A couple of days later, when the letter reached the Foreign Office, a secretary to Minister William Gendville cautiously opened it. The minister sat beside him, buried in a mountain of docunts—the consequence of the alliance Great Britain was struggling to secure.
As the secretary read, a faint sneer crossed his face.
The minister noticed at once and frowned."Why are you sneering? Do you have so much free ti that you can laugh at a letter?"
Startled, the secretary straightened. "It’s not that, Minister. This letter cos from Murdoch—the one we sent to demonstrate the steam engine to the Spanish envoy, hoping they’d buy our products instead of trying to build their own from the blueprints they stole from us."
Gendville paused his writing, raising an eyebrow."Oh? And what does our esteed rchant have to say?"
The secretary, relieved the minister’s irritation wasn’t directed at him anymore, relaxed slightly."He claims that a Spanish boy—Francisco—said sothing that could change the world completely. Murdoch insists we should invest even more in engine developnt. Can you believe it? They’re using a Spanish kid now to pressure us into spending more money!"
The minister frowned and said slowly, "From what I know, Murdoch is not one to lie. He may exaggerate things, but lying is not his habit—at least not when dealing with the governnt. Bring the letter."
The secretary shrugged and handed him the docunt, then returned to his desk, sorting through other correspondence. From ti to ti, he glanced at the minister’s face, which grew darker with every line he read. The secretary began to sweat. Did the letter tell the truth? he mumbled under his breath.
The minister’s expression hardened further. If what the letter said was true, Spain would likely begin investing heavily in the developnt of its own engines. The implications were alarming: an engine that could extract resources more efficiently was one thing—but an engine that could be turned into a weapon was quite another. Even out of fear of losing their colonies, the Spanish crown would pour money into such a project.
When he finished reading, William Gendville looked up and said in a grim tone,"Call for a eting with the Board of Admiralty. I need to discuss the feasibility of what this letter claims. If it’s true, we must invest more in this possibility—imdiately."
The secretary, startled, straightened. "Yes, sir."
A few hours later, an ergency eting was convened at Admiralty House, a building beside the Palace of Westminster, deliberately situated close so that both Parliant and the Navy could respond swiftly in tis of war—particularly now, with tensions rising against the French Republic.
Admiralty House, the official residence of John Pitt, the 2nd Earl of Chatham, First Lord of the Admiralty and brother to the Pri Minister, was a handso Georgian mansion—modest compared to royal palaces, yet dignified, reflecting its role as an administrative command center rather than a ceremonial seat.
Minister William entered the conference room with a solemn look. The air was thick with cigar smoke. Around the table sat high-ranking admirals, naval officers, and bureaucrats, divided clearly by uniform and bearing.
As William took his place, the First Lord of the Admiralty looked up, frowning."I hope this is important, Minister Gendville. The situation with the French is tense enough without wasting ti on aningless discussions."
Minister William stood and said respectfully,"Yes, sir. This is very important—it could determine the future of the Royal Navy itself. I understand how busy the Admiralty is, but this information is crucial for both you and Great Britain as a whole."
John Pitt raised an eyebrow."Oh? It must indeed be serious, then. Go on, tell us what happened."
William took a deep breath and began recounting everything contained in Murdoch’s letter—including the Spanish visit, Francisco’s speculation about using steam engines to propel ships, and the possible strategic implications if such a thing were proven feasible.
As he spoke, the room fell into uneasy silence. So officers frowned in disbelief, others exchanged skeptical glances, and a few had their eyes lit with cautious curiosity—already imagining a vessel that could sail freely, regardless of wind or current.
When William finished, John Pitt leaned back in his chair, speaking with mild disdain."You know, this isn’t exactly new. I’ve heard the Yankees tried sothing similar on the Delaware about ten years ago. It worked, yes—but it was small, could carry only a handful of passengers and so cargo, and barely managed to cross a river. Nothing resembling a weapon. Even our lightest gunboats could blow it apart. I see no reason to be overly concerned."
The minister frowned."That may be true for now, but the problem lies in what Murdoch believes. He thinks that if a more powerful engine were developed, it could move tal ships—and he warns that the viability of that weapon might exist."
A bureaucrat scoffed."With respect, that sounds rather fanciful. Just because a Spanish boy said it doesn’t make it true. I’m sure His Catholic Majesty has better things to do than chase the dreams of a child."
William’s expression hardened."But what if he’s right? Imagine, gentlen—a world where Spain, our rival, commands ships that can move regardless of wind or tide, while we remain slaves to the current. Imagine them striking Canada, Africa—or worse, our holdings in India. They could move whenever they pleased, while we waited for the weather to defend ourselves."
A chill passed through the room. For a mont, even the cigar smoke seed to hang heavier in the air. Losing India would not just wound Britain—it would end her supremacy, returning the empire to a nation of pirates rather than a world power.
One of the bureaucrats finally muttered,"That’s all well and good—if it’s even possible. But as far as we know, the current engines aren’t strong enough to move a wooden warship, let alone a tal one."
A storm of voices erupted. Admirals, officers, and officials began arguing over the feasibility, so dismissing it as fantasy, others warning of another Spanish threat. The conference room descended into chaos, the sound of raised voices echoing through the Georgian walls—until, suddenly, the First Lord of the Admiralty slamd his hand on the table.
Everyone began arguing, the conference room turning into sothing like a marketplace. At last the First Lord of the Admiralty slamd his fist on the table and spoke in a deep, commanding voice.
"We must retain the most powerful navy in the world. Have you forgotten the dread of being outmatched by a Spanish armada? Even if this idea proves impossible, it is far better to know that for certain than to wait until Spain—or any other power—develops it and proves us wrong. I will therefore allocate funds to Boulton and Watt. Tell them I expect a more powerful engine within a year to justify this budget. If, after a year, they produce nothing of use, the project will be cancelled outright."
The minister swallowed and nodded gravely. "I will send the letter to Murdoch. But another question remains: should we sell engines to Spain to delay their own developnt, or refuse and watch them from the sidelines?"
John Pitt narrowed his eyes. "Wait a couple of months. Even if they invest in engines, they must first acquire proper machine tools—a boring machine and the like—which will take ti. When they reach that stage, we can undercut them with cheaper engines and strangle their industry. For now, let them throw money at the problem and raise taxes in their colonies; that will only breed unrest."
The minister allowed himself a small, grim smile.
When the eting broke up, everyone returned to their duties. Francisco never knew that a single curious question beside a colliery engine had set plans in motion that would hasten Europe’s rush toward steam.
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