Arrogance and Empire - An Alternate 7 Years' War Novel - Part 8 - 1809-1810

[Alt History Buff]

All,

This is a continuation of my previous TL based upon an alternate 7 Years War.

Largely, these "chapters" are in novel format rather than the historical chronical format I tend to use with my TL's.

Since the TL is so extensive, I break them up into book-sized novels based upon the year (otherwise, I'd be at chapter 630 and page 1804 by now) Someday, after heavy, heavy proofreading and rewrites, I may try to self-publish so any constructive criticism upon writing style, historical accuracy, flow, dialogue, etc would be appreciated.

Key POD's from the 5 Years' War (Book 1):
1. Great Britain wins "5 Years War" in North America (including Louisiana) but the Prussian/Hanoverian alliance sees the dismemberment of Prussia by her neighbors (and relegation to 3rd tier status) and seizure of Hanover by France.
2. Peter III regains his heritage in Holstein but gets overthrown in Russia. He later assumes the throne of Sweden.
3. Two fictional diseases - the Bleeding Death (akin to Ebola) and African Death (akin to AIDS) - ravage the world, with Africa as the epicenter. The slave trade effectively dies by the mid-1760's. This has a particularly terrible effect on large concentrations of men hailing from different regions...like soldiers and sailors who also enjoy the odd prostitute.
4. Great Britain's normal sources for "hired" mercenaries - Hesse, etc - are forbidden by treaty to lease Regiments of experienced sailors. This would cause a major handicap to the British war effort for the first year or two of the American Revolutionary War.
5. Robert Clive's exploitation of Bengal lead to a rebellion which evicts Britain from Bengal. This leads to the Circars and Madras falling to France and their allies.
6. Most of the French residents of Quebec are evicted after the "5 Years War" by a vengeful Britain and America but the Acadian population is largely intact.
7. With Britain's greater success in the 5 Years War in the Americas (seizing Louisiana and Guadeloupe in addition to OTL gains), the French and Spanish are increasingly nervous about the potential for British Hegemony in the west.
8. OTL crisis in the Falklands (OTL Spain backed down) and Corsica (OTL Britain backed down) flare up in violence.
9. Spanish/Portuguese rivalry continues in South America. However, in this TL, Portugal is successful in gaining British assistance due to increased importance of Portugal to maintaining British naval hegemony in the Mediterranean (Minorca is not returned to Britain after 5 Years War and Corsican-British alliance is firmer, thus contributing to the crisis). Great Britain offers modest support in Portugal and the Banda Oriental.

Key POD's from Alternate Revolutionary War (Books 2 to 4)
1. Robert Clive immigrates to Massachusetts in disgrace and eventually joins rebels.
2. "Continental" Congress becomes "Columbian" Congress and United States of America becomes United States of Columbia.
3. Shortage of British troops in the Americas leads to easy rebel seizures from Quebec to Savannah.
4. Through 1776 and 1777, most of the fighting takes place in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania (similar to OTL).
5. French Nova Scotia throws off the British with French and Columbian aid and returns as the colony of Acadia.
6. Gibraltar falls in 1777 after a massive land and sea siege. Great Britain loses only base in the Mediterranean.
7. Portugal's King demands British aid in border conflict in South America. King George agrees and Montevideo taken. However, Portugal, facing invasion from Spain and France, exit the war. In OTL, Great Britain offered little to no help to their longtime ally.
8. French direct financial aid given to Columbia a year earlier than OTL in 1776 and French troops/naval support a year earlier in 1777.
9. The fictional "Bleeding Death" and "African Death" claim thousands of military lives and tens of thousands of civilians, cutting off the slave trade.
10. Robert Clive is captured by the British in November, 1777. Numerous high-ranking British and American generals are killed in combat from 1776 to 1777.
11. By the end of 1777, Great Britain's North American empire has been reduced to e "Royal Islands" of Manhattan, Staten Island, "Nassau" Island (Long Island), Newfoundland, Bermuda and most of the West Indies.
12. Spain and the United States of Columbia, while co-belligerents against Britain and mutually allied with France, have yet to sign an alliance.
13. King Carlos III's heir in Naples, Prince Ferdinand, dies in December 1777 of Bleeding Death, leaving the King to seek to merge Naples/Sicily to Spain once again for his son, Infante Carlos, despite this being against previous European diplomatic convention.
14. King Louis XVI's brother, Louis Stanislas Xavier, who nominally ruled Hanover after the Electorate was seized in 1759, dies of African Death in December of 1777.
15. The childless Maximilian Joseph of Bavaria dies as in OTL in December of 1777 of Smallpox. Numerous potential inheritors take notice.

Book 5
1. A series of disease-wracked expeditions by Britain, France, the Netherlands, Spain and the United States Columbia cross the West Indies. Great Britain seizes Dominica, St. Eustatius and French/Dutch Guyana. Spain seizes Virgin Islands. Dutch seize Anguilla. United States of Columbia seize the Bahama Islands and Bermuda.
2. Henry Clinton commands an invasion of Virginia by 6000 British soldiers and 3000 Loyalists.
3. The British invasion of Virginia inspires a mass slave uprising. General James Wolfe makes for a particularly ruthless and efficient British commander.
4. Initial battles in Virginia lead to massive victories.
5. After Patrick Henry is defeated (and captured) at the Battle of Williamsburg and William Heath is defeated (and killed) at Richmond, Nathanial Greene is tasked to command the shattered Columbian army in Virginia. He wins several close battles near Chancellorsville and Fredericksburg.
6. His command denuded of many of his best soldiers for the Virginia and West Indies campaigns, William Howe lacks the resources to further his campaign in New York.
7. A ferocious civil war between the races emerges in Virginia, leading to a total failed harvest and massive racial violence. Tens of thousands are slaughtered and perish of disease or starvation.
8. Henry Clinton is appointed commander-in-chief of North America to replace William Howe. However, Clinton is killed by a ruptured British cannon.
9. Boston and several New England port towns are destroyed by a vengeful Admiral Augustus Keppel.
10. Mysore, Hyderabad and the French East Indies join forces against the Maratha Empire, the British East India Company and the Nawab of Arcot. With much of Arcot having fallen, a Maratha-EIC army assault Hyderabad on New Years Day.
11. Great Britain, like all affected nations, is rapidly approaching bankruptcy.
12. With the death of the Elector of Bavaria, Maria Theresa of the Habsburg Empire seizes the Electorate. Later, a political settlement is agreed in which French Hanover is ceded to the rightful claimant to Bavaria (Palatine) in return for ceding Bavaria to Austria. Austria then ceded the Southern Netherlands to France. This was a massive diplomatic development in Europe which will lead to many butterflies.

