friend and advisor. The king actually found himself working on the details of how the plan would need to be carried out.
The earl, seeing the flagon of wine that had been brought in, walked over to the side table, poured wine into the two goblets, and joined the king at the window. The two friends drank in silence, watching the sun setting in the distance.
As the shadows in the room lengthened, the king made a decision. “How long will it take to put things in motion?” he asked.
“I’m not certain. I think we need to involve one more person in our little conspiracy.”
The king nodded, taking another drink of wine. “Send someone to fetch the First Lord of the Admiralty. Something tells me there’s no time to lose.”
Sir John Egerton, Knight of the Bath, 3rd Earl of Bridgewater and First Lord of the Admiralty, locked the door of his office at the far end of the main corridor of the Navy offices. The sound of the bolt sliding into place echoed off the wood and plaster of the long, empty hallway. He walked down the corridor toward his carriage, lost in thought. He heard someone running toward him. Turning, he saw a young man wearing the livery of a royal page.
“Lord Egerton,” the page said when he reached First Lord of the Admiralty. “The king requests your presence at the palace at once.”
“Did he say why?” Egerton asked.
“No, my Lord. He just said to have you fetched immediately.”
Egerton nodded. He followed the page down the corridor and outside. He descended the steps and climbed into his carriage as the page mounted the horse tied to the post next to the base of the steps. “I will escort you, my Lord,” the page said, urging the horse forward and setting off toward the palace. Egerton’s driver followed the page, and the First Lord of the Admiralty realized the driver had already been told of the summons.
As the carriage approached St. James Palace, Egerton saw the remains of the ruins of Whitehall Palace in the distance. One of the largest palaces in the world, Whitehall had burned to the ground two years earlier, and the cleanup hadn’t yet been completed. Even though the fire appeared to be accidental, rumors continued to circulate about Jacobite involvement. The Jacobites were comprised of a group of English, Scottish and Irish Catholics determined to restore James II to the throne. Why they’d want to destroy the palace that James II loved so much was the question keeping the king’s soldiers from rounding up all the Jacobites that they could find. But the rumors persisted.
Jacobite spies in London, in the Navy offices, and even in the palace itself, kept James and Louis XIV well-informed about what happened in England. Military secrets were always the hardest to keep, but Egerton hated not knowing whom to trust on his own staff. Someday I’ll need to ferret them out and deal with them. He turned away from the eerie silhouette of the ruins.
The king had moved his residence to nearby Kensington Palace several years before the fire because Whitehall’s closeness to the river aggravated his breathing. The government offices had to be moved from Whitehall to St. James Palace after the fire. Normally, only public events were held there. Egerton didn’t know of any event taking place at the palace that evening, and he wondered why he had received such an urgent summons.
Egerton watched the guards snap to attention as his carriage passed the arched entrance leading to the palace’s main grounds and slowed to a stop in front of the main entrance. In the dimming light, he saw that the ground had been disturbed from the passage of a great many horses and carriages. The new treaty was supposed to be signed today. Could something have gone wrong?
The page escorted Egerton into the palace and down the hallways to the great hall. The page knocked on one of the large iron-banded wood doors and heard someone shout, “Enter,” from inside the hall.
The page opened the door and entered with Egerton following quickly behind. Both men bowed. “The First Lord of the Admiralty as commanded, Your Majesty,” the page announced.
“Thank you, Peter,” the king said.
“Yes, Sire,” the page responded, exiting the hall and closing the door behind him.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, my Lord,” William said, motioning for Egerton to approach the table. “Have you had any supper?”
“No, Sire,” Egerton responded.
The king motioned toward several platters of food that had been brought in while he and the earl waited for Egerton to arrive. “Then you’d better eat something. It could be a late night, and an empty stomach won’t help our discussions.”
“Thank you, Sire,” Egerton said, reaching for a plate. “Good evening, my Lord,” he said to the earl, who stood behind the king.
The earl returned the greeting and offered Egerton a goblet of wine. Egerton accepted, and once he had loaded his plate, the king motioned for the two men to join him at the round table in the middle of the hall.
“My Lord,” the king said to Egerton, “We have a rather strange matter we wish to discuss with you. It’s unorthodox, it’s very dangerous, and it’s decidedly not in the English tradition. By the time we all leave this room, we need a workable plan, and we need all the necessary orders drafted and ready to send out.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” Egerton said, trying to keep his voice sounding steady. “Whatever I or your Navy can do to help you, you have only to ask.” What are they planning?
“Good,” the king responded. Turning to the earl, he said, “Daniel, why don’t you tell the First Lord of the Admiralty your idea and what will be required of my Navy.”
Madness! Complete, total, and utter madness! No matter how many times Egerton replayed the king’s plan in his mind, he kept reaching the exact same conclusion. Madness!
The sky lightened with the approaching dawn as Egerton’s carriage raced back to the offices of the Navy. He had spent most of the night with the king and the Secretary of State. For hours, they discussed, debated, and worked out the details of the single most audacious plan that he had ever heard: commit an act of war in such a way that it doesn’t look like an act of war, in order to deprive the enemy of its ability to make war.
In spite of his belief that the plan was madness, he felt a strange excitement about it. It was so unexpected that it could very well succeed. And even if it were only partially successful, it could be enough to make a significant difference in the coming war.
His carriage bounced along in the morning light. The king is right. War is coming, and we have to do everything we can to prepare ourselves while confounding the enemy.
Egerton had left the palace with stacks of notes and written orders. He had the high-level components of the plan worked out, but it needed more detail. And it needed someone to carry out the plan. At Egerton’s request, riders had been dispatched several hours earlier to Portsmouth to summon Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell, who commanded the English Navy’s Blue Squadron. Egerton knew that Shovell could take the high-level plan and develop something that could be executed successfully. Shovell’s second-in-command, Rear-Admiral Charles Leicester, was also summoned. Egerton knew that the two men together could make the plan a reality and implement it quickly.
As his carriage pulled up to the Navy offices, he was grateful that he had eaten breakfast during the meeting so he could start work immediately. He got out of the carriage and hurried up the stairs just as the sun rose above the trees and bathed the courtyard in bright light. Even though he hadn’t slept in more than a day, he felt more and more energetic as he approached his offices – his mind completely focused on the task at hand. There’s so much to do and so little time to get the preparations finished.
Admiral Shovell and Rear-Admiral Leicester arrived at the Navy office in London just after sunset the next day.
“Thank you for getting to London so quickly, gentlemen,” Egerton said as the two men were ushered into his office.
Shovell