A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah! (3 page)

“It is that urgent then?”

“The utmost, his lordship im-pressed that upon me most strongly.”

“All right then, I will have to change…”

“Permit me to interrupt. I believe instructions were also sent to the head porter of your hotel and a packed bag will be awaiting aboard the train.”

Washington nodded acceptance; the decision had been made. He turned about and raised his voice over the growing din. “Bullhead. You will be head ganger here until Fighting Jack returns. Keep the work moving.”

There was no more to be done. Washington led the way back through the shield to the electric lo-comotive which he commandeered for the return trip. They took it as far as the bulkhead and arrived just in time to meet Fighting Jack emerging from the air-lock door.

“Damn me if I want to do that again,” he bellowed, his clothes still dripping wet, bruises on his head and shoulders where he had been dragged through the ocean bottom. “Like a cork in a bung I was, stuck and thought it me last moments. Then up like a shot and everything getting black and the next I know I’m looking up’t‘sky and at the faces of some ugly sinners and wondering if I were’t’heaven or the other place.”

“You were born to be hanged,” said Washington calmly. “Back to the face now and see they work the shift out without slackening.”

“I’ll do that and feed any man who shirks into a blowout and up the way I went.”

He turned and stamped off while they entered the air lock and found seats.

“Should he be working . .?” Drigg ventured after long minutes of silence.

“He shouldn’t—but I cannot stop him. These navvies have a way of life different from ours and we must respect it. If he’s hurt, or has the bends, he would never admit it and the only way to get him to a hospital would be to bash him over the head and he would never forgive me. I have seen these men, on a dare, jump over the open mouth of a ven-tilation tunnel ten feet wide and a hundred feet deep. I have seen three men in a row fail and fall to their deaths and the fourth man, laughing, succeed. Then he and all the others there go out and drink beer until they can no longer walk in memory of their dead buddies. And no one regretting or worrying about a thing. A hard and brutal life you might say, but, by God, it makes men.”

As though ashamed of this emo-tional outburst, Washington kept his counsel for the rest of the trip out of the tunnel, until they reached the platform in Penzance. It was dark now with the last bars of red fading from the clouds in the west. Lights were winking on all over the expanse of tracks as the yardboys went about refilling the switch beacons with paraffin and lighting their wicks. The crowds were gone, the station silent, while the solitary form of the Dreadnought bulked even larger than life with its newly polished golden cladding catching and hold-ing the red and green of the switch lights. There were only two carriages attached, the Saloon Car and Monarch of the Glens, the private coach used only by the marquis or other members of the board of direc-tors: The porter for this car, an el-derly white-haired man named Walker, formerly the butler of one of the Board members, now retired to this sinecure in his advancing years, was waiting at the steps to the car.

“Your bath is drawn, sir, and your clothing laid out.”

“Capital—but I must have a drink first. Join me if you will, Mr. Drigg, it has been a long and hot day with more than enough excitement for a month.”

“A pleasure.”

The gaudily uniformed boy was on the door to the Saloon Car, smiling as he drew it open for him. Washington stopped short when he saw him.

“Should not this infant be in bed? Goodness knows we can open the door ourselves on this spe-cial trip.”

The child’s face fell and his lower lip showed a tendency to wobble be-fore Drigg spoke. “They are volun-teers all, Captain Washington, Billy here along with the rest. They want to go, you must understand that.”

“Then go we shall,” Washington laughed and entered the car. “Send a lemonade out to Billy and we will all have that drink.”

The organist looked over his shoulder, smiling out a fine display of gold teeth, and enthusiastically played “Pack Up Your Troubles” as soon as they entered. Washington sent him over a pint of beer then raised his own and drained it in al-most a single swallow. The train slipped forward so smoothly that they were scarcely aware that they were underway.

