“True, but both of the men operating under the cover of the French documents will need to speak the language . . . even if their ability is less than perfect.”
Roberta did smile this time. “Like Captain McNab, perhaps?”
Lord Bond laughed. “Ah, yes. His French is certainly not perfect, but you do have a good point. His military training and initiative would make him an excellent team member. I will certainly go to Glasgow to speak with his commander, General Auchtermuchty, before I leave Clydebank.”
“When do you expect to leave?”
Lord Bond’s face seemed to withdraw all traces of expression. “Oh, I haven’t decided. Someday next week.”
Roberta made no answer since they were almost at the shipyard gate, but her mind worked furiously. His attempt to casually dismiss the date of his departure, as if unimportant, was surely anything but. His information that Mr. Holmes and one other would be using the French spies’ papers meant that the American passport must surely be back in play if he was to go to Antwerp with them. How necessary was this mythical Mrs. Paine identified upon it? He had pretended that her presence was as unimportant as was the date of his departure, but she had to suspect that his pretence was intended mainly to withhold the information from her.
By nine that morning, the Spiteful had finished taking on coal and was ready to leave for its steaming trials. Lieutenant Worthington went down to the engine rooms and boiler rooms to give the order to raise steam and prepare to depart. This would be the first time he had ever prepared a ship for sea as its commander, but he did his uttermost to maintain a sober naval demeanor.
He spoke to one of the naval petty officers who had been drafted to the vessel in the past few days. “You are comfortable workin’ under Miss Grandin, Mr. Cook?”
The young engineroom artificer looked as if he had a lot to say, but shrugged instead. “Aye aye, Lieutenant.”
“You do not have to hide your opinion from me. I felt most uncomfortable when I first sailed in the Spiteful, but Miss Grandin is an accomplished ship’s engineer. She has known the vessel since the first iron was laid down.”
“As you say, Lieutenant. I’m sure you have satisfied yoursel’. That be good enough fer me.”
“Good. But don’t forget . . . you may speak privately to me at any time about difficulties . . . should they arise. Everything about the ship and its duties is unheard of in the Royal Navy before this time. We are as explorers o’ darkest Africa and must mark out the way for our fellows to man other such vessels. Do well under me and you may hope for some good promotion in the days ahead.”
“Thank you, Sir. I shall listen to Miss Grandin like her was yerself. You may count on me.”
“Good man. Keep a good eye upon those crankshaft journals this trip . . . see your reliefs understand as well. They were redesigned after one failed in our Channel action, but this is the first time the new ones have gone to sea.”
“Aye aye, Sir. I’ll watch like an ’awk . . . . Miss Grandin already showed us what ’appened to pieces o’ th’ old one.”
Worthington answered the young man’s salute and went on into the starboard boiler room. Here were two more of his petty officer draftees, talking with Miss Grandin besides the steam pressure gauges.
“Once the pressure reaches ten pounds per square inch you must moderate the rate of stoking to allow the metal to expand slowly,” she was telling them. “The safeties are set for sixteen, but if they blow they will set your haste back worse than steaming too slowly.”
“Aye Miss. What if there be a real emergency for steam?” one asked her.
“While I’m chief engineer there will be no setting up the safeties and no jimmying them shut. I have seen the effects of a boiler explosion and never want to be in one. You can boil yourselves alive in your own boiler rooms once you have your own ships.”
The young petty officers smiled sideways at one another. “Aye aye, Chief. Us will make sure us never does any such thing.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Worthington cut in, and the young men looked around in surprise. He had once been a cocky young petty officer like these and knew he must take pains to rule them. Once they had shown respect for their responsibilities he might allow himself to unbend a little. “How long before we have steam, Chief?”
Miss Grandin smiled at him. “By three bells in the forenoon watch, Cap’n, you will have enough steam to loose mooring lines. We can give you eight knots by the time we reach Greenock.”
“That will be good, Chief,” he responded and gave her a regulation salute. The Spiteful had been an informal, easy ship under shipyard orders, but now he must begin to establish a Naval atmosphere. “I will go up and test the engine room voice pipes when I arrive.”
“I will listen for you. Just give me time to speak with the stokers, if you will.”
“Good.” He looked at the young petty officers. “These boilers are little different than those you tended aboard the tugs you served in before. Just remember to treat them well—they may be your lifeline when full speed is demanded in action.”
The two lads saluted as he left the boiler room. Mere boys . . . he’d bet his month’s wages they had been the least experienced artificers in the tugs they’d been transferred from. No ship commander he knew had ever sent his best men on an Admiralty draft. He hoped to have enough time to knock them into shape before heading north about to the North Sea and then south to Chatham—six or seven days before he needed to leave Clydebank—Lord grant that be enough!
Mr. Holmes, wearing his strange loose-flapped headgear and a seaman’s tarpaulin jacket, arrived to watch the steam engine trials by mid-afternoon. He had two men with him who she had not seen before, and introduced them.