Book 6:
1. British Invasion of Virginia fails after two years of violent racial war. Virginia devastated. Half of slave population killed, died of disease, escaped or sold into slavery into the French West Indies.
2. Last ditch attempt by Washington to seize New York from William Howe occurs on New Year's Eve, 1779, with the Columbian Army marching across the frozen Hudson. The attack fails with heavy casualties.
3. The Treaty of Paris sees Great Britain ceded all of mainland America (including East Florida) to Columbia along with Bermuda and the Bahama/Turk/Caicos Islands. Great Britain retains Newfoundland, the "Royal Islands of New York" (Manhattan, Staten and Nassau (Long) Islands) as havens for Loyalists. Great Britain gains the Banda Oriental, the Guyana Territories, Roatan, St. Eustatius, the Swan Islands and the Bay Islands. Spain gains Gibraltar, the Falklands, the Belize River Colony, the British Virgin Islands and West Florida. The Dutch Republic gained Anguilla. France regained Nova Scotia (Acadia) and later traded Minorca to Spain for the return of Louisiana. Great Britain also recognized French control over Corsica and acquisition of the Austrian Netherlands.
4. Suffering a mental breakdown, King George III falls to his death from the heights of his home, leading a very young George IV to the throne.
5. The social upheaval in Virginia leads to a lower and middle class revolt which results in a law manumitting all slaves in Virginia by 1800. This would effectively guarantee the remainder of the United States of Columbia would likely follow in the ensuing years. As a result, North and South Carolina elect not to join the new nation and accept George IV as their Monarch, bringing the two new nations into Personal Union (but not direct political affiliation) with Great Britain. The western counties of North and South Carolina secede and join the United States as Western Carolina.
6. In 1785, Benjamin Franklin is elected the first President of the United States of Columbia. Only North Carolina, South Carolina and Rhode Island decline to join.
7. In 1791, fearing violence, King Louis XVI successfully flees to a Royalist Garrison at the border of France while his country convulses in Revolution.

Book 7:
1. Many of the events of the French Revolutionary War, Napoleonic War, Quasi-War and British impressment of Columbian sailors continues as in OTL.
2. Austria-Hungary torn apart by Napoleon while a coalition of Danish, Swedish-Prussian and Russian fleets defeats Horatio Nelson at Copenhagen resulting in a renewed League of Armed Neutrality. Portugal is invaded by France and Spain, dividing up the nation into three parts. Great Britain assumed control over Brazil.
3. Empress Catherine lives another decade longer than OTL and Czar Paul more interested in the Holy Lands than war with Napoleon.
4. Napoleon does not invade Egypt but seizes the last Kingdom of the Maghreb, southern Morocco, for the Franco-Spanish alliance and continues shipping the Moors to the West Indies as slaves, denuding North Africa for European settlement.
5. Alexander Hamilton makes public Thomas Jefferson's relationship with his slave and sister-in-law, Sally Hemmings, leading to a duel which ends in Jefferson's death and Hamilton's disgrace.
6. Aaron Burr is elected President in 1800 and 1805. War between Britain and Columbia is declared over the issue of impressment.
7. Taking advantage over a mutiny in the Royal Navy, Napoleon I dispatches armies to invade Britain and Ireland.
8. Aaron Burr, seeing the opportunity to evict Great Britain from North America, dispatches troops to seize the poorly defended, disease-ridden British possessions in the West Indies.



Key characters:
"Historical" Characters from book 1-6:
George Washington - the one-armed 2nd in command of the Columbian Army who struggles to keep the Army together and support his alcoholic and drug-using superior , Robert Clive.
Benjamin Franklin - perhaps the most powerful voice in the Columbian Congress.
Temple Franklin - Young Columbian officer, grandson of Ben Franklin
Thomas Knowlton - Columbian spymaster (I admit I'm still writing these chapters).
Benedict Arnold - a hard-fighting Columbian General
William and Alexander Macomb - American businessmen and traders

Lord North - First Lord of the Treasury and nominal head of the British government.
Lord Germain - Colonial Secretary and defacto Briton in charge of the war effort. Still recovering from his disgrace in the past war.
Thomas Gage - initial British commander-in-chief in America in 1775.
Richard Howe - later British commander-in-chief in America from 1776
James Wolfe - British General
Henry Clinton - British General
James Cornwallis - British General
John Andre - British officer
Thomas Hutchinson - Loyalist Governor of Massachusetts
William Franklin - Loyalist Governor of New Jersey and son of Benjamin Franklin
David Ochterlony - Boston-born officer in bankrupt East India Company
William Draper - Aging British General
Lord Downe - British General (killed in 7 Years' War OTL)
Marquis de Pombal - Prime Minister of Portugal
Duke de Belle-Isle - French General (killed in 7 Years' War OTL)


Fictional Characters from Books 1-6:
Marcus Hayes - new immigrant to America and friend of Benedict Arnold, becomes Commodore in Columbian Navy
Henri Dejardins - French Canadian evicted from Laval with his family to the Maritimes
Klaus Durrenmatt - German immigrant soldier in "Free" Georgia, Lieutenant in 1st Georgia
Hans Durrenmatt - son of Klaus, Captain in 1st Georgia
Private Sean Campbell - Scottish soldier in the Black Watch Regiment
Sergeant Kevin Giggs - Welsh soldier in 23rd Regiment
Bess Williams - camp woman in the British Army
Caleb Horn - freeborn Black Loyalist from New York, and member of the Ethiopian Regiment
Evander - an escaped Virginia Slave, member of the Ethiopian Regiment
Eli Stratford - rebel spy, saboteur and assassin in New York
Bilah, Sena and Dibb - runaway slaves of a North Carolinan Loyalist living under assumed names in New York.

