The Old Vengeful (28 page)

“But then it would have been the whole world against England, Mr Aske—the infant United States as well as the whole of Europe—“

“Britain, Professor Belperron,” said Paul. “Britain and the Royal Navy, actually.”

Belperron nodded. “I give you the Royal Navy, Dr Mitchell— incomparable, always magnificent … but over-stretched by 1812, with the Americans at sea, and a hundred French ships-of-the-line in a dozen European ports, and another hundred on the stocks … and the capacity to out-build you from Norfolk in Virginia to Brest and Copenhagen and St Petersburg and Venice … the whole world, Mr Aske—not in 1940, or 1914—or 1588 or 1779 … but the whole world in 1812—“

“If the Tsar Alexander had given in, Professor,” said Aske. “But he didn’t, did he?”

“But he
should
have done, Mr Aske. After the Emperor reached Moscow—which Hitler never reached … And if the Tsar had made terms then … what next, Mr Aske?” The Professor shook his head. “There was no Churchill in 1812—there were only nonentities—Mr Spencer Percival had been assassinated by a madman, but he was nobody in any case … and Lord Liverpool, his successor—he was nobody also … and the Duke of Wellington in Spain, with his little army—after Russia, Mr Aske, the Emperor could have ordered half-a-million soldiers to Spain. And where would Wellington have been then?” The
if
of 1812 was beginning to assume terrifying proportions in Professor Belperron’s imagination, and he spread his hands as though to embrace it. “
Make peace
, Wellington would have said—because he was a realist. But that might not have been good enough for the Emperor, because he was a realist too, and he knew how England was not to be trusted—England and Europe—England and Austria, and Prussia, and Austria, none of them were to be trusted … But England most of all—so England must be dealt with finally, as the trouble-maker and the paymaster among all the others.” The Professor nodded first at Aske, and then at Mitchell, and even at Elizabeth. “She must be taught a lesson—that is what I now think he decided. A—the word escapes me—but a lesson she would not forget, anyway.”

“A salutary lesson—‘salutory’?” Aske smiled. “So he dusted off de la Rousselière’s 1779 Plan for Portsmouth—was that the salutary lesson?” He glanced sidelong at Paul. “And, of course, our dear Colonel Suchet himself had a nodding acquaintance with Portsmouth, didn’t he! Mud-banks and hulks, and all that … plus a well-founded dislike for the English, as a result—he’d be the ideal man to put his heart and soul into the project, obviously—“ he came back to the Professor “—obviously?”

Paul frowned. “What evidence have you for this?” He ignored Aske. “Apart from circumstantial evidence?”

Belperron nodded. “He withdrew all the Hamilton maps and the Rousselière plans from the archives of the Ministry of Marine in the autumn of 1811, to the Ministry of War, where he had a small staff of officers working under him. It is my belief that these officers—and there were engineers and naval experts among them—that they were bringing the Portsmouth Plan up to date on the basis of fresh intelligence from England.” He nodded again. “Also … he solicited reports from Admiral Missiessy on the condition of the squadrons in the Channel and Atlantic ports, and on the construction programme—and from Count Emeriau and Admiral Cosmao on the numbers of trained seamen in Toulon and Genoa, who could be transferred north, to bring the crews of those ships up to strength.”

“But… except perhaps for those maps … all this is still circumstantial,” said Paul. “Is there any real proof that there was a new Portsmouth Plan, Professor?”

“Circumstantial… up to a point, Dr Mitchell. It is even true that the plans prepared by Hamilton and de la Rousselière were not the only ones Colonel Suchet called for—indeed, all this I already knew, from other researches, though I must confess that I never assembled it in this fashion until now … for none of it came to fruition. Because in December—December 1812—all the maps and plans and charts were returned to the Ministry of Marine, inevitably.”

“Why inevitably?” asked Elizabeth.

“The Russian disaster, Mademoiselle. For after that Colonel Suchet was no longer working to strengthen the fleet—he was stripping it of men for the army, in preparation for the European campaigns of 1813. The Portsmouth Plan perished in the snows of Moscow.”

“If there ever was a new Portsmouth Plan, Professor.” The retreat of the
Grande Armée
encouraged Aske to advance again.

