There were the American war craft, four hulking black ships drawn up in line across the river.
“Fire when your guns bear,” he ordered, looking at the enemy through his glasses. He had never seen ships like this before. Armor was all that he could see — with no sign of gun ports at all. There was a mighty roar as the forward gun turret fired; the ship’s fabric shook beneath his feet.
Good shooting. He could see the shells explode against the armor of the ship in the center of the line. The smoke cleared, he could see no signs of damage — then a cloud of smoke blossomed up from behind the enemy’s armor. He had a quick glimpse of an immense shell climbing in a high arc, seemingly suspended in space before it dropped. An enormous fountain of water sprang up beside the port bow, drenching the foredeck.
Even before the first shell struck, a second was on its way. This struck the Viperous amidships, and the tremendous explosion almost blew the mighty ship in two.
Anchored and ready, the mortar batteries were as deadly against the slow-moving enemy as they had been against the fortress on land. Within a minute the mortally wounded iron ship had settled to the riverbed, with shells sending up massive waterspouts around the rest of the attacking fleet as they withdrew out of range.
Sherman’s rear defenses were secured. He need fear no attacks from the river as long as the floating batteries were in place.
BUCKINGHAM PALACE ATTACKED
More and still more of the Gatling-gun carriers emerged from Atlas and rumbled down the ramp. These had been stowed deep in the ship’s hold and had climbed to the disembarking level using a series of interior ramps between decks.
Nor was Atlas now the only ship tied up at the embankment. While the ironclads stayed on station in midriver, the transports at the river wall had sent their soldiers charging ashore. Regiments of riflemen were forming up even as the first cannon were being lowered to the Embankment. The horse handlers led their mounts, trotting up to Sherman’s staff; he felt better after swinging up into the saddle.
“We’ve pushed units up these streets toward Whitehall,” an aide said, pointing out the positions on his map. “Our men will be taking defensive positions in the buildings on both sides. There’ll be no more surprise attacks by cavalry from that direction.”
Sherman nodded approval, touched the map. “These troops in Parliament Square must be neutralized. Then the Gatlings can take out these defensive positions in the buildings there.”
“We’re taking fire from Westminster Abbey,” an officer reported.
“Return it,” Sherman said coldly. “If that is their choice, I say that our men’s lives come before an ancient monument. I want all the defensive positions reduced before we advance to the Mall. It will be a two-pronged attack, there and down this road. Is it really called Birdcage Walk?”
“It is, sir.”
“All right. The staff will join the column there — let the attacking units know. Report to me when you are ready.”
The sound of cannon, the tearing violence of gunfire, could easily be heard at Buckingham Palace. From the other side of St. James’s Park, above the trees, clouds of smoke roiled skyward. Queen Victoria stood white-faced on the balcony, shaking her head in disbelief. This was not happening, could not be happening. Below her there was the clatter of hooves and the scrape of wheels on the cobbles of the courtyard. She was aware of her ladies-in-waiting calling to her, pleading, but she did not move. Even when one of them was bold enough to touch her sleeve.
A man’s voice sounded from the door behind her, silencing the shrill voices.
“Come now, Your Majesty. The carriages are here.”
The Duke of Cambridge had an urgency in his voice. Victoria’s first cousin, he was familiar enough to take her by the arm. “The children have gone ahead. We must go after them.”
The children! Mention of them cleared her head and filled her with a certain urgency. She turned from the window and let the Duke lead her from the room. He went on ahead, leaving her ladies to see to her.
He had a lot to do and not much time to do it in. When his servant had shaken him awake that morning, his head was still fogged with fatigue and he could make little of what was happening at first. Warships? The Thames? When he had hurried to his office, Brigadier Somerville made it all too clear.
“The attacks in the Midlands — even capturing Plymouth — that was all a ruse. And it succeeded. They are striking up the Thames, and London is their target.”
“Tilbury. The fort there will stop them.”
“I sincerely hope so, but we cannot rely on hope. So far everything about this invasion has gone exactly as they have planned. I fear they must have some strategy how they will attack the fort. London must be defended, and I have made every effort to see that is done. The household troops have been alerted and I have sent for reinforcements. Now we must see about saving the government — and the Queen. You must convince her that for her own safety, she must leave.”
“Leave? Go where?”
The Duke was being even thicker than usual this morning; Somerville fought to keep the anger from his voice. “Windsor Castle for now. The Prime Minister and his cabinet can join her there. Immediate danger will be averted and further plans can be made once she is safe. She will listen to you. You must convince her that this is the proper course of action. The forces attacking us are overwhelming. If she is seized in Buckingham Palace, why then, this war is over before it has even properly begun.”
“Yes, of course.” The Duke rubbed his jaw, his fingers scraping over the unshaven bristles. “But the defense of the city?”
“Everything has been done that can be done here. Only the Queen’s safety remains in doubt.”
“Yes,” the Duke said, climbing slowly to his feet. “Call my carriage. I will take the matter in hand.”
The hours had passed like minutes in Buckingham Palace. The Duke had had the household cavalry turned out, mounted and ready. The stables behind the palace were stirred to life. Now it was time to leave. The sound of gunfire was louder, closer. Yes, now, the last carriage door slammed shut. With a crack of whips and clatter of hooves they swung out of the forecourt, through the palace gateway, and into Buckingham Gate. Riding west toward safety.