Historical Characters in Books 7-8:
Aaron Burr
Nathan Hale
Andrew Jackson
James Wilkerson
Stephen Decatur
Napoleon Bonaparte
Tallyrand
George IV
Horatio Nelson
Arthur Wellesley
Manuel de Godoy
Jose de San Martin
Bernardo O'Higgins
Simon Bolivar
Michel Ney
Wolf Tone

Fictional Characters in Books 7-8:
James King - Columbian Army Private
Cillian Welsh - Irish Catholic Private in British Army
Valentine Joyce (semi-historical) - Quartermaster's Mate in the Royal Navy

Please see links to previous books below:

Arrogance and Empire: An Alternative 7 Years War Timeline​

All, I've wrapped up my Fenians TL and am getting back to an old project. For several years, I've been writing a series of novels commencing with a POD at the 7 Years War, a conflict that could have gone very differently and had huge ramifications to the world. Throughout the next few months...
www.alternatehistory.com

Arrogance and Empire: An Alternate 7 Years War Novel - Part 2 - 1765-1775​

Thanks to the readers of my previous TL, Arrogance and Empire: An Alternate 7 Years War (https://www.alternatehistory.com/fo...e-an-alternative-7-years-war-timeline.523847/) This is part of a series of novels I've been writing off and on over the past 15 years or so...
www.alternatehistory.com

Arrogance and Empire - An alternate 7 Years War Timeline - Part 3 - 1776​

All, If you took the time to read my two previous novels (links below), much appreciated. https://www.alternatehistory.com/fo...e-an-alternative-7-years-war-timeline.523847/...
www.alternatehistory.com

Arrogance and Empire - An Alternative 7 Years War Novel - Part 4 - 1777​

I appreciate any readers of my previous chapters (see links below of the 7 Years War novel and the first two books of the following American Revolutionary War). This will be the 4th chapter of 5. Unlike previous timeline's, these are intended to read as more of a novel in the Turtledove mode...
www.alternatehistory.com

Arrogance and Empire - An Alternate 7 Years War Novel - Part 5 - 1778​

All, This is a continuation of my previous TL based upon an alternate 7 Years War. Largely, these "chapters" are in novel format rather than the historical chronical format I tend to use with my TL's. Since the TL is so extensive, I break them up into book-sized novels based upon the year...
www.alternatehistory.com

Arrogance and Empire - An Alternate 7 Years War Novel - Part 6 - 1779-1785​

All, This is a continuation of my previous TL based upon an alternate 7 Years War. Largely, these "chapters" are in novel format rather than the historical chronical format I tend to use with my TL's. Since the TL is so extensive, I break them up into book-sized novels based upon the year...
www.alternatehistory.com

Arrogance and Empire - An Alternate 7 Years' War Novel - Part 7 - 1800-1808

All, This is a continuation of my previous TL based upon an alternate 7 Years War. Largely, these "chapters" are in novel format rather than the historical chronical format I tend to use with my TL's. Since the TL is so extensive, I break them up into book-sized novels based upon the year...

www.alternatehistory.com

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1809

St. Lucia

"Well, Ben," said Private James King of the 1st West Florida Cavalry, "It appears that the Navy is going to earn their pay at last."

Nodding, Ben Hayes opined, "Mayhap, James, mayhap. I was wondering if the Brits were done or not here in the Americas. Seems not." Usually a chatterbox, Ben rarely spoke twenty words at a time these days after leaving his twin brother, Jarvis, in Guadeloupe to face an agonizing end at the hands of the African Death. No matter how King attempted to entice Ben back to the world, the formerly cheerful Tennessean remained mired in melancholy.

The two soldiers stood in a crowd of soldiers and sailors on the deck of the freighter USS Liberty. Like most of their fellows, King and Hayes were young, barely into their twenties, and their adventurous souls led them to their current circumstances. Staring southward, the soldiers witnessed a furious battle between a trio of Columbian ships-of-the-line with their escort of six lighter warships and an undetermined number of British vessels. Though he could see some masts rising above the enemy ships, the swift moving squall approaching from the south distorted all detail. King heard stories of naval fleets lining up in neat rows for battle but the conflagration before him resembled nothing more than a tavern brawl.

"I sure do hope there ain't too many of 'em," intoned Louis White in his rumbling voice. The former runaway slave volunteered for service in the 1st West Florida out of patriotism and gratitude for his deliverance from bondage, unlike King and the Hayes’ brothers who mainly just wanted a square meal after losing their positions in New Orleans. "Saint Lucia supposed to be last good British Island in the West Indies, this part at least. I guess they still ha’ Jamaica."

In the background lay the island of Saint Lucia, its vegetation-encrusted mountains climbing out of the sea like fingers grasping towards the sky. After almost a year in the Caribbean, King found no pleasure in the natural beauty of the place. The war had gone on far too long for his taste. As far as he was concerned, if the Brits wanted this bloody island so much, they could keep it. However, for the third time, the 1st West Florida was called upon to do their duty.

He knew he should be grateful the 1st West Florida had been called upon for little actual fighting during the seizures of Martinique and Guadeloupe. But watching Andy Gates and Bill Holden succumb to the Yellow Fever epidemic before sailing for Saint Lucia was nearly as painful as leaving Jarvis Hayes to his fate on Guadeloupe. In all, over a quarter of the regiment expired from tropical disease, most without ever firing a shot. Dead was dead, no matter the cause and King was profoundly tired of losing friends.

Perhaps this is their final stand? Thought King hopefully. If our Navy defeats their fleet, the Brits will sail home and fight in their own country.

"Louis might be right, James." Ben Hayes, King’s fellow Tennessean, said softly among the din and cry that arose with ever sighting of cannon fire. The rain had nearly arrived in the safe inlet near the northern tip of Saint Lucia where the transports and supply ships anchored. "I mean, as the newspapermen say, the Brits lost most every impo'tant island in the Caribbean, these days. They got no ports left even if they got a fleet. Mayhap, thems ships is all they got left!"

Praying his friend is right, King didn't respond. The soldiers cheered at every barrage until the rain reached them and blotted out their view of the battle taking place to the south of them. Even then, not a single soldier abandoned the deck in favor going below for protection from the elements. They stood silently listening to each explosion praying that it struck enemy ship.

Only hours later did the peaceful island of Saint Lucia regained its tranquil silence.

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1809

Philadelphia

“…and with the prayers of a grateful nation,” President Aaron Burr solemnly intoned, “we commit these brave souls to the defense of their homes, their families and the United States of Columbia!”

