Stars and Stripes in Peril (18 page)

"Why thank you—and to yours as well."

They took their drinks to the table, already set with crystal and silver.

"I don't think they lied," Lee said after they were seated. "These are indeed fine mint juleps. I believe that the terrapin soup is excellent, excellent. I have taken the liberty of ordering it for both of us." He leaned back and gave a quick tug on the hanging bell pull.

The door opened in what could only have been seconds later. The uniformed Negro waiter entered with a large steaming tureen. He put plates before them, ladled them full of soup, serving them in silence. He left and closed the door behind him.

"That is good," Lee said, sipping a mouthful. "Canvasback duck to follow, also a house specialty."

Fox murmured something agreeable and spooned up some soup. It was indeed very, very good. He wondered why Lee had invited him here, but could think of no way of broaching the question.

They talked a little as they ate, about the early summer, other items of no real consequence. It was only after the table had been cleared, and the port had been poured, that Lee came to the heart of the matter. He locked the door after the waiter, sat back down and sipped some port, then looked directly at Fox.

"I could have seen you in your office, but I wanted to keep this a private matter. Perhaps because of the importance of what I want to discuss."

"Understandable, General."

"How acquainted are you with the minutes of the War Room?"

"Not at all. I supply information upwards to my superiors. There is little that comes back down in return."

"When I asked the Secretary of War whom I should consult with about all matters having to do with war information, as well as matters of secrecy, he unhesitatingly recommended you. He also said you might know more about me than I did about myself."

Fox returned his smile. "Not more—but hopefully I know enough. Let me assure you that you were a mighty hard man to keep track of during the War Between the States."

Lee smiled. "Well that is thankfully a thing of the past. We are united in a different war now. And that is what I want to talk to you about. The British."

"You have read my reports?"

"I have. They are most detailed, but you never state the source of your information."

"That is done only to protect my agents. If you have reason to query any facts or conclusions I am sure that I can verify their accuracy."

Lee raised his hand and wiped away the thought. "Not at all. I am sure that your sources are reliable. What I wanted was information of a more general nature. Perhaps of a more strategic nature. Such as the road in Mexico that the British are building. Are you sure that it will be used to invade this country?"

"I have no doubt whatsoever. It has no use other than to permit troops to cross from the Pacific to the Atlantic. Those troops have only one possible objective. To be loaded aboard ships in order to take part in the invasion of this country. The Gulf coast is our soft underbelly. If they get a foothold there it will be desperately hard to winkle them out. Therefore we must try to stop the invasion before it starts. If it is at all possible we must stop the ships from sailing."

"I agree completely. At the present time General Grant is attacking the defenses of the road, taking his men south from Vera Cruz. He is an able officer, as we both know. If there is anyone in the world with the determination and the ability to cut that road—why he is the man."

"I defer to your professional knowledge, General, but I assure you that we are of the same mind in this."

"Then let us consider a different matter. Is there anything that can be done about that port at the other end of the road? You are a naval man. Is there any possibility of mounting an attack on the Pacific end?"

Fox pushed his chair back and took a drink of his port before he answered. "You are not the only one to consider that. I am preparing a report right now at the request of the Secretary of the Navy. It is theoretically possible. But to make a really strenuous effort, not just a hit-and-run attack, it would mean creating a two-ocean navy. Which in turn means doubling ship production. Not only that, but getting there would be very difficult. There are few coaling ports on the Atlantic coast of South America—none at all on the Pacific coast. Coaling ships would have to be positioned in seaports there. Then the attacking fleet would have to make the arduous journey south to the end of South America and around the Cape. The British have a sizeable Asian fleet already—and by the time our ships got to the Pacific coast of Mexico the enemy would be there to meet us. To sum it up—possible, but difficult and expensive—and with no guaranty of success at the end of the day."

"Understood. Now let us look farther afield, if we may. If we don't launch an attack against that Pacific port—are there any parts of the British Empire where our forces might strike, make some impact to draw their attention from this Mexican adventure?"

"Scarcely any. Since the Mutiny in India, and the fighting in China, they have troops stationed in Asia in goodly numbers. So much so that they can easily spare all the regiments they need for the coming invasion through Mexico."

Lee was rubbing his jaw in exasperation. He drank and refilled his glass. "As you can tell by the tenor of my questions I have a military assignment. You will of course say nothing of this."

"Of course, General."

"I am afraid that my reputation has finally caught up with me. I have been known to fight battles where I was not expected, and to win them against superior odds. Now I must find a way to do this again—but against the British. And it is turning out to be hellishly difficult. The British must have enemies. Can we form an alliance with any of them?"

"I'm afraid not. They cooperate closely with the French—Victoria is most fond of the French Emperor. Her favorite uncle is King of Belgium. The Prussians, in fact most of the German nobility, are all relatives of hers. There is Russia, of course, still smarting over Crimea. But their navy is decrepit, their army terribly far from the British Isles."

"What about England itself? We raided her shores during the War of 1812—and the last war as well—we could do it again?"

"A possibility—but only a pinprick. Many coastal defenses have been built in recent years. They are an island race that now dominate the oceans of the world. If they are to be attacked they must be attacked from the sea. Therefore, down through the centuries, they have built coastal defenses like no other country."

"Well damnation—if not raids—why can't we hit them hard at one spot where they least expect it. Land our forces in great numbers and invade their island? They certainly would notice that!"

Fox shook his head unhappily. "It would be a nightmare, I would say almost impossible. Three thousand miles of ocean to cross before landings could be attempted—on a hostile and defended shore. If, say, we were allied with France, troops might be built up there, transports made ready and our warships refueled for a sudden attack across the English Channel. But that is too far-fetched to consider. France would never agree to such a plan."

"No other possibilities?"

"None that come to mind..."

