Northern Exposure - 51. Chapter 51

April 2, 1801

The Winter Palace

St. Petersburg, Russia

“You gentlemen may take that copy of The Times and peruse it,” Alexander declared. “Later this evening, Lord Daventry can meet with Count Panin to provide his evaluation, and Lord Granger can meet with me. You can return the paper to Count Panin then.” Panin did not look happy about that at all, probably because he was hoping that by watching them read the paper and the news, he’d be able to decipher some other piece of information from their reactions. It would have been a wasted effort since both Granger and Daventry were both quite able to keep an unflappable demeanor in situations such as this.

“Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Granger said, as he took the newspaper. He and Daventry bowed, then exited the Tsar’s chamber. They were able to bribe a footman to show them into a room that was empty but for a table, three chairs, and a light. Another bribe prompted him to light an extra candle.

“Addington?” Granger asked again, completely confused. “A doctor’s son as prime minister?” Granger’s world was very hierarchical, where people had a place and they either remained there or made incremental steps to a higher level. Moving up the social ladder had taken his family generations to accomplish, so it was unreasonable to think someone else could just breeze in and assume one of the highest offices in the land without being to the manor born.

“He is the Speaker of the Commons and he is a close friend of Pitt’s,” Daventry said ruefully. They began to pour over the paper, which delineated the ministerial changes. “This is not what I expected.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Granger asked.

“I would have expected the opposition to take over,” Daventry said. “Fox and his boys.” Granger cringed at the thought of Fox as prime minister, and how unpleasant he’d be as a result.

“That seems unlikely,” Granger noted thoughtfully. “The Foxites don’t control that many seats.”

“Yes, and that’s where I was thinking of what the case has historically been, instead of what would likely happen right now,” Daventry said, frustrated with his inability to predict the future.

“Spencer is out,” Granger noted sadly.

“As are the other Portland Whigs,” Daventry said. “Fitzwilliam and Grenville are out of the government as well.”

“That is disappointing, since I tended to find myself most comfortable with them,” Granger noted. “Why are they out?”

“Pitt supposedly resigned over Catholic Emancipation, and those gentlemen were supporters of that measure,” Daventry noted. “They can hardly stay in the government when Pitt made it a measure of principle.”

“They would have no choice,” Granger mused, recognizing the moral dilemma they faced.

“Not if they wanted to be able to keep their reputations intact,” Daventry agreed.

“But why Addington?” Granger asked. “I met him on one occasion, and he was a likeable enough fellow, but I don’t see him as the leader of the country.” He was a bit too friendly and chummy in Granger’s eyes, without much substance.

“You must think about this from Pitt’s perspective,” Daventry said. “Addington is his friend and confidant, so Pitt will still have enormous influence over the government. Addington has been a good speaker and has friends in all the major factions. He is popular and unassuming, the perfect person to be the front man for Pitt. And perhaps most important of all, the King likes him.”

“You are suggesting he is a mere puppet,” Granger summated. “That makes sense now.”

“When I look at this list of ministers, it is obvious that the King selected many of them,” Daventry said.

Granger studied the list and with Daventry’s perspective, he could see that the King had greatly influenced the choices. “Addington was handed a cabinet assembled by the King and Pitt,” Granger noted wryly.

“The prior cabinet was almost at war with each other, so one wonders how this one, which will have no real loyalty to Addington, will function,” Daventry said.

“Why will they not be loyal?” Granger asked.

“Because they owe their positions not to Addington, but to the King or Pitt,” Daventry explained. “They will not feel the need to defer to Addington like they had deferred to Pitt.”

Granger shook his head in frustration at the situation, where a man unsuited to be the Prime Minister had been shuffled into the spot and was surrounded by people whose loyalties lay elsewhere: he would indeed be a puppet. He focused on other parts of the paper. “The Times notes that many of the people outside of the cabinet have resigned,” Granger said, pointing at that text. Those members would be the second-tier members of the government, holding positions such as the Treasurer of the Navy. “Castlereagh, Minto, and Cornwallis are out.”

“As is Canning,” Daventry read. “That is a shame since he is brilliant.” Granger frowned at that since he did not much care for Canning.

“I find him to be quite full of himself, and unaware of his station,” Granger said huffily, revealing the aristocratic snobbery that lived beneath his beautiful blond hair.

