HMS Diamond (34 page)

      
"Lady Whitney I give you my personal assurance everything possible is being done. But these things take time. One can not just..."

      
"Take time? How much time, Sir George? Why, even as we speak those men could be huddled in some cold, God-forsaken, rat-infested hole. Who knows what injuries they have? What diseases? Who knows whether any of them are even still alive?"

      
"Madam, I assure you... the French have their shortcomings but they are not monsters. Indeed, you were aboard the
Diamond
, I believe, when Lt. Pearson sent a boat in under a flag of truce to inquire after Sir Sidney’s welfare. You know the result. The governor of Le Havre himself wrote that Sir Sidney was well and that he was being treated with... I believe ‘the utmost humanity and attention’ was the phrase he used."

      
"Yes, but that was months ago."

      
"True, but this is not." Spencer thumbed through a thick sheaf of papers finally pulling one out. He began reading. "Since writing my previous report I have, through the channel of a fishing boat, had further communications with the commanding officer of Le Havre. He informs me that, as of this date, Sir Sidney Smith, his officers and men, are all well except for a Mr. C. Beecroft, who was wounded in the hand and thigh."

      
"Who is that from?" Susan demanded.

      
"That’s from your Lt. Pearson. He is still aboard the
Diamond
, as you know, serving under their new captain, Captain Gosselin, I believe. It arrived just last night.

      
That news calmed Susan down a bit. "I am very glad to hear that, Sir George. Very glad indeed. But... I really must know what is being done to exchange prisoners with the French."

      
"And that was going to be my little surprise for you; although I was hoping that..."

      
Three knocks were heard at the door, which immediately swung open and a clerk came in. "Lady Whitney," the clerk said as he gave a short bow to Susan. He then turned to Spencer. "My Lord, you asked me to show your guest in as soon as he arrived."

      
"Yes, quite. Please do."

      
Into the room strode a thin, smiling, effete-looking man in his mid 30’s.

      
"Lady Whitney, may I introduce you to Monsieur Lewis William Otto. Monsieur Otto is the Commissioner for the Exchange of French Prisoners in England. Monsieur Otto, may I present Lady Susan Whitney, who is a particular friend of Sir Sidney and several other officers you have in captivity."

      
"I am charmed and honored, Lady Whitney." Susan presented her hand and Otto kissed it in a most courtly manner. After everyone was seated, Spencer spoke first.

      
"Lady Whitney, I don’t know how much you know about how the exchange of prisoners works. Throughout the war... any war... both sides collect prisoners. We keep our French captives either on prison hulks or in the new prisoner-of-war camp at Norman Cross. Every so often prisoners are exchanged on a man-for-man, officer-for-officer, basis.

      
When both sides are ready to make an exchange, a merchant ship is hired—we call them cartel ships—to take a load of French prisoners to either Cherbourg or La Havre under a white flag. There they are exchanged for an equal number of British prisoners. Monsieur Otto, here, represents the French side in making those arrangements.

      
"Perhaps you could bring both Lady Whitney and me up-to-date on your progress, citizen Otto?"

      
Otto dabbed his nose with a lace handkerchief and returned it to the inside of his left sleeve. "With pleasure, Sir George.

      
"After considerable, may I say even exhaustive, efforts on my part, I am pleased to report that things are going extremely well. Within weeks we expect to send not just one, but two cartel ships to Cherbourg. At that time several hundred prisoners will be exchanged, including all of the seamen captured in your raid of Le Havre. It will be the largest single exchange since the end of the last war." Otto beamed his best fake smile.

      
Susan beamed her best fake smile in return. "How wonderful, citizen. And may I assume that this exchange will include officers as well as seamen—more specifically, Sir Sidney and his party?"

      
Otto switched his fake smile over to his fake look of concern. "Ah, it grieves me terribly to inform you that there has been a small problem in that regard. You see, these exchanges are made on a man-for-man basis. With common seamen this normally presents little difficulty as both sides have an adequate supply. With officers, especially one as esteemed as your Sir Sidney, the match is not so easily made. You see, we must match not only for rank but social position as well, and that has proven to be..."

      
"Wait just a moment, Monsieur Otto," Spencer interrupted. "I thought that was all arranged. In fact, we have already sent you Captain Bergeret, formerly of the
Virginie
. That was to be the exchange—frigate captain for frigate captain."

      
"Ah yes, but... alas... Captain Bergeret is to be sent back."

      
"What? Why would you do that?" Susan broke in, alarmed.

      
Otto looked uncomfortable, and this time it was not faked. "It seems Sir Sidney and Dr. Walker have been removed from prisoner of war status. They have been reclassified as incendiaries and spies and will be processed as common criminals."

      
Spencer was genuinely taken aback and Susan was horrified. "Criminals? Incendiaries? That’s preposterous."

      
"Perhaps not," Otto replied. "Is this not the same Sidney Smith who burned our fleet in Toulon?"

      
"Yes, but that was an act of war. That does not make him an incendiary."

      
"I beg leave to differ, Lady Whitney. Was Sir Sidney in Toulon under Admiralty orders?"

      
"Well, no."

      
"Then that makes him a civilian."

      
"Ridiculous. His ship, the
Swallow
, was requisitioned into the Royal Navy before any ships were burned; and Sir Sidney was operating under the direct orders of Admiral Hood."

