New England 09 - Islands in the Stream by James Philip

Author:James Philip
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Alternate History
Published: 2022-01-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

00:20 Hours (GMT)

Wednesday 13th December

St James’s Palace, Pall Mall

Admiral of the Fleet Lord Frederick Gambier bowed and shook his monarch’s hand. The winter’s evening had drawn in and there was a threat of icy rain in the air but the chill in the King’s soul had little to do with the weather in London.

“I apologise for calling upon you at such a late hour but I fear that I attend you tonight upon a solemn matter of conscience which demands the resignation of my commission in your service, sir.”

The Queen only caught the end of this as she glided into the reception room overlooking the darkened Friary Court.

Forewarned that the First Sea Lord and or, the Prime Minister might call, the King and his Consort had delayed turning in for the night, sitting up discussing the crisis – or rather, crises – afflicting the Empire, with trusted Palace advisors as new and ever more disturbing news emerged.

“Surely not, Freddie?” Eleanor queried with a lot less decorum than she customarily expected of herself. Just because she had been crying for several minutes was no excuse. She raised a hand to her lips in mute apology.

“I fear so, Ma’am,” the First Sea Lord confirmed grimly.

“I suppose it’s over this damnable business about running away from the blasted Japanese at the Pearl Lagoon?” The King demanded, coming straight to the point like the bluff old sea dog he wished he still was. He and Dampier had been brother captains, he of the Lion and Dampier of the Queen Mary, in the 5th Battle Squadron on the New England Station the best part of twenty years ago; they were men who had always talked each other’s language. “It’s a disgrace but Hector Hamilton seemed set on it earlier!”

“That is why I took the liberty of delaying my resignation long enough to ensure that both the Vancouver Squadron and Martin Peyton’s Task Force 51 will, by about now, be fully in contact with and hotly engaged with the enemy, sir.”

It was as if the confession suddenly electrified the air.

The King and the Queen stared at the First Sea Lord.

For his part, Dampier belatedly picked up on the Queen’s veiled, still obvious trembling unease, and upon the steely anger in the King’s eyes. Something else had gone horribly wrong, it seemed, while he had been fighting the Navy’s good fight in the corridors of Whitehall.

“We received news that Philip and Elizabeth De L’Isle are among the dead in Philadelphia, Freddie,” Eleanor explained, her bottom lip quivering, reaching for her husband’s hand.

“Bad business,” the old admiral growled. He hardly knew De L’Isle but the man had been a rock the last few years in New England and his friend, Cuthbert Collingwood had regarded the late Governor with the utmost respect. “The bloody Spanish will be behind it, mark my words!”

The King did not trust himself to speak.

He turned on his heel and went to the drinks’ cabinet.

He poured three Brandies, handing the first to his Queen Consort.

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