it's insufferable, you must understand, and now the British courts in the Caribbean are condemning United States merchant ships seized by the Royal Navy as prizes.'
Liston murmured an acknowledgement. It was an old problem, and there were well-rehearsed rejoinders, but he chose another tack. 'Mr President, this, I can appreciate, is your immediate concern—but you will understand that here we have a clash of belief and therefore law. You will have your country's position set in law—but we, sir, have had ours since the 1756 Rule of War and it is accepted by the world. Why then should we change it so?'
Adams picked up his glass and smiled. 'That is well known, Robert, because it favours the Crown so disproportionate.'
'And the French,' continued Liston evenly, 'with their demands of equipage and new decrees—'
'We will firmly abide by our treaty obligations of 1778.'
'Sir, the point I wish to make is that unless these three systems of law are brought to an expression of harmony, your country's trade is in continued jeopardy. It would seem therefore but natural that, if only to restore a balance in world affairs, a measure of amity be enacted between our two nations prohibiting these excesses—here I do not exclude the possibility of an alliance.'
'Against France? I think not. The country would never countenance it.'
'Sir, consider, the French have been all but swept from the seas. What more practical way to safeguard your ships than have them watched over by the most powerful nation at sea, under flags in amity?'
'Minister, we shall look after our own. We have no need of a foreign power's intervention.'
'Without a navy?' said Liston gently.
'Sir, this discussion is concluded.' The President stood up. 'Have you any other matter you wish to lay before me?'
'Thank you, Mr President. While we are in an understanding, may I be so bold as to refer you to the intolerable actions of French agents in arming bands of Indians on the Canadian border?'
That night the minister made his excuses to his wife and retired to the little room where he was accustomed to gathering his thoughts and rendering them lucidly for his master. Another hand would cipher the despatches.
He tested the nib of his quill, his mind ordering events into neat aggregations, then analysis to their natural heads. It was the least that was expected by Lord Grenville, King George's noble and demanding minister for foreign affairs.
Liston considered carefully: he had been ambassador to the United States for Britain in all but name during many of those turbulent years following the revolution and had acquired a respect for the colonials that bordered on liking. They had followed up their revolution with a constructive, well-considered constitution, which had humanity at its core; the French, even with the American example, had resorted to blood and chaos in an age-old lust for world domination.
There would be no elaborate salutations: Lord Grenville wanted meat in his despatches, personal observations and opinions unfettered by the delicacies of diplomatic language.
The first subject? The likelihood of intervention by America in the titanic world struggle that was reaching its peak. In Europe there was not a single nation of significance, save England, that still stood against France. America remained outside the fight, and as a neutral she could afford to; she was profiting immensely by trading across the interests of the belligerents—there would be little to gain in taking sides.
Yet the French were growing confident, arrogant even, in their dealings. New decrees had been issued by a victorious Directory in Paris that required all merchant ships to carry papers covering their cargo signed by a French consul if they were to escape being taken as a prize of war. There was even talk of an out-of-hand condemnation if British goods of any kind were found aboard.
If the French had the means to enforce this at sea it would have a devastating impact on the Americans. Without a navy, they would have no choice but to bow to French demands. In the end, though, Paris would find it never paid to bully the United States.
But would the Americans see this as cause for war? Some were still sentimentally attached to the British, and others saw French power as a threat that needed balancing. But there were those who remembered France as an ally closely involved in the birth of their nation and would never sanction an aggressive act against her.
Liston sighed. In the end, as always, it came back to politics and personalities in this most democratic of nations. He respected the bluff President, standing four-square for his country, plain-spoken and direct, even with his resolute opposition to British influences, but making no secret of his loathing of the French regime.
But he was increasingly isolated: his party, the Federalists, were the patricians, old landowners staunchly in favour of central government—and generally took the British view. His opponents were the Republicans under Thomas Jefferson, who had no love for England and were mainly new money, naturalised immigrants and strongly pro-French.
The two parties were locked in bitter political strife, which Liston could perceive Adams was badly placed to handle. In this odd system his own Vice President, Jefferson, was leader of the opposing party and privy to who knew what murky political secrets. And he was gravely handicapped by the extremist Hamilton at his elbow, splitting his party and draining confidence from his administration.
It was a fevered time: mobs were marching at night, shattering windows; newspapers were full of wild rumour and acid attack. He wondered briefly what Adams would say if he told him that such was his concern, the great George Washington himself was in secret communication with London. From Pennsylvania a deputation had even demanded clarity on the matter of Mr Adams, son of the President, who was said to be betrothed to a daughter of the King of Great Britain and thereby for the same General Washington to hold the United States in trust for the King.
There was an even chance of an alliance—but as the French depredations increased so must the Americans' grudging tolerance of British measures at sea. If the Royal Navy could be induced to grasp the delicacy of their position, there was a chance . . .
With a large white flag streaming from a halliard,
It was unfair: Kydd knew next to nothing about the United States and even less about the international law with which he had been told to threaten the local authorities if they did not drive the French back to sea. He was
