviere, Lieutenant,” Elise said with a grand sweep of her free hand. “Please, if you would, send a man to tell the Colonel that the Frieherren and her companion have arrived. I expect he is in the palais or the courtyard.”

  “Very well, madame. It is done.”

  Colonel Riviere soon arrived to greet them. “Mon Dieu, you ladies are more remarkable than the Imperial parade gathering in the courtyard.” He turned to the guard commander. “Thank you, Lieutenant, I will escort the ladies inside.”

  He took both their arms to walk them through the open gate. Roberta looked up at the arch of the gateway above them as they walked and wondered if this could be dangerous—surely someone would demand their identities and business.

  “It seems that I may have a carriage at my disposal this afternoon,” the colonel said. “I was to ride with the American inventor, Monsieur Robert Fulton, but it transpires that he is taken ill. I expect that will be a disappointment for you, Madame Paine. It would have been a pleasure for you to converse with a fellow countryman.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it would have,” Roberta answered, fervently thanking Providence for ensuring such a meeting should never take place. “Was Mister Fulton in France on business?”

  “Ah yes. But it is a secret I cannot address. He is an inventor of ships.”

  Roberta kept her face from showing her reaction but her mind raced. Her husband had told her that an American named Fulton had been working for the Admiralty a few years before and had produced some underwater torpedoes. Was this the same man? Did this suggest some likely information about the French steamships she was here to investigate?

  They entered the courtyard, bustling with carriages and horses, with grooms and coachmen, and with the servants of the city dignitaries, who were still likely within at luncheon with the Emperor. Colonel Riviere escorted them to an empty carriage near the front of the drawn-up line, just two equipages from the very grand vehicle bearing the Emperor’s crest. “If you would like to take a seat here, Ladies, you will have a perfect view of His Majesty as he proceeds to his place.”

  He gave them his hand to help them mount into the open chaise. “I will go inside. I assume you have not eaten. No? Perhaps I can find you something in the way of refreshment.”

  Roberta and Elise could barely keep from laughing as they made themselves comfortable—what a prank! Lord Bond would never believe them. They were almost guests in the parade, except their carriage had no horses to draw it, and apparently no coachmen, since its intended occupant was somewhere else in a sickbed.

  “It is a pity we have no horses, mon amie,” Elise said with a great smile still lighting her face. “We will have to remain if we cannot beg a ride with someone else. I know you wanted to be near the Emperor’s viewing stand to see the steamships pass.”

  Roberta sighed. “Yes. I wonder how your Colonel will get to the stand. We are not finished yet, but we had better not seem too eager to watch the pyroscaphes steam past. Colonel Riviere is clearly no fool.”

  “You think he suspect? I know him better than you—it is some other thoughts that makes him so attentive to us.”

  “Oh, do you mean that? What have you brought me to?”

  “Do not fear, mon amie. If he wants pleasure he must content himself with me. Hush, here he comes now.”

  The Colonel walked to them down the line of carriages, a footman bearing a tray beside him. “Here you are, ladies. Please to enjoy the delicacies while you wait—I must return inside to be with the official party when the Emperor is ready to leave. Do not fear—I will make arrangements for our meeting after the parade of ships,” his eyes shone, “as well as an entertainment for the evening.”

  The footman stepped onto the carriage step to set the covered tray on the seat between them. He smiled and stepped back when their benefactor claimed entrance. Colonel Riviere kissed both their hands, with great attention to them, and made himself very agreeable before he crossed the courtyard to walk back inside.

  The tray bore many different delights—none of which Roberta had ever seen before. There was also a chilled bottle of wine. They did great justice to everything and even had a musical accompaniment to their repast—echoing out of the open windows of the Palais.

  They had barely finished when the sounds from inside warned them that the time for entering the carriages neared. They set the empty tray on the floor and set to work to repair any damaged finery or blemish. The salute to the Emperor within was audible to them outside, and they raised their glasses and clinked them. “Good health to Le Petit Caporal,” Elise said with a bright laugh. “Merci for the excellent luncheon.”

 
Roberta tried not to laugh aloud. “Hush, they will be here very soon.”

  She was soon proven right. A number of attendants and courtiers emerged from the Palais and then the Emperor himself appeared. Roberta’s jaw almost dropped in surprise—every picture of him in England depicted him as a short and ugly creature, while in real life she saw he was of good height and had a handsome appearance. He wore a dark coat over a white tunic and knee breeches, and black riding boots. His chest displayed the sash of a jewelled order and his coat had epaulets and more orders on the breast. He carried a bicorn hat in his hand as he crossed the courtyard toward them.

