"With his Portsmouth Plan. Which was very different from those of de la Rousselière and Hamilton—very different, and much more outrageous . . . but perhaps also much more dangerous to England." The little man switched from Aske to Paul. "And which Suchet, of all men, would have recognised, where Fouché would have discounted it." He shrugged.
"Though, to be fair, the time was not ripe in Fouché's day, as it was in Suchet's."
This time they both waited, now that he was altogether wrapped in his own cleverness.
"Some of this I know . . . and some of it I am guessing, on the basis of what I was told last night, which has made me put dummy3
facts together with guesses ... to make an instant theory, you understand? No more than that."
They nodded, and Elizabeth nodded too, to encourage him.
"Good . . . Now it may be that your escaped prisoners somehow knew of de la Rousselière's plans, Mr Aske—Dr Mitchell. I do not know how . . . but it does not matter.
Because, if his plans were good in 1779, they were bad in 1812
—they were plans which would not have attracted Colonel Suchet, I suspect. And also because he would have had in mind the invasion plans of 1804-5—the massing of a great army on the Channel coast to conquer England, not merely to raid it, or capture a foothold."
Aske snuffled. "He would probably have had the Royal Navy in mind also, Professor. And the battle of Trafalgar."
"Very correct, Mr Aske. Always the Royal Navy . . . But by then the Royal Navy without Nelson. And the Royal Navy was stretched all the way to the war with America, with the best part of the British Army fighting in Spain, and the rest of it in Canada, fighting the Americans . . . And 1813 would not have been 1805 in Europe either, Mr Aske: Suchet was planning for an invasion in which the Emperor no longer had to worry about the armies of Austria and Prussia and Russia, as he had had to do in 1805. This would have been his last battle, you must remember, Mr Aske—his very last battle!"
That silenced Aske, as Elizabeth herself could hear the echo of his own words from yesterday: In 1812 we were losing the war . . . And that had been before this image of a defeated dummy3
Russia, with no catastrophic retreat from Moscow.
"But you are right to remind us of your navy, Mr Aske—it was your navy which frightened the German generals in 1940, before the Battle of Britain, not the RAF . . . And the very idea of seizing a defended port, like Portsmouth, in a coup de main, with its warships there at anchor— ridiculous!"
Belperron waved a hand dismissively. " I remember the Canadians coming back from Dieppe in 1942, what there was left of them . . . That made it certain we would not try to seize a port in 1944, but would invade across the open beaches—as the Emperor planned to do in 1805, up the coast from Portsmouth, where you built your equally ridiculous Martello Towers in those days—along the same beaches where William the Norman landed in 1066 . . . No, Mr Aske, the pattern of prudent invaders down the centuries has always been the same: get as much of your army ashore first on some likely beach—then seek battle with your enemy's army and invest his strong places. But do not make your assault on those strong places from the sea in the first place— that is the lesson of history." He sat back confidently.
"So what was James Burns's 'Portsmouth Plan', then?" asked Paul. "Because Portsmouth would have been a strong enough place. Apart from whatever garrison there would have been, there'd be the navy itself—the ships at anchor. You'd never have got a ship into Portsmouth harbour, Professor, let alone a man ashore."
"You are right," agreed the Professor, "but, you see, there was dummy3
no need to get a ship into the harbour, Dr Mitchell, and no need to put a man ashore. Not when they were already there." He paused momentarily. "The hulks, Mr Aske—have you forgotten the hulks?"
"Christ!" exclaimed Aske. " The hulks!"
"The hulks?" Paul turned to him.
"The prison ships. There was a whole line of them right there in the harbour—jammed with French prisoners!"
"Fourteen ships, to be exact, Mr Aske," said the Professor pedantically. "Your old prizes of war from France, like the Prothée, from which Colonel Suchet escaped, and from the Spanish and Danish fleets . . . and your own old worn-out battleships—fourteen ships containing over nine thousand men . . . Wretched prisoners—embittered prisoners—all the men who had escaped and been re-captured, officers among them . . . desperate men, Mr Aske—Dr Mitchell . . . and also trained soldiers and sailors, with trained leaders among them."
"And right there in the harbour," Aske repeated. "Christ!"
"And on shore too—right there in the harbour," said the Professor softly. "Behind the old Roman walls of Portchester Castle . . . another seven thousand men. And just across the water, in the prison at Gosport . . . thousands more. Over twenty thousand men in all."
For a moment neither Paul nor Aske spoke, then Paul drew a deep breath. "Evidence, Professor?"
dummy3
"For 1812—little as yet, Dr Mitchell." The Professor shook his head. "As yet I have not had time, and I am guessing . . . But for James Burns' earlier plans there is evidence—plans which were discounted at the time, in spite of all his powers of persuasion." He paused. "He argued that the troops guarding the prisoners were of the poorest quality—the sweepings of the British army and navy, officered by pensioners and rejects . . . He argued that both the hulks and the land prisons were organised to keep unarmed men from breaking out—not to prevent a handful of armed and determined men breaking in . . . To be precise, he asked for two hundred men, two hundred British uniforms, and a thousand muskets.
After that he said he would capture what he needed, and burn what he did not want. And with that he could take Portsea Island, occupying the fortified lines across the isthmus, and would hold it until relieved by the invading armies."
Aske looked at Paul. "It would have been a bloody massacre
— either way."
The Professor shrugged. "It would have been chaos and confusion, and death and destruction, of that there can be no doubt." He wagged a finger at them both. "But it would have appealed to Colonel Suchet, of all men—that is important.
Because he knew the hulks, and he knew Portsmouth. And even if he did not plan to land the invasion army at Portsmouth, he would appreciate the value of such a terrifying diversion—I am sure of that."
dummy3
Paul rubbed his chin, looking first at Elizabeth, then at Aske.
"I think we have to go away and think about this one."
Aske frowned. "What d'you mean, think about it?"
"Well, for a start . . . going to Alsace can serve no useful purpose, not now." Paul thought for a moment. "We have to begin again with the Vengeful—how the devil can Chipperfield have got wind of any of this?"
"Perhaps he didn't," said Elizabeth. "Perhaps Colonel Suchet was just trying to make sure . . . ?"
"Perhaps we ought to have another look at the Fortuné?" said Aske tentatively. "We could do that over here, with Professor Belperron's help, maybe?"
"Professor Wilder could tell us about Portsmouth," said Elizabeth. "He's a tremendous expert on everything to do with its history—even Father admitted that."
Paul nodded. "Wilder's a good bet, Elizabeth." He looked towards the little Frenchman. "If you could keep digging at this end, sir ... if you could spare the time, that is?"
Belperron had been watching them curiously, his eyes darting from one to the other. "Well . . . if that is all that you want . . . there will surely be other documents, it is only a matter of knowing where to look, and what to look for, and how to look at it—" He stopped abruptly as Paul stood up.