Serena woke up with a start despite all her determination to escape she must have fallen asleep in the armchair. She yawned and stretched. She looked across the room and saw Valmont, clearly wide awake, still covering her with the double-barrelled pistol. Perhaps his kind didn't need sleep.
Furious with herself for losing time, Serena looked round the room yet again, seeking some means of escape. Her eyes fell on the handsome clock in the corner. It was a longcase clock, sometimes called a coffin clock because of its shape. (Many years later, when somebody wrote a song about one, it would be called a grandfather clock.) Serena gave a little gasp, quickly concealed. There was the escape she sought, right before her eyes. Could it be as simple as that? Why not? She rose and began wandering aimlessly around the room.
'What are you doing?' snapped Valmont.
'Stretching my legs I got cramp sleeping in that chair.
Don't worry, I'm not going far.'
'No, you're not.'
Serena wandered round the room, followed by the eyes of Valmont and the twin barrels of his pistol. She drifted across to the grandfather clock. 'Is that the right time? I think it's stopped.' She reached for the dial.
Suddenly she whirled round, staring over Valmont's shoulder at the window. 'Doctor!'
Just for a moment Valmont glanced away, but a moment was enough. He looked back at Serena, but she was gone.
He heard a faint, musical humming sound and looked wildly around the room.
When he looked back the clock was gone as well.
Bending his head in the cramped stuffy confines of the submarine the Doctor said, 'There, that should do it.' He turned to Fulton, who was looking over his shoulder, bent almost double because of his height. 'The connection's complete now, and it's working perfectly. Just be careful with the drive it contains almost unlimited power. You touch this panel here here to start it, and adjust this lever to start it, and adjust this lever here here to increase power. That's all there is to know. Got it?' to increase power. That's all there is to know. Got it?'
'Got it, Doctor.'
'Good. Let's get some air.'
The Doctor stood up and squeezed through the conning-tower hatch, followed by Fulton. They clambered carefully over the copper hull and jumped down onto the wharf, blinking in the sunlight.
The Countess was waiting at the end of the wharf. 'Have you done it? Is it finished?'
'All finished and ready to go,' said Fulton cheerfully.
'Just as well,' said the Countess grimly. 'The Emperor is arriving.'
She pointed to the road that ran along the coast. Two coaches, guarded by cavalry before and behind, were rumbling towards them. Even at this distance they could see the giant 'N' surrounded by gold bees embossed on the door of the first.
'It's too soon,' protested Fulton. 'I wanted another trial run before the demonstration.'
'The demonstration will have to be your trial run,' said the Countess. 'Are you ready?'
'Nearly. I only have to load the torpedo.'
Fulton sprinted for the workshop, yelling for his workmen.
'Labiche, Lapoint, the torpedo! Look lively now!'
The Doctor and the Countess moved back to the beach, watching as the two brawny labourers carried one of the long steel cylinders from the shed and passed it down to Fulton inside the submarine.
The coaches pulled up on the road by the beach, the cavalry escort formed a protective cordon and the Emperor descended from the first and strode towards them. His entourage of high-ranking army and naval officers descended from the second coach, and formed into a little chattering group. They looked bored.
Napoleon was wearing the uniform of his favourite regiment, the Mounted Guard a grey tunic with a high red collar and heavy gold epaulettes. He was in a brisk, no-nonsense mood, acknowledging the Countess's curtsey and the Doctor's bow with a nod.
'My time is limited. I am reviewing a practice attack by my troops later this morning. Is everything ready?'
'Almost, Your Majesty. The brig is just anchoring.'
The Countess pointed to the opening out of the bay, where a smallish ship was lowering her sails and dropping anchor. They saw her lower her boats and the crew row hurriedly for shore.
'You are here early, Doctor,' said Napoleon.
Before the Doctor could reply the Countess said quickly, 'The Doctor has been here all night, sire. He has been helping us with preparing the submersible.'
Napoleon gave the Doctor a satirical look. 'All rivalries forgotten in the sacred cause of science, Doctor?'
Again it was the Countess who answered. 'Forgotten in the service of Your Majesty. The Doctor and I are old rivals, it is true, but we are also old friends.'
'And where is our inventor?'
