James Beckett's Gold
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: Gold or Kate? Alas, I don't own either. Rating: K Time: After Season Eight.
James Beckett shook his head and smiled at Captain Ryan.
"I fear Mr. Vaughn is not the most diplomatic of men."
Ryan laughed.
"Now that is a fine description of the fellow."
"I wonder if I might ask a favor of you, Captain?'
"Of course. What is it?"
"I fear the mail service of the Confederacy is very much hit and miss. More miss than hit. I have a letter to a Mr. George Rhodes in Richmond, Virginia. He's managing what there is left of my business in Virginia. I would very much appreciate it if you could see to it that he gets it. You needn't deliver it in person, of course. I'm prepared to pay the going rate for mail."
"Nonsense, Mr. Beckett. If it wasn't for your loan allowing me to purchase silk, French perfumes and other fripperies, I'd have to load my ship up with weapons and only be paid the pittance that your government offers. I'll be happy to carry your mail."
"That's most kind of you." Jim said.
"Mr. Vaughn is not a man of business like we are, is he?"
Jim shook his head.
"He's a politician who uses words to get what he wants. He has no head for business."
"No head for the sea, I'm bound. Have you heard what he's done, Mr. Beckett?"
"No. Tell me."
"He's purchased a ship for the Confederacy, the CSS Tidewater. The ship used to be a merchantman on the Liverpool to Canada run, the Lord Halifax. It's exactly what he said he wanted from me, a big ship capable of carrying lots of weapons. But the ship is slow, too slow to run the blockade. Worse yet, the captain is a young naval officer who has been given strict orders by Vaughn to make for Norfolk, Virginia and nowhere else. There are far too many Union ships there. He'll be taken for sure. A foolish waste of money."
Beckett smiled.
"As we both know, Mr. Vaughn has no head for business."
James Beckett took his leave of Captain Ryan and left the ship. He found that Vaughn had taken the carriage they had hired and left. He sighed. There was a main street not far from the docks where he could hire a hansom cab to take him back to his hotel. The docks were well lit and well patrolled to prevent looting of the valuable cargos aboard the many ships berthed there. He began to walk.
A man suddenly stepped out of the shadows and approached him.
" 'Scuse me, suh. Could you help a poor sailor man who's down on his luck with a few pennies?"
"You're not going to spend it on cheap gin, are you?" Jim said rather loudly.
"Oh, no, suh. They's a Christian ministry right near here where I can get a good bed for the night, but I haven't et since breakfast yesterday. Just enough for a bowl of soup, suh."
"I hate to see a fellow human in such misery. I'll give you a shilling, sir. But you must promise to spend it on food."
"Oh, Ah will, suh,"
Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a shilling. With a shilling was a carefully folded note detailing Captain Ryan's plans. Jim leaned forward.
"Vaughn has bought a ship called the CSS Tidewater. It's filled with guns but too slow to break the blockade. It's headed for Norfolk with orders to land there and nowhere else. She's the former Lord Halifax. The government should have no trouble keeping track of her."
"Thank you so much, suh. You're a true Christian gennleman." The man said loudly.
Jim whispered.
"And Roy, you're a bit too well padded to have anyone believe you haven't been eating regularly."
Roy Montgomery laughed and walked off into the night.
London, England
May 1, 1862.
"New Orleans has fallen to the Union?" Johanna Beckett asked her husband.
"The British Foreign Office confirmed it through their consul in New Orleans."
"That's a great blow to the South, dear. New Orleans is the largest city in the Confederacy, the wealthiest and the largest port. How has Vaughn reacted?"
"As you'd expect. He's assuring anyone who'll listen and many who don't want to listen, that they'll throw the Yankees out in a week. I don't see that happening."
"Your deal with Wells and Gibson involves New Orleans, doesn't it?" She asked.
"It certainly does. I can just imagine Vaughn exploding when we talk to them tomorrow."
"Rick!"
Rick Castle looked up at his wife.
"What?"
"You were nodding off, babe. You've been reading that diary for some time."
"It's really fascinating. Do you know that James Beckett had a wife named Johanna and a daughter named Katherine? Are you sure you're not related?"
"I remember very clearly the genealogical reports on the family. Sorry, we have no James Beckett, 007, in our family tree."
Rick smiled.
"Beckett. James Beckett." He said doing his best Sean Connery accent.
"Babe, that's a very poor Daniel Craig impression. I suppose I'm lucky you can depend on writing to pay the bills."
"There's something else I do very well that you seem to like."
"Oooh! Show me."
Offices of Wells and Gibson,
Cotton Brokers,
London, England
May 2, 1862.
"We have a deal!" Vaughn roared, slamming his fist down on Mr. Wells' desk.
"Indeed, we do. I am, however, questioning whether your side will be able to perform. Our agreement is that you will accumulate cotton in New Orleans. It will then be loaded onto fast, shallow draft ships and sail along the Texas coast. If approached by northern ships, they can run for the nearest Texan port and wait until the enemy ships leave. Eventually, the cotton will arrive at Matamoros, Mexico where it will be loaded onto neutral ships and sent to England. Unfortunately, the city of New Orleans is now occupied by your enemies. The few blockade runners in port were captured and those not in the port have no way to enter New Orleans to pick up the cotton."
