“Just a goods train from St. Austell to Truro, that’s all that’s on the line.”
Sandison spread the map across the table and pointed to the station. “They should be on a siding before we get there.”
“Should is not good enough,” Grant said.
“I agree, General. I’m sending an engine, pushing some freight cars, ahead of our first train. Plus a car with troops. Sledgehammers and spikes in case there is any damage to the rails. They’ll make sure that the track is clear — and open.”
“General — first Gatlings coming ashore now,” a soldier reported.
“Good. Get the rest of them unloaded — and down here at once.”
Sherman and Grant had spent many hours organizing the forces for this attack on Cornwall.
“The harbor is impossibly small,” Sherman had said. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes, since our yacht was tied up inside. But there is deep water beyond the outer wall of the harbor. I had Aurora’s crew make soundings there when we left. The navy agrees that cargo ships of shallow enough draft can tie up on the seaward side and winch heavy equipment ashore.”
“Cannon?”
Sherman shook his head. “Too heavy — and too slow to unload. And we have no draft animals to move them. They would also be too clumsy to load onto the trains even if we managed to get them to the yards. No cannon. We must move fast.”
“The Gatling guns, then.”
“Exactly. Light enough to be towed by the men.”
“What about their ammunition? They consume an astonishing amount in battle.”
“Soldiers again. You’ll pick out the biggest and the strongest of your men. Form special gun companies. Arm them with revolvers rather than rifles. They will be lighter to carry, and just as effective in close conflict. Assign special squads to each Gatling gun. Some to pull the guns, others to carry the ammunition. That way each Gatling will be self-sufficient at all times.”
“It has never been done before,” Grant said, running his fingers through his beard, deep in thought.
Sherman smiled. “And lightning warfare like this has never been fought before.”
“By God — you are right, Cumph!” Grant laughed aloud. “We’ll come down on them like the wolf on the sheepfold. Before they even know what has hit them, they will be prisoners — or dead!”
And so it came to pass. The first black-hulled freighter threw out fenders and tied up to the seaward side of Penzance Harbor. The fenders creaked ominously as the hull moved up and down in the swell, but nothing gave way. The steam winches clanked and the long cargo booms lifted the deck-loaded Gatling guns into the air, swung them onto the wide top of the harbor wall. As the sailors untied the slings, waiting soldiers ran them ashore, where the gun companies were being assembled on the road. As soon as a gun company was complete with ammunition and bearers, it went at a trot down the harbor road to the station, where the first train was already assembled. General Grant himself rode the footplate beside the driver when it puffed its way out of the station and headed east along the coast.
The second American invasion of the British mainland was well under way.
A CLASH IN PARLIAMENT
“This country, today, is faced with the greatest danger that it has ever encountered in its entire history.” The members of Parliament listened in hushed silence as Lord John Russell spoke. “From across the ocean, from the distant Americas, a mighty force has been unleashed on our sovereign shores. Some among you will say that various enterprises undertaken by the previous government went a long way toward igniting the American fury. I will not deny that. I was a member of Lord Palmerston’s government, and as a member I feel a certain responsibility about those events. But that is in the past and one cannot alter the past. I might also say that certain mistakes were made in the governance of Ireland. But the relationship between Britain and Ireland has never been an easy one. However, I am not here to address history. What has been done has been done. I address the present, and the disastrous and cowardly attacks that now beset our country. Contrary to international law, and even common decency, we have been stabbed in the back, dealt one cowardly blow after another. Irish and American troops have landed on our shores. Our lands have been ravaged, our citizens killed. So it is that now I call for you to stand with me in a unified government that will unite this troubled land and hurl the invaders back into the sea.”
Russell was not a prepossessing man. Diminutive and rickety, he wriggled round while he spoke and seemed unable to control his hands and feet. His voice was small and thin; but a house of five hundred members was hushed to catch his every word. He spoke as a man of mind and thought, and of moral elevation. Yet not all were impressed. When Russell paused to look at his notes, Benjamin Disraeli was on his feet in the instant.
“Will the Prime Minister have the kindness to inform of us the extent of the depredations of the Yankee invader? The newspapers froth and grunt and do little else — so that hard facts are impossible to separate from the dross of their invective.”
“The right honorable gentleman’s interest is understandable. Therefore it is my sad duty to impart to you all of the details that the Conservative leader of the House has requested.” He looked at his papers and sighed. “A few days ago, on the twenty-first of May, there were landings in Liverpool by foreign troops, apparently Irish for the most part — but we know who the puppet master is here. That city was taken. Our gallant men fought bravely, although greatly outnumbered. The attackers then proceeded to Birmingham, and after a surprise and savage attack secured that city and its environs.”
Disraeli was standing again, imperious in his anger. “Is it not true that the attacking troops went straight to Sefton Park in Liverpool, where they engaged our soldiers and defeated them? As you undoubtedly know, there is a camp there for Irish traitors to the crown. Is it not also true that while this was happening other invaders seized trains and proceeded to Birmingham? It appears that because the telegraph wires had been cut, the troops there had no warning and were attacked and butchered at Aston Hall. Is this also true?”
“Regrettably, it is true. At least the newspapers got these facts right.”
“Then tell us — is it also not true that there were camps at these sites where citizens of Irish extraction were concentrated — women and children as well as men? People who had been seized and imprisoned without being charged with any crime?”
“Your queries will be answered in a short while. If I am permitted to continue I will answer any questions later in great detail.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the members. Disraeli bowed to their decision and seated himself again.
“As soon as we learned of these cowardly attacks, this country’s military sprang to its defense. Under the Duke of Cambridge’s instruction, Scots troops from Glasgow and Edinburgh are now on their way to the Midlands. Cavalry and yeomanry as well as the other troops are now in the field, and we expect imminent news of victory. The following regiments have been ordered to…”
His words died away as a rustle of voices swept the chamber. He looked up to see that one of the parliamentary clerks had let himself into the hall and was hurrying toward the front seats, a single sheet of paper in his hand. He thrust it forward and Russell took it.
Gasped and staggered as though he had been struck a blow.
“Attacked,” he said. “Another attack — this time on the naval base at Plymouth!”
It was the moment of decision. The engine of the first troop train had stopped in Saltash station. A wisp of smoke drifted up from the stack and the metal of the hot boiler clicked quietly. General Grant swung down from the engine and went forward to the advance engine that had halted just before the Albert Bridge across the Tamar River. Troops looked out of the windows of the two cars as he approached; a young captain swung down from the engine and saluted.