“Because his mother was an actress, and his father was a bankrupt merchant?” Daventry asked with a raised eyebrow, all but calling Granger out on that. “One would have thought he would have stayed in a ministry that was run by a doctor’s son.”

“One would think,” Granger said.

“With Spencer gone, let us see who they picked to be your new boss,” Daventry said playfully.

Granger’s eyes settled on the name and he gasped with shock, something he rarely did. “Lord St. Vincent?” Granger cringed at the thought of what that strict and traditional sailor would do to the navy. Whatever it was, he would approach it with the single-mindedness and drive that he always did, and he would put up with no obstacles.

“You served with him before,” Daventry said. “You have a good relationship with him, don’t you?”

“I have served with him quite recently. In fact, I was with him in the Channel Fleet until you caused me to be recalled for this mission,” Granger said.

“And aren’t you glad I did?” Daventry asked playfully. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“The time of my life,” Granger said sardonically, even though he was enjoying his time in Russia now that Paul was dead. He found the new Tsar quite alluring. He didn’t want to think too much about the Tsar lest he have a visible physical reaction, so he changed the subject back to St. Vincent. “I would say that I have a fairly good relationship with St. Vincent, inasmuch as a subordinate can have one with him.”

“Then why do you seem so apprehensive about his appointment?” Daventry asked.

“Because he is very much a traditionalist, and that means that the Navy will be much less innovative with him in charge,” Granger said. Daventry looked confused and asked Granger with his eyes to explain. “Spencer, for example, encouraged efforts to improve ship design by authorizing ships to be built to many different plans. St. Vincent is much less adventuresome.”

“How would that manifest itself?” Daventry asked.

“Valiant exists because of Spencer’s willingness to experiment. She is a razee and cutting her down by a deck was an unorthodox method to get use out of a formerly obsolete ship,” Granger said. “I cannot see St. Vincent making the same decision.”

“I suppose not,” Daventry said.

“Spencer was seemingly on a quest to find the best ship designs, and thus improve the fleet. For example, the latest school of thought about frigates is that they should be longer, so they are faster and more weatherly,” Granger noted. “Spencer was willing to study and replicate captured ships, and to allow our own naval architects relatively free rein to try and build the best frigate. The premise is that once you find the best one, you can replicate it.”

“But you must first experiment to find that one,” Daventry summarized.

“Yes,” Granger said. “Spencer saw that as the logical progression, while I am positive St. Vincent will not. Instead, he will decide that the superiority of the Royal Navy is dependent on its officers and men, and that fancy and expensive designs are a waste of money. He will most likely pick an old design and build copies of the same ship, assuming that if it worked fine when he was a young captain, so it should still be fine.”

“Still, you are on the positive side of this tyrannical man stuck in the past,” Daventry noted. “His appointment may not be best for the fleet, but it should certainly help your career,” Daventry said. While Granger may have snobbery as a character flaw, Daventry’s big personal flaw was self-interest. Granger gave him a slight smile to subtly point that out to his fellow peer. Daventry frowned at Granger’s perceptiveness.

“We shall see,” Granger said. “In any event, I pity the dockyards.”

“Dockyards?”

“Dockyards,” Granger confirmed. “St. Vincent is one who, once he develops a grievance against something or someone, retains that and nurtures it, and will take his revenge when the opportunity arises. He has consistently railed against the inefficiency of the dockyards, so now he will make some changes.”

“Do you think the dockyards are well-run?” Daventry asked.

“I do not,” Granger said. “They are in great need of reform, but where perhaps a dirk would be adequate to trim the inefficiencies away, St. Vincent will use a broadsword.”

“He will certainly alienate some administrators,” Daventry observed.

“I think he will alienate almost everyone,” Granger said, making them both chuckle. When they had finished that comical interlude, they refocused on the paper.

“Hawkesbury is to be Foreign Secretary,” Daventry noted, zeroing in on that ministry. “His father, Lord Liverpool, is to be President of the Board of Trade.”

“God help Liverpool,” Granger said. In Granger’s mind, it was hard to imagine a worse position than President of the Board of Trade. Liverpool would be responsible for attending to the needs of the merchant community.

“It would not be my choice if I were ushered into the cabinet, but it probably has considerable perks,” Daventry noted. Granger frowned at that since perks was probably synonymous for bribes.

“What position would you want?” Granger asked.

“I think the most interesting would be that of Foreign Secretary,” Daventry answered sincerely.

“You have certainly demonstrated your diplomatic skills on this mission,” Granger noted, getting a smile from Daventry.