"Your cotton mills depend on Confederate cotton!" Vaughn snarled. "Do you know how much money your mills will lose without our cotton?"
"In fact, I do. I am a cotton broker, if you'll recall."
"You're nothing but a damned money grubber. You're worse than the damned Yankees." Vaughn smiled evilly. "And you depend on us for your cotton."
"Not entirely." Wells replied coldly. "We have been importing cotton from India and from Egypt."
"India! Egypt! Their cotton is trash! Trash, sir. And we'll get your cotton to Mexico. We'll send it across Texas by land."
"Eric, please lower your voice. Mr. Wells has a point." James Beckett said quietly.
If there was one thing that would not get Eric Vaughn to lower his voice, it was being told to lower it.
"I will not lower my voice. This interview is over."
Vaughn grabbed his hat, opened the door to Mr. Wells' office and once through, slammed it as hard as he could.
"I must apologize for my associate's behavior." James said.
"He is…intemperate." Wells said coldly. "Can you get your cotton across Texas by land?"
Beckett shook his head.
"There are few railroads in Texas, and they mostly go north to south, to take cotton and other products to seaports. There are no railroads that run to Mexico. The cotton would have to go by wagon trains. West Texas is filled with bandits, hostile Indians, and all manner of dangerous men. Taking cotton for over a thousand miles of such country would be…difficult."
Wells thought for a moment.
"It might be best if I looked into increasing our cotton purchases from India and Egypt. Have a good day, Mr. Beckett. As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you."
Beckett left with a smile on his face. He had never been to Texas and knew very little about it, but from all he'd heard it was a wild and dangerous place. He hoped he hadn't exaggerated too much.
London, England
May 18,1862.
"Mr. and Mrs. Beckett. How very nice to see you." Said the extravagantly dressed actress.
Jim rose to his feet.
"Mrs. Rogers. Please join us. Have you had dinner yet?"
Martha Rogers sat but shook her head.
"I had a bite to eat just before I left the theater. But if you'll be so kind, I would like a glass of champagne."
Jim immediately called over the waiter and ordered the champagne.
"Mrs. Rogers…" Johanna began.
"Oh, please. Call me Martha. And may I call you Jim and Johanna."
"Of course." Johanna replied. "We saw your performance in the Sorceress on Tuesday night. You were magnificent."
Martha frowned.
"You're too kind, but it was not my best performance. Every once in a while, I try to change my character just a little bit to see what happens. On Tuesday I made the sorceress a bit flighty. It was not a success. You must come and see me again next Thursday." She reached into her handbag and pulled out two tickets. She handed them to Jim. Then she leaned in to whisper to him.
"The Confederates are trying to buy ships to fit out as commerce raiders. I'm afraid Her Majesty's Government isn't trying very hard to find out what's going on. The information I've gotten is between the tickets."
Martha smiled.
"I also have a new informant."
"Can you trust him?"
"Her, and I can't trust her one bit. She's an empty-headed chatterbox named Meredith Harper. Her wealthy father sent her here from North Carolina. She is a quite attractive young lady, and all of the Southern gentlemen here make every effort to impress her with their knowledge of the war and what's happening here. She can't help but tell everyone what she knows. Or thinks she knows."
"She doesn't sound very reliable." Jim said.
"She's very good at repeating what she's heard, but I'm not sure her young would-be beaus aren't exaggerating their knowledge to impress her. There usually is a grain of truth in what she says."
"How did you come to meet her?' Johanna asked.
"She's fascinated by the theater. Of course, she knows it's no life for a proper young lady, but she apparently acted in some school plays. She's really quite…awful. But I encourage her,"
Martha's eyes narrowed.
"Don't look away from me. A man has just entered the dining room. He's wearing a dark suit and a bowler hat. Ah, he's speaking to the maitre' de. Cautiously turn to your right, Jim and look quickly."
Jim looked briefly and saw a tall, sandy haired man in an ill-fitting suit arguing with the maître de. Then the man turned and stalked out.
"That's Colin Hunt, a former member of the Metropolitan Police. He was fired for taking money from…ladies of the evening. He allowed them to avoid arrest if they paid him. I'm not sure why he's taken an interest in me, but he apparently has."
"If you two don't mind, I'll stay a bit and leave with you. He's supposed to be violent man. I'm sure he wouldn't try anything in this area, but…"
"It's best that you remain safe, Martha. We'll hire a carriage and take you back to your hotel."
They dawdled over their champagne for a half an hour and then called for a carriage. But, as they drove away, Jim caught sight of a man in the shadows wearing a bowler hat.
"Rick, you stayed up way too late last night reading the diary. You need to get some sleep. You were noticeably tired when Doctor Arango was explaining the Mayans to us. He noticed it, too. We don't want him to think we're the kind of rich Americans who just want everyone to know how rich and how generous they are, but don't really care about anything but showing off."
"I'm sorry. You're right. But the diary is fascinating."
"As fascinating as I am?" She said, opening her nightgown.
TBC