The crowd erupted in predictable applause. Despite the frigid January day, thousands of local Philadelphians emerge from their winter dens to see off thousands of Columbian troops to the West Indies from the Philadelphia docks. Most of the soldiers already huddled below decks, no doubt wondering when the hell the transports would deliver them to the blissful warmth of the Caribbean. Given the lack of…enthusiasm…for West Indian service, the army struggled to construct regiments of men willing to serve abroad. Recruitment was poor despite the public outrage at the impressments of Columbian sailors by the Royal Navy over past years. With Great Britain herself facing invasion by France, many adventurous young men normally called upon to serve the nation somewhat rationally reconsidered sailing into that pestilential hell.

Burr, however, considered the eviction of Great Britain from the Western Hemisphere adequate enough rationale to direct the nation’s modest resources upon the West Indies. The “Royal Islands” of New York agreed to a “light occupation” in 1808 to avoid destruction. To the surprise of many, Burr did not seek to annex Manhattan, Staten and Nassau Islands. He deemed forcing a hundred and sixty thousand almost fanatical Royalists not worth the trouble. Similarly, King George IV’s “other domains”, the Viceroyalties of North and South Carolina, bluntly condemned the British impressments and rejected any entreaties by Great Britain to enter the war on their behalf.

Though the Columbian public yet viewed these “British possessions” as being a threat to their still-young independence, Burr considered their actions as ample evidence that their presence lent Columbia, not Britain, leverage. The threat of Columbian conquest of these remote outposts certainly outweighed any realistic chance of renewed British invasion of North America. Burr merely heavily fortified the margins of the nation, namely Quebec and New Orleans, and dared the King to launch an army across the ocean upon Columbia’s mainland.

Though the cheery, cloudless Pennsylvania sky gave a false air of warmth, the President (and most of the attendees), retreated home after the Army Band played a somber yet hopeful tune and the vessels prepared to raise anchor at the morning tide. A bitter wind erupted forcing Burr and his companions to close the windows of his carriage as the twenty-minute somehow felt far longer.

The Secretary of War, Nathan Hale, gazed stoically at his friend and inquired, “Are you certain of this path, Aaron?” Unlike most members of the government, Hale and Burr long passed any need for formality. As young officers in Knowlton’s Rangers during the War for Independence, the two men faced death on many an occasion, often owing their continued survival to the courage and cunning of the other.

“I should think so, Nathan,” the President mused. “We shall never have this chance again. Great Britain’s entire West Indian Empire lay exposed with the Home Isles facing invasion. I intend to push the Royal Navy back across the Atlantic once and for all.”

“They can still dispatch a fleet, Mr. President,” the Secretary of the Navy, Benjamin Stoddert, added. “Only thirty years ago, George III sent twenty thousand men in one year across the Atlantic to regain their colonies.”

“That was different,” Burr dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Half the colonies were against the Declaration of Independence and nothing resembling a functioning government existed on these shores. Our population has doubled, our economy is strong and there are no more “Loyalists” to grant the King succor.”

“With naval bases, King George IV…even if the French and Spanish were evicted from Britain and Ireland tomorrow…would require years to merely sail adequate forces to the West Indies capable of expelling our armies…not that our armies are the true protection of the West Indies.”

“You believe that the freed slaves and Irish and British prisoners will fight for their freedom?” Stodderd inquired.

With a short bark of laughter, the President retorted, “Wouldn’t any slave or prisoner?” Fixing the Secretary Navy in the eye, Burr continued, “Though the African Death, Bleeding Death, Malaria and Yellow Fever have severely reduced the population of those islands, I rather suspected the three hundred thousand or so freed slaves and prisoners will prove quite fanatical in their devotion to those who liberated them. If King George IV believes he can dispatch enough redcoats to the West Indies to put three hundred thousand well-armed men and women back into chains…well, more power to him. Given the fatality rates of the West Indies, I rather doubt the British Army will last long.”

“Yet, you are happy to send ten thousand Columbians to their deaths,” Hale grumbled. As Secretary of War, he’d been the one overseeing the buildup of the army. The one thing he hated most about his position was reading the endless names upon the Regimental death rolls coming from Martinique and Guadeloupe. By now, Harrison must have reached St. Lucia, though it may be weeks before a packet ship arrives with a full report. Most of the Lesser Antilles, both British and nominal Bourbon French (under defacto British governance), had fallen already. This latest expedition preparing to sail from Philadelphia was intended to sail for Jamaica or, failing that, Guyana. No doubt those death rolls would continue to grow…but such was the cost of national ambition.

“It is what is required to evict British influence,” Burr repeated irritably. “With Imperial France’s influence down to the nominal allegiance of San Domingue and Britain shorn of her western colonies, only Spain shall stand in the way of Columbia’s inevitable westward expansion. And I find it unlikely Carlos IV will provide much of an opponent there.”

The Secretary of War frowned, “We’ve not even won this war, not even close, and you are thinking of the next?”

“Preparing for it,” Burr replied with a wink, the sparkle back in his eye as the carriage reached the Presidential Mansion in the governmental “Clivetown” neighborhood. “You know it to be inevitable, Hale, and I would prefer to leave my successors in a stronger position to push to the Pacific.”

The carriage rumbled to a stop and the footman sprinted to free the three dignitaries. However, Hale impatiently threw open the door and alighted to the frozen ground. Burr and Stoddert followed. Evening approached and the winter winds perked up. Obligingly, Burr kept his speech to less than thirty minutes so the public may retire to their own homes.

“Come, Hale,” Burr slapped his old comrade upon the shoulder, “You too, Stoddert. Let us dine tonight and toast to the brave young men doing such great service to their country.”

Incapable of declining such an invitation, the two Cabinet Ministers followed the jubilant Burr into the Presidential Mansion. Hale’s mood, however, remained dark as questions regarding his friend’s intentions grated upon his conscience.

 

[happy neurodivergent papa]

I am loving your timeline and I am eager to read more of it!

just a couple of questions

Are you directing this timeline where African Americans and African Britons experience equality much sooner than our TL?

What is the full extent of the British Empire at this point? They have seemed to gained a lot of ground in South America

How are England’s South American possessions faring? How are they being governed?

what would be the general American attitude to purchasing Australia? I believed you hinted at it in the beginning of part 7

 

[souvikkundu25140017]

Are there any centralization efforts done by chatrapati?