“I doubt anyone in Parliament will ever know about it,” Daventry said. “In any event, Hawkesbury is to fill the role.”

“I think Hawkesbury will do a good job,” Granger said. “He is intelligent and cultured.”

“He is also inexperienced,” Daventry noted.

“My understanding is that he has held a number of junior offices,” Granger observed.

“That’s true,” Daventry said, reconsidering. “He is also quite close to Pitt, and his father is a friend of the King’s.”

“That would help,” Granger said.

“They appointed the Earl of Dartmouth to head up the Board of Control while Hobart has War and the Colonies,” Daventry noted. Granger forced his mind away from the memories of his oil bath with Lord Hobart when he’d been in Bombay.

“I would have thought Hobart would have been better off with the Board of Control,” Granger said. Hobart was familiar with Indian affairs, which is what the Board of Control handled.

“It seems to me that once someone comes back from India, they’re not welcome to be further involved in Indian affairs,” Daventry observed wryly.

“It does seem that no one returns with their reputation fully intact,” Granger said, making them both think about Warren Hastings. “It is a good thing Bertie has no reputation to worry about.”

Daventry laughed. “Indeed, that should not be a problem for him.” His finger suddenly pointed at a different item. “You are an uncle again. The Marchioness of Preston has given birth to a daughter, named Amelia.”

“That is good news, especially since it appears they are both healthy,” Granger said, staring at the birth announcement.

“Why the name Amelia?” Daventry asked. “Is that a family name?”

“It is not,” Granger said. “I would expect they chose it in honor of His Majesty’s favorite daughter.”

“That’s quite an astute political maneuver your brother made,” Daventry observed.

“I would think that the idea more likely came from his wife, her father, or my father,” Granger noted, as he had never really seen his brother demonstrate real political skill. He shook off thoughts of that and wondered why he was having a hard time experiencing joy over the birth of his niece. He decided it mostly because he worried about Caroline, and how she would react to this news. She would feel inadequate since she could no longer have children, and each child Davina spawned would be like a slap in her face. Granger opted to change the subject. “So what will you tell Panin?”

“I will tell him that this administration is largely a continuation of the prior one, but they will probably be more focused on negotiating a peace treaty,” Daventry opined.

“What makes you say that?” Granger asked.

“Pitt and Grenville were the most opposed to peace with France, so with them out of the way, it may be possible to negotiate something,” Daventry said. “What will you tell the Tsar?”

“I will tell him what you said, but I will add that it appears we are drawing from our second tier of talent,” Granger noted. Daventry raised an eyebrow and acted as if he were about to challenge Granger, wondering whether negatively evaluating the new government or revealing that they were not top players was somehow treasonous. Granger said nothing while Daventry considered that, and when Daventry realized there was actually no issue, he nodded in agreement.

“That is an apt description,” he said. “I wish we would receive some correspondence from home. I would have a much clearer picture.”

“I would suspect that communication will be delayed if there is a naval battle unfolding at the entrance to the Sound,” Granger noted. “It will make passage of vessels more difficult. In addition, there is still ice in much of this part of the world.”

“That would definitely make communications slower,” Daventry agreed.

April 22, 1801

The Admiralty Building

St. Petersburg, Russia

Granger had not worn his uniform since Paul was assassinated, primarily to avoid calling attention to the fact that he was an English naval officer, but in this case it was necessary. He had been invited to a meeting with the Russian equivalent of the British Board of Admiralty to discuss the recent battle at Copenhagen. Initial news of the battle had arrived a week or so ago, and since then, more and more details had emerged. He was told in his invitation that these naval officers wanted Granger’s opinions on the matter, but he was under no illusions as to their real purpose. The Russian press had published accounts from the Danish perspective, one that was damning to both Britain and Nelson, and Granger knew that he was actually here to defend his nation and his former commander. Granger had befriended some of the admirals here, while others would still be resentful over his treatment of the navy during his interrogation by Panin and Tsar Paul.

Granger had not received correspondence from England since his first letters had gotten here, and he suspected that the Swedes were now interfering with their transit instead of helping deliver them. Despite that, he had received a huge piece of information yesterday in the form of a letter sent by Lord Nelson, attached to a copy of his official report of the Battle of Copenhagen, as it was being styled. Evidently somehow the letter had been included with the courier sent to the Tsar from Denmark, and Panin had not thought to intercept it before the Tsar gave it to Granger. Between what the Russian Press had published and Nelson’s letter, Granger felt he had been able to discern the basics of what had happened.