“Please meet Herrs van Ee and van Aa, Miss Stephenson. They are two new gentlemen sent by the Admiralty to join our expedition. Lord Bond thought it a good idea that they should witness a steam engine in action before we leave—if that is acceptable to you.”
“Why, yes, perfectly. Welcome to Clydebank, gentlemen,” she paused. “They do speak English, I hope.”
“I apologise for my imperfect speech, Lady,” one said. “I am Nicholas van Aa, who used to be the schoolmaster at Neuzen. I attempted to teach the language in my school, but some English laugh at my efforts.”
“I find your English to be very good, Sir,” Roberta said. “How did you lose the position?”
Van Aa scowled. “Napoleon’s Chief of Police, the swine Fouché, thought me disloyal.”
Roberta had to hide a smile, thinking the suspicion rather well founded. “Most unfortunate, Sir. I hope you find your position with more polite English people a suitable recompense.”
“Miss Stephenson will explain to us what is taking place,” Mr. Holmes said, offering her the twin to the smile she had to smother.
“Yes, these are the particulars since this morning,” Roberta said, showing them the table of results; steam pressures, revolutions per minute, and bearing temperatures with some pride. The engine design was a success and now she could hand over the plans and specifications to the construction yards with confidence and devote more of her time to other duties.
When she sent the Dutchmen to see the boiler with the man in charge, she was able to ask Mr. Holmes about his own efforts of the past days. “You found the river an excellent viewpoint I suspect, Sir?”
“I did. While the land sides of the yards are walled and gated, there exists very little obstruction to one’s observation on the water side. I believe it will be necessary to determine whether there are water-borne patrols to avoid, but I am more optimistic about this than I was after our attempts to infiltrate ourselves into the shipyards.”
“Those were not very promising, I agree,” she said. “But I thought you and Lord Bond were to travel together on the French documents. Today he speaks of needing another member of the party to travel with you, but what of these two Dutchmen?”
“I do not believe they have caused a change in hi
s planning. But I really think he has not made up his mind at the moment.”
Roberta thought the answer sounded sincere, but the way he avoided meeting her eyes as he said it aroused her suspicions. “The American passport seems to be a part of the plans again, is it not?”
“I really cannot offer an opinion on that, Miss Stephenson. Lord Bond has not discussed that matter with me.”
Roberta felt that answer little more reassuring than the last, but felt it would be impolite to keep pressing on his discomfort. “If you have seen enough of our engine trial, I might suggest we go to the design office for some tea. I would like another opportunity to discuss the use of Sir Isaac Newton’s fluxions one more time, if you are agreeable.”
She realized the change of topic pleased him by the smile it brought to his face. “I would be pleased to discuss the applications of mathematics with you, Miss Stephenson. I had never considered myself destined to be a pedagogue, but find you a very eager and promising student—and the offer of a cup of tea is equally welcome.”
“Then we should go at once. I do believe I see the postal courier and his mount coming down the hill to the shipyard gate. We may be recipients of good news this afternoon.”
“Really? You are expecting such?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Not really . . . the thought is just a fancy of mine. You must be aware that women are apt to get these premonitions from time to time.”
“Really? I did not know that. I must admit that you are the first young lady I have come to know who is so easy to converse with. I have never found members of your sex to be worth more than a few mumbled words of greeting before now.”
Roberta hid her surprise behind a smile. “And to what do I owe such improved reputation, Sir? My meagre aptitude for mathematics, perhaps?”
His expression turned guarded. “I must admit that your, decidedly not inferior, aptitude for mathematics plays a great deal in the matter . . . but only as far as I might consider you a worthy colleague in such discussions. But I do realize that I could value you as a sister, or as a sister-in-law, if that were to become our social connection.”
“Good Lord! Do you see me suddenly married into your family, Sir?”
He frowned. “Perhaps I have said too much. I should speak no more upon it, but cannot avoid saying something with that connection—although it is not appropriate for me to apprise you of the whole matter. Just let me speak of Lord Bond’s family in this one instance only. You should be aware that the Marquess holds absolute power over matters of the family and title, and that nothing can be accomplished without his express approval.”
Roberta stared. “My dear sir, your words astound me—and in the same degree confuse me no less. How can Lord Bond’s dependence upon the decisions of his noble father concern me? His Lordship has never acted in any manner toward me but as a gentleman who is conscious and careful of propriety. You must tell me more.”
“That I cannot do, dear lady. Please consider our conversation over.”
With that they left the steam powerhouse for the main office, walking together but now in a deep silence. After their candid conversation of a moment before, Roberta found his reticence to continue it quite baffling, as she did his serious expression. How was his admission of a lack of pleasing intercourse with other young ladies to bear a responsibility for his digression into the relationship between the Marquess and Lord Bond? And was that subject so dire as to be entirely responsible for his reversion to silence?
Perhaps not entirely . . . she had little insight into his deeper nature, and it might only signal a return to the incommunicative mood that Lord Bond had mentioned to her earlier. It seemed unfortunate that the introduction of this topic had completely ended any possibility of further conversation with him. She would have liked the opportunity to venture further questions about the Nederlander’s passengers with a view to learning something more of the arrangements Lord Bond appeared to be keeping from her, but it was not to be.
