“How do you know what we plan to do?” Armstrong snapped, cold anger in his voice.
“It was what I would have done, General. It was the only possible option.”
“Do we have your word that your troops are stationed here?” Somerville asked coldly.
“You have my word, sir. We have had a week to prepare our defenses. Newhaven Fort has been rearmed. The Twentieth Texas has dug in behind the shore at Hastings and are supported by five batteries of cannon. Do you wish me to list the defenders in the other positions?”
“That will be sufficient, General. You have given us your word.” Somerville’s voice was uneven as he spoke; his shoulders slumped. He had tried; they all had tried.
But they had failed.
“Return the Indian troops to India,” Sherman said. “If they come here they will only die. The fleet and the guns are waiting.”
“But my country!” Armstrong said, his voice rough with anger. “You have conquered, destroyed—”
“Conquered, yes,” Sherman snapped. “Destroyed, no. We only want peace and an end to this reckless war between our nations. Even now your politicians are meeting to found a new British government. When they have done that and the rule of law has been restored — we look forward to returning home. We want peace — not continued conflict. When you rule your own country once again, we will go. That is all that we want.”
“And we must believe this?” Somerville said, bitterness in his voice.
“You have no choice, General, no choice at all.”
“Take this man outside and hold him there,” Armstrong ordered the armed sailors standing by the door.
Sherman shrugged off their hands when they reached for him, turned, and left; the door closed behind them. In the corridor he looked coldly at the sailors; they shuffled their feet and did not meet his gaze. They had heard what had been said inside. The taller of them, a petty officer from his insignia, looked around then spoke quietly.
“What’s happening ashore, sir? We hear but little, the worst kind of scuttlebutt.”
“The war is over,” Sherman said, not unkindly. “Our troops won the day. There were deaths on both sides, but there is peace now. If your politicians agree, there will be a lasting peace in the years to come. If we can leave your country with that peace guaranteed — we will do just that. That is our desire, just as it must be yours.”
Sherman heard the door open behind him, turned, and entered the saloon.
“You have reached a decision,” he said. It was not a question.
“We have,” General Armstrong said, bitterness in his voice. “The Indian troops will return to India. You can guarantee them a safe passage?”
“I can. What of the British troops? Will they surrender?”
“Terms must be discussed first.”
“Of course. And your navy ships?”
“That you must discuss with the admiral commanding. I cannot speak for him.”
“Naturally. I feel that you are making a wise decision.”
“Not wise, but the only possible one,” Somerville said, resignedly. General Sherman could only nod in agreement.
At last the long war that had begun when the Confederate representatives had been taken from a British ship, which had spread from America to Mexico and Ireland, which had ended here in England, was over.
DAWN OF A NEW DAY
“There is a gentleman at the door to see you, Father,” Helen said. “He sent in his card.”
John Stuart Mill took the card, held it to the light. “Ah, Mr. William Gladstone. He has had my letter, then, and responded accordingly. Please show him in.”
They shook hands warmly when Helen ushered Gladstone in, for this was a meeting that both men greatly desired.
“I came as soon as I had your communication. Unhappily I was out of the country for the last parliamentary session and I do regret missing it. I have had mixed reports from my colleagues — but all of them tell me that, if you would excuse the expression, the fur did fly.”
Mill laughed aloud. “It surely did.” He warmed to the politician and was pleased. This was a most important encounter.
“Mr. Gladstone,” Helen said. “Would you take tea with us?”
“I would be delighted.”
“Please be seated,” Mill said. “This is a meeting I have long desired. I have read your political writings with great interest, great interest.”
“You are kind to say that.”
“It is but the truth. You were responsible for the Railway Bill of 1844 that opened up third-class travel for all in Britain. It was only due to your insistence that trains now stop at every station in the country. I admire your interest in the ordinary folk of this land.”
“Indeed they do interest me — for they are citizens just as you and I are.”
“They are, without a doubt, but that is not a popular point of view. I also note that although you have always rejected the idea of parliamentary reform, you spoke up in favor of it when Edward Baines introduced his reform bill. You argued that it was manifestly unfair that only one-fiftieth of the working classes had the vote.”
“That is indeed true — and it is perhaps the main reason that my views on reform changed.”
Mill leaned forward, his voice tense with the grave import of his question. “Then I take it that you are in favor of universal suffrage?”
“I am indeed. I believe that every man in this land should have a vote.”
Helen had opened the door and carried in the tea tray; she could not help but overhear these last words. “But, Mr. Gladstone, to be truly universal, should not suffrage include women as well as men?”
Gladstone was on his feet as he spoke, bowed graciously, and smiled. “My dear Miss Mill, your father has written of the aid you have given him in his writings. Now, having met you, I can surely believe that. Yes, I do agree that someday the vote must be extended to women. But the longest journey begins with but a single step. This is a conservative country and we will be hard-pressed to obtain universal male suffrage. But I promise that when the time is right, the vote will be extended to be truly universal.”
Helen smiled, and responded to his bow with a gracious curtsy. “I shall hold you to your word, sir. Now — let me pour your tea and then leave you gentlemen to your discussions.”
Gladstone sipped his tea and nodded toward the closed door. “Your daughter is a jewel, Mr. Mill. I hope that you will not be offended when I say that she has a mind like a man’s.”
“I understand your meaning, sir, though Helen might take some offense.”
“None intended! I meant simply that I can see why you value her contributions to your labors.”
“I do, greatly. She is the one who convinced me that a universal ballot must also be a secret ballot for general elections. This will prevent working-class people being influenced in their vote by watching employers and landlords.”
“That is indeed a cogent observation. I had not considered that aspect of the vote, but now that I have thought it out, I can see that it will be of utmost importance.”
“But you do realize that a secret ballot with all men eligible to vote — might be the very force that changes this country forever?”
“In what way?”
“Now, as you well know, sovereignty in Britain does not rest with the people, but with the Crown-in-Parliament. This parliamentary sovereignty is the British concentration of power. This means that Parliament is supreme and nothing can stand before it. Not the will of the people — not even the law. If a statute blocks the will of the government, why, ministers can simply change it. Even if that obstacle is common law evolved over the centuries.”