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Authors: Joan Smith
Tags: Regency Romane
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building we stand in is part of the old fortress. It’s not patented, my winch and chain. Anyone could have such a rig, but I believe mine is unique. More than once it has kept the enemy from our walls.”
“But the yachts there—they lie seaward of the chain, of course?” Sanford asked.
“No, sir, they are protected behind it,” he was told.
Sanford blinked in surprise, but Benson spoke out before he could cause further annoyance. He first bestowed some suitable praise on the chain, then asked, “What would happen if the chain broke?”
“It won’t,” he was told with assurance. “I’ve had the masonry on the far side inspected, and you can see it is in good repair here. Every link of the chain has been inspected by hand by me. I had it raised the day Bonaparte surrendered, and went out in the Fury to inspect it. It will hold. There is a new chain in that chest there,” he went on, pointing to a large wooden chest that stood by the winch. He lifted the lid to confirm his boast of a new chain. “Well, Lord Sanford, what have you to say about this?” he asked triumphantly.
“This is a dangerous contraption,” Sanford replied in a serious tone.
“Aye, not a ship will get past my chain,” Sir Henry agreed, mistaking Sanford’s words for approval.
“This must be dismantled at once,” was the next remark from the impossible earl.
He might as well have said the Parliament Buildings must be blown up, the Prince Regent assassinated, or Christianity abolished. “Dismantled!!! Dismantled?” Sir Henry bellowed, turning an alarming shade of reddish-purple. “Not a link of the Bolt Chain will be dismantled, sir. The defense of England is in its keeping.”
“God save England! The chain won’t,” Sanford said, his own voice rising to an unusual level. “Don’t you see, man, it is not Bonaparte’s intention to attack you? He has no notion of storming your garrison wall. It is his intention, presumably, to escape as quietly as possible. He won’t come blasting up the estuary with cannons roaring. Your chain will only prevent those seven yachts from getting out of the harbor to give chase.”
“The chain is not to keep us in, but to keep him out,” Sir Henry explained, still at top volume.
“Does the chain know that?” Sanford asked with a blighting stare.
“The men operating it do. They know when to raise it and when to lower it I trust. They are not likely to raise it when I give them the signal we wish to leave the dock. They are not morons.”
“Thank God the men are not. But morons or not, it would take only one turncoat in your organization to sabotage the whole effort. One man at the winch could keep every ship tied up here. You must certainly cut that chain. It is the only safeguard. And get rid of that spare, too, or it might be replaced in time to do mischief.”
“Edward VI gave us that chain! Get rid of it? No, sir, I will not. And I won’t cut the chain, either.”
“Benson, you seem to have some influence, tell him,” Sanford said, turning with an impatient jerk towards Benson.
“I can’t agree with you, sir. If Napoleon is removed from the Bellerophon , he will in all probability make for land. He can’t land at Plymouth for the crowds. There is no good docking between Plymouth and here. It is Bolt’s Dock, the closest place, he will make for. The chain is an excellent precaution.”
“Good God, man, he won’t make for any dock or public place. He’ll have men on the clifftop with a rope slung down for him to be hauled up and disappear into the countryside. This chain is a menace. It must go.”
“The chain remains, sir,” Sir Henry said with an awful gaze, “to protect us when Napoleon tries to land.”
There was a most uncomfortable pause while the two uncompromising gentlemen glared at each other. Into the tense silence Mr. Benson said in a perfectly nonchalant tone, “Shall we go to have a look at the ingenious telescope now, Miss Boltwood?”
With a
“But the yachts there—they lie seaward of the chain, of course?” Sanford asked.
“No, sir, they are protected behind it,” he was told.
Sanford blinked in surprise, but Benson spoke out before he could cause further annoyance. He first bestowed some suitable praise on the chain, then asked, “What would happen if the chain broke?”
“It won’t,” he was told with assurance. “I’ve had the masonry on the far side inspected, and you can see it is in good repair here. Every link of the chain has been inspected by hand by me. I had it raised the day Bonaparte surrendered, and went out in the Fury to inspect it. It will hold. There is a new chain in that chest there,” he went on, pointing to a large wooden chest that stood by the winch. He lifted the lid to confirm his boast of a new chain. “Well, Lord Sanford, what have you to say about this?” he asked triumphantly.
“This is a dangerous contraption,” Sanford replied in a serious tone.
“Aye, not a ship will get past my chain,” Sir Henry agreed, mistaking Sanford’s words for approval.
“This must be dismantled at once,” was the next remark from the impossible earl.
He might as well have said the Parliament Buildings must be blown up, the Prince Regent assassinated, or Christianity abolished. “Dismantled!!! Dismantled?” Sir Henry bellowed, turning an alarming shade of reddish-purple. “Not a link of the Bolt Chain will be dismantled, sir. The defense of England is in its keeping.”
“God save England! The chain won’t,” Sanford said, his own voice rising to an unusual level. “Don’t you see, man, it is not Bonaparte’s intention to attack you? He has no notion of storming your garrison wall. It is his intention, presumably, to escape as quietly as possible. He won’t come blasting up the estuary with cannons roaring. Your chain will only prevent those seven yachts from getting out of the harbor to give chase.”
“The chain is not to keep us in, but to keep him out,” Sir Henry explained, still at top volume.
“Does the chain know that?” Sanford asked with a blighting stare.
“The men operating it do. They know when to raise it and when to lower it I trust. They are not likely to raise it when I give them the signal we wish to leave the dock. They are not morons.”
“Thank God the men are not. But morons or not, it would take only one turncoat in your organization to sabotage the whole effort. One man at the winch could keep every ship tied up here. You must certainly cut that chain. It is the only safeguard. And get rid of that spare, too, or it might be replaced in time to do mischief.”
“Edward VI gave us that chain! Get rid of it? No, sir, I will not. And I won’t cut the chain, either.”
“Benson, you seem to have some influence, tell him,” Sanford said, turning with an impatient jerk towards Benson.
“I can’t agree with you, sir. If Napoleon is removed from the Bellerophon , he will in all probability make for land. He can’t land at Plymouth for the crowds. There is no good docking between Plymouth and here. It is Bolt’s Dock, the closest place, he will make for. The chain is an excellent precaution.”
“Good God, man, he won’t make for any dock or public place. He’ll have men on the clifftop with a rope slung down for him to be hauled up and disappear into the countryside. This chain is a menace. It must go.”
“The chain remains, sir,” Sir Henry said with an awful gaze, “to protect us when Napoleon tries to land.”
There was a most uncomfortable pause while the two uncompromising gentlemen glared at each other. Into the tense silence Mr. Benson said in a perfectly nonchalant tone, “Shall we go to have a look at the ingenious telescope now, Miss Boltwood?”
With a
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