by Stuart Slade
“And which rod do you presume to show them. Prime Minister?”
“Trade, of course.” Halifax’s irritation was painfully obvious. “The whole Imperial system has been tailored around Britain’s import demands. Without the market represented by our demand for raw materials, the Commonwealth will collapse economically. We have some recourse to external supplies, but the Dominions depend on favorable British trade concessions to underpin their economy. If we shift the direction of our trade patterns to favor other suppliers, they will find it is a cold and lonely world out there. When we cut their currencies off from the sterling pool, they will learn just how worthless they are on the international market.”
“I think you mean to say how worthless their currencies are.” Bridges was horrified at what he was hearing and a cold knot of fear was beginning to tighten in his stomach. “Prime Minister, I must implore you. Think carefully upon what you propose. A trade war with the Commonwealth countries will achieve nothing except the destruction of us all. We have an opportunity here to offer a carrot to the Dominions, one that they will find very difficult to resist. We make them the offer of continuing trade relations on the existing terms and we gain the raw materials we need to revert to a peacetime economy. That leaves them with the decision of whether they wish a return to normality also; the impending collapse of their economies will concentrate their minds wonderfully. They will have no realistic choice other than to recognize the existing state of affairs. The Commonwealth may not be happy with the state of affairs here but it needs the trade too badly to let that get in the way. Once the breach is healed and the present unpleasantness forgotten, the relations between London and the Dominions will be as they always were, to the great benefit of us all.”
Bridges paused, getting the distinct feeling that if looks could kill, he would be stretched out dead on the carpet. Halifax was glaring at him. The problem was that Bridges was sure he had to keep going, not just for the wider good of the Empire, but in the narrower interests of Britain itself. His sleep had been haunted by a ghastly vision of the future; one in which famine had struck Great Britain. It had started when the vicar at his local church had given a sermon based around the parable of the seven years of fat and the seven of lean. From then on, Bridges had seen himself walking down empty streets of British cities, the last survivor of a British nation that had ended through starvation. He shook himself, trying to forget the images that sometimes seemed drawn from a Lovecraft story.
“There is another matter to consider, Prime Minister. That is of our forces abroad. Many of them have cast their lot in with the Dominion Governments and take their orders from them. In doing so, they quote the Daventry Message as authorization from the Crown for their actions.”
“Then let the Crown pay them.” Halifax strode angrily backwards and forwards, his whole body twitching with anger. “Cut them off. If they do not serve this country, then this country should no longer pay them.”
“There is a problem with that, Prime Minister. Some of the serving personnel have deferred portions of their pay to be held as savings against their retirement. The Government also pays a portion, the allotment, of the pay due to personnel on foreign postings to their families here in Britain. To terminate the allotment would leave those families destitute.”
Halifax stopped pacing and turned to face Bridges, his voice and manner suddenly changing. “I had not thought of that. In conscience, we cannot break the agreement we have with our servicemen with regard to their families. I will reconsider what to do about the pay for our troops abroad. No matter what decision we may come to on that issue, the allotments for their families here will continue to be paid. We will also honor their deferred pay and hold it in trust for them. Quite apart from anything else, this will give us a moral claim over UK forces overseas.”
“There is a problem here.” Bridges was relieved; Halifax was not as set on confrontation as his initial comments had made him seem. “We can continue allotments and deferred payment according to the records held here. However, we cannot hope to keep these allotments updated to reflect the men’s own wishes, unless there is regular administrative communication between the forces abroad and ourselves. In the event of hostilities continuing, as they seem set to do so in the Middle East at least, there will be casualties that we would be unable to track.”
Halifax waved his good hand dismissively. “Then we shall institute a standardized ‘Dependant’s Sustenance’ payment to be given out in lieu. This is nothing new; it can work just like any other government pension. We set a base rate with modifiers for number of children, residence status, rent, et cetera. Doing so will keep the people happy and reconcile them to the events of the last few weeks.”
His anger broken, Lord Halifax sighed and looked at Bridges again. “I understand your point about trade and the Commonwealth. I will think on this matter further. There is much to be considered before we make a final decision on these issues.”
Cabinet Room, Government House, Calcutta, India
“And now we have the problem of the princes. Or, more precisely, the wealth that they control. Putting that to productive use is likely to be a challenge.” Lord Linlithgow wrinkled his nose slightly. “And then we have the related problem of what to do with the Princes themselves.”
“The latter should more properly be considered a matter for consideration at a later date.” Sir Eric Haohoa was concerned by several aspects of the Princes Problem, but none of them compared with the economic problems that seemed about to engulf India. “The princely wealth, on the other hand, relates directly to financial difficulties that are reaching a crisis point. Fortunately, South Africa has come up with what may be at least a partial solution. The basic problem is that the rupturing of the Commonwealth has left us without an umbrella currency. Without it, we are unable to mobilize what economic strength we have. This leaves us with two choices. One is to go back with our tail between our legs and beg pardon while pleading to be allowed to return to the pound sterling basket, with all that implies.”
