The Shadow of Tyburn Tree (65 page)

‘You have all my admiration, yet I tremble for you,' Roger exclaimed, ‘For if the bluff be called, what then? And how will you fare if our government at home repudiates the ultimatum that you have issued in its name?'

‘As to myself, I care not,' the ill man replied. ‘But by the honour of England and the saving of this brave Swedish King I set great store. And 'tis in this, my friend, that you also are concerned. The armistice that I have gained for Gustavus extends only for eight days from midnight tonight. If the Danes do not receive definite confirmation within a week that either a Prussian army is mobilising to invade Denmark from the south, or that a British fleet is preparing to sail against them, they will know that I have lied, and the game will be up.'

He paused for a moment, racked by a fit of coughing, then went on: ‘In the matter of the Prussians we can do nothing. Before I left Copenhagen Von Rhoda promised me that he would do his utmost to persuade King Frederick William to despatch troops to the Danish frontier. He will have the backing of Mr. Ewart, our Minister in Berlin, who played so great a part in founding the Triple Alliance, and of that good friend of ours, Prime Minister Von Hertzberg; but whether the King will agree to commit Prussia to war on Sweden's account no man can say. Therefore we must forget the Prussians and place our hopes only in what we may achieve ourselves. One final effort must be made to induce my Lord Carmarthen and Mr. Pitt to realise the imperative necessity of instantly publishing an order for the despatch of a fleet. You alone can tell them of our frightful situation at first hand. So at crack of dawn tomorrow you must go aboard the fastest British ship that is lying in the harbour here and get you off to England.'

‘But …' Roger began.

‘I know!' The Minister waved his scarcely begun protest impatiently aside. ‘You are thinking again of that wife of yours in Copenhagen. Well, what of her? You told me yourself that you married her only because you were forced to it.'

‘Even so,' Roger objected quickly. ‘I made my vows to her in an English church. She loves me, and I am determined to honour them to the best of my ability.'

‘Who seeks to prevent you? Not I.' The diplomat shrugged wearily. ‘But she is safe and well cared for where she is. Surely you will not set her temporary inconvenience against a chance of saving ten thousand Swedish matrons and maids from being exposed to the licentious assaults of the brutal Danish soldiery?'

Roger thought miserably of Natalia Andreovna. She was now an exile. He had brought her out of Russia, and without a moment's notice, deserted her in Denmark. He had not even given her an opportunity, as yet, to ask him those questions about his family and status, to which she had every right to expect an answer. He had promised that he would rejoin her within a week, and seventeen days had already elapsed since he had abandoned her in the middle of their honeymoon. Now he was called upon to leave her marooned among strangers, with no further news of him than that he had sailed for England on urgent business, and would get back to her somehow, sometime, when his services were no longer required. To her it would appear abominably callous treatment, and few courses could be better calculated to disrupt the marriage that, once committed to it, he had determined to do his best to make a happy one.

Yet, what else could he do, other than agree to Hugh Elliot's request that he should set out for England in the morning? So much hung upon it. The fate of nations was involved; the lives and happiness of scores of thousands of people, and, above all, the honour of his country.

‘So be it,' he sighed. ‘I will write her another letter, explaining matters as well as I am able. May I rely upon you to ensure it being conveyed to her by a safe hand; and also to see that she does not lack for funds during my absence?'

‘Indeed, I will; and I shall consider Mistress Brook to be my personal charge until your return. I, too, must pen a letter, for you to carry with you to my Lord Carmarthen. Let us set about it before I am quite overcome by this fever that assails me.'

There was a table in the middle of the room with quills, ink and paper on it; so they sat down opposite one another and commenced their respective tasks.

As Roger began to write it struck him with grim humour
that the excuse he had invented to cover his leaving Natalia had now become the truth; so there was little that he could say except that, Mr. Elliot still being without a trustworthy courier now required him to go to England. He sugared the bitter pill as best he could with endearments, perfectly truthful protestations that he was compelled to go entirely against his wish, and promised that he would rejoin her as fast as a ship could bring him back to Denmark.