'On board the submersible, Your Majesty.'
Fulton's head popped out of the conning tower and gave a cheery wave. 'Good morning, Your Majesty. We're all set.'
'If you will excuse us, Your Majesty?' said the Countess.
'Come, Doctor.'
They walked along the wharf to the submarine, where the two workmen stood ready to cast off.
'Well, wish me luck,' said Fulton.
'You're going alone?' asked the Doctor.
Fulton nodded. 'Couldn't ask anyone else to take the risk even if any of my men were willing, which they're not.'
The Countess drew the Doctor aside. 'He's not going alone, Doctor, you're going with him.'
'Why should I do that?'
'As a guarantee of good faith. How do I know you haven't sabotaged the submersible?'
'And if I refuse?'
'I'll send orders to Valmont to kill the girl. If he fails I'll kill her myself.'
The Doctor paused, considering various options. 'Very well,' he said calmly. 'Perhaps it's best this way.'
They moved back to the boat and the Countess called, 'The Doctor's coming with you.'
'Are you sure, Doctor?' said Fulton. 'I'd be glad of your help.'
'He insists, don't you Doctor?' said the Countess.
The Doctor climbed onto the hull and Fulton ducked down inside, helping the Doctor through the hatch. Moments later his head appeared again. 'Cast off!' He ducked down and the conning-tower hatch slammed shut.
The workmen cast off the mooring ropes and the submarine moved slowly away from the wharf. The Countess left the wharf and went back up the beach to stand by the Emperor. Napoleon was watching the submersible's departure with interest. 'When does it go underwater?'
'Soon, Your Majesty, when they fill their ballast tanks.
They won't submerge until they are closer to their target.'
Slowly the submarine sank between the waves, until only the tip of the conning tower could be seen moving steadily away from them.
'Why don't they go right under?' demanded Napoleon.
'They need the conning tower to see where they're going,'
explained the Countess. 'It's very small and would hardly be seen from a ship.'
Suddenly a cloaked figure ran onto the beach. To the Countess's surprise and rage it was Serena. She gave the Emperor a hasty curtsey, grabbed the Countess by the arm and pulled her aside.
'Where's the Doctor?'
The Countess pulled her arm free and pointed. 'Out there, in the submersible. He's crewing for Mr Fulton. Don't worry, they'll be back before very long. Unless anything goes wrong, of course...'
In the cramped, stuffy darkness of the submersible, Fulton manipulated the controls while the Doctor stood in the conning tower guiding their course.
'Steady as she goes,' he called, feeling surprisingly nautical.
'Aye, aye, sir,' called Fulton, his voice booming hollowly in the thin copper hull. After a moment he called, 'How close are we?'
'Pretty close. About a hundred yards.'
'Dead in line?'
'Dead in line,' confirmed the Doctor.
The world's first submarine attack, thought the Doctor in 1805! He felt guilty about how much he was enjoying it though it eased his conscience considerably to know that the brig ahead was deserted.
'Right, stand by. I'm about to fire the torpedo.'
Suddenly the Doctor heard the 'Whumph' of the torpedo and moments later the submersible vibrated in the shock wave.
The watchers on shore saw the brig explode in flame.
Burning debris showered down upon the sea.
'Excellent!' cried Napoleon, and all the generals cheered and clapped.
'There goes Nelson and his Victory Victory, eh, Countess?' cried the Emperor.
'And the rest of his fleet as well, Your Majesty!'
They saw the conning tower describe a wide circle as the submarine headed back towards shore.
'Is that it?' asked Napoleon. 'Is it all over?'
He sounded almost disappointed.
'There was only one brig, Your Majesty, so they only carried one torpedo,' said the Countess. 'Under battle conditions they could carry many more. A whole fleet could be destroyed.'
'I see,' said Napoleon. 'A very impressive demonstration, Countess. We must use this remarkable vessel against the English fleet as soon as possible. I shall congratulate our returning mariners, then I must go.'
They watched the little blob of the conning tower come steadily nearer.
Suddenly there was a great dull thud and a column of water shot high in the air. It was followed by a fiery pillar of smoke smoke that took the form of a mushroom-shaped cloud...
Chapter Twenty-three.