swordsmen and archers there, and they boldly told you that all you could see, on every quarter, was the domain of Abdul Ar Rahman?” Volsky glanced at Fedorov, a quiet smile on his lips, then continued.
“Things change, Admiral Tovey. Things change. I cannot answer your questions any more than you could explain your existence to the men who built that fortress. I can only say this: If you wish to try and put my ship at the bottom of the sea, then I must prevent you from doing so. Yes, your Royal Navy is here, and no doubt with all your finest ships, but they will not be enough, Admiral. They will not be enough. I must tell you that I did not wish to see the destruction that occurred when last we met at sea. There was great disagreement among my senior officers as to what should be done, and how much force should be used. Unfortunately, I was indisposed when it came to battle, and my ship was under the command of another officer, with another mind as to how the matter should have been dealt with. And yet, while I am reluctant to act in that same manner, I must tell you that I have the power to do so—that my ship has the power to sail on though these narrow straits, and find the open sea by force of arms if necessary, and you have not seen even a small measure of what we are truly capable of doing in battle.”
Tovey frowned, a grave expression on his face, but Volsky continued, his tone changing now, more human, and with no hint of bravado in his voice. “There,” he said. “We have both thumped our chests like a pair of old fools, and now we must decide what happens next. We can decide as Admirals in a sea of war, or we can decide as men, eye to eye, and face to face, and find another solution. We can use our warships to settle the matter, or our intelligence, and perhaps a little more. There was a great Russian writer who put it this way: ‘It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently.’ We must find what that is, you and I, or I’m afraid a great many more men will pay the price of our stupidity.”
Tovey took that in, considering. Yes, it made all the sense in the world now to find a way to settle this amicably, and without more loss of life, or ships for that matter. If he fought here, as he had hastened south with so much might to do, what would be left of his fleet at battle’s end, even if he did prevail? Yet how could he allow a ship with such power to sail out into the Atlantic where the life blood of the Empire now moved in big fat convoys, guarded by ships of war—convoys like the one they had just risked so much to fight through to Malta. If he let this ship pass it could pose the gravest threat to those sea lanes. The outcome of the entire war effort could depend on their security. He had this mysterious ship before him now, and wondered if he would ever have such an opportunity again. He cleared his voice and spoke his mind.
“I am charged with the security of these sea lanes, sir. Surely you must understand that.”
“Well, Admiral, it has come to the eleventh hour, and fearing what might happen if we let the time slip by to midnight without reason having a seat at the table, let me make a proposal. I seek an armistice in our private little war within a war here. You are busy enough with the Germans and Italians. Yes? So I ask you to leave my ship alone now and grant us safe passage through these straits and to give us the open sea you claim to rule. You may wish to know my intentions, and I will tell you that I have no hostile aim, nor do I wish to engage in any further combat, or even
“All I wish is to find a nice peaceful island somewhere out of the stream of this war and consider how I can get my men and ship home again. To put this formally, I ask you now for safe passage in exchange for a pledge of armistice and neutrality. It would be my intention to get as far away from your war as my ship can possibly take me. Yes, I know it is a world war, and that may prove difficult, but there must be some island out there where I can get some sleep and find some peace and quiet to think. And if I never see another man die at sea, particularly as a result of my commands, then I will be a happier man for it. So that is my offer. That is all I desire, Admiral.” He nodded his head. “And perhaps a nice bowl of borscht and a bottle of good vodka once in a while.” He smiled, seeing his last remark well taken by Tovey.
Then the British Admiral’s eyes hardened for a moment. Tovey clasped his hands behind his back, thinking as he gazed up at the tawny sundrenched walls of the Moorish fortifications. This Captain Nemo had said a good bit with that business about the castle, he realized. Perhaps he said more than he might have wished.
His eyes seemed to see far now, as if he were suddenly aware of distant events, a future time unseen, when this war was long over…when the British Empire itself was long gone, and when other men might walk the rocky shores of this island with no thought of conflict and war in their minds. Was that ever possible? He knew what the Admiralty would advise him here—what they would in fact order him to do. Somerville had faced it at Mers-el Kebir when he had asked the French fleet to join the Empire, and that failing, to scuttle their ships. They refused, of course, even as he himself would in the same situation. Yes, pride goeth before the fall, but pride could be as much a virtue as a vice, and he had little doubt that this Admiral before him would be found a proud and willful man if put to the test.
The man wanted to find an island, he thought, a mysterious island where he could rest and think. Well, we moved heaven and earth to put Napoleon on one. Here he is looking to make a graceful bow and drop anchor on his own St. Helena. The man’s earnest desire to avoid further conflict was both obvious and admirable. Might he consider another proposal? It was worth the offer, and he spoke his mind.
“Admiral, I am inclined to believe you when you state your wish to avoid further hostilities. You have asked me to consider the question of armistice. May I ask you if you would consider the question of alliance? Might we two become friends instead of the witless enemies we have been up until now?”
Volsky smiled, as he had thought long and hard about this possible meeting, and knew this question would inevitably arise. The matter was coming to a head, and he knew his response now would be critical. He looked Tovey squarely in the eye. “If you had lightning in a bottle, would you pour it in your friend’s glass, or your enemies?” He smiled. “I think to make either choice would end up killing them both. No, Admiral. I cannot join your war. We fought only because we had to—fought Italians ships and German planes, and you British as well. For a long time I think you believed we were a German ship. And the Italians and Germans may now think we are British. But if it is all the same to you, I think we would be most unwise to take any side in this war. We have done enough harm as it stands.”
“I see,” said Tovey, not surprised by the answer. The question was now starkly before him. There would be no alliance, but would there be war or peace with this man and his mysterious and terrible ship of war? With four battleships at hand Tovey still believed he had the means to prevail if it came to further conflict, but he was under no illusion that the task would be easy, or that he would even live to see it to a successful completion. He was going to lose ships and men if he fought now, that much was certain. Then an idea came to him. He knew it might cost his command, and even his rank and position in the Royal Navy itself, but somehow neither of those things seem to weigh in the balance.
“We faced this same dilemma with the French fleet, on more than one occasion,” he began. “Now they are sitting comfortably at Toulon, though we did have word that the
Again, this was not unexpected, but Volsky shook his head, smiling. “Admiral, do you think this ship would be left in peace under such circumstances? In what port, on any shore, could we drop anchor without fear that there would be men who would be very, very curious about us, men who would want to ask the same questions that remain in your mind? No. Such questions must remain unanswered, and it would be better if they were never asked. We must have freedom of movement to assure ourselves that this would be the case.”
“But surely, you’ll need fuel, water, food and supplies for your crew.”
“We carry all the fuel we will ever need, and then some.” He realized that Tovey would not comprehend that, so he manufactured a little white lie, a little
“Then you don’t see any further room for compromise?”
“I have compromised, Admiral. I did not have to ask for this conference, but yet I found it a wiser course than the one I was sailing at the time. I know the issue foremost in your mind now is trust. I suppose your Mister Churchill is thinking the same thing at this very moment as he sits down to dinner with Joseph Stalin in his