What with a few drinks and bath-ing and dressing the trip was over al-most before Washington knew it. The platform at Paddington Station was empty except for the shining eighteen foot long, six-doored, black form of a Rolls-Royce waiting for them. The footman held the door, and as soon as they were inside and he had joined the chauffeur they were in motion again. Around Hyde Park and up Constitution Hill by Buckingham Palace—windows all aglitter with a ball or some important function—and within short minutes they were pulling up in front of Transatlantic House, the company offices in Pall Mall. The front doors were held open and not a word was spoken as Drigg led the way to the lift and up to the li-brary.

They stood there in the si-lence of morocco and dark wood until the porter had closed the outer door, and only then did Drigg touch a hidden catch on one of the shelves of books. An entire section of shelving opened like a door and he pointed through it.

“His Lordship is waiting in his pri-vate office. He thought to have a word with you alone before you go in to the Board. If you will.”

Wash-ington stepped forward while the se-cret doorway closed behind him and another door opened before.

The marquis was writing at his desk and did not at first look up. This was an elegant room, rich with silver and brass and heavy with an-cestral portraits. Behind the marquis the curtains were open so the large bay window framed the view across St. James’s Park with the tower of Big Ben visible beyond. As it sol-emnly struck the hour the marquis laid down his pen and waved Wash-ington to the nearby chair.

“It is a matter of some urgency,” said he, “or I would not have rushed you away from your work in this cavalier manner.”

“I realized that from the tone of your note. But you did not say what the matter was.”

“We’ll come to that in a moment. But I have asked you here, to see me alone, on what, for lack of a better term, might be called a personal matter.”

His lordship seemed ill at ease. He tented his fingers together before him, then dropped them flat, rubbed at the wide jaw so typical of his line, then turned about to look out the window, then swung about again.

“This is difficult to say, Captain Washington, and has to do with our respective families. We have ances-tors, there might be ill will, don’t mean to infer, but you understand.”

Washington did understand and felt some of the same embarrassment as the marquis. He had lived with this burden all his life so was better able to face it. Perhaps it would be best to have it out in the open than kept as a guilty secret.

“What is past is past,” said he. “It is a matter of history and common knowledge that the first Marquis Cornwallis executed my ancestor George Washington as a traitor. I feel no shame at the fact, nor any personal animosity towards you or your family, you may take my word on that. The Battle of Lexington was fairly fought and fairly won and the Continental Army defeated. The first marquis was a soldier and could do no more than obey his orders, no matter how distasteful he found them personally. As you know it was the king himself who ordered the ex-ecution. George Washington was a traitor—but only because he lost. If he had won, he would have been a patriot and he deserved to win be-cause his cause was a just one.”

“I’m afraid I’m not so well read up on that period of history,” Cornwallis said, looking down at his desk.

“You will excuse my out-spokenness, your lordship, but this is something very close to me. Because of the revolt and the ill feelings that followed after it in the American colonies we remain a colony to this day.

While others, Canada and Aus-tralia for example, have attained to full independent dominion status within the Empire. You had better know that I am active in the Inde-pendence movement and will do ev-erything I can to hurry the day when Her Majesty will approve that status.”

“I could not agree more warmly, sir! As you undoubtedly know I am a man of firm Tory persuasion and strongly back my party’s position that dominion status be granted in the manner you say.”

He rose and pounded the desk soundly as he said this, then ex-tended his hand to the other, a social grace he had chosen to ignore when Washington had entered, undoubt-edly because of the delicate nature of their familial relationship. Wash-ington could do no less so stood and shook the hand firmly. They stood that way for a long moment then the marquis dropped his eyes and re-leased Washington’s hand, coughing into his fist to cover his embarrass-ment at this unexpected display of emotion.

But it had cleared the air for what was to come.

“We are upon difficult times with the tunnel, Washington, difficult times,” said Cornwallis and his ex-pression became as difficult as the times he alluded to with his forehead furrowed as a plowed field, the cor-ners of his mouth drooping so far that his ample jowls fell an inch.

“This immense project has worn two faces since the very beginning and the private face is the one I allude to now. I am sure that you have some idea of the intricate financing of an enterprise this size but I do not think you are aware of how political in na-ture the major considerations are. In simple—this is a government project, a sort, of immense works program.