When they had done they sealed and exchanged their letters, doused the candles, and pulling off their neckbands flopped still dressed upon their beds.

In the morning Roger took his leave of King Gustavus, who presented him with a miniature of himself set in brilliants, and assured him that he would always be an honoured guest at the Swedish court. Then he accompanied Hugh Elliot down to the docks.

He had come ashore from the
White Rose
wearing his sword, but his pistols and all this other baggage had been left behind with Natalia in Copenhagen; so, on the way to the harbour, he bought a few toilet articles and a couple of changes of linen.

Since speed was of the utmost importance Elliot chose for Roger's voyage a full-rigged ship, the
Bonny Bride
out of Leith. Her captain, Hamish McDougal, at first protested most strongly against his ship being commandeered, as he was already freighted with a cargo of goods for his home port. But the British Minister would take no denial, and the King's business taking precedence of all others Captain McDougal had to resign himself with such grace as he could muster to preparing to set sail for London.

In spite of the marital complications in which Elliot had landed him, Roger had conceived a great admiration for the diplomat, and the desperate days they had been through together had made them firm friends, so they took leave of one another with reluctance and genuine affection.

The bosun and his mates were sent ashore to collect the crew from the dockside dives, then they were despatched to recover the ship's cannon that had been landed three days before. A stock of fresh meat and vegetables was procured, and four hours after Roger had come on board the
Bonny Bride
put out to sea.

In a ship carrying so much sail Roger expected to reach London in from three to four days, but it was not to be. On passing out of the Skager Rack that night she was met by an ominous calm which lasted for some hours, then at four
o'clock in the morning a tempest of extraordinary violence suddenly broke upon her.

For two days and nights Captain McDougal fought the storm with all the courage and tenacity for which his race are justly famous, but on the second night he lost his foremast, and after its upper part had been cut away, it was hurled back by a great wave end on against the ship's side, doing her considerable damage.

Roger was a moderately good sailor but not good enough to stand up to really bad weather, and for hours on end he was terribly ill, so knew little of what was happening.

On the third morning the storm eased somewhat and he came on deck. He knew that the foul weather must have delayed them but hoped that they might be running down the east coast of England and that after all these months he would be able to get a sight of his native land. To his disappointment he could see nothing but a waste of heaving grey-green waters, then, to his horror and dismay, Captain McDougal told him that they had been driven several hundred miles out of their course and were now somewhere off Norway.

Worse was to follow. At mid-day the Captain managed to get an observation and, finding their position to be approximately 62° N., 3° E., decided to put into Bergen, to have urgent repairs done before proceeding further. In vain Roger stressed the urgency of his mission, cursed, pleaded and finally threatened. Captain McDougal refused to risk his ship and crew by remaining at sea a moment longer than he had to, and would not even consider the suggestion of making for a port in the north of Scotland. Early the following morning, Sunday the 14th of October, the
Bonny Bride
limped into Bergen. Roger had hoped that he might find another ship there sailing in a day or two for a British port, but he was disappointed; and if he attempted the ghastly journey of three hundred miles over almost trackless mountains to Kristiania there was no guarantee that he would have better luck there; so he decided that it would be best to remain where he was for the five or six days which it was estimated the repairs would take.

Muffled in his cloak against the cold, he spent most of his time watching the shipwrights at work, in a fever of impatience for them to be done; but it took a full six working days to render the
Bonny Bride
sea-worthy, so it was not until Sunday the 21st that she put out from the bleak Norwegian port.

The weather was now moderately good, so they made an average passage and entered the estuary of the Thames late on the night of the 24th. At dawn on Tuesday morning Roger landed at Gravesend and took the first coach to London. On
arriving there he went straight to Downing Street and sent his name up to the Prime Minister.

He was kept waiting for some twenty minutes, and during them he brooded miserably, as he had done almost uninterruptedly through his waking hours of the past ten days, on the possibly disastrous results of his belated arrival. The voyage that he had expected to make in four days had taken him fourteen. The armistice of eight days that Hugh Elliot had secured from the Danes had expired on the 17th and it was now the 25th. Unless some drastic measure had been taken since he left Gothenburg the city was by now probably in ruins and Gustavus killed, captured or a fugitive King who had lost his throne.