The Admiralty Building itself was part of the naval complex, complete with building slips. Granger noted that there were two 2-decked ships of the line and a 3-decker under construction. He grimaced, thinking they would probably replace the ships he had disabled or destroyed just a few miles from where he was standing. The Admiralty Building was quite large and looked almost medieval. It had a moat around it and a channel in between two П-shaped buildings of the Admiralty. The building itself looked like a functional structure with only one interesting feature: there was a weathervane at the top of a large tower crafted to look like a ship. Granger thought that was fitting, as it emphasized the importance of the wind direction in naval endeavors.

His guide led him toward a hall and Granger spotted a long mirror, so he paused in front of it to make sure that his uniform was in order. He had decided to eschew wearing a wig, which Tsar Paul had insisted upon but Tsar Alexander found annoying. In fact, the entire dress code had changed, with standard European fare replacing the Prussian fashions Paul had favored. Granger had been able to all but discard his hideous Russian clothes and revert to wearing the clothes he’d acquired in London or from Cochrane. His guide tried not to appear too impatient that Granger paused but his annoyance was evident. That in turn irritated Granger enough that he stood there longer than was necessary. He finished and they resumed their stroll.

He walked into the room as his guide belted out his name and title, while Granger bowed to the assembled group. They had been sitting around a large rectangular table with maps and papers strewn on it, but they’d all risen to show courtesy. “Lord Granger, what an honor you do us by your presence,” Admiral Mordinov said as he strode over and took Granger’s hands warmly. Count Nikolay Mordinov was the Russian equivalent of the First Lord of the Admiralty, and an interesting fellow. Granger had spent a lot of time with him at social functions and found him to be a very liberal thinker and an Anglophile. He abhorred serfdom and was working with Mikhail Speransky to develop reform proposals for the Tsar.

“You flatter me with your invitation, sir,” Granger said.

“You seem to have recovered from last night, my lord,” Admiral Chichagov said with a knowing grin. Granger had played whist late into the night, and the longer he played the more he drank, so by the time they returned to Stroganov Palace, it was Daventry who had to help Granger.

“I hide the ravages well, sir,” Granger said with a rueful smile, although he was fortunate to have avoided a hangover this morning. Pavel Chichagov was another person he socialized with and was also a devoted Anglophile. Granger had met him before in London when he had studied at the Royal Naval Academy. He had ended up marrying Elizabeth Proby, who was the daughter of one of the officials at the Chatham Dockyards.

“Perhaps, my lord, you can give us your insights on this battle we have been slowly getting data on,” Admiral Semyonovich said gruffly. Granger did not like this man, who was coarse and abrupt, and he in turn seemed annoyed beyond belief that Granger was in Russia.

“You are in a hurry today, Admiral,” Granger said, with a slightly sardonic tone. “I am happy to share my ruminations, but first I would appreciate any information you can share.” The man merely nodded in response. Granger began to sense the hostility that was palpable in the room. With the exception of Mordinov and Chichagov, the looks and attitudes he received were anything but friendly, but he had expected that. The Russian press had adopted the Danish perspective and had expressed their opinions accordingly. Most of the men in this room had probably accepted that as a factual depiction of things.

“It seems that as soon as your fleet arrived off Copenhagen, your admiral threatened the Danes, forcing them to choose between abandoning their allies or facing destruction,” Semyonovich said with a sneer. Granger noted that Semyonovich had not used Granger’s honorific, so he responded accordingly.

“The Danish government indeed found themselves in a tough situation,” Granger agreed, which seemed to annoy Semyonovich. “I am not interested in revisiting the underlying issues in this conflict, I am focused on the battle. I would ask you to do the same.”

“A nice way to avoid having to answer for the way Britain bullies smaller nations,” Semyonovich replied.

Granger turned to Mordinov. “Sir, I am happy to discuss this battle, but I am not willing to put up with insults, veiled or otherwise.”

“I am unclear as to what has possessed Admiral Semyonovich to act so rudely,” Mordinov said with a glare at the others. “I will make sure that His Imperial Majesty is aware of the hostility directed to you, and from whom it came.”

