“General Sherman, this is Commander William Wilson, the second officer of this vessel. The commander was a chartered surveyor before he attended Annapolis and began his naval career.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Commander,” Sherman said, having a strong inkling of what Fox had in mind. When Fox next spoke his suspicions proved correct.

“I told Commander Wilson only the bare fact that you and I were undertaking a mission of great importance to our country. As well as one that might be highly dangerous. As a serving officer, he could of course be ordered to accompany us. However, considering the secrecy — not to mention the delicacy — of this assignment, I felt that the decision must be left up to him. Therefore I asked him if he would aid us without receiving any more information than that at the present time. I am happy to say that he volunteered.”

“I am pleased to hear so, Commander,” Sherman said. “It is good to have you on our side.”

“It is indeed my pleasure,” said Wilson. “I’ll be frank, General. I find the whole matter very mysterious, and under different circumstances I might reconsider my decision. However, I do welcome the chance to serve under you. Our country owes its very existence to your valor in battle, so I deem this a great honor indeed.”

“Thank you, Commander. And I know that Gus will tell you everything as soon as possible. In the meantime we must take our instructions from him.”

“Let’s start with this,” Fox said, taking a box from under the table and opening it to remove three silk hats. “These are as different from uniform hats as I could manage at short notice. I hope that I bought the right sizes.”

They traded the hats around, smiling as they tried them on, until they had each found a reasonable fit.

“These will do fine,” Fox said, looking into the mirror and tapping his into place at a rakish angle. “Now — will each of you please pack a small bag with personal necessities? No clothes, please, that will be taken care of later. Meet me here at midnight. And please wear trousers without piping. I will have greatcoats for you, also with their insignia removed. The captain has said that he will provide enough squads of armed sailors to sweep the dockside area as soon as it is dark and remove any intruders. This is most important, since we must not be seen as we leave.”

“And just where are we going?” Sherman asked.

Fox just smiled and touched a finger to his lips. “All will soon be revealed.”

There was no light on deck when, soon after midnight, they emerged into the darkness. Nor was anyone visible on the dock below. They felt their way down the gangway in the moonless night, with only starlight to guide them. There was a black form barely visible on the dock; a horse’s whinny revealed a waiting carriage.

“Entrez, s’il vous plaît,” a man whispered, holding the door open for them. The carriage jolted into motion as soon as they were seated. Curtains covered the windows. They could not see out — neither could anyone look in. They sat in silence, jostled about as the carriage bumped over cobbles, then picked up speed on a smoother road.

The trip seemed to last forever as they moved swiftly through the dark city. They stopped just once and there was the murmur of voices outside. Afterward, the horses speeded up to a fast trot — until they stopped once again. This time the door was opened by a man holding a blacked-out lantern. He lifted the covering flap of the lantern just enough to reveal the carriage steps.

“If you will please come with me.”

They heard the sounds of lapping water and saw that they were at another dock. Granite steps led down from the ground level to a waiting boat. Six silent sailors manned it, oars rigidly upright. Their guide helped them into the stern, then cast off the painter and joined them. As soon as he was seated, he said something in a foreign, guttural tongue. The sailors lowered their oars smartly and rowed them out into the stream. There were lights on the small ship anchored a little ways out, and a uniformed officer waiting at the foot of the gangway to help them aboard. Their guide was out first.

“Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to follow me.”

He led them belowdecks to a large compartment that spanned the width of the small vessel. It was brightly lit by candles and lamps.

“Welcome aboard the Aurora,” he said. “I am Count Alexander Korzhenevski.” He turned to the puzzled naval commander and put out his hand. “These other gentlemen I know, but you, sir, are also very welcome here. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. And you are…?”

“Wilson, sir. Commander William Wilson.”

“Welcome aboard, Commander. Now, gentlemen, please. Remove your outer garments and join me in some champagne.”

A white-jacketed sailor instantly appeared with bubbling glasses on a tray. They drank and looked around at the luxuriously appointed compartment. Heavy red curtains covered the shining brass portholes. Oil paintings of naval scenes adorned the walls; the chairs were soft and comfortable. The door opened and a young Russian officer with a curling blond beard joined them, taking a glass of champagne, nodding and smiling.

“Gentleman,” the Count said. “May I introduce Lieutenant Simenov, our first engineer.”

“Bloody good!” Simenov said, shaking Fox’s hand industriously.

“Ah — you speak English, then?”

“Bloody good!”

“I’m afraid that is the be-all and the end-all of his English,” Korzhenevski explained. “But he is a bloody great engineer.”

“Now, if you please,” Commander Wilson said. “Will someone be so kind as to tell me just what is happening? I admit to being completely in the dark.”

“Of course,” Fox said. “It seems that the Count has been kind enough to put his steam yacht at our disposal. We shall sail aboard her, and it is our intent to visit as many British coastal defenses as we can. That is why I asked you to volunteer. I look to your drafting skills to chart these positions.”

“Good God! We’re to be spies! They’ll arrest us on sight—”

“Not quite,” the Count said. “I am well-known in naval quarters and my presence is quite acceptable. While you gentlemen will be my guests as… Russian officers.”

Wilson’s face was a study in blank bewilderment. This morning he had been a naval officer on an American warship. Now, a few short hours later, he was to be a Russian officer poking about the English shores. It all sounded very chancy — and very dangerous. He did not speak his doubts aloud since the others seemed quite happy to go along with the subterfuge. Instead he shrugged, emptied his glass, and held it out to be refilled.

“You must all be tired,” Korzhenevski said. “But I am afraid I must ask you to stay up for a short time longer.” He issued a command in Russian to one of the sailors, who saluted and left the room. A short time later he returned with two men who were carrying tape measures, chalk, and notebooks; obviously tailors. They quickly measured the three Americans, bowed, and left.

“That will be all for this evening, gentlemen,” Korzhenevski said. “Whenever you wish, you will be shown to your quarters. But perhaps, first, you would like to join me in a glass of cognac to seal this day’s momentous events.”

No one said no.

Soon after dawn a light tapping on the compartment door awoke General Sherman. A moment later the door opened and a mess boy brought in a steaming cup of coffee and put it on the table by the bed. Close behind him came a sailor carrying a gleaming white uniform. He smiled and said something in Russian and laid it carefully across a chair. On top of it he placed a large, white uniform cap.

“I’m sure that you are right,” Sherman said, sitting up in bed and gratefully sipping the coffee.