And Thereby Hangs a Tale (21 page)

He then picked up his telescope and began to
search the high seas for a bobbing fishing vessel. As each hour passed, he
became more and more anxious as to where the Bonnie Belle, Captain Campbell and
his three shipmates might be. He feared they were in the Fisherman's Arms,
spending his money.

Once the sun had set on this part of the
British Empire, Percy restricted himself to half... rations before spending a
sleepless night wondering if he was destined to spend the rest of his days on
Forsdyke Island, having fulfilled his mission, but without anyone realizing
what he had achieved.

He rose early the following morning, skipped
breakfast, missed the Today Programme and climbed back up to the highest point
on the island, where he was delighted to see the Union Jack still fluttering in
the breeze.

He picked up his telescope, swung it slowly through
180 degrees, and there she was, ploughi Percy waited patiently on the beach,
but it was another three hours before the little dinghy came ashore to collect
the unappointed ambassador who wished to be transported back to the mainland,
having served his tour of duty.

Captain Campbell showed no interest in why Mr
Forsdyke had wished to spend ninety-one days on a deserted island, and left him
in his cabin to rest. Although Percy was just as sick on the voyage back to
Wick as he had been on the way to Forsdyke Island, his heart was full of joy.

Once the captain, the three crew members and
their passenger had disembarked from the Bonnie Belle they all went to the
nearest bank, where Percy withdrew eight hundred pounds. But he didn't hand
over the cash until Captain Campbell and his first mate had signed a one-page
document confirming that they had taken him to Forsdyke Island on 25

June 2009, and hadn't picked him up again until
24 September 2009, when they had accompanied him back to the mainland. The local
bank manager witnessed both signatures.

A taxi took Percy to Wick station, from where
he began the slow journey back along the coast to Inverness before boarding the
overnight train to London. He found his first-class bunk bed uncomfortable,
while the clattering wheels kept him awake most of the night, and the fish
served for breakfast had unquestionably left the North Sea some days before he
had. He arrived at Euston more tired and hungry than he'd been for the past three
months, and then had to hang about in a long taxi queue before he was driven
back to his home in Pimlico.

Once he'd let himself in he went straight to
his study, unlocked the centre drawer of his desk and retrieved the unsealed
envelope containing his detailed memorandum and the copy of the 1762 Territories
Settlement Act. He placed Captain Campbell's sworn affidavit in the envelope
along with two maps and a diary, then sealed the envelope and wrote on the
front, in capital letters, FOR

YOUR EYES ONLY.

Despite his impatience to fulfil his dream, Percy
didn't leave the house until he'd checked that his one-eyed, three-legged cat was
sound asleep on the kitchen boiler. 'I did it, Horatio, I did it,' whispered
Percy as he left the kitchen. Once he'd locked the front door, he hailed a
passing taxi.

'The Foreign Office,' said Percy as he
climbed into the back seat.

When the taxi drew up outside the King Charles
Street entrance, Percy said, 'Please wait, cabbie, I'll only be a minute.'

The security guard at the FCO was about to prevent
the dishevelled tramp from entering the building when he realized it was Mr Forsdyke.

'Please deliver this to Sir Nigel Henderson immediately,'
said Percy, handing over the bulky envelope.

'Yes, Mr Forsdyke,' said the duty clerk,
giving him a salute.

Percy sat in the cab on the way back home chanting
the 'Nunc Dimittis'.

The first thing Percy did on returning to Pimlico
was to feed the cat. He then fed himself and watched the early evening news on television.
It was too early for any announcement about his triumph, although he did wonder
if it would be the Foreign Secretary or perhaps even the Prime Minister who would
be standing at the dispatch box in the House of Commons to deliver an
unscheduled announcement. He climbed into bed at ten, and quickly fell into a
deep sleep.

Percy wasn't surprised to receive a call
from Sir Nigel the following afternoon, but he was surprised by the Permanent
Secretary's request. 'Good afternoon, Percy,' said Sir Nigel.

'The Foreign Secretary wonders if you could spare
the time to drop in and have a chat with him at your earliest convenience.'

'Of course,' said Percy.

'Good,' said Sir Nigel. 'Would eleven
tomorrow morning suit you?'

'Of course,' repeated Percy.

'Excellent. I'll send a car. And Percy, can
I just check that no one else has seen any of the documents you sent me?'

'That is correct, Sir Nigel. You'll note
that everything is handwritten, so you are in possession of the only copies.'

'I'm glad to hear that,' said Sir Nigel
without explanation, and the phone went dead.

A staff car picked up Percy at ten-thirty
the following morning, and drove him to the Foreign Office in Whitehall. He was
dressed in his only other Savile Row suit, a fresh white shirt and a new, old
school tie, in anticipation of his triumph.

Percy always enjoyed entering the FCO, but even
he was flattered to find a clerk waiting to escort him to the Foreign Secretary's
office. He savoured every moment as they walked slowly up the broad marble
staircase, past the full-length portraits of Castlereagh, Canning, Palmerston,
Salisbury and Curzon, before continuing down a long, wide corridor where
photographs of Stewart, Douglas...

Home, Callaghan, Carrington, Hurd and Cook
adorned the walls.

When they reached the Foreign Secretary's office,
the clerk tapped lightly on the door before opening it. Percy was ushered into
a room large enough to hold a ball, to find the Foreign Secretary and the head
of the Foreign Service awaiting him at the far end.

'Welcome back, Percy,' said the Foreign
Secretary as if he were greeting an old chum, although he had only met him once
before, at his retirement party. 'Come and join myself and Sir Nigel by the
fire. There are one or two things I think we need to have a chat about. Didn't
we do well to win the Ashes?' he added as he sat down. 'Although I suppose yohe
wI sre. T Q wI sre. u missed the entire series, remembering that...'

