As Hawkwood’s brain tried to grasp the awesome implications of that statement, a boot heel on metal announced Sparrow’s arrival.
“She’s ready,” Sparrow said.
Lee nodded. “Very well. Officer Hawkwood, you take a seat on the deck over there. Secure his hands to that rib, Mr Sparrow. Don’t want him running around loose, do we?” Lee grinned. “And when you’ve finished making our guest comfortable, I’d be obliged if you’d close the hatch and stand by the pumps.”
Hawkwood, held fast to the bulkhead, watched as they prepared the boat for submergence.
The hatch clanged shut. There was a finality to the sound that made Hawkwood’s mouth go dry. A spasm of panic moved through him and he had a fleeting thought that this was what it must be like to be buried alive. And then he saw, unexpectedly, that he was not sitting in total darkness. There was light inside the boat. Half a dozen thin shafts of pale luminescence pierced the submersible’s interior. He saw that Lee was watching him with an amused expression.
“Did you think Sparrow and I had supernatural powers, Captain? That we could see in the dark?” The American smiled. “Candles consume air, my friend, and air is valuable. I’ve constructed several small windows in the deck. Not large—two inches in circumference and an inch in depth. Each window, as you can see, is guarded by a valve. In the unlikely event of the glass breaking, the valve will close and keep out the water. They’re quite sufficient for our needs. Even under the surface, I’ll be able to consult my watch and compass, and in the event of an unexpected solar eclipse, we do carry a lantern on board.” Lee grinned. In the semi-darkness, the American’s teeth looked as if they’d been carved from ivory.
Hawkwood did not smile back.
Lee, suddenly brisk, stood inside the tower and pulled down a small hinged seat. Perching himself on the rest, the American pressed his eye to a small rectangular bubble of glass set in the forward-facing curve of the tower. Three more identical windows gave views to port, aft, and starboard. They did not provide a complete 360-degree panorama, but the restricted view from each was sufficient for him to judge the boat’s position and its relation to other vessels that might be in the vicinity.
“Stand by, Mr Sparrow.”
“You’re mad, Lee,” Hawkwood said. “You think people aren’t going to notice the bloody boat going down?”
Lee took his eye from the window and shrugged. “Oh, they might notice, but what are they going to do? By the time the nearest vessel gets within boarding distance, we’ll be beneath the surface, invisible. They’ll think they imagined it, that their eyes deceived them.”
Sparrow’s hands rested ready on the pump handle.
Lee turned his back and watched the river. Despite his response to Hawkwood’s taunt, the submersible was not entirely immune to danger. The time between lowering the sail, clearing the deck and closing the hatch was when the Narwhale was at its most vulnerable. With no one on deck, the boat would look as if it was drifting and therefore, to those of an unscrupulous disposition, available for the taking. Lee was relying on surprise and his own ability. Fulton had been able to submerge the Nautilus in two minutes. Lee, by redesigning the efficiency of the pumping system, had cut down the Narwhale’s diving time to a fraction over ninety seconds. For those on board, however, it would still seem like a lifetime.
Lee discovered, as he always did at this critical juncture, that he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, keeping his eye to the glass. The nearest vessel, as far as he could see, was a collier, one hundred yards over the bow, heading downriver. It didn’t appear to be making much headway, indicating that the breeze had dropped considerably. From his low angle of vision, the river looked vast, with only a slight swell disturbing the sullen surface.
Timing was crucial.
“Now, Mr Sparrow!”
Sparrow gripped the lever with both hands and pushed down. Immediately, a low gurgling sound filled the hull. The vessel trembled. Using both hands, Sparrow began to pump, his movements steady and unhurried. Hawkwood felt the deck shift beneath him and braced himself against the hull. Slowly, the submersible’s bow began to tilt. Sparrow’s hands continued to depress and raise the pump lever. Each motion was accompanied by what sounded like bellows inflating and deflating. Hawkwood discovered that his fists were clenched so tightly his nails were digging into his palms.
The gurgling continued, but the vessel’s movements were becoming less pronounced. Gradually, the deck began to level off. Suddenly the light dimmed. Hawkwood looked up. One by one, the thin shafts of illumination from the windows were fading. Hawkwood felt the cold bubbles of sweat break out beneath his armpits. He looked towards Lee. There was a translucent sheen to Lee’s skin. The tiny windows set into the deck were acting like prisms, absorbing the light filtering down from the surface, inscribing the American’s features with a curious reptilian caste.
“Stop pumping, Mr Sparrow.” The American’s voice was very calm.
Sparrow ceased his exertions. Five feet beneath the surface of the Thames, the Narwhale hovered, like a fly trapped in amber. The sense of stillness was uncanny, as if the submersible was suspended in time. Hawkwood was relieved to discover that the American had been right and that there was still enough light to see. A low rasping sound, like fingernails being drawn across a slate, broke the spell and Hawkwood started violently.
“Just our movement with the current. No need to be alarmed.” Lee left his seat and began to peer closely into the darker recesses of the compartment. Hawkwood assumed the American was checking for leaks. Evidently satisfied that the integrity of the hull was secure, Lee caught Hawkwood’s eye and smiled. “Tell me you’re not impressed.”
Hawkwood didn’t answer. He was too preoccupied with his own heartbeat, waiting for it to stop pounding like a tinker’s drum.
Lee appeared unperturbed by the lack of response. “And this is only the beginning. Imagine a fleet of these vessels at your command. War would become obsolete, a fairy tale told only in story books.”
“How so?” Hawkwood finally found his voice.
“They say a country’s only as strong as its navy. Destroy a nation’s warships and you take away its backbone.” The American paused and shrugged. “At least, that’s what Fulton and Bonaparte reckon. You want to know Bonaparte’s plan?”
“I’ve a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway,” Hawkwood said.
“Bonaparte thinks my blowing up Thetis will frighten the British Navy into submission. Confidence in your seamen will vanish, your fleet will be rendered useless. The Emperor believes that’ll be the signal for British republicans to rise up. With Britain a republic, the seas will be free, and liberty of the seas will mean a guarantee of peace for all nations.”
“Then Bonaparte’s mad,” Hawkwood said, and wondered, even as he spoke, if there was such a creature as a British republican. It was a possibility, he supposed, but it was doubtful there’d be enough of them to ferment and organize revolution.
Lee appeared to give the possibility the same degree of consideration. “Maybe, but he’s the one with the money, so who am I to disagree?”
“How much is he paying you?”
Lee smiled. “For Thetis? 250,000 francs. After that, it’ll depend on the size of the vessel. Up to twenty guns, 150,000 francs; twenty to thirty guns, 200,000 francs; and 400,000 francs for anything over thirty guns. Sufficient for my modest needs.”
Hawkwood recalled his conversation at the Admiralty Office and the huge sums demanded by Lee’s predecessor, Fulton. It appeared Bonaparte was paying the American the going rate. In other words, a small fortune.