“Never!” Sir Martyn Sharpe, Lord Linlithgow and Pandit Nehru chorused the denial in perfect harmony. The three men looked at each other in amazement, then burst out laughing.
“You know, I think this political alliance is going to work.” Lord Linlithgow’s observation was dry, but still tinged with unexpected humor. “Sir Eric, perhaps you can cement our friendship still further by proposing the second option?”
“Well, Your Excellency, if we must have an umbrella currency and the pound sterling is unattainable, we are left with but one choice. To create our own. That is what the South Africans propose.”
“And how do they propose we do that? Have they any idea of the complexity of what they suggest? New currencies cannot be waved into existence on a whim.” Harold Hartley shook his head. “How do we back such a currency?”
“But what was the pound sterling? Since Britain moved off the gold standard, it was just another currency based on collective faith as much anything else.” Sir Eric started to count off points on his fingers. “Firstly, we need to replace the sterling as a common standard, Secondly, we need to stop the massive devaluation of our currencies on the international market and thirdly we must get some stability back into the utter chaos that is our international trading position. The current short term flux is undermining our international bargaining position across the board.
“So, the South Africans suggest that we invent a new currency specifically for international trade. Initially at least, it’s not going to have any confidence in the wider market. Unless we can back it properly, such a construct would lack the gravitas to be taken seriously. There is one thing we have in the Commonwealth that we have in bulk. Gold. We’ve got gold mines in South Africa, Australia and here in India. In fact, we control a good portion of the world’s gold supply.
“We’ve even been playing with names for the new currency. The South Africans suggested the Krugerrand of course, but the sovereign has much mor
e support. We can mint sovereigns in South Africa, here and Australia but mostly we print them on paper using the gold still in the ground as collateral. And diamonds, rubies, emeralds, anything we can get that has value. Then, we peg all the Commonwealth currencies to the sovereign as they were to the sterling.”
“You’re putting us back on the gold standard?” HH was shocked.
“At a much reduced value to bullion, yes. We have no choice. Being a hard, gold-backed currency, the sovereign has immediate respect, while wartime restrictions on currency speculation around the world will stop us getting raped in the process. The sterling pool will be replaced by a free market that is not subject to the dreadful standing of our individual currencies. Best of all, it will hold off the Americans who are sitting in Washington, waiting for us to go bankrupt so they can essentially buy us up on the cheap. Pandit, what could mark India’s independence more clearly that abandoning the pound sterling?”
“My God. Creating a new currency, even a limited use one, is a massive undertaking even under benign conditions and these conditions are anything but benign. I simply don’t think it can be done.” HH shook his head in awed disbelief at the suggestion. “The whole problem here is the extent to which the collapse of the UK kicks the center out of the Commonwealth system. The problem with establishing any collective position is that a collective position needs to have a lead voice to present that position. Who is going to be that lead voice? This is a question we must think about with care, because whoever that lead voice is will become the de facto head of the non-British Commonwealth. I would suggest to you that such thoughts have already occurred to the Boers in Pretoria.”
“They almost certainly have.” Nehru spoke carefully, keeping his own deep feelings about the Boers well under control. “They would be foolish not to. But I do not see this as a great problem. India will leave the Commonwealth at some point, that much is certain. It is also certain that Britain will return to it once Halifax and his clique have been removed and they will resume their previous position as its head. Leadership of the Commonwealth will be a sought-after prize but I feel it will turn to dust in the hands of the winner.”
“Be that as it may; but something dramatic and solid is needed quickly if we are to survive. The sovereign is one of, if not the most, widely distributed bullion currencies in the world. We’ve already got the dies to make it and it’s something everyone understands. Politically, it’s also a sign of solidarity with the Crown. Which further puts the skids under Halifax.” Sir Martyn nodded as he spoke; the idea of a new currency was indeed seductive. “I will say this; going back to a gold standard, however diluted, is going to cause some severe problems all around.”
“It will. But it is severe problems in the future or an economic disaster now.” Sir Eric shook his head. “The Boers may have their own motivations, but that doesn’t stop them being right. A new currency basket based around our gold-backed sovereign is the only way to go.”
Lord Linlithgow sighed deeply. “I agree. Gentlemen of the Cabinet, I put it to the vote, shall we establish a committee to evaluate the issues arising from the South African proposal and determine the measures necessary to support the relaunch of the sovereign? Those in favor, please raise their hands.”
There was a pause as Lord Linlithgow counted the votes. Nine in favor, seven against, one absent. “The motion is passed by a majority of two. This brings us back to the issue of the princely wealth. How do we make best use of that resource for the benefit of the country as a whole?”