But Professor Belperron smiled. “Oh, there was a new Portsmouth Plan, I believe that now, even though I have not had time to prove it yet. Not conclusively …”

He had something else, thought Elizabeth. He had had it all along, and he had just been waiting for the right moment to let it out of the bag, to impress them.

Paul caught her eye, and grinned—Paul had come to the same conclusion, and that grin told her that he was quite prepared to be impressed if that gave him what he wanted.

He even kept the grin in place for the Professor. “You know … I don’t think you’ve been quite straight with us, Professor,” he said.

The little man, who had been concentrating on Aske, now frowned slightly at Paul. “Pardon, Dr Mitchell?”

“What we want to know is why Colonel Suchet was so keen to get our fellows from the
Vengeful
back into the cooler—which should also give us the answer why they were treated the way they were, and shunted off to the Lautenbourg, instead of to Verdun, or somewhere like that, where there were other prisoners.” Paul leaned forward again. “Well, my old friend Bertrand Bourienne told me that you know more than any man alive about what was happening in France in Napoleon’s time, and particularly the last five years of the First Empire—he said, if you didn’t know, then no one knew, by God!”

For a moment Elizabeth was afraid that he was laying it on a bit too thick, but then she saw that the Professor was visibly disarmed by such confidence.

“Dr Mitchell… I fear your friend overrates me—“

“I don’t think so. I think you know
exactly
what Suchet was after … Or, you’ve got a pretty damn good idea of it.”

Aske sniffed. “Well, it’s pretty damn obvious, I should have thought: somehow the poor devils had tumbled to this new Portsmouth Plan of his—it can hardly be anything else, can it?”

Belperron’s eyes glinted behind his spectacles. “Can’t it, Mr Aske? Can’t it?”

Aske opened his mouth, and then thought better of what he had been about to say, and said nothing at all.

Belperron shook his head. “To tell the truth, my friends, I do
not
know exactly what Suchet wished to suppress—I have had far too little time … only a matter of hours … to look for the necessary confirmation of what I
believe
…
All I have at this moment is another name—another name connected with Colonel Suchet—and the known facts about
him
… a most interesting man …”

“What man—what name, Professor?” asked Paul, dutifully on cue.

“James Burns—no, I am sure you will never have heard of him, Mr Aske. James Burns, merchant—import-export, as we would say now … James Burns, of London, New York … and Portsmouth, Mr Aske.”

“Another traitor?” Aske’s mouth twisted. “Or another renegade patriot?”

“No, none of those.” The little man shook his head. “This time— another spy, Mr Aske. Even perhaps a super-spy, since you British never caught him—never even suspected him, so far as I am aware … though I know nothing of his subsequent history as yet.”

Whatever happened to Father’s book on the twelve
Vengefuls
, there was a book here—or at least a learned article in the
Annales historiques de l
’
Empire
in the making, thought Elizabeth. It was surprising that Belperron was prepared to let so much slip.

“How was he not a traitor—or a renegade, Professor?” she asked.

“Because he was not an Englishman at all, Mademoiselle,” said Belperron simply. “He was an American—an Irish American.”

“But also a
French
spy—a spy for France?”

“Ah … now there again we are on those debatable frontiers! Where should a good American—and an Irishman … an Irishman in any age … where should such a man be when England is at war? And in those days, after the Irish Rebellion of 1798, in which my country assisted so inadequately and disastrously?”

“In Portsmouth, apparently,” said Paul dryly. “And we let him import-export from there, did we?”

Belperron shook his head. “In England I am not sure that he was
James Burns
—
American
…
not from the way he continued to move at will between the two countries after the Americans had declared war on you. What he did in England, except that he traded in naval stores … American timber and cordage, and the like … that I do not know. But here in France it was in military equipment—in British greatcoats and boots for the French Army—“

“In
what
?” Paul’s voice cracked.

“British greatcoats and boots—the Grande Armée wore them both into Russia … imported through Hamburg, of course.” The Professor smiled his little coldly-amused smile again. “You must understand how the Industrial Revolution and the French Revolution came to terms with each other, Dr Mitchell, and how honest neutrals were caught between them—it was not a business as conducted in later war. Because in those pragmatic days an honest trader could also obtain licences to break the rules, to the advantage of all parties.”