Chapter Thirty-two
Admiralty Instructs
Roberta was sitting drinking tea in the draughtsman’s office with Mr. Holmes and Lord Bond when her father entered with the mail delivered by the courier.
“There’s one for ye, lassie,” he said, holding out two packets. “As well as one for His Lordship.”
Roberta took the one proffered while Lord Bond rose to reach out for his. They both had Admiralty seals and he seemed surprised as he saw his. She didn’t wait to see him open it before rising to fetch a pen knife with which to open hers.
It contained two separate packages inside, one quite thin and the other thicker. She opened the thin one first. It contained a short note and an Admiralty warrant that quite took her breath away. It was for an amount of thirty-three thousand pounds sterling!
Father’s voice interrupted her consideration of the note. “What’s wrong, lassie?”
“Ah, nothing. Look.” She handed him the warrant. “The message says that a formal copy of the transmission will follow, but this is the complete payment for the Spiteful and an advance on the construction of those vessels ordered from Clydebank.”
She looked up to see Mr. Holmes and two of the draftsmen watching her father. Lord Bond appeared engrossed in his own missive.
Father smiled at Mr. Holmes. “Thirty-three thousand pounds. I must confess it to be more money than I ever expected to hold in my hands at one time.”
Mr. Holmes peered at the warrant. “I suppose it would be rather wicked of me to suggest we take it to town for a celebration?”
“It most certainly would,” Roberta admonished him. “I will take it to Glasgow on Monday morning so I may settle our outstanding accounts.”
“I would suggest taking an escort of Captain McNab’s men if you will be carrying that much cash,” Mr. Holmes answered, a mischievous smile showing unabashedly on his lips. “Even in gold sovereigns that would be nigh on half a hundredweight.”
“I do not expect to carry more than a small part of that it coin, Sir. And as for the bills of account, I will ensure that only the companies entitled to cash them will be able to do so. I would hazard a guess that we must pay out more than half of that amount for expenses already incurred.” She looked him in the eyes and saw a rather vulnerable expression there. He was a strange fellow, and no mistake. She smiled slightly. “But I would suggest that—if my father approves, we might have a small celebration here at the yard tomorrow after church, that both we and our workers might enjoy.”
“Rather!” he replied. “What do you say to that, Julian?”
“Say to what?” Lord Bond enquired, looking up from his Admiralty letter.
“That the Stephensons have offered us all a small celebration tomorrow. The Navy has paid their debts very promptly indeed. I must suppose it is because they do not have my own presence and lengthy deliberations to delay the accounting . . . . I say, you look quite vexed at your own missive.”
“Vexed indeed. The Admiralty’s information and Lord Melville’s instructions have quite upset my plans. It seems that we must depart for the Low Countries at once.” He caught Roberta’s eye. “Your suggestion of this morning has proven most timely, Miss Stephenson. I will have to go to Glasgow in the morning to make arrangements with General Auchtermuchty for the seconding of Captain McNab.”
The small party broke up soon after, when Lord Bond and Mr. Holmes left to find Captain McNab. Father left to return to the slipways and Roberta sat to finish her tea and read from the other Admiralty package. It contained instructions for her.
The letter upset her plans as well. The Admiralty wanted her to return to London with full sets of drawings as well as everything necessary to sub-contract a shipyard on the Thames to build two more vessels to the spiteful design. Apparently in his discussions with the government, Viscount Melville had found it necessary to ask for an order for two more vessels to station in the Thames, and the Prime Minister had demanded their construction begin as soon as possible.
So Lord Bond had achieved the aim he had so constantly denied.
Early on Sunday morning, Lord Bond took horse for Glasgow to speak with General Auchtermuchty about attaching Captain McNab to his Admiralty enterprise. He had little time left to complete the arrangements, and worked himself into a foul mood as he rode along.
He did not consider the reasons Their Lordships of the Admiralty gave in the letter were sufficient cause to force him to change his plans and leave immediately for the Low Countries. Firstly, another person to travel with them aboard Nederlander, whose presence was so secret they could not write the name in the letter, and then the item he had relayed to Their Lordships from Elise’s letter. She had found someone who could take a spy to Ghent to inspect the iron shipments from France.
Elise’s person could well be genuine, but he suspected her enthusiasm to be greatly exaggerated. He knew her, while Their Lordships did not. Elise had only one loyalty—to herself—and one objective . . . to acquire a greater sum of money than her absent husband in the Dutch East Indies forwarded to her whenever he found it convenient. Bond doubted they were legally man and wife.
He was aware that her hundred gulden was only worth half as much in the Louis d’or that was the Low Countries’ currency since Napoleon had removed his brother, Louis, from the throne of Holland and attached the land directly to France. She was likely anxious to receive a new subsidy from him, to make up the difference. Damn the woman. This time he would finish with her.
Steam & Stratagem Page 18