“There is a point we must bear in mind here.” Sir Martyn spoke precisely and with great care. “We are talking about six hundred or so of the best educated and most influential families in India. They do have a useful amount of cash. In a wider context, many have positions of social and religious power and they certainly do have an interest in India’s future. The princely wealth will only be a brief palliative factor if we confiscate it in full, and once gone, it will never return. I would venture to suggest that rather than be used to defray the expenses of the Government, we should consider it as seed money India is going to need at some point.
“In this regard, I see three broad options open to us. One is that we confiscate the money outright or take possession of it via extraordinary taxation. Secondly, we can strip away the income that it generates and leave the capital in the hands of the princes. The third option is to harness that money to a useful end by coercing them to invest their capital in suitable enterprises and thus generate long term income.”
“Perhaps the sale of war bonds might be a good start.” Personally, Nehru was all for the outright confiscation solution leaving penniless princes sitting in the ruins of their moldering palaces, but he recognized that was impossible, now at least. “There has been the usual measure of patriotic fund raising by the princes anyway, so we add to it by converting their savings pool into war bonds. Perhaps some gentle words from this administration about how the evil Congress Party wishes to confiscate everything and only an enthusiastic response to the war bond drive can hold them at bay?”
A ripple of laughter ran around the conference room. Nehru smiled at the approving nods he received. “Of course, we must keep leaning on them to extract all the rainy day funds they have hidden away. A small tactful reminder now and then about how the hidden account with their name on it seems to have been overlooked in the latest bond drive? And always the reminder about how those Congress Party fanatics want to tax any private wealth over one rupee?”
This time, the laughter was a full-blooded guffaw in appreciation of Nehru’s excessively innocent expression. Sir Eric Haohoa took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “I think this could work. The Princes will see that things could be a lot worse and at least the bonds will offer a reasonable rate of return. As the situation stabilizes, they will begin to look safer and safer. Who knows? They may even be grateful that we steered them to such a sound investment.”
“I think we have a workable plan here, gentlemen. I do not think this needs a vote, since it is already within the remit of the Treasury. Pandit, I note that Sir Richard Cardew has once again declined to honor us with his presence. Since he obviously does not share the opinions of this Cabinet and does not intend to take part in our deliberations, might I propose to you that he be invited to reconsider his position and Sir Eric Haohoa be appointed in his place?”
Pandit Nehru gave every appearance of thinking hard, although in reality the matter had already been discussed and decided before the meeting took place. “Sir Eric has spoken well concerning the complexities we face and the views of the Cabinet Office should be reflected here. Since Sir Richard has declined to do so, and if Sir Eric is prepared to take on this onerous responsibility, then the Cabinet would benefit from the change.”
“Well, Sir Eric? Would you assume the responsibilities of Cabinet Secretary?”
“Your trust honors me, Your Excellency. I would be delighted to do so.”
Calcutta United Service Club, Calcutta, India
“It is intolerable; quite intolerable.” Every hair of Sir Richard Cardew’s moustache bristled with indignation. “First, His Excellency defies perfectly clear-cut and unambiguous instructions from DomCol. Then he appoints that damned communist Nehru as his deputy. It is too much I say.”
“And your removal as the Cabinet Secretary has nothing to do with your indignation, I suppose?” Lieutenant Colonel Pierce Harvey Garry took a sip of his whisky soda and was amused to note that his sarcasm went so far over Cardew’s head that it didn’t even ruffle his hair as it passed.
“Nothing at all. I made my position on this quite clear from the outset. DomCol is the ruling authority and our responsibility is to see that its commands are carried out. Why, your battalion was due to set sail for the Middle East, was it not?”
Garry glanced around. The orders that had assigned the Third Battalion (Duke of Cornwall’s Own) of the 7th Rajput Rifles to East Africa were supposed to be secret, although everybody knew wh
at they were.
“We were, but those orders and our movement have been suspended. Can’t say I’m sorry. The sepoys are always a bit twitchy over crossing the sea. Loss of caste, you see.”
“Well, there you are then. Orders issued by the War Department through DomCol are just suspended without a by-your-leave to London. All because of some native superstitions. What more need I say?”
Hmm, we have some contradictions here, Garry thought. On one hand, complaining about India not dropping out of the war at London’s command and on the other complaining about stopping the movement of a battalion to the area where fighting is still going on. “Loss of caste is no superstition, Sir Richard, Its consequences are very real. My sepoys have every right to be concerned.”
“Well, if Linlithgow and those jumped-up guttersnipes Sharpe and Haohoa knew their duty, your Sepoys wouldn’t have to worry about losing their precious caste.”
Hang on a minute, old fellow. You’ve just finished criticizing the Marquess for staying the transit order. At least get your story straight. “Caste is precious to them. When the news spread that we were sailing for East Africa, we started to get a desertion problem. Not many, but a few here and there. As soon as Nehru joined the Cabinet and the sailing orders were stayed, the problem went away. In fact, some of the men have already come back. Shamefaced at not having been true to their salt.”
“I trust you made an example of them.”