“That is most kind of you, sir, but I would not want to put you to any trouble,” Granger said, then stared at Semyonovich, his blue eyes cold and hard. “I can apprise His Imperial Majesty myself when I meet with him this evening.” The reminder that he had become quite close to the Tsar seemed to have a moderating influence on the others, but Semyonovich showed no change in his posture.

“My lord, we were led to believe that elite units of the Channel Fleet, which we understand to be the premier ships in the Royal Navy, were almost beaten by Danish floating batteries,” Admiral Kuragin said, parroting the press reports that had framed a British victory as a virtual defeat. Granger appreciated the tactful way he had pulled them back on topic.

“Sir, I would object to that characterization and assert that the Mediterranean Fleet is perhaps better, but that probably stems from my long service in that sea,” Granger said with a smile, getting a chuckle in return. “I am not sure that it matters, but most of the ships that attacked the Danes in the King’s Deep were not from the Channel Fleet but were in fact part of the North Sea Fleet.”

“Really?” Semyonovich challenged.

“Really,” Granger replied deadpan. “His Britannic Majesty’s ships Edgar, Defiance, and Bellona were part of the Channel Fleet. I do not know which fleet Ganges and Elephant were assigned to. Agamemnon and Edgar were both undergoing repairs the last I had heard.” Both of those ships had run aground and had substantial damage, so their presence told Granger how deep the Admiralty had dug to assemble the fleet sent to Copenhagen.

“What of the others, my lord?” one of the others asked.

“Polyphemus, Isis, Ardent, Glatton, Monarch, and Russell were part of the North Sea Fleet, sir.” Granger had excluded the frigates as was the custom in a fleet battle, which was about the ships of the line.

“The press reports state that of these ships, three of them were three-deckers, my lord,” Admiral Kuragin said. To some, discussing the ships in detail may not seem important, but Granger understood the issue being raised here. The press had portrayed the British ships as being the cream of the Royal Navy, when that was certainly not the fact.

Granger laughed. “It seems that the press reports here are no more accurate than in other countries, Admiral.” That got a chuckle from the rest of them. “The only three-decked ships of the line present were London and St. George, both of 98 guns. They were part of the reserve unit and did not directly participate in this action. Of the ships of the line who fought in the battle, seven were 74-gun two-deckers. Three of them were 64-gunners, fit to fight in the line but just barely. The Glatton is a converted East Indiaman and sails so badly she is one of the most unwanted commands in the fleet. Finally, the Isis has only 50 guns and is a little more than a large frigate.”

“It would seem that you had 13 battleships arrayed against a somewhat rag-tag Danish opponent, yet they nearly beat you,” Semyonovich said.

“My understanding is that there were 7 Danish battleships, of which one had been razed, along with several other ships, one of which was a floating battery,” Granger said. “It is important to keep in mind that three of the British ships ran aground and were effectively out of the action.”

“You are suggesting you were outclassed?” Semyonovich asked.

“I am not,” Granger said. “I am merely clarifying the differences. Britain’s fleet was mobile, giving it more flexibility while fighting, while the Danes were moored and could not maneuver. Against that, the shoals around Copenhagen are notoriously hazardous.”

“It seems that Lord Nelson’s strategy was simply to charge in and blast the Danish ships to pieces, my lord,” Kuragin said.

“That is most likely exactly what he planned, as it would be entirely in Lord Nelson’s character to do such a thing, sir,” Granger said. “I was with him at the Nile, when most would have held off the action until the morning, but Nelson charged ahead despite the risks and the darkness.”

“Such impetuosity is not a good thing,” Semyonovich pronounced.

“I am not familiar with your service history, Admiral,” Granger said innocently. “I am wondering if you have commanded a fleet in action, where your fleet was marginally smaller, but you were still able to annihilate 11 of your 13 opponents?” Semyonovich said nothing, while his colleagues hid their grins to various degrees.

“Do you think his strategy was the right thing in this situation, my lord?” Mordinov asked.

“I think that his strategy was sound, but as things turned out, it ended up seeming a bit rash,” Granger said. He saw the confusion on their faces so he explained. “If he had been a little slower, Lord Nelson may have realized that with the changes in Russia, a negotiated settlement may be possible, and that it was probably worth exploring without resorting to force.”

“Then your admiral would have missed out on an opportunity for glory, my lord,” Chichagov said with a grin.

“I fear that is a huge motivator for him,” Granger agreed.

