Джулиан Стоквин - Persephone

Kydd was guiltily relieved that he would not have to take Persephone Lockwood aboard just yet.

Smith picked up a silver bell and rang it. ‘You’ll all stay to drink to the tsar’s damnation and confusion, hey?’

Chapter 11

The sailor stolidly held a lanthorn and waited while the diplomat came to himself. Lord Strangford woke groggily. ‘Wha’ is it?’

It was dark, rain hammering on the cabin deckhead, and the duty mate-of-the-watch showed no inclination to leave. ‘Admiral Smith desires y’ should join him.’

‘Now? What o’clock is it?’

‘One bell o’ the middle watch, sir, which is to say, a half-hour after midnight.’

‘Good God! I’m to be awakened at this time of night for—’

‘An’ asks you attend on him without delay.’ He set down the lanthorn and held the swinging cot while the nobleman struggled out of it. A tousled valet appeared and the master’s mate left.

‘What’s to do, my lord?’ the servant asked sleepily.

‘Damn it all to Hell! The admiral summons me – what he means by this I cannot know. Well, fetch my gown and slippers, you fool!’

In the great cabin just one candle glowed, illuminating the solitary figure of Smith, still in his sea rig.

He looked up as Strangford entered. ‘I thank you for your attendance, my lord,’ he said, in a dry tone. ‘A trifle by way of developments that you will no doubt be interested in.’

‘At this hour?’

‘Quite so, considering the urgency of the business.’

‘Well?’

‘One of my sloops did take a Biscayman. In it was found a Paris newspaper only a day old and he thought to bring it to me.’

‘You’ve wakened me to read the morning papers? You’ve a sad idea, sir, of the sources of information available to an ambassador!’

Smith smiled bleakly. ‘Oh, but this is the Moniteur , Boney’s own mouthpiece, which he cannot deny. It’s official and at this moment is being read all over the continent. Pray cast your eye over it …’

He handed over the newspaper and watched for reaction.

‘It says that “The House of Bragança has ceased to reign in Europe.”’

‘Well?’

Strangford frowned. ‘Sir. The rantings of the braggart are of no—’

‘You’ll gratify me to an enormous degree,’ Smith ground out, ‘should you see your way to going ashore and waving this under the nose of your cretinous Dom João, yes?’

‘For the purpose of …’

‘To show the buffoon that Napoleon Bonaparte has gone on record to say his throne is about to become history!’

‘Yes, well, as you do counsel,’ Strangford said stiffly, ‘tomorrow I shall—’

‘My barge is manned and lies at your service this very minute,’ Smith said cuttingly. ‘I’d have thought it better to hear it first from us, with our renewed offer of escort to the Brazils, don’t you?’

In the boat Strangford bristled. He was a peer of the realm and an ambassador and to be chivvied like a common sailor by a coxcomb was hard to take. The worst of it was that there was good sense in what Smith wanted. Now Bonaparte’s intentions were clear there would be every chance to bring about a change of allegiance. The newspaper in his bosom would be the instrument of success – if he could play his part.

Apparently the regent had moved into the half-finished Ajuda Palace, its landing place not far along from the Belém Tower. As they touched at the rain-glistening stone steps there was no one to challenge them but neither was there any carriage. Doggedly, Strangford tramped up the hill towards the palace in the cold rain.

Astonished guards tried to dissuade him but, on the unanswerable pretext of bearing an urgent diplomatic communication, he was shown to a receiving room. A distracted chamberlain went for the regent who, after an interval, appeared in satin robes and slippers, blinking in perplexity.

‘My lord Strangford, you cannot appear here. We are at war, sir.’

‘Sire, I bear grave news for Portugal and its crown.’

‘Oh?’

‘I desire you read this.’ He fumbled for the Moniteur and drew it out, damp and drooping.

Dom João took it, then gave an embarrassed smile. ‘I do not have the French, my lord.’

‘This is the Moniteur , the state organ of France. And in it we have a declaration by Napoleon Bonaparte that he means his invasion of your country to end with your deposition from the throne of Portugal.’

‘It says that?’

‘Unhappily it does, sire. “The House of Bragança has ceased to reign in Europe,” it declares. His intention now is clear – he demands nothing less than the crown of Portugal for himself.’

With a stricken look, Dom João sank into a chair, wringing his hands. ‘What shall I do?’ he whispered. ‘A council of state and—’

‘There is no time for that. If you love your country there is only one course. You do deny him the crown by sailing to your welcoming colony, Brazil. He cannot seat another on the throne if it is removed to another place.’

‘How then can I rule if all government and authority is here? The laws, records, histories …’

‘That is easily solved. It is not the throne alone that is transported, but the instruments of administration in their entirety. Departments and divisions, with their records and accounts, your treasury, sacred articles of state—’

‘This is not possible! Even—’

‘It is more than possible, sire. You have a fleet of ships lying idle. They are stored and fitted for the voyage and, under our inviolable escort, will safely transport not only you and the royal family but the entire apparatus of rule. Your reign will continue uninterrupted but in another situation.’

‘The entire administration of a nation to another world? I’ve never heard of such, no one has ever—’

With days before the vanguard of the French force appeared on the hills above Lisbon, the chance was fast vanishing. ‘It must be done, sir!’

‘I will do it,’ Dom João whispered, his voice breaking. ‘It is my duty, is it not?’

‘Well said, sire! Then may we say that—’

‘A council of state will be summoned at dawn. It will be instructed to make preparations for the removal of the Portuguese state to Rio de Janeiro.’

‘A very wise decision if I may say so, Príncipe. If there is anything we may do to assist …’

Chapter 12

Sidney Smith waited impatiently for his captains. ‘I won’t waste time. You’re to know that the Regent of Portugal, Prince Dom João, has acceded to all our wishes. He intends to sail to the Brazils with the rest of the royal family and the Portuguese fleet.’

There was heartfelt relief around the table – a difficult and bloody operation against their own fleet had been avoided, and the prospect of the odium at yet another British assault on a neutral was laid to rest.

‘Not only that,’ Smith went on, ‘the whole of their parliament and so forth is to be transported with them, such that the nation’s rule may be continued out of reach of the Corsican. Our part – and let me be very clear on this – is to act in the character of escort. Not just to repel Boney’s fleet, should they dispute the escape, but to make damned sure the prince keeps his word and doesn’t end up in some Frenchy harbour.’

He nodded to his flag-captain, who produced charts and laid them on the table. ‘Our dispositions are therefore as follows. We allow that the Portuguese have the honour to form escort on their monarch, their flag in Príncipe Real , 84. We take close station to windward and to leeward in good situation to intercept those desirous of leaving. This order of sailing is maintained until we reach Madeira.’