 

[Bodhidharma]

I wonder how much control chhatrapati has over his feudatories and what reward gives them for participation in war.

 

[Infinitas]

Mr. Alt History Buff, is everything ok? You haven’t posted In over a month or so.

 

[Alt History Buff]

Mr. Alt History Buff, is everything ok? You haven’t posted In over a month or so.

Yes, I'm fine. I just needed to take a break for a while after posting seven novels. Plus, I wasn't happy with some of the 8th novel so I'm creating some new subplots. Thanks for asking.

 

[Alt History Buff]

January, 1809

Valparaiso, Chile

Captain William Brown, the thirtyish Irish merchant sailor, raised his hand and swore an oath to Columbian Service. The recently arrived Columbian Consul to the Captaincy-General of Chile, Joel, grinned as the Irishman pledged his allegiance to the United States of Columbia.

Barely a decade had passed since Brown, then a youth of sixteen, arrived in Philadelphia with his father, the family seeking a better life than one provided to Catholics in County Mayo. Lamentably, just weeks upon disembarkation, the elder passed during a Yellow Fever epidemic, leaving the son destitute. For months, Brown worked odd jobs and slept rough upon the streets of Philadelphia. By happenstance, the youth was exploring the docks of the Columbian city when a merchant captain, hard up for labor, offered Brown the position of cabin boy with the promise of training him to be an officer.

Thus began a lifetime’s affair with the sea. The merchant kept his promise and steadily promoted Brown as his seamanship skills expanded, eventually gaining his own independence command which would lead to the purchase (with investors) of his own vessel.


Initially, the naturalized Columbian had been well removed from the fermenting conflict, trading along the western coast of South America, when a Royal Navy frigate, the HMS Falklands assigned to scour the coasts of the southern continent for enemy shipping, seized upon his vessel. This represented the initial word the sailor and his crew received of the outbreak of hostilities between Britain and Columbia. While impressments of Columbian sailors had vexed relations between the two nations for years, now entire vessels and their cargos were seized as prizes and as thousands of English-speaking crew forced were forced into British service. Objections that none of these sailors were “British deserters” predictably went ignored.

However, the Captain of the Falklands, his disease-ravaged vessel simply too undermanned to sail around the Straights of Magellan while safely avoiding the Spanish, French and Columbian naval forces in the area and reach the safety of British South America (the “Banda Oriental” between Portuguese Brazil and Spanish Buenos Aires) or the vast colony of Brazil itself (now reduced to a British client state after the capture of the Portuguese Royal Family in Lisbon by the French and Spanish), took the radical and almost unprecedented decision to impress the Captain of the Columbian ship as well. For obvious reasons, forcing a sailor into a command position was of dubious logic but the Captain of the Falklands dared not eschew the opportunity to gain a skilled body for his scurvy and African Death-ravagted crew, now dangerously reduced to half its normal compliment. Brown was appointed a “midshipman” (with the quiet promise by the Captain of the Falklands to release the merchant Captain from his service “when the time was right”) and sixteen of his sailors forced into service. Brown’s ship, the USS Merchantman Morning Glory, would be stripped of supplies and any valuable cargo and allowed to sail for Callao, in the Viceroyalty of Peru, under direction of non-English-speaking crew.

Shortly thereafter, the HMS Falklands would sprint for the Straights of Magellan, lookouts on the horizon for enemy ships. By happy happenstance, as the Falklands approached the Chilean port of Valparaiso, a series of holes surreptitiously drilled into the vessel’s hull were belatedly discovered even as a storm roiled along the western horizon. The livid Captain barely commenced a violent series of “interrogations” to discover the culprit when the ship began to founder.

Hating the world, the British officer was forced to seek sanctuary in Valparaiso’s expansive harbor. Surrendering to Spanish forces (three Spanish naval vessels lay at anchor at the time), the British officer and his loyal subordinates marched into captivity (only weeks prior did the Chileans even learn they were at war). Brown, who traded extensively with the Spanish over the past years, spoke that language fluently and explained the situation. He and his own crew were released as Spain and Columbia were co-belligerents…if any necessarily allies.

As it so happened, a Columbian Consul had recently been appointed to most of the Spanish colonial capitals and the ardent traveler and scientist Joel Poinsett was quietly outfitting a privateer crewed by whatever Columbian sailors happened to be present. Thus far, the eight-gun sloop was manned by about a dozen Columbian dregs who washed up in Valparaiso over the years and another half dozen foreigners seeking glory or profit. Brown and his sixteen sailors grudgingly agreed to enter Columbian service, their outrage at the Royal Navy’s unprovoked (in their eyes, anyway) seizure of Brown’s vessel tipping the scale.

That…and the fact that the Columbians had no clear path to returning home as no one was sure the Morning Glory ever made it to Callao in the Viceroyalty of Peru.

Weeks of careful repairs to the British merchant ship turned Columbian privateer, ponderous gathering of supplies and generally familiarizing the crew to the vessel and one another, the eight-gun privateer “Morning Glory’s Revenge” slipped from Valparaiso Harbor in February of 1809, the heart of the southern summer, with intent to plague the British traders off the Banda Oriental.

 

[Bodhidharma]

Great to see the update and dangers of impressment at its finest.

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1809

Rio de Janeiro, Royal Captaincy of Rio de Janeiro

“Hearts are trump,” announced Stamford Raffles, recently appointed by His Majesty George IV’s government as Consul to the Royal Captaincy of Rio de Janeiro. “Bad luck to us, Tom. We haven’t won with this suit in over an hour.”

Only recently reaching his late twenties while bearing a dark, handsome countenance, Raffles considered his appointment perhaps the greatest opportunity of his embryonic career within the Foreign office. Normally, local merchants would be tapped by the Foreign Secretary to serve as explicit or unofficial Consuls in such out-of-the-way places like Rio de Janeiro. With the capture of Queen Maria of Portugal, the bulk of her close family and most of her important courtly figures by the forces of France and Spain, the expansive Portuguese colony of Brazil looked ripe for Bonapartian or Bourbon conquest. Long a vital trading partner for Britain (more so than the mother country of Portugal for many years now), King George IV hastily dispatched trained diplomatic Consuls to the assorted administrative subdivisions throughout Brazil so that British influence may be established against the Bonapartian regime’s aggression and ensure trade continued apace. That Raffles himself received the coveted Royal Captaincy of Rio de Janeiro…the very seat of the Brazilian Viceroy, the County of Aguiar…lent an impression that London placed a great deal of trust upon the young functionary’s broad shoulders.