As he said this Fox's eyes opened wide. He pushed his chair back, jumped to his feet and paced the room. Lee was silent. Fox went to the door and unlocked it, peered out into the empty hall, relocked it and turned around.

"There is... let me think... still another possibility. I shall speak the name to you just once. At this juncture
no one
must have an inkling of what we are considering. I am not being overdramatic, just realistic."

He crossed the room, cupped his hand and bent over.

"Ireland,"
he breathed in a low whisper.

"I hear what you said, but I do not understand the import of your words. You must make your meaning more clear about this particular island whose name we must mention only in a whisper."

"That I will surely do. You will have heard of the recent rebellions there, Rebel prisoners taken and incarcerated, their leaders hanged. Then you have to understand there are many loyal sons of that island in our army. I have been aiding them in setting up a new organization in—the old country—one that cannot be penetrated by spies and informers. An organization that will provide me with intelligence about matters in the British Isles. I am sure that you know of a certain brigade that we have in the army. From this same country. All loyal Americans now, ready to give their lives, if need be, for their new country. But being Americans now does not stop them from still being strongly attached to their native land. It is a strong emotion with them, a racial emotion if you will believe. I know of none other like it. German Americans still talk of the old country, get nostalgic about it when in their cups. But they never think about Prussian politics, nor have the slightest desire to return to their fatherland. Not so the men we are speaking of. They care for the country they left, care for their friends and relatives still there." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "The Fenian movement, the nationalist movement in Ireland, is strongly supported and there are branches of it in every regiment of the brigade. We could possibly utilize this in our war against the British. With help from us, the revolutionary organization will grow quickly. Then we can send them arms, another rebellion might very well succeed..."

Lee shook his head in a grim
no.
"While I am no student of political matters, I am learned in tactics and the military. Do the British station their own soldiers in this country?"

"They do. They have several large garrisons there."

"Then a civilian revolt is doomed to failure. Particularly when you consider the proximity of England and Scotland."

Fox nodded unhappily. "Yes, I can see that you are right."

Fox reached for the decanter and occupied himself in topping up his glass. Preoccupied with this he did not see the calculating look on Lee's face, nor the sudden smile.

"Do not be too quick to admit defeat, Mr. Fox. I never did, right to the very end."

"I miss your meaning, General."

"It is simply this. A rebellion will never succeed. But, aided and abetted by knowledgeable men on the ground there, why I do believe that there is every possibility of an invasion of that island, whose name we dare not speak too loudly lest it be overheard." He smiled at the shocked expression on Fox's face.

"Yes indeed. The American invasion and occupation of this certain island would surely take the enemy's attention away from their Mexican adventure. With careful planning it could succeed. You say the populace would welcome our arrival?"

"With open arms, General, with open arms."

"Then we investigate the possibility of such an invasion. I am sure that if the British awoke one morning and saw the stars and stripes flying there so close, just across the narrow sea, why I am sure they would be powerful upset. Perhaps upset enough to forget their Mexican adventure in order to concentrate on the defense of their homeland."

A CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE

General Ulysses S. Grant came out of his tent puffing on his first cigar of the day. It was just after dawn and the mist still hung beneath the trees; the grass was beaded with dew. It was almost cool now, but he knew that the heat was only waiting to build up as the sun rose. This place was worse than Mississippi in the summer. If that was possible. He finished his cup of morning coffee and glanced over towards that strange young Latin with the Irish name. He would not sleep in a tent but instead opened his bedroll on the ground at night. He was already up and sitting on his heels talking to a dark man in native clothes. Grant went over to them.

"Are we going to have that little walk in the sun today?" Grant asked.

"We certainly are, General."

"And are we going to meet any of the local fighters—what did you call them?" Grant asked.

"Guerrilleros,"
Ambrosio O'Higgins said. "They are looking forward with great enthusiasm to working with us. In Spanish it means those who fight the little war, the
guerrilla.
They will join us later today. They have been fighting this war for many years, in the jungle. Attacking the enemy where they are not expected, then vanishing again before they can be caught. They are very good at it. Now, with the French defeated, most of them have gone back to their farms, since the enemy have been driven out. The main force of these fighters is no longer interested in killing Englishmen for us. They feel that they have won their own war and see no future in dying for us. But money is always in short supply in Mexico, and these young men are happy to earn it by working for us. Those who remain in our service are the younger men, the sons who have a love of adventure and no desire to break their backs with a machete or an
azadón,
a hoe. They also need money, since the peasants in this country are very poor. They greatly enjoy the idea of being paid in American coins."

"I'll bet they do. Have you told them that I want to see the enemy's defenses up close—before I bring the rest of my troops up?"

"I have. Also, I have been speaking with Ignacio there." He pointed to the young Indian who was sitting on his heels and sharpening his machete with a file. "He says that he found a scouting party on this side of the defenses. He wants to know if we can kill them on our way to look at the enemy lines?"

"A sound idea. But I want prisoners as well, officers. Can they tell the difference?"

"Of course."

"I'll pay five dollars for every officer they capture."

"You are indeed a generous man, General Grant."

"Don't you forget it. Let's go."

They left behind the army, camped on the coastal plain beneath the twin volcanoes of Ocotal Chico and Ocotal Grande. In addition to the Indians whom they would be meeting, Grant took along a squad of riflemen under the command of a lieutenant. They were all volunteers for this mission, which meant that their uniforms were both gray and blue. And combinations of the two, as new uniforms replaced the war-torn, tattered ones. They had gone only a few miles before Ignacio trotted ahead towards a thick stand of trees. He cupped his hands and produced a very natural-sounding cry of a parrot. A silent group of men appeared from the trees and waited for them. O'Higgins went ahead and explained what they wanted. There were many smiles when he mentioned the bounty they would be paid for enemy officers.