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landsmen. The four prisoners were devastatingly ill with seasickness, as were the Federal marshals. Slidell groaned aloud, praying that their vessel either arrive in safe harbor—or sink. Anything to end the torment.
    It was not until the afternoon of the second day that the storm-battered San Jacinto sailed into the smoother waters of Boston harbor and tied up at the wharf on FortWarren. The exhausted prisoners were led away by an armed squad of soldiers, the Federal marshals stumbling in their wake. Lieutenant Fairfax supervised the unloading of their luggage and their supplies from the Trent. FortWarren was a secure prison, the fort's high stone walls running right around the tiny island. When Fairfax returned to the ship he brought the day's newspapers to the captain's cabin.
    "The entire country is jubilant, Sir. They hail you as the savior of the nation."
    Wilkes did not reveal the pleasure he felt at this news. He had only done his duty as he saw it—though the naval authorities might not have seen it in quite the same way. But nothing succeeds like success. He almost smiled at the good news. His superior officers would find it hard, in the light of public jubilation, to find a way for him to be reproved for his actions. He read the headlines with grim satisfaction.
    "Apparently, Lieutenant Fairfax, there is no love lost in this country for our prisoners. Look here. Mason is called a knave, a coward and a bully... dear, dear. And even more—a pompous snob as well as being a conceited and shallow traitor."
    Fairfax was also reading the papers. "Slidell is treated the same way here in The Globe. They see him as cold, clever, selfish, rapacious and corrupt."
    "And we thought we were just seizing a brace of traitorous politicians. I wonder if the English newspapers will see this matter in the same light?"
    "I very much doubt that, Captain."

    Lord Palmerston read the London newspapers as he waited for his Cabinet to assemble, nodding with grim agreement at the bombast and rage.
    "I concur with every word, gentlemen, every word," he said, waving a handful of the journals across the Cabinet table. "The country is with us, the public outraged. We must act with deliberate speed lest these rebellious colonials believe their cowardly act will go unremarked. Now—have you all had a chance to look at the documents from the Trent?"
    "I have gone through them quite carefully," William Gladstone said. "Except, of course, for the personal communications for the Queen and the French Emperor."
    Palmerston nodded. "These will be sent on."
    "As for the instructions to the dockyards and other documents, they are full proof of the legitimacy of these ambassadors. I know not how the French will respond—but I for one am amazed at the Yankee gall in this seaborne capture."
    "I share your feelings," Palmerston said.
    "Then your proposed action, my lord?" Russell asked.
    "After due consideration, and in the light of public support, I feel that something drastic must be done, firm action taken. I have a draft of the dispatch here before me," Palmerston answered, tapping the letter on the desk in front of him. "Originally I thought that a protest through normal diplomatic channels would suffice, which is why I have called you together. But I have since come to believe that this universal outpouring of rage cannot be ignored. We must speak for the country—and speak with most righteous indignation. I have prepared a dispatch for the American government, and have couched it in the strongest terms. I have given instructions that the mail steamer is to be held in Southampton awaiting the arrival of this communication. The Queen will see it today and will undoubtedly agree with every word. When she approves—then off it will go."
    "Sir?"
    "Yes Mr. Gladstone," Palmerston responded, smiling. William Gladstone, his Chancellor of the Exchequer, was a rock of support in trying times.
    "It is my pleasure to inform you that my wife and I are dining