Read Online The Moonless Night by Joan Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Joan Smith
Tags: Regency Romane
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exchanged a look of consternation. The General had a dozen choices of landing spots no doubt, and here was the entire civilian defense lumped at one spot, with the fact loudly bruited around the town.
“What is the contingency plan if Bonaparte is landed elsewhere?” Benson asked, in a polite voice.
“He won’t be landed at all. I have my telescope up on Bolt’s Point, keeping a watch on him all day. If he gets off Bellerophon , we are after him immediately. This is just in case he is pushed up the estuary while being followed. No saying what turn events will take. But really he isn’t likely to get into the harbor at all, as I have the winch and chain oiled up and ready to stop him.”
“I have heard a good deal about that winch and chain and am most curious to see them,” Mr. Benson said with a pleasing promptness.
Before they could get away, Sir Henry had to point out that the guns were manned all day long.
“And at night?” Sanford asked.
“No point the fellows missing their sleep. They couldn’t see a target in the dead of night, but I keep a man posted twenty-four hours a day up in the tower, with a trumpet to rouse us if he spots anything. The men could be at their posts in ten minutes.”
“That should just about give Napoleon time to slip away on you,” Sanford remarked. “Where is this great winch and chain? Let us have a look at them.”
“The chain is lying under the water there in the bay,” Sir Henry told him, reining in his temper. “Can’t see it of course. It is attached to that rock wall at the far side of the bay, imbedded firmly in concrete, stretching across the bay and finishing up inside that square tower there right behind you.”
Everyone turned to look at the stone tower that formed an integral part of the Hall. “May we see it, see how it works, Sir Henry?” Mr. Benson asked. Sanford had already taken a step towards it.
“I was about to show you. Come this way.” With a hasty step, Sir Henry got ahead of Sanford as they rounded the corner of the Hall, to enter a narrow doorway, descending first by wooden stairs to the ground level, then by broad rough stone steps into the very bowels of the building, into a large, damp, square chamber that was stone from high ceiling to floor. Set into the stonework was a sturdy double winch with handles for turning, and through a hole in the outer stone wall, a massive chain, each link the thickness of a man’s thumb, attached to the winch which was fed out into the bay.
“She’s lying slack now,” Sir Henry explained. “The chain lies along the bottom of the bay, and is raised by the winches to the surface, stopping all traffic. Makes as dandy a trap as you’d ever care for, and I can’t think why it isn’t used elsewhere. An ingenious thing, don’t you think, Lord Sanford?”
“Fascinating,” he agreed, staring at it, his tone more doubtful than enthusiastic.
“Could you show us how it works?” Benson inquired, more keen than the other guest.
“It’s not as hard a job as you’d think,” Sir Henry said, not averse to displaying the family treasure. “A single man can operate it, a good strong buck. Dave, if you’ll just get your shoulder to the winch wheel there.” David dashed forward and threw his weight into the task, succeeding after a good deal of effort and several grunts in getting it rolling. While he strained, his father spoke on.
“In the old days, fifteen hundreds, Edward VI used to contribute to its upkeep, realizing it was of national importance. Nowadays I bear the expense myself. You saw where the ships were harbored. Twenty yards seaward the chain is attached to the opposite wall—cutting out at an angle from the Hall, you see. It runs on a diagonal. If I raise my chain, not a ship enters the estuary. It’s priceless, this contraption. Invented by my ancestor, Sebastian Boltwood, in 1380. It’s older than the Hall. There was a fortress here previously, and this square part of the
“What is the contingency plan if Bonaparte is landed elsewhere?” Benson asked, in a polite voice.
“He won’t be landed at all. I have my telescope up on Bolt’s Point, keeping a watch on him all day. If he gets off Bellerophon , we are after him immediately. This is just in case he is pushed up the estuary while being followed. No saying what turn events will take. But really he isn’t likely to get into the harbor at all, as I have the winch and chain oiled up and ready to stop him.”
“I have heard a good deal about that winch and chain and am most curious to see them,” Mr. Benson said with a pleasing promptness.
Before they could get away, Sir Henry had to point out that the guns were manned all day long.
“And at night?” Sanford asked.
“No point the fellows missing their sleep. They couldn’t see a target in the dead of night, but I keep a man posted twenty-four hours a day up in the tower, with a trumpet to rouse us if he spots anything. The men could be at their posts in ten minutes.”
“That should just about give Napoleon time to slip away on you,” Sanford remarked. “Where is this great winch and chain? Let us have a look at them.”
“The chain is lying under the water there in the bay,” Sir Henry told him, reining in his temper. “Can’t see it of course. It is attached to that rock wall at the far side of the bay, imbedded firmly in concrete, stretching across the bay and finishing up inside that square tower there right behind you.”
Everyone turned to look at the stone tower that formed an integral part of the Hall. “May we see it, see how it works, Sir Henry?” Mr. Benson asked. Sanford had already taken a step towards it.
“I was about to show you. Come this way.” With a hasty step, Sir Henry got ahead of Sanford as they rounded the corner of the Hall, to enter a narrow doorway, descending first by wooden stairs to the ground level, then by broad rough stone steps into the very bowels of the building, into a large, damp, square chamber that was stone from high ceiling to floor. Set into the stonework was a sturdy double winch with handles for turning, and through a hole in the outer stone wall, a massive chain, each link the thickness of a man’s thumb, attached to the winch which was fed out into the bay.
“She’s lying slack now,” Sir Henry explained. “The chain lies along the bottom of the bay, and is raised by the winches to the surface, stopping all traffic. Makes as dandy a trap as you’d ever care for, and I can’t think why it isn’t used elsewhere. An ingenious thing, don’t you think, Lord Sanford?”
“Fascinating,” he agreed, staring at it, his tone more doubtful than enthusiastic.
“Could you show us how it works?” Benson inquired, more keen than the other guest.
“It’s not as hard a job as you’d think,” Sir Henry said, not averse to displaying the family treasure. “A single man can operate it, a good strong buck. Dave, if you’ll just get your shoulder to the winch wheel there.” David dashed forward and threw his weight into the task, succeeding after a good deal of effort and several grunts in getting it rolling. While he strained, his father spoke on.
“In the old days, fifteen hundreds, Edward VI used to contribute to its upkeep, realizing it was of national importance. Nowadays I bear the expense myself. You saw where the ships were harbored. Twenty yards seaward the chain is attached to the opposite wall—cutting out at an angle from the Hall, you see. It runs on a diagonal. If I raise my chain, not a ship enters the estuary. It’s priceless, this contraption. Invented by my ancestor, Sebastian Boltwood, in 1380. It’s older than the Hall. There was a fortress here previously, and this square part of the
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