'I was able to follow the ball-by-ball
commentary on Radio Four,' Percy assured the Foreign Secretary, 'and it was
indeed a magnificent series.' Percy relaxed back in his chair, and was served
with a coffee.

'That must have helped kill the time,' said
Sir Nigel, who waited until the coffee lady had left the room before he
addressed the subject that was on all their minds.

'I read your report yesterday morning,
Percy.

Quite brilliant,' said Sir Nigel. 'And I
must congratulate you on identifying an anomaly in the 1762 Act that we'd all
previously overlooked.'

'For well over two hundred years,' chipped
in the Foreign Secretary. 'After Sir Nigel had read your memorandum, he phoned
me at home and briefed me. I went straight to Number Ten and had a private
meeting with the PM, at which I was able to tell him what you've been up to
since leaving the FCO. He was most impressed. Most impressed,' repeated the
Foreign Secretary. Percy beamed with delight. 'He asked me to send you his congratulations,
and best wishes.'

'Thank you,' said Percy, and only just stopped
himself from saying, 'And please return mine.'

'The PM also asked me to let him know,'
continued the Foreign Secretary, 'what decision you'd come to.'

'What decision I'd come to?' repeated Percy,
no longer sounding quite so relaxed.

'Yes,' said Sir Nigel. 'You see, a problem
has arisen that we felt we ought to share with you.'

Percy was prepared to answer any queries
relating to treaty rights, sovereign status or the relevance of the Territories
Settlement Act of 1762.

'Percy,' continued Sir Nigel, giving his former
colleague a warm smile, 'you'll be pleased to know that the Lord Chancellor has
confirmed that your claim on behalf of the Sovereign is valid, and would stand
up in any international court.' Percy began to relax again. 'And indeed, should
you press your suit, Forsdyke Island would become part of Her Majesty's
Overseas Territories. You were quite correct in your assessment that if you occupied
the island for ninety days, without any other person or government making a claim
on it, it would become the sole possession of the occupier, and would be
governed by the laws of whichever country the occupier is a citizen of, as long
as that claim is rati-fied within six months -- if I remember the words of the
1762 Act correctly?'

Almost word perfect, thought Percy. 'Which means,'
he said, turning to the Foreign Secretary, 'that we can lay claim not only to
the fishing rights, but also to the oil reserves within a radius of one hundred
and fifty miles, not to mention the obvious strategic advantage its location
gives to our defence forces.'

'And thereby hangs a tale,' said the
Permanent Secretary.

Percy wondered which of four possible Shakespeare
plays Sir Nigel was quoting from, but decided this wasn't the time to enquire. 'I
am also confident,' continued Percy, 'that should you present our case to a
plenary session of the United Nations, it would have no choice but to ratify my
claim on behalf of the British Government.'

'I'm sure you're right, Percy,' said Sir
Nigel, 'but it is the responsibility of the Foreign Office to look at the wider
picture and consider all the implications.' As if on cue, both men rose from their
places. Percy followed them to the centre of the room, where they halted before
a vast globe.

Sir Nigel gave the globe a spin. When it stopped,
he pointed to a tiny speck in the Pa-cific Ocean. 'If the Russians were to lay
claim to that island, it could turn out to be a bigger problem for the
Americans than Cuba.'

He spun the globe again and when it stopped he
pointed to another apparently unnamed island, this time in the middle of the
South China Sea. 'If either country laid claim to this, you could end up with a
war between Japan and China.'

He spun the globe a third time and, when it stopped,
he placed a finger on the Dead Sea.

'Let us pray that the Israelis never get to
hear about the Territories Settlement Act of 1762, because that would be the end
of any Middle East peace process.'

Percy was speechless. All he had wanted was to
prove himself worthy of his father and grandfather, and emulate the
contribution they had made to the Foreign Office but, once again, all he'd
achieved was to bring embarrassment to the family name and to the country he
loved more than life itself.

The Foreign Secretary placed his arm round Percy's
shoulder. 'If you felt able to allow us to file your submission in the
archives, and to leave this meeting unrecorded, I know that the PM, and I
suspect Her Majesty, would be eternally grateful.'

'Of course, Foreign Secretary,' said Percy,
his head bowed.

He slipped out of the Foreign Office a few minutes
later, and never mentioned the subject of Forsdyke Island again to anyone other
than Horatio. But should anyone ever find themselves lost in the North Sea and
come across a fluttering Union Jack...

On 1 January 2010, among the knighthoods listed
in the New Year's Honours, was that of Sir Percival Arthur Clarence Forsdyke,
awarded the KCMG for further services to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office.

N
O ONE WOULD BELIEVE this tale unless they
were told that an Irishman was involved.

Liam Casey was born in Cork, the son of a tinker.
One of many things he learned from his shrewd father was that
while a wise man can spend all day making a few bob, a foolish one can lose them
in a few minutes.

During Liam's lifetime, he made over a
hundred million 'few bobs', but despite his father's advice, he still managed
to lose them all in a few minutes.

After Liam left school, he didn't consider
going to university, explaining to his friends that he wanted to join the real
world. Liam quickly discovered that you also had to graduate from the
University of Life before you could place your foot on the first rung of the
ladder to fortune. After a few false starts, as a petrol pump attendant, bus
conductor and door-to-door Encyclopaedia Britannica salesman, Liam ended up as
a trainee with Hamptons, an established English estate agent that had branches
all over Ireland.

He spent the next three years learning about
the value of property, commercial and residential, the setting and collecting
of rents, and how to close a deal on terms that ensured you made a profit but
didn't lose a customer.

The average person will move house five times
during their lifetime, the English manager informed Liam, so you need to retain
their confidence.

'I wish I'd been James Joyce's estate agent,'
was all Liam had to say on the subject.