At least that is what Raffles told himself. In less than a year, the Englishman had become indispensable to the good Count, a capable if someone overwhelmed Portuguese patriot attempting to maintain order in the face of grave national distress and dissent among the regional governors. Now settled in the stiflingly hot southern summer, Raffles and the fellow British expatriates swarming the suddenly desperate Portuguese colony, be they diplomatic, military or commercial, formed their own social circle. Cards were often popular in the “Consul’s” mansion in Rio de Janeiro as Britons sought the familiarity of their own kind in this alien environment.

“Mmm,” Thomas Raffles, the younger cousin of Stamford Raffles, muttered. Only twenty years of age, the Consul managed to arrange a clerkship for Tom on his delegation. Unfortunately, Tom was a miserable Whist player. As Captain Farquhar, commander of the HMS Ariadne stationed to protect the Portuguese colony, led with a spade, the youth could not conceal his disappointment. He was forced to follow suit by throwing the King. “Damn.”

The fourth player was William Farquhar and the sailor’s younger brother. A capable Captain of the Royal Engineers, William commanded the small British army detachment and, more importantly, was assigned to rebuild the dilapidated defenses of Rio de Janeiro and train the local militia. While the British army and marine contingent barely exceeded two hundred infantry, gunners and sappers, their influence expanded daily as the Viceroy’s difficulty in paying his own handful of demoralized and neglected “professional” soldiers grew more pronounced. Even in the best of times, training in the Portuguese Army was poor, provisions inadequate and morale low. The strapping, thirty-something Farquhar brothers, both the picture of Scottish martial prowess, appeared competent at their jobs though, not being a military man, Raffles could hardly swear to it.

Like the Raffles cousins, the Farquhars did not ascend from exalted station and had been forced to enter service to the empire in hopes of making their mark. Both carried strong reputations though Raffles found their somewhat dour and wary natures somewhat stereotypical of North Britons. He didn’t particularly enjoy their company but this was the social circle available for an Englishman in the tropics so he made no complaint and attempted to get along.

Raffles threw the five of spades, ceding the trick.

“I see a packet ship arrived this morning,” William inquired offhandedly. “Any news from home?”

Though he knew full well if there HAD been any notable announcements regarding the astonishing invasion of England by the loathsome French “Emperor”, word would have expanded throughout the city at the speed of sound, the engineer plainly hoped otherwise.

“Of course not, William,” the elder brother shook his head, trumping Thomas’ king of diamonds, to which the young man exhaled in frustration. “The packet actually departed prior to the last vessel arriving from the Home Isles. She just spent several weeks fleeing for her life off Barbados. Apparently, a Columbian frigate, one of those solidly built ones, chased her halfway across the West Indies before losing her in a storm. The latest news the ship carried was but a few weeks into the invasion.”

“Unfortunate,” the soldier grunted, in his best “stoic Scotsman” inflection.

“Indeed.”

Over the next half-hour, the Britons pondered how the French hegemony of Europe somehow managed to cross the English Channel. So many months removed via sail, intelligence received upon Brazilian shores was already hopelessly outdated. They men voiced hope that the French invaders had already been hurled back into the sea and the next vessel visiting these shores would bring the elation of victory.

They also sympathized with the good Count Aguiar who struggled to maintain a central hold over the vast series of colonies even as regional governors sought to assert their own authority. They Britons deduced that the influence of the Count, personally appointed by the Queen (well, by her regent, Prince Joao), was the only thing holding together the diverse northern and southern Captaincies of Brazil. There was also much grumbling among the Scotsmen over their commanders failing to recall their forces to assist in the defense of the homeland. Young Thomas cheerfully…and tactlessly…opined that the Secretaries of War and the Navy must believe they could do more good in Brazil than while trapped at sea on the four to six month journey back to Europe.

“If England’s salvation lay within a few sloops and frigates and a couple companies of soldiers, I should think the Home Isles face greater danger than we fear,” the young man continued cluelessly, oblivious to the glares of the Scotsmen.

Mercifully for the Raffles cousins, the game moved from Whist to Boston, where their luck improved. Port flowed liberally and Stamford was even warming to the Farquhar brothers when his negro servant entered the room bearing a dispatch.

“Very important!” This was the extent of old negro’s command of English. Raffles didn’t mind as, now a full year into his residence in Rio de Janeiro, he still had trouble following local conversation.

The Consul grasped the message and, within moments, paled.

“Gentlemen,” he announced bleakly, “I regret to inform you that the Count Aguiar is dead, believed to be cholera.”

Throwing down his cards, William Farquhar muttered, “Damn! Without Aguiar…the Governors of these Captaincies will be tougher to herd than a pack of feral cats!”

For the moment, nothing more was to be said as the Britons reflected upon the grim turn of fate for the Portuguese Empire…and their own.

 

[Alt History Buff]

January, 1809

Zanzibar

General David Ochterlony of the East India Company Army, pushing fifty and discovering to his dismay that his long-standing loathing of sea travel had not abated with age, unsteadily alighted the docks of Zanzibar, a small island off the coast of eastern Africa famous for its contribution to the global African slave trade. The twin disasters of the hideous Bleeding Death and African Death had not formally resulted in a ban on the Indian Ocean slave trade (mostly of East African women into Arab Harems or men into menial labor along the Arabian peninsula) like it had in European-dominated West Africa, but simple economics largely extinguished the trade. When no crews could be hired to transport slaves at any wage and the Bleeding Death routinely killed 50-80% of slaves in transit…and often many more after delivery as the infection spread…both supply and demand for slaves collapsed.

When Ochterlony, the military governor of the Company enclave of the Bombay Archipelago and no friend to the institution in the first place, was granted freedom to assault “enemy” targets throughout the Indian Ocean, the soldier did not waste the opportunity to strike at French, Dutch and Spanish ships and colonies.

