Chapter 166: Peace and Business (4)
It's great when the French government foots the bill, and they do it promptly. Negotiating prices with them is also a breeze. You know, the French government has a peculiar trait they always choose the expensive option, not necessarily the right one. Even for a simple coffee cup, they opt for the priciest choice. If you dare to set a high price, even 1,500 francs, they'll go for it. Cheap prices, on the other hand, make them unhappy because it messes up their bookkeeping.
In contrast, the Polish people are a bit stingy. They buy simple versions of revolvers without rifling, the "Little Melons" without engravings, or landmines without explosives they'd rather chisel their own stones.
So, boat after boat filled with weapons continuously shipped to Ireland. Meanwhile, members of the Irish resistance organization kept coming to France for special operations training.
The French government may be generous with money, but they're eager to see a return on their investment. They want to witness a spectacular outcome. Only then will they have a reason to increase their investment.
On the morning of May 7, 1797, as the sun rose, Dublin woke up like any other day. People started filling the streets, and the British soldiers were changing guard outside the Governor's residence. Inside, Duke Anderson Russell, Governor of Dublin, was receiving a report from the sheriff, Darcy.
"Are you saying that some rebels are actively operating, and they might be getting help from France?"
"Yes, Your Excellency. Some time ago, our patrol found signs of fires under some cliffs on the west coast. Sometimes, we also find many footprints on the nearby beaches. Your Excellency, we believe these fires are used for nighttime communication with ships at sea, and the footprints indicate that either many people landed here, or a lot of cargo did. Your Excellency, you know there are no strategic supplies from France that are crucial for Ireland, so I suspect the French are secretly aiding these rebels."
"Darcy," Duke Bedford said, "I just noticed you said you found signs of fires 'under some cliffs' and sometimes footprints. That means people are engaging in illegal activities at night. Have you taken any action?"
"Your Excellency, soldiers are highly reluctant to act at night. It's unsafe, and accidents can easily happen when patrolling these areas."
"What kind of accidents? Are they being attacked?" Duke Bedford's eyebrows twitched.
"Yes, Your Excellency, the security in those areas has never been good."
"These cursed Irish. Well, I know this situation didn't happen overnight, and it's not all your fault. Darcy, you reported this to me for a reason. What kind of assistance are you seeking from me?"
"I believe that to curb this situation, we must rely on the naval power. I know that if the French are involved, they likely use cutters. In normal circumstances, our warships can't intercept these vessels. However, I think when they load or unload cargo, they have to stop. If our navy could show up at that moment, we might catch them."
Such carriages, pulled by four large horses, were not uncommon in Dublin, and their owners were usually high-ranking figures from England. The carriage gradually approached the Governor's residence, slowing down as it appeared ready to stop and undergo the guards' questioning.
The carriage neared the front entrance of the Governor's residence and came to a halt. Several guards approached, preparing to inquire. But at that moment, the carriage suddenly exploded.
This stolen carriage was loaded with a whopping 150 kilograms of nitrocellulose. It was being driven by an Irish patriot determined to sacrifice for his country. He controlled it. This explosion obliterated the soldiers surrounding it, the main gates of the Governor's residence, and the nearby barracks. It created chaos and destruction.
With the explosion, people who had been wandering further away suddenly pulled out their concealed revolvers and Bonaparte Little Melons. They stormed the Governor's residence, shooting anyone who moved, whether they were soldiers or servants, men or women.
Occasionally, a few soldiers from further away fired at them, but they were quickly brought down by dozens of revolvers or hit by Bonaparte Little Melon grenades that seemed to come from nowhere. These people couldn't stop the Irish advance.
Darcy, along with Duke Bedford, escaped toward the back door. But just as they reached the area near the rear door, they heard gunshots and Bonaparte Little Melon explosions from that direction too.
Darcy led the Duke to a drainage ditch. It ran through the wall and led outside. The water in the ditch was quite shallow now, seemingly allowing them to crawl out.
"Your Excellency, the situation is dire. We must escape through here," Darcy said.
"I'll go first!" Duke Bedford didn't bother with noble decorum at this point. He knew how much these rebels hated him, and what would happen if they got their hands on him.
Duke Bedford jumped into the drainage ditch, crouched down, and started crawling out. But he was a bit too plump, and halfway through, he got stuck.
"Darcy, Darcy, come push me!" Duke Bedford shouted.
Then he heard someone jump into the ditch behind him. Soon, a push against his buttocks and then... he got stuck even tighter.
"Push harder, a little harder! Ah... like that, Darcy, push harder!"
But just at that moment, there were several gunshots, and the pushing on his backside stopped. He knew it was not good and quickly redoubled his efforts to get through. With this last-ditch effort, he seemed to inch forward a bit, his widest part finally passing the narrow passage. But just then, several hands grabbed his legs...
