“The President speaks the truth,” Mill said. “I realize that it will be hard for you to do — but do it you must. You can do it and you will do it.”

Lincoln ran his fingers though his hair and nodded his head. “As the lady said when she started to eat the whole watermelon, I don’t know if I can do it or not, but I’m sure going to give it the best try I can.”

Davis hesitated, then nodded grim agreement. “For all our sakes I will try. When Mr. Mill explains these matters it makes sense. But will it be the same when I return to my plantation? Where will I find the words to explain what will happen when I speak with other plantation owners?”

“I will give you the words, Mr. Davis,” Mill said. “There is a clarity of design here that once perceived must be believed.”

“I pray that you can do that,” Lincoln said. “We will follow this course and at the same time we will not forget that while we are doing this we must also see that the war is won as well.”

Some of the American regiments had marched north, up the length of the Hudson Valley, their supply wagons churning up the dusty roads behind them. Others had come by troop train, from the deep South and the Far West. The cavalrymen flanked the regiments on the roads, their weary mounts trotting with lowered heads after the fatigues of the journey. On they came, a river of blue uniforms, a flood of butternut-gray. They were grim in purpose: firm in their resolve. The invaders would be pushed back, driven from the soil of these reunited United States.

Trestles had been set up in the shade of a grove of oak trees, boards placed on them and the maps spread out. General of the Armies, Supreme Commander-in-Chief, General William Tecumseh Sherman, looked around his gathered officers and nodded greeting.

“I feel that I am among friends again, and sincerely hope that you all share that feeling.”

There were nods and smiles.

“It is very much like being back at West Point,” General Robert E. Lee said.

“Agreed,” General Ulysses S. Grant said. “And I much more prefer my fellow cadets fighting at my side than against me.”

“And fight is what we will do,” Sherman said. “Fight and win.” He touched a map with his index finger and the watching officers leaned close.

“General Grant, you will continue to hold the line here as you have done so well up to now. When will your reinforcements be in place?”

“By dawn at the very latest. As the fresh regiments take over I’m withdrawing the veterans. They have been badly knocked about.”

“Fine. With your reinforcements you will hold in strength. You should have no real difficulty repelling any attacks. But you will hold and not advance from your positions for the moment. The opening attack will be yours, General Lee. Your troops will swing around from behind our left flank, here, and proceed to hit the enemy the mightiest blow that you can. We have enough guns now to soften them up with a barrage. When it lifts — you go in. The British will be outflanked. They will be faced by your army to the west of them. Grant’s entrenched army here to the north — and the river to the east of them. They’ll find no peace there because the flotilla of ironclads will arrive tonight. Their guns will be part of the bombardment. When you strike they will be forced to retreat or be destroyed. And the instant they fall back General Grant’s troops will attack as well.”

Robert E. Lee smiled grimly as he swept his hand across the map. “So we’ll hit them here, here and here. If they stand they are destroyed. If they retreat north, as they must do, our cavalry will be out there to give them greeting. A simple plan, sir, and one that I heartily approve of. After this night’s rest the troops will be mighty refreshed and more than ready for the attack.”

Ulysses S. Grant nodded solemn agreement. “We have been too long on the defensive, gentlemen, and it grows very wearisome. I take great delight in going on the offensive at last.” He bit the end off a long black cigar and scratched alight a match, blew a cloud of smoke up toward the oak leaves above. “We’ll smoke them out and attack and then attack again. Very few of them will find their way back to Canada if we do this correctly.” Sherman nodded in agreement.

“So shall it be. I have never led officers with such commitment, or commanded men with such mighty resolve. Tomorrow we will put this commitment and resolve to the test of fire. There is no justice in battle, no certainty in war. But we are as prepared as ever we will be. In the morning I think — I know — that every man in this army will fight. And fight to win.”

At their next meeting President Lincoln had some welcome news for Jefferson Davis. “I have prepared a message for Congress, outlining the straightforward agreements that we have reached. I’ll discuss it with my Cabinet today and have it read to the Congress this afternoon.”

Davis nodded. “I’ll await the result. Then return to Richmond for the same task with the Confederate Congress. We must finish our discussions now while the war rages, come to conclusive agreement while feelings are at their highest.”

Lincoln pulled his watch from his fob pocket and looked at it. “With this course in mind I have asked Gustavus Fox to join us here in a few minutes. He is an Assistant Secretary of the Navy, although in reality he has a far more important role in government. Mr. Fox travels a good deal, to many places where he meets with his many friends. He sees to it that we know far more about America’s enemies than they know about us.”

Davis sipped the coffee and smiled wryly. “I thought that the excellent Mr. Pinkerton headed your secret service?”

Lincoln smiled as well. “If he did it would not be secret long — nor much of a service. I believe that your people convinced his agents that the forces facing General McClellan were twice what they really were.”

“Not twice, Abraham, thrice.”

“No wonder Little Napoleon was always so reluctant to attack. No, Fox amasses information and assesses it — and so far it has always proven to be correct. Come in,” he called out when there was the expected knock on the door.

Fox entered, bent slightly toward the two men.

“Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Davis, it is my pleasure to meet you at last. If you will permit, gentlemen, I will give you some detailed information about our enemy.” He took a folded sheet of paper from his tailcoat pocket and read from it.

“In England, Scotland and Ireland, the keels of nine large ironclads have been laid. They are of a new design, borrowed heavily from the French La Gloire. She is an ironclad wooden ship that can remain at sea for a month cruising at eight knots. Her maximum speed is thirteen knots and she mounts 26 cannon, 68-pounders. A formidable warship, as will be the British copies.”

“How long before any of them are launched?” Lincoln asked.

“Too early to tell precisely — since the construction techniques are so novel, the yards are inexperienced in this kind of work. It took twenty months to build Warrior. So I would guess six to nine months in the earliest. The British are also providing armor for their larger ships of the line, replacing the top two decks of four of them with iron plating. Now, small arms. They have finally noticed the importance of the breech-loading rifle. They are perfecting a design of their own by modifying the 1853 rifled Enfield into a breech-loading conversion called the Snider.”

He selected another sheet of paper. “Because of the distances involved some of my information is incomplete as yet. I do know about India though. A number of British troops are at seaports waiting for transport. There are also Indian regiments among them. Gurkhas, Dogras and Sepoys. Some of them have never been out of India before and their ability might be suspect. Others have fought Britain’s imperial wars and are a force to be counted with. But all possible dissidents in the army there were eliminated after the Mutiny. So we must consider Indian troops as a definite possibility.”