It was Roger's first big failure; and although he knew that it had not occurred through any lack of diligence or foresight on his part, that did not alleviate his feeling that he had badly let down those friends in Sweden who had relied upon him.

At length a footman took him upstairs and showed him in to Mr. Pitt, who was still in his morning-robe drinking coffee. As was his custom Roger went straight to the point and, producing his letter, said:

‘ 'Tis from Mr. Hugh Elliot, Sir, and should have reached you ten days ago, but I was delayed by tempest. You will see that it is addressed to my Lord Carmarthen, but if I am not come too late, every moment may still be of vital importance, so I decided to bring it straight to you.'

‘You were right in that,' said Mr. Pitt kindly after a swift look at Roger's face. ‘Sit down and pour yourself a cup of coffee while I read it.'

Roger did as he was bid, stealing an anxious glance now and then at the Prime Minister, whom he thought looked older and frailer than when he had last seen him. There also seemed to be a curious air of detached helplessness about his expression as he skimmed through the letter. Having finished it he tossed it aside as casually as if it had been a vulgar broadsheet, and remarked almost tonelessly: ‘I had news out of Denmark yesterday. The armistice has been prolonged for a further period of a month.'

‘Thank God!' Roger exclaimed. ‘Then I am not, after all, come too late!'

The Prime Minister shrugged his shoulders. ‘If it is of any comfort to you, Mr. Brook, you may rest assured that had you arrived ten days ago it could have made little difference.'

‘You mean, Sir, that you had despatched a fleet already?'

‘Nay; and I have no intention of doing so.'

‘What say you!' cried Roger, springing to his feet. ‘But
Britain's word is pledged in this. And you, of all men, cannot play the shuffling politician now! You
must
send the aid that you have promised to King Gustavus.'

‘You use strong words, Mr. Brook,' the Prime Minister frowned.

‘No stronger than my feelings, Sir!' Roger rapped back.

‘And if excuse be needed 'tis that you have hitherto encouraged me to speak my mind to you.'

‘Aye; that is true,' Pitt agreed more gently. ‘And on that score 'tis I who should ask your pardon. Yet what you propose cannot be done. Mr. Elliot has acted with a courage that does him credit, yet he has gone beyond his instructions, and I cannot publicly endorse his statements. Neither can I despatch a fleet; for I no longer have the power to do so.'

‘In God's name why?' ejaculated Roger, staring at him in amazement. ‘Has, then, the government fallen overnight?'

Poor Billy Pitt shrugged wearily. ‘Nay; though in some ways I almost wish it had. I am but the First Minister of the crown, and I could never have held my place these past five years had it not been for His Majesty's constant encouragement and support. The Princes and the opposition would prove too much for me were I to attempt to introduce any controversial measure which they knew to be without the King's full knowledge and approval. So at this juncture it is unthinkable that I should take a step which might involved Britain in a war.'

‘Is the King dead then?'

‘Nay; but three days ago His Majesty's doctors officially informed the Cabinet that he has become insane.'

‘I have, of course, known this for some time,' Pitt went on sadly. ‘All through the summer His Majesty's health was in a low state, and a stay at Cheltenham did nothing to improve it. On his return to Windsor he was compelled to give up those long walks and rides which have always proved so exhausting to his suite, but which were such a feature of his life. In fits and starts he still attempts them; I think in an effort to escape his own thoughts, for the poor man is fully aware that he has become subject to fits of mental derangement. But they serve only to make his malady worse; on his return from these excursions he talks at an incredible speed and often with complete inconsequence. He is behaving very bravely about it. As late as last night he insisted on appearing at a levée at St. James's Palace, as he wrote me himself “to stop further lies, and any fall in the stocks,” but his condition was pitiable, and 'twas plain to us all that we were in the presence of a madman.'