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Authors: Harry Harrison
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military supplies to both antagonists in this conflict. We can order an embargo on all shipments of saltpeter to the North—the vital ingredient of gunpowder."
"A fine beginning. And if we do that we must also forbid shipment of munitions and all other warlike instruments. We shall hit them where it hurts."
"And we must prepare ourselves to show our warlike mettle as well. Two troop vessels have sailed for Canada this very day. Quite a spirited departure I am told with the bands playing 'The British Grenadiers' followed by 'Dixie.' But there has been another slight hold up. You will recall that we have another regiment and an artillery battery that were to be transferred to Canada."
"I do," Palmerston said, frowning. "But I assumed they were seaborne or in the province by now."
"They are still in barracks. The Canadians say they have no quarters or tents for them..."
"Nonsense! These are hardened troops capable of living and fighting in any extremity. Have the orders issued for their transferral at once. And I suggest that we don't wait for the navy and their transports. I can hear their delaying arguments already. Hire a Cunard steamer. What is the strength of our forces in Canada?"
"I am afraid that we have only five thousand regulars stationed there at the present time."
"That must change. By God we should have finished the colonials off in 1814. We had the strength to do it. Burnt their cities of Buffalo and Washington as well, didn't we? Would have won if it hadn't been for the French. Well, spilt milk and all that. How about our situation now at sea? What is the condition of our fleet at the North American station?"
"Quite adequate, well over thirty vessels. There are three battleships, as well as frigates and corvettes."
"Good, but not good enough. They must be reinforced with more capital ships. The Americans must see that we are very serious in this matter. The two Southern representatives must be returned, an apology must be made. On this we are adamant. With the country united behind us we can not be seen to be weak or pusillanimous. What is today's date?"
"The twenty-first of December."
"The very day that Lord Lyons is to present our dispatch to the Americans. I am sure that it was a singularly momentous occasion. Now, some more port, if you please."
Lord Lyons hated the Washington weather. Tropically hot and humid in summer, arctic in winter. His carriage had bumped and slithered over the ice and slush, shaking him about like a pea in a pod. Finally back at his home he descended from the carriage and tramped through the wet snow, slammed the front door behind him. His manservant took his snow-whitened coat and opened the door to the study where a fire crackled on the hearth.
"William," Lyons called out as he warmed his hands before the flames. His secretary slipped in silently. "Bring pen, ink and paper for yourself. I have met with the Americans and must write a report at once to Lord Palmerston. It has been a dreadful morning. That Seward is a cold fish indeed. He read our dispatch without moving a muscle at the demands and commands it contained. Even managed to look bored when I told him we must have an answer within a week. If our demands are not met, I assured him that I would remove my passports and return to Britain. He smiled at that—as though he enjoyed the idea!"
His secretary nodded understandingly, knowing that he was but a witness not a participant in the conversation.
Lyons walked back and forth before the fireplace, composing his words carefully. He was a small and plump man, with a smoothness of manner that hid the subtlety of his nature. William sat in silence, quill pen poised over paper.
"Usual honorifics, you know. Then—I have this day handed over to Secretary of State Seward your demands for the release of the Confederate commissioners Messrs Mason and Slidell. I am convinced that unless we give our friends here a good lesson this time, we shall have the same trouble with
"A fine beginning. And if we do that we must also forbid shipment of munitions and all other warlike instruments. We shall hit them where it hurts."
"And we must prepare ourselves to show our warlike mettle as well. Two troop vessels have sailed for Canada this very day. Quite a spirited departure I am told with the bands playing 'The British Grenadiers' followed by 'Dixie.' But there has been another slight hold up. You will recall that we have another regiment and an artillery battery that were to be transferred to Canada."
"I do," Palmerston said, frowning. "But I assumed they were seaborne or in the province by now."
"They are still in barracks. The Canadians say they have no quarters or tents for them..."
"Nonsense! These are hardened troops capable of living and fighting in any extremity. Have the orders issued for their transferral at once. And I suggest that we don't wait for the navy and their transports. I can hear their delaying arguments already. Hire a Cunard steamer. What is the strength of our forces in Canada?"
"I am afraid that we have only five thousand regulars stationed there at the present time."
"That must change. By God we should have finished the colonials off in 1814. We had the strength to do it. Burnt their cities of Buffalo and Washington as well, didn't we? Would have won if it hadn't been for the French. Well, spilt milk and all that. How about our situation now at sea? What is the condition of our fleet at the North American station?"
"Quite adequate, well over thirty vessels. There are three battleships, as well as frigates and corvettes."
"Good, but not good enough. They must be reinforced with more capital ships. The Americans must see that we are very serious in this matter. The two Southern representatives must be returned, an apology must be made. On this we are adamant. With the country united behind us we can not be seen to be weak or pusillanimous. What is today's date?"
"The twenty-first of December."
"The very day that Lord Lyons is to present our dispatch to the Americans. I am sure that it was a singularly momentous occasion. Now, some more port, if you please."
Lord Lyons hated the Washington weather. Tropically hot and humid in summer, arctic in winter. His carriage had bumped and slithered over the ice and slush, shaking him about like a pea in a pod. Finally back at his home he descended from the carriage and tramped through the wet snow, slammed the front door behind him. His manservant took his snow-whitened coat and opened the door to the study where a fire crackled on the hearth.
"William," Lyons called out as he warmed his hands before the flames. His secretary slipped in silently. "Bring pen, ink and paper for yourself. I have met with the Americans and must write a report at once to Lord Palmerston. It has been a dreadful morning. That Seward is a cold fish indeed. He read our dispatch without moving a muscle at the demands and commands it contained. Even managed to look bored when I told him we must have an answer within a week. If our demands are not met, I assured him that I would remove my passports and return to Britain. He smiled at that—as though he enjoyed the idea!"
His secretary nodded understandingly, knowing that he was but a witness not a participant in the conversation.
Lyons walked back and forth before the fireplace, composing his words carefully. He was a small and plump man, with a smoothness of manner that hid the subtlety of his nature. William sat in silence, quill pen poised over paper.
"Usual honorifics, you know. Then—I have this day handed over to Secretary of State Seward your demands for the release of the Confederate commissioners Messrs Mason and Slidell. I am convinced that unless we give our friends here a good lesson this time, we shall have the same trouble with
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