“Mr. Porter, I’m afraid this mission is beyond poor Tom’s diplomatic ability. Please, see what you can do with our guest. Mr. Dudley will be here shortly.”
The consul arrived only moments after Porter escorted a very unhappy Adams into the captain’s cabin. He winked at Lamson as Adams threw himself into a chair and asked when breakfast would be served. “Why, Mr. Adams, the officers have eaten already. My cabin boy notified you in plenty of time. I believe your answer was, ‘Bugger off.’ An English endearment, isn’t it?”
Adams groaned.
“But there will be coffee for our meeting with Mr. Dudley.”
“No tea?”
The consul was prompt. He was surprised to see Adams and raised an eyebrow when Lamson noted the ambassador had sent him as an official observer and adviser. Dudley obviously knew young Adams and had no higher opinion of him than Lamson had. Adams just sat there glum faced. Dudley tactfully changed the subject as the coffee was being served. “Coffee! Wonderful.” Dudley exclaimed. “I have become so tired of tea. You can tell when an American has been here too long. He becomes a tea drinker.”
Adams rolled his eyes.
“Well, to business, Captain,” Dudley said as he put down his cup. “My agents report round-the-clock work on the North Carolina. The work crews are happy for the extra pay and the fat bonus promised by Laird. Bulloch himself haunts the ship as if his presence will speed its completion. He’s scared that the ambassador has put so much pressure on the British government that even his friends in high places will not be able to save him. Their only chance to escape is to try the same ploy as they did with the Alabama and pretend that they are going out only for a trial run. I would not believe that would work twice if I did not know how blindness suddenly afflicts British officials where the rebels are concerned.
“He is also very afraid of you, Captain. My agents tell me his men have been asking about you everywhere.”
“Well, Mr. Dudley, I am sent here to provoke just that reaction from him.”
“But, Captain,” Dudley barely stopped himself from calling Lamson a young man, “fear must be carefully applied to be useful. Too much fear will make him become too watchful and circumspect. Too little fear and he may just become careless enough to make mistakes.”
“That is just what I intend to do, sir, calm the man enough so that he takes an eye off the weather gauge. Our forty-eight hours in port are just about up; I have notified the Custom House that we shall be departing on the afternoon tide. Our pilot shall be here shortly. I shall wait beyond the three-mile limit. But I shall have only a small chance to catch him unless I receive word from you of his departure. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I will have a dispatch boat ready to receive a signal the moment North Carolina leaves Albert Dock.”
FOREIGN MINISTRY, LONDON, 10:38 PM, SEPTEMBER 3, 1863
Russell was reading Layard’s account of his discussion with Solicitor General Roundell Palmer of the day before. Palmer had suggested that the Liverpool Custom House detain the ships temporarily while proof was gathered of their ultimate destination. Russell immediately telegraphed Layard, “I quite agree in the course suggested by Roundell Palmer. I have made up my mind that the vessels ought to be stopped in order to test the law and prevent a great scandal.” He then ordered Layard to write to the Treasury to advise that the vessels be prevented from leaving the port of Liverpool till satisfactory evidence had been given of their destination. Layard waited until late that afternoon to write to the Treasury, ensuring that the letter would not be delivered until the following day.
Before he did that, he had slipped away for a few moments. As he returned to write the letter, an anonymous party was sending a telegram to Bulloch. It read: “Flee! There is no more time.”
USS GETTYSBURG, OFF LIVERPOOL IN THE IRISH SEA, LATE AFTERNOON, SEPTEMBER 3, 1863
To Lamson’s distress, Liverpool had followed Gettysburg out of port the day before and had pointedly followed her as she attempted to prowl across the Mersey’s mouth. The Royal Navy did not appreciate such an overtly predatory statement so close to the lion’s den and was making that known.
“Mr. Porter, set a course for Dublin. We have to put distance between us to make him think we’ve departed these waters. Dudley has not notified us of North Carolina’s escape. If they have not left now, they can hardly leave at night if they are to maintain the pretense of sea trials. We shall return in the morning to catch her if she comes out.”
CSS NORTH CAROLINA, MERSEY RIVER, ON THE MORNING TIDE, SEPTEMBER 4, 1863
Bulloch felt the power of the engines through the deck as North Carolina followed the tug out through the river’s fast-running current into the Irish Sea. The tug was the normal accompaniment for a trial run in case the ship had to be helped back into the harbor. His bags were stored in the captain’s cabin. It had not been hard to conclude that should he succeed in slipping the ram out of British waters, he would surely have outworn his welcome in that country. He was not thinking of that now. They would soon cross out of British territorial waters and be beyond the reach of British law. There was not a hint of alarm, no fast harbor craft speeding after to overtake him. It was a normal morning tide on the swift Mersey.
There was the excitement of knowing that it would be his command. The Alabama had been originally promised to him, but his value in building ships for the young Confederate Navy was deemed more important. As a man more dedicated to the success of his country than his own glory, he had not complained.
There was only momentary relief when the ram passed out of British jurisdiction because he knew that was not the end of his problems. He still had his crew to pick up in Moelfre Bay, and that would put him right back in British waters. He would have to be quick about it.
USS GETTYSBURG, IN THE IRISH SEA, EARLY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 4, 1863
“Damn that ship!” Lamson exclaimed. Yesterday he had had Gettysburg stretch her legs to lose Liverpool as night fell across the Irish Sea. He had thought to swing wide to the north and come down to resume his station off the Mersey’s mouth in time for the North Carolina to come out on the morning tide, if she were coming. Unfortunately, the British frigate was across Gettysburg’s path that morning as well. “That captain has brains, Mr. Porter. He’s anticipated me and has turned up like the proverbial bad penny. Touché, Captain!” he said as he touched the brim of his cap in the direction of Liverpool.
He was more distressed than he let on. The Mersey’s mouth was filled with ships leaving Liverpool on the morning tide. The frigate would ensure that he did not sail among them easily or at all.
The last ship out was a dispatch boat that made straight for Gettysburg. When it came up alongside, Lamson could see Dudley on deck. He shouted across, “She’s flown on the early tide. Gone to Moelfre Bay off Anglesey Island to pick up her crew. Moelfre Bay!”
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