In January of 1809, the French island of “Isle de France”, an entrepôt in the Indian Ocean, fell to the fading military power of the EIC even as another expedition comprised of British regulars departed Bombay for the Dutch East Indies capital of Batavia in hopes of adding those wealthy islands to the Empire. The few thousand soldiers and eight warships of Ochterlony’s EIC command sailed south into the open expanse of the Indian Ocean. Deeming Ceylon, off the southeast coast of the subcontinent, beyond the small Company Army’s capacity to assault, Ochterlony determined to seize upon Zanzibar, ruled by the Sultanate of Oman. While not an “enemy” of Great Britain, the rulers of Zanzibar frequently traded with France and the Dutch Republic, leaving it open to an opportunistic strike.

The invasion of Zanzibar proved something of an anticlimax as little resistance emerged from the somewhat baffled local traders. A mixture of African and Arab culture and bloodlines, the rulers of Zanzibar grudgingly agreed to depart peacefully provided they may carry off their personal fortunes. Like Ochterlony in Bombay, most of the bureaucrats and soldiers nominally governing Zanzibar spent far more time engaging in gainful commerce than actual administration. With little bloodshed (and more than a little haggling), Ochterlony quietly moved into the Sultan’s Palace (or whatever it was called by the Arabs) and assumed control over the island.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Willoughby Cotton, Ochterlony’s painfully young adjutant, interrupted his commander’s musings one morning.

To his own embarrassment, the aging soldier realized he’d been woolgathering. Upon his own arrival on the subcontinent over thirty years prior, the young Bostonian (the American colonies still proud of their attachment to Britain) swiftly rose through the military hierarchy of the East India Company Army via his own modest attributes and the sponsorship of his future brother-in-law, Colonel Thomas Adams, the senior officer making an “arrangement” to take up with the younger sister of Adams’ own Bibi (mistress). Ochterlony and Lila enjoyed three decades of defacto marriage, producing four children, now grown and living lives of their own. His two sons were engaged in commerce on the subcontinent, utilizing both their British and Maratha contacts to great success, while his daughters were married off to local merchants, though the eldest, Katherine, moved with her husband to the mainland years ago.

Unfortunately, the playful (and delightfully curvaceous) Lila would succumb to some intestinal cancer three years prior, leaving the recently promoted “General” Ochterlony, commander-in-chief of company forces in Bombay, to follow the lonely path of widowerhood. Dedicating himself to his career, Ochterlony spent the past years witnessing the power of the East India Company fade away, trapped in a few modest enclaves like the offshore Bombay Archipelago as the Maratha Empire methodically enforced its will over the few remaining independent Kingdoms of the subcontinent.

Once, the Maratha Chhatrapati would demand Company assistance with subjugation of regional Rajas. Now…he seldom bothered. Even the declaration of War upon the remaining French colonies in Eastern India by the Maratha Empire barely elicited a notification to the EIC of the pending invasion of Pondicherry, Madras and the Circars…but no entreaty to ally.

The Chhatrapati didn’t need the East India Company anymore. He could crush the tiny French and Dutch factories along the east coast of the subcontinent himself. With France (and their puppet, the Dutch Republic) at war with Britain, the French possessions were now vulnerable and isolated…even without the rival Imperial and Royal factions splitting the French colonial loyalties.

Even as the Royal Navy and British regulars boarded their vessels for Batavia, the East India Company forces raised anchor for the Eastern Indian Ocean seeking any target of opportunity.

To Ochterlony, who’d long since outgrown any pretensions of martial glory, the war was a godsend simply for forcing attention away from his melancholy and loneliness.

Embarrassed his adjutant caught him by surprise, the aging soldier looked up upon the youth’s face and inquired with an apologetic grin, “Sorry, Lieutenant, what were you saying?”

Wisely choosing not to comment upon his commander’s distraction, the Lieutenant repeated, “Captain Holliday has discovered another batch of slaves, sir, which one of the Arab traders attempted to hide until his ship could be supplied.”

With a sign, Ochterlony leaned back in his chair and nodded, “Give the Captain my compliments. He is to do as ordered…free the slaves and confiscate the merchant’s ship and goods. This defiance must stop.”

“Yes, sir…errr…”

“Something more, Cotton?”

“Yes, sir,” the youth seemed troubled. Previously, the officer had proven quite adaptable service on the subcontinent, and little seemed to throw him. “There appears to be…several white women…among the slaves, mostly harem girls as best we can tell.”

Cold fury erupted within Ochterlony. He’d grown to loath slavery in all forms…but his own race?!!

“Take me there. Now!”

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1809

Watford

Ducking his tall frame under the low doorway, General Andrew Jackson landed in an undignified heap upon the floor of his Brigade’s advance headquarters north of Watford. The stinging rebuke of rifle fire continued ringing in his ears. Outside, calls by his sergeants to flush the English partisans from the nearby woods resulted in a wave of retaliatory volleys by the Columbian Brigade enlisted men.

“Allow me, General,” offered Major Lucien Devereaux, the “liaison” assigned by Emperor Napoleon to the Columbian General’s staff. While initially seen as a spy, the French officer swiftly became indispensable to the brigade of Columbian volunteers to serve the French Emperor against the hated British Empire.

As it so happened, Jackson’s own superior, President Aaron Burr, tasked the soldier to learn all he could regarding the French war machine lest the Emperor one day turn his sights upon the young republic across the sea once he was finished conquering Europe.

“Thank you, Lucien,” Jackson grudgingly accepted the younger man’s assistance up. “My staff and I were but a few steps away from our headquarters when the damned English irregulars started shooting from the treeline!”

Henry Dearborn, commander of Jackson’s 2nd Regiment and a fellow veteran of the War for Independence, stepped forward. “The damned English seemed to have learned something from our own war so many years ago, General. The enemy have become capable partisans in their own right.”

For the past several weeks, Dearborn’s Regiment had served as the northwesternmost picket of Marshal Davout’s invasion force. Having managed force the English Channel the previous summer, the France-led coalition successfully overran London and southeastern England only to, in the eyes of Jackson, squander their momentum by effectively entering winter quarters northwest of London throughout December and January. With the flower of their army crushed before the French horde in the opening stages of the invasion, the ancient foes of France were gifted two months reprieve to reorganized, recruit, train and plan a new offensive. While Davout justified his indolence as “waiting for supplies”, the harsh and unforgiving Andrew Jackson considered the French soldier’s actions a matter of cowardice and sloth.