“And James Burns was good at getting licences?”

“That is what I think, Dr Mitchell. As yet I am not sure.”

“But you’re sure he was a spy?”

“James Burns was a client of Joseph Fouché’s Ministry in 1805, and again in 1808—and a close colleague of Colonel Suchet in 1812—that I
know
, Mr Aske.” Professor Belperron brought his hands together. “James Burns had a dream … of confusion to Albion …
that
is what I believe.”

“With the Portsmouth Plan?”

“With
his
Portsmouth Plan. Which was very different from those of de la Rousselière and Hamilton—very different, and much more outrageous … but perhaps also much more dangerous to England.” The little man switched from Aske to Paul. “And which Suchet, of all men, would have recognised, where Fouché would have discounted it.” He shrugged. “Though, to be fair, the time was not ripe in Fouché’s day, as it was in Suchet’s.”

This time they both waited, now that he was altogether wrapped in his own cleverness.

“Some of this I know … and some of it I am guessing, on the basis of what I was told last night, which has made me put facts together with guesses … to make an instant theory, you understand? No more than that.”

They nodded, and Elizabeth nodded too, to encourage him.

“Good … Now it may be that your escaped prisoners somehow knew of de la Rousselière’s plans, Mr Aske—Dr Mitchell. I do not know how … but it does not matter. Because, if his plans were good in 1779, they were bad in 1812—they were plans which would not have attracted Colonel Suchet, I suspect. And also because he would have had in mind the invasion plans of 1804-5—the massing of a great army on the Channel coast to conquer England, not merely to raid it, or capture a foothold.”

Aske snuffled. “He would probably have had the Royal Navy in mind also, Professor. And the battle of Trafalgar.”

“Very correct, Mr Aske.
Always
the Royal Navy … But by then the Royal Navy without Nelson. And the Royal Navy was stretched all the way to the war with America, with the best part of the British Army fighting in Spain, and the rest of it in Canada, fighting the Americans … And 1813 would not have been 1805 in Europe either, Mr Aske: Suchet was planning for an invasion in which the Emperor no longer had to worry about the armies of Austria and Prussia and Russia, as he had had to do in 1805. This would have been his last battle, you must remember, Mr Aske—his very last battle!”

That silenced Aske, as Elizabeth herself could hear the echo of his own words from yesterday:
In 1812 we were losing the war
…
And that had been before this image of a defeated Russia, with no catastrophic retreat from Moscow.

“But you are right to remind us of your navy, Mr Aske—it was your navy which frightened the German generals in 1940, before the Battle of Britain, not the RAF … And the very idea of seizing a defended port, like Portsmouth, in a
coup de main
, with its warships there at anchor—
ridiculous
!” Belperron waved a hand dismissively. “
I
remember the Canadians coming back from Dieppe in 1942, what there was left of them … That made it certain we would not try to seize a port in 1944, but would invade across the open beaches—as the Emperor planned to do in 1805, up the coast from Portsmouth, where you built your equally ridiculous Martello Towers in those days—along the same beaches where William the Norman landed in 1066 … No, Mr Aske, the pattern of prudent invaders down the centuries has always been the same: get as much of your army ashore first on some likely beach—then seek battle with your enemy’s army and invest his strong places. But do not make your assault on those strong places from the sea in the first place—
that
is the lesson of history.” He sat back confidently.

“So what was James Burns’s ‘Portsmouth Plan’, then?” asked Paul. “Because Portsmouth would have been a strong enough place. Apart from whatever garrison there would have been, there’d be the navy itself—the ships at anchor. You’d never have got a ship into Portsmouth harbour, Professor, let alone a man ashore.”

“You are right,” agreed the Professor, “but, you see, there was no need to get a ship into the harbour, Dr Mitchell, and no need to put a man ashore.
Not when they were already there
.” He paused momentarily. “The hulks, Mr Aske—have you forgotten the hulks?”

“Christ!” exclaimed Aske. “
The hulks
!”

“The hulks?” Paul turned to him.

“The prison ships. There was a whole line of them right there in the harbour—jammed with French prisoners!”