David Ogilvy had never expected to be a hero, but here he was, being feted across the streets of London, sitting in a carriage beside the Foreign Secretary whilst crowds cheered him as "The Hero of Zanzibar". He was still not entirely sure how it had all happened - he had given his word to the confusing American officer who was dressed like an Arab, and an hour later the Consulate force of Royal Marines had been holding a line against enraged US sailors whilst skeleton crews from six of their vessels hoisted the Union Jack.
Royal Navy and Omani vessels had interposed themselves between these six, and the rest of the American fleet, but those sailors remaining loyal to the Dictator in Washington had tried to force the issue on land. The Marines had seen them off, whilst British cruisers had turned out additional armed guards to protect them. The next day the remains of the US fleet under Admiral Maverick had sailed, departing Zanzibar for points East.
Harmsworth's Mail Times had proclaimed him a hero - the man who had broken the American fleet, the man who had gained six warships for Britain, the man who had averted war with the Americans by his quick action. Ogilvy had protested to the Foreign Office that he had merely been doing his duty, responding to one crisis after another, and they had believed him, but informed him that appearance was what mattered. A cruiser had been ordered to bring him home at best speed, and now here he was, elevated to Deputy Foreign Secretary, and feted with a triumph in the streets of London
He did not know what he felt. He half-expected there to be someone sitting beside him whispering that he was mortal, but there was only the Foreign Secretary, looking stiffly unamused, and uttering hardly a word. The crowds seemed happy, but it was not so much they were happy at him, but at what he had done, and the consequences of that. They would forget him soon enough, he thought.
Best Regards
Grey Wolf
Royal Navy and Omani vessels had interposed themselves between these six, and the rest of the American fleet, but those sailors remaining loyal to the Dictator in Washington had tried to force the issue on land. The Marines had seen them off, whilst British cruisers had turned out additional armed guards to protect them. The next day the remains of the US fleet under Admiral Maverick had sailed, departing Zanzibar for points East.
Harmsworth's Mail Times had proclaimed him a hero - the man who had broken the American fleet, the man who had gained six warships for Britain, the man who had averted war with the Americans by his quick action. Ogilvy had protested to the Foreign Office that he had merely been doing his duty, responding to one crisis after another, and they had believed him, but informed him that appearance was what mattered. A cruiser had been ordered to bring him home at best speed, and now here he was, elevated to Deputy Foreign Secretary, and feted with a triumph in the streets of London
He did not know what he felt. He half-expected there to be someone sitting beside him whispering that he was mortal, but there was only the Foreign Secretary, looking stiffly unamused, and uttering hardly a word. The crowds seemed happy, but it was not so much they were happy at him, but at what he had done, and the consequences of that. They would forget him soon enough, he thought.
Best Regards
Grey Wolf