He followed Eustin, heavily laden with the documents, out of the door and heard the key turn in the lock behind him. Eustin stumbled and a sheaf of papers fell to the companionway floor.
“Steady, man,” Mason said. “No, leave them, I’ll pick them up. Go ahead.”
Macfarland was waiting at the Mail Room door, his face drawn and white.
“It’s locked!”
“Bang on it, you idiot!” He thrust the papers he was carrying into the other man’s arm and hammered on the door with his fist, stepped back when it opened.
“Why Mr. Mason — what is it?” The door was opened by an elderly man with white mutton-chop whiskers, his face tanned by a lifetime at sea.
“Yankees, sir. They have fired at this ship, stopped her, sir.”
“But — why?”
“It is their expressed desire to makes us their prisoners, to seize us against our will, clap us in irons and carry us off to some foul cell. And perhaps even worse. But you can help us.”
The officer’s face tightened in grim anger. “Of course — but what can I do? If you hide — ”
“That would be cowardly, and we would be found.” Mason seized a handful of papers and held them out. “It is not our fate that can be altered. But here are our credentials, our documents, our secrets. It would be disaster if the Yankees seized them. Would you preserve them for us?”
“Of course. Bring them inside.”
He led the way across the room to a massive safe, took a key from his pocket and unlocked it.
“Put them in here, with the government post and specie.”
When this was done, the safe door swung shut and was locked. The Mail Officer returned the key to his pocket and patted it.
“Gentlemen, though I am retired now I have never turned from my duty as a naval officer. I am now a bulldog in your defense. Threats of death will not sway me. I will keep this key in my pocket and it will not come out until we are in safe harbor in England. They must pass over my body before they enter this room. Your papers are as safe as the letters of the Royal Mail.”
“I thank you, sir. You are an officer and a gentleman.”
“I am but doing my duty…” He looked up at the sound of muffled shouting from the deck above, and the march of heavy boots. “I must lock the door.”
“Hurry,” Mason said. “And we must get to the cabin before the bluebellies do.”
“I must protest this action, protest it strongly,” Captain James Moir said. “You have fired on a British ship, halted her at sea at gunpoint, piracy — ”
“This is not piracy, Captain,” Fairfax broke in. “My country is at war and I am diligent in her service, sir. You have informed me that the two traitors, Mason and Slidell, are aboard this vessel. You will see that I am unarmed. I ask only to satisfy myself of their presence.”
“And then?”
The American did not respond, knowing full well that anything he said would only add to the English captain’s seething anger. This situation was too delicate, too laden with the possibility of international complications, for him to make any mistakes. The captain would have to decide for himself.
“Midshipman!” Moir snapped, turning his back rudely on the lieutenant. “Take this person below. Show him to the cabin of his countrymen.”
Fairfax contained his own anger at this ungentlemanly behavior and followed the lad belowdecks. The steam packet was spacious and comfortable. Dark wood paneling lined the companionway and there were brass fittings on the cabin doors. The midshipman pointed to the nearest one.
“This will be it, sir. American gentleman name of Slidell, him and his family.”
“Family?”
“Wife, sir, and son. Three daughters.”
Fairfax hesitated only for an instant. The presence of Slidell’s family made no difference; there could be no going back. He knocked loudly.
“John Slidell — are you there?”