Chapter 1098: Standoff in the Sugar War
Petty looked at the intelligence officer from Lloyd's of London standing before him. "So, it’s the French who are buying up the sugar?"
Over the past three days, a mysterious buyer had been snapping up nearly 1,500 tons of sugar every day. Consequently, Petty had hired Lloyd's to investigate the origin of the capital.
The intelligence officer nodded. "Although the individuals conducting the transactions vary, the funds are all being funneled from the Bank of France."
A smirk played across Petty's lips.
"The French finally couldn't help themselves. Good, that makes things interesting."
He dismissed the man from Lloyd's and immediately instructed his assistant to increase the daily amount of sugar released onto the market to 2,000 tons.
He knew perfectly well that with France's financial strength, it was impossible for them to buy out his entire stockpile of nearly 50,000 tons of sugar.
That would require a staggering three hundred million francs—a sum France couldn't produce even if they drained every bank in their country dry.
Or, if France truly intended to exhaust all its domestic liquid capital for the sake of sugar, it would be a godsend for England—France would suffer an immediate economic crisis, followed by total financial collapse.
The sugar price at the Paris Futures Exchange had stalled at two shillings and sixpence. The French were clearly starting to get desperate.
The situation unfolded exactly as Petty had predicted. After he released a total of 5,500 tons of sugar, the French buyers sputtered out, and daily transaction volume plummeted back to around 300 tons.
Shortly after, the sugar price on the Paris Futures Exchange dropped to two shillings and fourpence per pound.
To mark the occasion, Petty convened his subordinates for a small celebration.
"It’s obvious the French have admitted defeat," Petty declared, raising his glass with an air of immense self-satisfaction. "The price of sugar is back under our control!
"Starting tomorrow, the price of sugar in Europe will drop to two shillings per pound.
"To a great victory!"
Dozens of financial officials rose to toast him, their cheers and sycophantic praise washing over Petty in waves.
They had no idea that this French counterattack was merely an appetizer.
The capital currently in the market belonged to the high nobility of Versailles, totaling less than thirty million francs.
Indeed, under the Countess of Provence's strict 'confidentiality,' more than thirty nobles had learned of this rare investment opportunity.
They had been skeptical at first, but once they heard that Queen Marie had taken 1.2 million francs from her own dowry to buy sugar in London, they immediately followed suit.
Queen Marie doted on her son to no end; with just a bit of coaxing from Joseph, she hadn't hesitated to part with the money.
At this moment, Joseph still held over twenty-three million francs in government and bank funds, but he was in no hurry to use them.
The Sugar War had been going on for less than a month and a half; the Paris futures market could still hold its ground.
He wanted the British to feel they had already won, encouraging them to keep shorting the price with confidence so that the cost of the sugar he eventually bought would be even lower.
Later, he would continue to feign defeat, luring the British into throwing all their ammunition onto the market. Only then would he strike to kill the shorts, dealing Britain the heaviest blow possible.
One week later.
The price of sugar on the London Futures Exchange had fallen to one shilling and sevenpence per pound—roughly two francs. Joseph moved again.
While Petty was somewhat surprised by the news, his remaining stock of over 40,000 tons gave him plenty of confidence.
His orders to his subordinates were simple: "Release enough supply to see exactly how much capital the French have raised this time."
For four consecutive days, the mysterious buyer purchased another 6,000 tons of sugar before retreating once more.
Petty looked at the report showing a remaining inventory of 35,000 tons, a smug smile appearing on his face.
In the West End of London, within the St. Giles district.
Mrs. Bowen was humming a little tune as she turned the corner, only to be startled by the sight of a queue stretching hundreds of feet down the street.
Ever since the price of sugar had started to drop, the sugar shops had been mostly deserted—it was the way of all goods; the more the price fell, the less people wanted to buy.
As Mrs. Bowen hesitated, wondering if she should join the line, a woman at the end of the queue waved to her.
"Mrs. Bowen! Over here, come quickly!"
She hurried over, frowning at the long line ahead. "Mrs. Mars, I think we'll be waiting until dark at this rate. Perhaps we should come back tomorrow."
Mrs. Mars, her neighbor, grabbed her arm firmly and whispered solemnly, "Haven't you heard? The price of sugar is about to skyrocket. Tomorrow it might not be one shilling and fourpence anymore."
Mrs. Bowen was shocked. "But the price has been falling."
Mrs. Mars lowered her voice further. "I heard there’s fighting all over the Caribbean, and there’s almost no harvest this year.
"The French sugar beets have been hit by a plague of insects; they say the yield will be cut in half.
"Now, everyone is saying the price will explode soon, maybe even higher than last July."
"Is that true?!"
"You know my cousin works at City Hall," Mrs. Mars said. "He heard that many foreigners have come to London to snap up sugar, buying thousands of tons at a time.
"Right now, London is keeping the price down with government subsidies, but who knows how long that will last.
"I’m planning to buy fifteen pounds to stock up. Oh, you should buy more too. Once the price goes up, you'll save a fortune."
Mrs. Bowen nodded nervously. "Alright, I'll follow your lead."
The British Home Secretary, Earl Spencer, frowned at several subordinates. "What on earth is going on lately? People are buying up sugar like they've gone mad."
An official in charge of market management spoke up quickly. "My Lord, there have been rumors lately that the sugar harvests in France and the Caribbean have failed and that prices will skyrocket. It’s caused a panic."
Spencer snapped in irritation, "Damnation! Who is spreading such nonsense? Arrest whoever is responsible for these rumors!"
The rumors were, of course, being spread by the Society of United Irishmen at Joseph's request.
They were deeply embedded in British society, living as ordinary workers and officials, and their numbers were vast.
With thousands of people spreading rumors in an organized, large-scale manner, they quickly triggered a societal fear of sugar shortages across Britain.
Given the speed of information in this era, let alone the distant Caribbean, even information about the French sugar beet harvest was inaccessible to the average Briton, making it extremely difficult to debunk the claims.
Even in the internet age of the twenty-first century, rumors of crop failures for things like ginger or garlic can trigger panic buying; in the eighteenth century, setting the record straight would take at least a month.
Meanwhile, the activity at the London Futures Exchange only seemed to validate the rumors—the transactions involving over 10,000 tons of sugar in just over two weeks were easily traceable.
If there wasn't a shortage, why would anyone buy so much sugar?
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