  Roberta felt unable to breathe as he neared their grounded carriage and she almost gasped when he stopped and looked toward them with a polite bow. “And who might these beautiful ladies be?”

  Roberta was even more surprised when one of the entourage stepped out from behind him. It was Fouché in a uniform of deep brick-red. He stepped to the carriage and bowed before turning back to the Emperor. “The one lady I might introduce to you, Your Majesty, is of my acquaintance. Madame Paine is an Americaine, the wife of a merchant in tabac.”

  Roberta rose to her feet and managed a curtsy in the carriage. She inclined a hand to Elise, who likewise hastened to her feet. “My companion is the Freiherren Louise, Your Majesty.”

  “And how do you come to be here in such a slow conveyance, ladies?” the Emperor demanded with a laugh.

  From the middle of the entourage, Colonel Riviere appeared. “That was my doing, Your Majesty—please excuse my presumption but the ladies were so anxious to see Your Majesty in person.”

  Napoleon shook his head dismissively. “An Americaine you say. Do you know of my inventor Monsieur Fulton?”

  “No, Majesty. I am not acquainted with him. He is ill I hear.”

  Napoleon turned to the officers beside him. “Is that true?”

  “Yes, Majesty,” Colonel Riviere answered. “This carriage was ordered for him, but it is now without means of locomotion because of his absence.”

  Napoleon looked Roberta in the eye. “What would you say to joining the parade as poor Monsieur Fulton’s representative, my Dear? I think it most appropriate—do you not?”

  “I would be most honoured, Your Majesty,” she managed to answer.

  The Emperor turned toward his own carriage. “Then it shall be done. Captain Rousseau, Colonel Riviere, the carriage needs a team and a coachman. See to it at once.”

  And so the start of the parade was delayed by the time it took to staff the driver’s seat and traces. When it had been readied, Colonel Riviere climbed in with them and signalled to the parade marshal. As they moved out to follow, three carriages behind the Emperor’s, he shook his head and smiled. “I thought we were in trouble for a moment, but His Majesty is clearly in a good mood. As is appropriate, for the citizens of Antwerp owe him much for the restoration of the city’s importance.”

  They passed out through the courtyard gate and were immediately cheered by the waiting crowd. Roberta found her barely suppressed sense of doom for their reckless adventure somewhat lessened by the crowd’s excitement. She took her cue from Elise and joined her in waving back. But a small voice would not be silent: let us hope our good fortune will last.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The Spy in Action

  The parade of carriages wound through the city, eventually arriving at the river quay beside a moored pyroscaphe decked with bunting and producing a fine grey plume of smoke and steam from its tall stack. Roberta judged the vessel had been warming its machinery since very early this morning.

  She noticed the name “Suffren” painted upon the bow as an honour party from the vessel formed up on the quay and a military band struck up “Veillons au Salut de l’Empire”. The Emperor emerged from his carriage to inspect them.

  “Do you think we might walk closer on the quay to look at the ship before we ride on?” Roberta asked the Colonel.

  “I think we may have such an opportunity to do so as soon as His Majesty has left the honour guard and prepares to board,” Colonel Riviere said.

  “The Emperor means to sail?” Elise asked, wide-eyed.

  “Indeed. That is what we were told. The vessel has been expressly prepared for the Emperor’s visit as he wished to experience its motion,” the Colonel said indulgently. “And the word, my little one, is to ‘steam’, not sail.”

  Within a few minutes a number of carriage occupants dismounted and gathered on the quay. Following the Colonel, Roberta and Elise joined them. Roberta took the opportunity to look more closely at the vessel she had only seen at a distance the previous day. The first fact was immediately apparent. Unlike her iron spitefuls, the pyroscaphes had wooden hulls. That would mean an approach to ram should be carried out at right angles or the flexibility of wood might cause their impact to be deflected.

  As everyone walked about, they came closer to the group of officers about the Emperor. Roberta could hear snatches of the discussion that had animated them. “I think it may not be safe for His Majesty,” said one. “I fear it will be too dirty, once the furnace fires are charged,” said another.

