Free The Titans by John Jakes Page B

he saw no answer at all. iv The establishment run by the Willard brothers served breakfast to late-rising Washington from eight until eleven. Jephtha was in time. After he bougiht four cigars, he took a small table in the corner of the bar. He ordered steak and onions with fried oysters on the side, and a double shot of Overholtz 1855, one of the bar's best whiskeys. The place was crowded. Government men, officials from foreign embassies, and quite a few army and militia officers were all jabbering about Sumter's surrender. Most of the soldiers were already full of liquor and bombast. The goddamned rebels who had been flaunting the threat of secession for decades-and who had finally acted on it, then dared to fire on the Stars and Stripes-would be taught a swift and humiliating lesson! Hunched over his drink, Jephtha grimaced. If he'd gone the other way along Pennsylvania, to the National Hotel at Sixth, he'd have heard equally gaseous rhetoric from the Southern sympathizers who generally gathered there. He interrupted his meal to dart to the bar and corner a new arrival, a young man named Alfred Hume who 808An Oath Registered in Heaven" was an assistant secretary at the British embassy. He asked Hume whether the ambassador, florid-faced Lord Lyons, had as yet formulated a policy about recognition of the Confederate government. "Still a bit early for that, old chap," Hume answered in his languid way. "Must await instructions from Whitehall, don't y'know?" "Come off it, Alf. Jeff Davis was inaugurated over two months ago. Every report out of Montgomery says he and his cabinet are going to stand by a policy of holding Southern cotton off the European markets. They want to use the cotton to bargain for recognition of the South as a sovereign nation, not a section of America in rebellion." Hume looked bored. "Say it again-nothing official to report." Then he leaned closer. "Tell you this much, though. If the chaps in the Confederacy continue to sail on that course, they're bloody fools." "Why, AM?" "Because the decision's a blunder! A complete misreading of the economic situation. Let jolly old Jeffey try to use his cotton to force Her Majesty-or Nappy the Third over in France-to recognize his so-called government, and I'm afraid he'll find he's aiming an empty weapon. For the first time in years, all the mills back home and in Europe have a surplus of cotton. So where's Jeffey going to find recognition? Or the money to finance a war? I've heard there's no more than twenty-five millions in bullion in the entire South!" "True," Jephtha replied. "And it won't go far. There isn't a single first-rate iron mill, rolling mill, or powder mill down there either. Those cost money to build. Big money." Hume's smile was smug. "Which in turn requires the sale of the only product the South produces in quantity comcotton. See what I mean about an embargo? I repeat combloody fools." The Titans81 The assistant secretary hailed the barkeep for a refill. It took him three calls to make himself heard above the din. After he'd been served, he turned to Jephtha, pursed his lips, and said, "God, I despise this town. Chap can't find a proper club anywhere. Just these noisy saloons. You fellows may be our cousins, but damned if you don't have a lot to learn about life's refinements." "Alf, one more question about-was "Cheer-o, Kent," the young diplomat said, turning away and waving to another acquaintance further down the bar. Jephtha went back to his table, smiling because Hume was typical of the Europeans on assignment in Washington. They considered the capital raw, raucous comll better than a backwoods village. Another man Jephtha knew, a sketch artist for Harper's Weekly, stopped by as he was finishing his meal. After a few perfunctory words of greeting, the artist passed along a rumor that a political demonstration would take place on the stage of Canterbury Hall, a popular variety theater, the following night Jephtha's pale eyes narrowed, "A