Dennis Wheatley - The Rising Storm

"I am delighted to hear it, Your Excellency," Roger smiled, thrilled with the belief that his mission had been successful, and that he would be going home with a territory eight times the size of the Canadian settle­ments in his pocket. "My master would, I am sure, be willing to give you full satisfaction on all outstanding questions regarding your commerce."

"That goes without saying," shrugged the Count, "for 'tis a mere bagatelle. I had in mind a suitable compensation for the sacrifice that His Most Catholic Majesty would be making. There is only one which could be considered in any way adequate, but it would remove the last possible cause for friction between our two countries. I refer, of course, to Gibraltar."

Roger went quite white. He felt that the Spaniard had deliberately made a fool of him, and in a way that he would never have dared to do. with an older man. He was intensely angry. His eyes narrowed, and he said with quiet insolence:

"I find it amazing that anyone in Your Excellency's position should be so ignorant of history."

The Count flushed. "Monsieur! I do not understand . . ."

"Then I will make myself plain. Ten years ago, when my country had been much weakened by three years of exhausting effort to reduce her revolted colonies in the Americas, and in addition had for a year been at death grips with the French, Spain threatened to join her enemies; but offered to be bought off at the price of Gibraltar. His Britannic Majesty refused to cede the Rock then, so what can possibly lead Your Excellency to suppose that he would do so now?"

"Monsieur, you put a wrong interpretation on that issue. Spain has for long considered that she has a just title to the Rock, and at the time to which you refer made strong representations regarding it; but His Most Catholic Majesty would have entered the war in any case, since his honour obliged him to do so."

"You refer to his obligations under the Family Compact, do you not, sir?"

Florida Blanca nodded, then his eyes shifted from Roger's face. The conversation was not taking at all the line he had intended, and the last thing he wished to discuss was the implications of the Compact; but Roger swiftly followed up .his advantage.

"May I ask Your Excellency if that Treaty is still in force?"

"Certainly, Monsieur. Such friendly understandings with France have been a cardinal factor in the policy of Spain for several generations."

Roger's tone became more genial. "I thank Your Excellency for your frankness. More, I apologize for wasting your time by idle curiosity regarding a matter that has no concern for me." He paused, and added quietly: "Now I have Your Excellency's assurance that His Catholic Majesty is prepared to acknowledge those parts of North America I mentioned to you to be a portion of His Britannic Majesty's dominions."

"I implied that, but only with certain reservations, Monsieur." "I cannot think that Your Excellency was serious in your mention of Gibraltar."

"Then you were wrong, Monsieur. That is the price set by His Most Catholic Majesty on the transfer of his Sovereign rights in the North Pacific."

Roger saw that they had reached a dead end, and he was bitterly disappointed. He felt that to take so firm a stand and ask the impossible, the Spaniard must be very confident of receiving help from France. If that was so, then the sooner Britain declared war on Spain the better. But it was still possible that this might be bluff, and that a really high tone would yet produce a decision to give Britain what she asked, rather than face a war; so he said:

"By this demand for Gibraltar in exchange for a barren shore, to which the claim of Spain is by no means fully established, I fear Your Excellency has seen fit to trifle with me; but excusably perhaps, through my youth and inexperience giving so poor an impression of that which I represent. I would remind you now that behind the message I have brought lies the inflexible purpose of the greatest power in the world, and friendship with…"

"The greatest power!" exclaimed Florida Blanca haughtily. "Monsieur, you forget that you address a Spaniard; and that long before your country…"

With a swift gesture Roger cut him short. "I speak of the present. No other country than my own has within living memory fought a world in arms and emerged from the conflict unbroken. Friendship with my country would secure Spain her South American Empire; by war with Britain Spain would risk everything. I beg Your Excellency to allow me to return to my master with the happy tidings that you are prepared to enter into a peaceful settlement on the basis I have had the honour to convey to you."

The Count stubbornly shook his head. "That is impossible, without further consideration."

"How long does Your Excellency require? Not, permit me to add, before inviting me to discuss this matter again; but to give me a definite reply."

"How long are you prepared to give me?"

Roger knew that if he named a period of any length it would only be taken advantage of to the disadvantage of his country. If the Count meant to give way at all there was nothing whatever to prevent his doing so after an interval just sufficient to save his face. So he replied firmly:

"A further forty-eight hours should be ample for Your Excellency to decide so simple a question, and I cannot go beyond it."

Florida Blanca knew that it would be the best part of forty-eight days before he could expect a definite assurance of support from Paris, so it seemed pointless to keep this determined young man on a hook for a mere two days. He shrugged and said:

"Then I can only suggest that you should return to Mr. Pitt and tell him that the matter still has our most earnest consideration."

Roger bowed, turned and walked towards the door. Just before he passed through it he dropped one of the doeskin gloves he was carrying on the floor. It was his last card; the Prime Minister could either appear to think he had performed the act unwittingly and send it to him with a suggestion that, after all, it might be worth their having a further talk next day, or accept it as a symbol that Mr. Pitt really did intend to go to war.

As he left the Palace the thought that he had failed in his mission filled him with distress. He wondered if he had made too little allowance for Spanish pride, and acted too precipitately. Yet, on going over his two interviews with Count Florida Blanca again in his mind, he could not believe that he had. From his first receiving Mr. Pitt's instructions he had frequently thought of the conduct of his earliest friend in the diplomatic service, Lord Malmesbury, in very similar circumstances, twenty years earlier.

His Lordship had then been Mr. James Harris and a very junior official in the British Embassy at Madrid. In the summer heats of 1770 he had been temporarily left there as Charge d’Affaires. It had come to his knowledge that the Spaniards in Buenos Aires had secretly fitted out an expedition against the Falkland Islands, captured them, and expelled the British colonists. On his own responsibility he had instantly gone to the Spanish Prime Minister and threatened war unless the Falkland Islands were evacuated and full satisfaction for this unpro­voked assault afforded. The Spaniards had swallowed their pride then and acceded to his demands before the big guns of Whitehall had even been drawn into the matter. Roger felt that his language could have been no higher than that the now famous diplomat must have used, and in his case he had done no more than carry out very definite instructions. It was simply bad luck that the Spaniards felt either full confidence in French support, or that they could afford to ignore his challenge and still gain a little time before having to burn their boats.

Nevertheless, the thought that he had suffered defeat in the first diplomatic mission entrusted to him was extremely galling. He was, moreover, very conscious that far greater issues than his own prestige were involved, for his inability to carry home a satisfactory answer now meant that war was almost inevitable.