Novels online

Chapter 1104: The Empire's Little Trouble

Inside the Chatham Dockyard office in eastern London, Sir Hope slammed his hand against his desk, roaring at the procurement official standing before him.

"Send those damned Frenchmen gold, women—as much as they want! That is what you lot are best at! Just get me those bloody steam engines back here!"

The procurement official kept his head bowed, whispering tentatively, "We have tried every one of those methods, Director, but they refuse to sell regardless of the offer..."

In a fit of rage, Hope kicked over a nearby coat rack and bellowed at the man, "Then stop standing around and find another way!"

He had originally assumed he could simply purchase a batch of French steam engines to install in his steam paddleboats. This would allow him to fulfill orders that were on the verge of default and resolve the immediate crisis. While the French engines would require significant modifications to fit, most customers would likely prefer a slight delay over a total cancellation of their orders.

He had never imagined the French would actually turn down a massive order for seventy steam engines, especially at a price thirty-five percent above the market rate.

Hope gazed out the window toward the mouth of the River Thames. A vast number of completed hulls for steam paddleboats floated there, and as he watched them, he felt a sharp pang of chest pain.

The costs in the shipbuilding industry were astronomical. Those sixty-odd vessels had consumed nearly seventy percent of the shipyard's capital. Now, not only were they unable to recoup their investment, but they also faced a staggering sum in liquidated damages for breach of contract.

"Those cursed Frenchmen!" Hope cursed loudly. He simply could not fathom why the French United Steam Engine Company would walk away from such easy profit.

Of course, if he had known that the major shareholder behind both the United Steam Engine Company and the Brest Shipyard was the same person, he might not have been so surprised.

Every steam paddleboat order Chatham Dockyard lost would naturally flow to Brest, where the profit margins were several times higher than simply selling engines.

Furthermore, Chatham was one of the British Navy's primary shipyards. Joseph was more than happy to see it go out of business.

A knock sounded at the door. Hope's assistant slipped into the room, quickly closing the door behind him before speaking in a tense voice.

"Director, I have heard the board of directors has decided to convene a meeting tomorrow morning to hold a vote of confidence against you."

For some reason, hearing this actually made Hope feel a sense of relief. If he could simply walk away from this disaster and retire, it didn't seem like such a bad outcome.

He sighed and turned to his assistant. "Prepare yourself. We are going to see Lord Middleton."

Lord Middleton was the Comptroller of the Navy Board, the man who controlled all shipbuilding funds for the British Navy.

...

10 Downing Street.

Lord Grenville was about to speak when he was interrupted by shouting from the street outside.

"Lower the price of sugar!"

"Punish the corrupt officials manipulating the market!"

"Investigate the sugar short-selling scandal!"

"Throw the heartless traitors into prison!"

The Home Secretary, the Earl of Spencer, turned pale. He signaled to his assistant at the door, gritting his teeth as he hissed, "How did these people manage to get onto Downing Street? Disperse them immediately!"

"Yes, my lord."

Grenville frowned. "Find out immediately who is spreading these damnable rumors and arrest them."

At some point, the British public had become convinced that the soaring price of sugar was due to 'high-ranking government officials shorting sugar for personal profit, only to have their positions liquidated due to incompetence, triggering a vengeful market rally.'

The Earl of Spencer muttered to himself that 'in a way, it wasn't exactly a rumor,' but he quickly bowed. "Yes, Prime Minister."

It had to be admitted that the Society of United Irishmen was truly exceptional at fabricating and spreading rumors.

Not only did they have the numbers, but their favorite pastime was criticizing the British government. Now, someone had written a script for them to follow and was paying them a monthly stipend of five shillings. This had energized them to the point where, aside from eating and sleeping, their mouths never stopped moving.

The effect was far more potent than any pamphlet could ever be.

Before long, the sound of police whistles drifted through the window, followed by the screams and curses of the protesters. Soon after, the street fell back into a heavy silence.

The Earl of Spencer cleared his throat and was the first to speak. "Prime Minister, perhaps we must consider increasing the sugar subsidies. The current price is indeed a bit high. If we don't resolve this, the riots will not cease."

Grenville looked at the subsidy proposal submitted by his trade advisor three days prior.

"To bring the price of sugar down to two shillings and three pence per pound, we would need to increase subsidies by at least two million pounds."

He glanced at Little Pitt with a touch of gratitude. If the latter hadn't managed to save those 7,200 tons of sugar, the subsidy figure would have reached two and a half million.

The room fell silent for a moment before Petty, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, shouted excitedly.

"No, Prime Minister! Our finances cannot provide such a massive sum! We cannot compromise with the mob outside! High sugar prices are a burden that every citizen must bear as part of their duty!"

Grenville did not rebuke him for his lack of decorum, but simply asked calmly, "What amount of subsidy do you believe would be appropriate?"

"One million pounds..." Petty hesitated before adding, "At most, one point two million. And even that money must wait until the Bank of England completes the next two rounds of currency issuance."

Indeed, over the past six months, the British treasury had developed a dependency on printing money.

They had gone from hesitant, tentative issuances to discussing the volume of new currency without any psychological burden. Now, it was being executed steadily according to a semi-annual expansion plan.

Grenville compared the figures to the subsidy plan and shook his head slightly.

"A subsidy of one point two million would mean a sugar price of nearly three shillings per pound. That is still far too high."

Petty snapped back immediately, "If anyone is dissatisfied with that price, let the militia and the mounted police 'persuade' them otherwise."

Grenville shook his head again. Before he could speak, Sir Reid, the Prime Minister's industrial advisor, took a step forward.

"Gentlemen, we actually have a small trouble that must be dealt with as soon as possible."

Everyone turned to look at him simultaneously.

Reid placed a report in front of Grenville and continued.

"I assume you have all heard about the situation with the Boulton and Watt Steam Engine Company.

"But in reality, after an audit by the investment fund, it was discovered that their ledgers involve a vast amount of cross-asset holdings, which led to their capital being severely overestimated...

"I will skip straight to the conclusion. This company needs to pay one hundred and ten thousand pounds in liquidated damages within the month, while their actual liquid capital is—negative thirty thousand pounds.

"Their stock price was seven pounds and three shillings per share this morning, which means they are, for all intents and purposes, bankrupt."

"Dammit!" Petty shouted angrily. "We shouldn't have poured so much capital into them in the first place. Fine, let them go under. Someone will take over their factories and workers and continue producing steam engines."

Reid shook his head. "I'm afraid this company cannot be allowed to fail. Their steam engines are tied to a massive number of orders for Chatham Dockyard, as well as the Royal Navy's next generation of warships.

"Furthermore, I must remind you all that dozens of factories provide components for Boulton and Watt, or are contracted to build their facilities and transport their products.

"If they collapse, we will likely see a repeat of the disaster that followed the gas streetlight project."