Andrew Wareham: End to Illusion

Captain Archdale presented himself before C-in-C Mediterranean, rather pleased with his performance. The Admiral was inclined to agree with his assessment.

“Sank a predreadnought, Archdale. Good work, sir! The Austro-Hungarians have only a few big ships and the loss of even one will make them more cautious. You say that Pola is untouchable?”

“The boom is massive, sir. We could not get too close but it seems to be tree trunks, big old oaks from the Dalmatian forests, linked together by a pair of heavy iron chains and with a gate in the centre of the channel, guarded by a boom ship. The ship has winches to open the gate and was carrying two at least of heavy guns. Adams thought she was an old barbette ship, a coast defence sort of thing with a pair of ten inchers. Very able young officer, that one! Been useful. Pity…”

“As you say, Archdale. Nothing to be done for him. I have a replacement for him, if you want. New out from England. A youngish lieutenant commander. Passed his courses so he must be competent even if not about to set the world on fire.”

“Send him across, if you please, sir. Adams is an outstanding young fellow, but he don’t fit into my wardroom. Can’t, can he?”

“I agree, Archdale. All he can do is be an embarrassment. I have a place for him, properly out of sight. You are to go to Scapa, by the way, to join the Grand Fleet. You will eventually be with Black Prince and Duke of Edinburgh, the three ships in the class as a squadron. I don’t know who will be senior. Obviously, you will go Home with my strongest commendation, Archdale. A successful action with a capital ship is a feather in my cap and I have already forwarded your report by cable to the Admiralty with my very positive comments added. Before you go, what’s to do with your Gunner?”

“Old-fashioned idiot and insubordinate with it, sir! Told me I should be training the men in boarding tactics and should not be opening fire at more than half a mile distant! As well, when ordered to open fire at long range on the flotilla of destroyers in pursuit, he tried to avoid the order, using one gun rather than the three that would bear, apparently because he thought it was a waste of ammunition.”

“Is that so? Well, the Navy knows how to deal with that sort, Archdale. No court, always better to avoid that if possible. There’s an old, slow protected cruiser, Royal Arthur, just come in, on her way to Aden to patrol the Red Sea and Persian Gulf coast. Awful ship, had one of her nine point twos replaced by a pair of six inch on a newly fitted raised forecastle. Looks appalling! I’ll take her Gunner for you, send your man across. I know the man I’m giving you – reliable chap and trustworthy!”

Captain Archdale was properly grateful.

“That will be far the best, sir. Don’t want an able man to be wasted at Aden! What of Adams, sir?”

“Send him across, all his dunnage with him. I have just what he needs at this juncture!”

The Viscount was displeased. He sat at the large desk in his library, long since converted into a Town office – all those old books dumped into packing cases and tucked away in one of the cellars – while his eldest son stood uneasily before him. His heir was a grown man, well into his twenties and a Member of Parliament besides but stood hunched up and apprehensive like a little boy who was about to feel the cane.

“Just what the Hell did you think you were doing, Jeremy? You have destroyed Christopher as well as doing the family name no good at all! He is broken, can never come back to Town – not to England at all, in fact. All of my work to establish him in a career to match Beatty’s, completely wasted! He will remain a lieutenant until the day the war ends and will then be ordered to send in his papers. And why? Because you chose to take him to some grubby whorehouse and give him a disease there! Are you poxed as well?”

The heir denied the accusation.

“Not me, sir! Can’t imagine how it happened! Mrs Wenlock’s, most exclusive house in Town, sir. Ten guineas apiece and a hundred a year subscription besides!”

“Is that so? Well, her days are coming to an end. Just wait one moment.”

The Viscount took up the telephone apparatus and demanded the attention of the exchange.

“Scotland Yard, the office of the Commissioner. No, I don’t know the number! How should I know some policeman’s details? I am Adams, Viscount Adams. In person.”

It took three minutes to be speaking to the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.

“A damned brothel, Commissioner. A Mrs Wenlock… Yes, in Mayfair. Diseased! Harmed at least one naval officer to my knowledge. Her and all of her whores to take up residence in Holloway Women’s Prison, at soonest!”

There was a slight delay while the Commissioner could be heard shouting for the presence of a particular superintendent of police.

“Yes, I am correct in name and location and I expect action. I do not expect the old whore to be forewarned and enabled to escape justice, sir!”

The Commissioner restrained himself and assured the Viscount that the arrests would be made that day and the procuress and all of her employees would stand before magistrates that afternoon and would be remanded to the Old Bailey for trial. The judge would be informed of the background to the case.

“If she gets less than fifteen years penal servitude, I shall be most upset, Commissioner. The Home Secretary, Mr McKenna, would be most distressed to perceive that the Metropolitan Police has been in the habit of protecting brothels.”

The threat was overt and crude, and immediately effective. The Viscount was assured that the premises would be raided before noon and that all present would be placed under arrest and would receive no mercy at all.

“Well, Jeremy?”

“Should not you send word to the House, sir? It is by no means impossible that there may be a client or two on the premises. There was a late sitting of the House of Commons last night – we did not rise before two o’clock. Any of the backbenchers who went for a little relaxation after the strain of the day might still be asleep at noon, sir!”

“Bad luck! They can tender their resignations from the House this afternoon. They will not be wanted by their parties, I do not doubt.”

“I do not know what it will do for my name, sir. It will become known that you twisted the Commissioner’s arm, sir – he will have to protect himself and can only do so by naming you.”

“Let him! If he does, I shall address the Lords on the disgusting decline in public morality in wartime. While our young men give their all in the trenches, their supposed betters wallow in degradation in houses of ill-fame in London. I shall demand to know why the Metropolitan Police has permitted such infamy and shall call for the resignation of those responsible for such disgraceful misconduct.”

“I shall buttonhole McKenna, sir, pass the word that all must be kept quiet.”

“Do so, Jeremy. I am most displeased by your part in your brother’s downfall. I do not know what may be done for him, if anything indeed. His Naval career is at an end. I do not wish him to become a soldier – I doubt he could be commissioned. I can only hope that he may be sent to a far distant posting and there be discharged as unfit for duty due to ill-health. I cannot organise that myself. Postings to the better stations and ships are one matter, but Fisher will not tolerate the protection of a disgraced officer – he is too much a damned Puritan for that! I much suggest that you should behave yourself, young man! There will be a substantial donation to Party funds – not anonymous – and you must show willing in the House. I will expect you to attend Committee meetings and show yourself briefed properly and saying the correct things.”