You are shocked to hear this?”

“I must admit, sir, that I am, at the minimum, surprised.”

“As well you might be. This coun-try and its mighty Empire are built upon the sound notion that strong men lead while others follow, weak men and inept corporations go to the wall, while the government and the crown keeps its nose out of private affairs. Which is all well and good when the economic weather is fair and the sun of the healthy pound beams down upon us all. But there are clouds across the face of that sun now as I am sure you are well aware. While the frontiers were ex-panding England grew fat with the wealth of the East India Company, the Hudson’s Bay Company, the Inca-Andean Company and all the others flowing our way.

But I am af-raid the last frontier has been pushed back to the final ocean and a certain placidity has settled upon the world and its economy. When businesses can no longer expand they tend to contract and this industrial con-tractionism is rather self-perpetu-ating. Something had to be done to stop it. More men on the dole every day, workhouses full, charities stretched to the limit. Something, I say, had to be done. Something was done.”

“Certain private businessmen, cer-tain great corporations, met in cam-era and—with considerable reluc-tance I can assure you—decided that the overall solution of the problem was beyond them. Learned special-ists in the field of economics were drawn into the discussions and at their insistence the still highly secret meetings were enlarged to include a committee from the Parliament. It was then that the tunnel project was first voiced, a project large enough to affect and stimulate the entire econ-omy of both Britain and the Ameri-can colonies. Yet its very size was its only drawback; not enough private capital could be raised to finance it.

It was then that the final, incredible step was taken. Crown financing would be needed.” He lowered his voice unconsciously. “The Queen was consulted.”

This was a revelation of a staggering nature, a secret of state so well kept that Washington, privy as he was to the innermost operations of The Transatlantic Tunnel Company, had not the slightest intimation of the truth until this moment. He was stunned at first, then narrowed his eyes in thought as he considered the ramifications. He was scarcely aware that the marquis rose and poured them each a sherry from the cut crys-tal decanter on the sideboard, though his fingers took it automat-ically and raised it to his lips.

He finally spoke. “Can you tell me what is the degree of involvement of the government?”

“In for a penny, in for a pound. Private investors have so far subscribed about twelve percent of the needed sum. Her Majesty’s Govern-ment has agreed to take eighty per-cent—but no more.”

“Then we are eight percent short of our goal?”

“Precisely.” The marquis paced the length of the room and back, his hands clasped behind him and kneading one another. “I’ve had my doubts from the beginning, God knows we have all had our doubts. But it was Lord Keynes who had his way, Queen’s adviser, author of I don’t know how many books on eco-nomics, ninety years if he is a day and still spry enough to take on all comers. He had us all convinced, it sounded so good when he told us how well it would work. Money in circulation, capital on the move, healthy profits for investors, businesses expanding to meet the needs for building the tunnel, employment all around, pay packets going out to the small merchants, a healthy econ-omy.”

“All of those things could be true.”

“Damme, all those things will be true—if the whole thing doesn’t go bust first. And it will go bust and things will be back to where they were, if not worse, unless we can come up with the missing eight percent. And, you will pardon my frankness, my boy, but it is your bloody fellow colonials who are tug-ging back on the reins. You can help us there, possibly only you can help us there. Without overexaggerating I can say the fate of the tunnel de-pends upon you.”

“I will do whatever is needed, sir,” Washington said quietly and simply.

“You may count upon me.”

“I knew I could, or I would not have had you here. Forgive my bad manners, it’s been a deucedly long day and more to come. We have an agreement with your Colonial Con-gress and the Governor General—yes they were consulted, too; your econ-omy shares the same debilitations as ours—to match equally all monies raised by private investors in the Americas. There has been but a trickle where we needed a flood. Radical changes are needed. You, of course, know Rockefeller, chairman of the American Board, and Macin-tosh, Brassey-Brunel’s agent in charge of the construction at the American end. Both have agreed, in the course of the greater good, that they will step down. The two posi-tions will be combined into one and you will be nominated tonight to fill it.”