“It would appear that the only way Nelson was able to extricate himself from the pounding he was taking from the Danes was to send a duplicitous letter to the Crown Prince, threatening to burn the ships he captured with the crews still aboard!” Semyonovich said in a loud voice.

“Ah yes, the infamous note,” Granger said dismissively. He pulled out his papers and read it to them. “To the Brothers of the Englishmen, the Danes: Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson has been commanded to spare Denmark, when she no longer resists. The line of defence which covered her shores has struck to the British flag: but if firing is continued on the part of Denmark, he must set on fire all the prizes he has taken, without having the power of saving the men who have so nobly defended them. The brave Danes are the brother, and never should be the enemies, of the English.”

“Exactly,” Semyonovich said. “Surrender or we will burn you alive! Yet he had not defeated the Danes at all. In fact, he was at risk of losing a number of ships!”

Granger shook his head dismissively. “As hard fought as it was, the end result of the battle was never in doubt. Nelson did not send that note from a position of fear, he sent it because he was angry. From his perspective, some of the Danish ships surrendered, but then before Nelson could take possession of them, fresh gunners were sent from the shore and the ships resumed firing. If that is true, it is a clear violation of the code of warfare.”

“Perhaps,” Semyonovich said. “If it is true.”

“I would further point out that while Nelson did not appear to have beaten the Danish fleet as badly as he made it sound, by the time the note got to the Crown Prince, the battle had changed such that it was in fact that dire for the Danes. One would assume that the Crown Prince would take a telescope or talk to his naval officers to ascertain that for himself before agreeing to a truce,” Granger pointed out.

“My lord, are you suggesting this was a complete British victory?” Kuragin asked.

“In the short term, perhaps,” Granger said cautiously. He was very frustrated with this battle and opted to let the others see his thoughts. “I think that both Britain and Denmark were forced into a situation where neither could effectively compromise. So to that end, by forcing the Danes to cease hostilities, it was a short term British Strategic victory.”

“Why only short-term, my lord?” Kuragin asked.

“Because the defeated Danish ships were obsolete and useless for sea duty. The seagoing Danish Fleet was safely hidden in the inner harbor. Nelson pulverized outdated ships and barges, but the major units of the Danish Fleet are unscathed,” Granger said. “Many sailors died on both sides so the Royal Navy could vanquish some hulks.”

“That does not sound very glorious when you put it that way, my lord,” Chichagov said.

Granger chuckled. “I suspect the press reports in Britain will focus on the gallant and hard fight, which it most certainly was, sir.”

“What will your Lord Nelson do now that he has slaughtered innocent Danes?” Semyonovich asked.

“First, admiral, I must strenuously disagree with your portrayal of Denmark as an innocent victim. But to answer your question, Lord Nelson is not in command, Admiral Parker is. I would expect Admiral Parker to proceed cautiously and first approach the Swedes in Karlskrona,” Granger said.

“And if Lord Nelson is commanding the fleet, my lord?” Mordinov asked.

“Then sir, I would expect a large British fleet to arrive off Reval shortly,” Granger said. That seemed to end their meeting, and after much glad handing and a small post-conference with Mordinov and Chichagov, he was finally able to extricate himself from the Admiralty. As he exited, he was surprised to find Admiral Semyonovich waiting for him.

“Might I trouble you for a ride, my lord?” he asked respectfully. Granger was shocked by the change in demeanor, and was tempted to tell the man to walk, but his manners asserted themselves.

“Of course, Admiral,” he said, and gestured for Semyonovich to precede him into the vozok. “I fear with the thaw, I shall have to give up my winter conveyance.”

“It will be useful for a few more weeks, at least, my lord,” Semyonovich replied. “I wanted to apologize for being so rude to you during the conference.”

That stunned Granger. “I am curious as to why you adopted such a confrontational approach.”

“There were many in that room who would not have asked the questions I did, but who needed to hear your answers,” he said. “I felt that with my seniority, and my reputation as someone who is difficult to get along with, I would be the perfect foil.”

Granger laughed at that. “That was most ingenious, Admiral. I am very glad you told me of your purpose. It now makes sense, and I hope it was effective.” Semyonovich had made a risky but clever move. He had confronted Granger in the meeting and had been pointedly rude, knowing that Granger was someone who had the Tsar’s ear. That had probably increased his reputation in the eyes of the other naval officers in the room, who would admire his courage. At the same time, he had relied on his ability to personally placate Granger so that he would experience no repercussions due to his actions. He was lucky his plan had worked.