  The Emperor seemed to become somewhat testy at the discussion. “What, do you think that the man who has stood upon a rampart and defied the cannons is too timid to set foot in a mere steamship? Why, I have no doubt our two charming companions standing beside us would have no fear. What do you say, Ladies?”

  Elise seemed somewhat intimidated in her reply. “Is it safe, Your Majesty? I hear that these ships can explode.”

  Roberta hushed her. “Not so, my Dear. I feel very confident that the officers and crew will take the greatest of care for their passengers. And as for dirt, I should laugh at a small smudge of soot.”

  Napoleon laughed. “There. Are any of you gentlemen more timid than these ladies?”

  The officers seemed abashed and slowly followed the Emperor to the gangplank. He turned around to beckon. “Ladies, do you wish to ride?”

  Colonel Riviere seemed unsure but Roberta spoke up. “Most certainly, Your Majesty. We would follow you to the most dangerous of ramparts.”

  Napoleon laughed and walked over to escort them. “Excellent. I shall commission you both as sea ladies extraordinaire. Come, Colonel, you are commissioned to become their aide de camp.”

  When the passengers settled themselves aboard on the weather deck and in the shelter of the long wheelhouse structure, more properly termed a deckhouse, Roberta guided her companions to a position beside the port side paddlewheel where she might unobtrusively monitor the revolutions per minute of the steam engine. The captain gave a blast on a steam whistle affixed to the boiler smokestack and the lines were loosed. The Suffren was soon out in the middle of the river channel before steaming downstream at about six knots by Roberta’s reckoning.

  The ship continued down-river for almost half an hour, leaving the city completely out of sight astern, before taking advantage of a narrow waterway adjoining the main channel to turn around for the return voyage.

  The Emperor came up to them as he circulated among his guests. “Well, Colonel, do you look ahead to sailing to les Anglais aboard such a vessel?”

  “I should hope that I were already ensconced on the island before the advance bodies of the army arrive, Your Majesty.”

  “Not so easy. I would suppose you would need to row ashore at a very quiet stretch of coast.”

  “We are going then, Mon Emperor? Who will be guarding the frontiers of France while we are at sea?”

  Napoleon glanced at Roberta, who pretended to be avidly watching the shore roll past, before answering. “I think Maréchal Ney will hold the fort—he hates travelling by sea. Would you too prefer the watch on the Rhine?”

  “I will go wherever you order me, Your Majesty.”

  Napoleon turned to Roberta. “How do you find the voyage, Madame Paine?”

  “Very smooth, Your Majesty, but rather cool with the breeze blowing off the water. Do you suppose it is
warmer below?”

  “I had not noticed, but you are correct. Let us go to look.”

  Roberta followed the Emperor and several dignitaries, including Fouché, she noticed, as he went into the deckhouse and spoke to the officers inside. “I must not leave your excellent vessel before I inspect the machinery below. Will you escort me?”

  “Well, Your Majesty. We are deck officers. It is not customary for us to inspect the workmen’s areas below.”

  “And what if you were required to inspect the state of the ship in a fight?” Napoleon demanded with a bleak look at them.

  “I . . . I suppose . . . we would ask for one of the artificers to come to the wheelhouse to inform us.”

  “That is not good enough,” the Emperor barked. “An officer must always know every duty better than the men under him. Come—show us the workings below.”

  Three of the officers conferred amongst themselves before one hurriedly departed for the companionway while the remaining two organized the dignitaries into two parties. “The places are quite constricted below, Your Majesty. I would ask we take only four at a time.”

  “Very well. Madame Paine, you must come with me. You do look quite chilled from the journey.”

  They went down a very narrow companionway to a steadily increasing noise of machinery. At the bottom two passageways led aft and to the sides. The officer and an artificer escorted the Emperor to look at the steam cylinder driving the port paddlewheel while Roberta followed another young man, obviously a stoker by his black streaked face, into the boiler room.

  She found a corner that looked out of the way to stand and cast her eye over the working of the boiler. The first thing she noticed was it had several fireboxes arranged around a very large water-shell, making this what she knew as an internally fired boiler. She could see the water glasses, indicating the level of water in the boiler, and the face of a clock-like indicator of the pressure of the steam. The markings were of a kind she had never before seen—obviously in one of the new revolutionary measurements. She felt she could make a good guess of the steam pressure from the size of the flanges on the steam pipes. Very close to the five inches by water gauge that she was used to.