      
"What you say about the
Swallow
might well be true. It is also irrelevant. As for orders from Admiral Hood, do you have a copy of those orders? Do they exist anywhere?"

      
Susan had to stop and think. "I don’t know. I never saw or heard any mention of written orders. But that’s also not surprising. Hood probably didn’t have time for that. He was up to his neck trying to save thousands of innocent civilians from being butchered by
your
troops, Monsieur Otto. That I
did
see."

      
Otto decided to overlook the insult, but his voice hardened. "So we have a civilian in Toulon—a man with no official standing as a combatant. He decides to take advantage of the chaos to exercise his passion for watching things burn. With no authorization of any kind, he and his friends burn a number of our ships, not to mention several supply warehouses and other buildings."

      
"That’s not the way it happened at all!"

      
"Perhaps. But I can assure you it
is
the way the Directory in Paris sees it."

      
"Then what about Dr. Walker? What possible reason could you have for keeping him?"

      
"He is a spy."

      
"A spy?"

      
"He was captured in Le Havre committing acts against the French people in civilian clothes. That makes him a spy."

      
"Of course he was in civilian clothes. Surgeons in the Royal Navy don’t have uniforms."

      
"A pity." Turning to Spencer, "That really is something you must look into, monsieur." Then back to Susan, "They were both taken in civilian clothes, madam. That makes them both spies. Neither is to be treated as a prisoner of war, and the penalty for spying is death."

      
"Monsieur Otto, I personally saw Sir Sidney get into that boat in full uniform."

      
"That’s not what the Directory says."

      
Susan was at a complete loss for words. She looked at Lord Spencer who looked as shocked as she felt. He clearly had no idea this was coming. As much as she wanted to lash out at this pompous fool before her, she knew she had to remain calm and gain as much information as she could.

      
"I am sorry, Monsieur Otto. You must forgive me. As a woman I am naturally protective of those who are dear to me."

      
"I understand. That is, of course, only to be expected, my dear."

      
Susan restrained the urge to break a fireplace poker over his head. Instead, she smiled sweetly and said, "Can you tell me where they are now and what is to happen next?"

      
"I do not know for sure, Lady Whitney. My understanding is that they are to be moved from the prisoner of war facility in Le Havre to l’Abbaye Prison in Paris. There they will await the justice of the French people."

      
A bit later Susan left the Admiralty building with the fire of determination burning within her. She didn’t know what could be done, but she knew she had to do something. More importantly, she knew where she could go for help.

      
In the long carriage ride back to her town house all she could think about was her friends. She imagined them bound in a miserable cell, starving, beaten, perhaps even tortured—enduring privations that she could not begin to imagine.

***

      
"Will you have another glass of that claret, Sir Sidney? It was a particularly fine year, you know. And you’ve hardly touched your roast pheasant."

      
"A-a-a-h, monsieur, you are far too kind; but I could not eat another bite... except perhaps for one more of these truffles." Sidney pushed his plate out of the way and slid over a dish containing a mound of delicacies. Carefully removing one, he pushed the dish over to Lucas Walker, who was looking equally stuffed.

      
"I am most sorry to hear you will be leaving us tomorrow," his jailor said. "I have so much enjoyed your company."

      
"It is naught but the fortunes of war, but I am sure we’ll be exchanged soon. May I ask, though, do you know where we are going?"

      
"I do not. All I know is that you are to be taken to Rouen. From there I have no idea, but I can guess."

      
"And what might your guess be?"

      
"Rouen is about a day’s journey from here and it is a crossroads. You will undoubtedly spend the night there, then in the morning continue on to Cherbourg via Caen. Cherbourg is a major staging area for prisoner exchanges. All together, I would expect a three-day trip."

      
The men topped up their glasses and lit cigars. Later that night the jailer showed them to the door for the short walk from his house to the prison facility.

      
"You see, Lucas, there is nothing to worry about. You heard what he said. In a few days we’ll be back in England, although I do think I will rather miss the cuisine here."

      
"I don’t know, Sidney. I don’t like it. I mean, why take us all the way to Cherbourg when the exchange could occur just as easily here in Le Havre? And if we did need to go to Cherbourg, why not just take us there by ship?"

      
"Who knows? I’ve never been able to figure out the French mind. Have you?"

Chapter Ten

      
THE four men could not be more similar nor, at least in one case, more different. In similarity, all four were "incroyables." In England they would have been called "macaronis" and in the United States "dandies." But this was not England or the United States; it was Paris and, by whatever name, they were in the stylishly outrageous dress of the latest post Reign of Terror fashion.

      
The hair of three of them was done in the
coiffure en cadenettes
style, essentially long pigtails that were pulled to the back of their head and tied with large colorful ribbons. The fourth was
en oreilles de chien
with two curly ringlets hanging down either side of his head like long thin dogs ears. Their coats were
habit dégagé
, with extremely high collars, wide lapels, padded shoulders, and dyed almost painfully bright colors. Their pants were long and loose, tucked into top boots, with silver spurs affixed to the heels. All had large eyeglasses, watch chains, key fobs, and other items of jewelry hanging from their wool cashmere coats. All had their short canes lying across the table; and all were about to dive into a rather impressive breakfast.