“Your hat, sir?” A helpful young adjutant of Dearborn inquired in a distinctly northern accent, perhaps Massachusetts. Seeing his staff officers each stumble in none the worse for wear (except perhaps for their dignity), Jackson nodded and surrendered his hat and coat. While winter in the British Isles seldom compared with the frigid Columbian north, the climate remained far less pleasant than his native Western Carolina or Tennessee (technically the General was born in the Viceroyalty of North Carolina but few dared utter such words to the ardent Columbian patriot).

Noting the echoes of musket fire steadily moving north, Jackson assumed the skirmishers were doing their jobs to drive off the partisans. Of course, they’ll be back, he thought grimly.

Taking a seat near the fire, Jackson took in the fine country house now serving the 2nd Regiment. “A fine arrangement you’ve found, Dearborn.”

Stiffening slightly at the perceived criticism, “I can assure you that the men of the 2nd are equally well housed, General. I’ve evicted hundreds of local families from their homes to properly billet the men…”

Waving this off, Jackson clarified, “You mistake me, sir. I mean no slander. I merely point out we were never supposed to halt long enough to avail ourselves of such…pleasant lodgings…as this fine country squire’s home.”

Nodding, Dearborn dropped himself into the opposite chair. Throughout the expansive drawing room turned Regimental headquarters, staff officers unobtrusively returned to their duties, all the while pretending not to eavesdrop. Devereaux sought out the privy, thus giving the two senior officers a chance to speak privately.

“I have news, Dearborn,” Jackson announced, warming his hands to the fire. It WAS miserable in this dank and damp country. The chill never seemed to leave his bones. “The expected Royal Navy counterattack from the western ports failed to materialize. That gale last week apparently scattered dozens of ships, many British warships damaged.”

Dearborn’s eyes glowed. “Then the resupply across from France continues apace, sir?” He inquired, straightening his own jacket. “We might resume the offensive?”

The General grinned. “Yes…finally. Honestly, I find it more likely Davout and the other French General just wanted to celebrate Christmas and New Years in London.”

“I cannot imagine the English urban gentry invited their conquerors to overly man parties.”

“Indeed, no, however the Generals still found a way to make themselves comfortable while supplies and reinforcements crossed the Channel.”

“How many?” Dearborn raised his brows. This was news to him.

“Four thousand only…but mostly skilled cavalry and artillery…with horses,” Jackson elaborated, accepting a toddy handed to him by a staff officer. A quick sip already warmed his bones. “For the first time, Davout will have something resembling a real cavalry brigade.”

Dearborn’s face clenched, “Had we but a few thousand horsemen in November when the enemy was in full retreat…”

“Yes,” Jackson nodded, equally dissatisfied. “We might have bagged the entirety of the effective British Army. Instead, who knows how many escaped into the Midlands to fight again.”

Brushing the thought aside, Jackson swallowed his toddy in but a single gulp, belched slightly and announced, “The Columbian Brigade has been ordered to probe northwards towards Liverpool, our ultimate destination. The rest of the French Army prepares to abandon their billets as we speak.”

With the junior officer’s eyes ablaze at the potential for glory, Dearborn similarly downed his drink and grinned. “Good, I great weary of garrison duty in this miserable English burg. Let’s see what mischief the Columbian Brigade might get into before the first rays of spring melt this damnable snow!”

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1809

Merseyside

Valentin Joyce and a half dozen other sailors followed the aging Marine sergeant through the tangled streets of Liverpool’s dock district as the frigid breeze wafted through the narrow alleys. Though the Admiralty undoubtedly recoiled at the idea, they hesitantly agreed to provide able seamen to help maintain martial law throughout the city. Over the preceding months, virtually every experienced redcoat and royal marine had marched south to oppose the French advance, leaving only infirm veterans and poorly trained recruits to suppress any hint of rebellion. Since the weather had yet to break over the Irish Sea, the sailors of the Liverpool Fleet remained the only large allotment of able-bodied men available for the task. Ironically, the leader of the patrol was the same elderly sergeant, one Emile Hoskins, who had repeatedly stopped and identified Joyce during his infrequent, now non-existent, leaves to Liverpool.

Though the old sergeant's sermonizing throughout the patrol irritated every sailor compelled to follow him, far more disconcerting was the horrific poverty endemic to the civilian population of the once prosperous port. Virtually all private enterprise ground to a halt as most currency in circulation was "borrowed" by the government to support the war effort. Not only were healthy young men impressed in vast numbers, but civilian contractors were forced to offer their goods and services on credit be they miners, manufacturers or skilled laborers. Though Englishmen remained renowned for patriotism, the implosion of the economy shocked the entire nation.

In response, the British Government imposed harsher Martial Law in hopes to quelling rebellion long enough to drive the invaders into the sea. After glimpsing stacks of frozen bodies carted through the streets, Joyce solemnly prayed that the weather break long enough for his own vessel to sail. Even the terrors of battle were preferable to expelling destitute refugees from their flimsy shacks and forcing the poor wretches out of Liverpool. After the most recent riot, the government deemed that the city proper, with its vital industries, required to be swept clean of the homeless that continued to cause such trouble. Left to their own devices, and without shelter in the midlands’ countryside, the refugees preyed upon one other in a desperate bid to survive. Gangs of starving Londoners and displaced southern villagers attacked small towns with impunity stealing, often every morsel of food available.

Unable to quench the violence, the Government left the villages to their fates. Soldiers could only be expended against the French or to safeguard vital assets such as strategic military locations or the property of noblemen. Joyce knew that if the war did not end soon, England would destroy itself.

Seeing a figure flee into an alley, Sergeant Hoskins smiled as he said, "That one isa dead end, boys. Let us see who so wishes to avoid us, shall we?

Following the sergeant in, a pair of redcoats, barely old enough to grow a proper beard, seized a struggling figure and dragged him bodily out into the street. Joyce's heart sank as he realized who had been captured.

"Well, well," Hoskin's rubbed his hands in satisfaction, "if it isn't the deserter from your very own ship, boys."

Ceasing his resistance, the ugly face of Clyde Simms looked blearily up at his captures. Tears immediately filled his eyes as he stammered, "I wasn't deserting, not at all. I just needed to find some food for ma' family."

Sure enough, a loaf of bread and a few rotting potatoes remain clutched in the sailor's hands.

"As soon as I got them this food, I'd be right back," Simms swore, "They live above the tinker's shop around the corner. I didn't even miss a single watch…"

Waving off Simms' pleading, the sergeant barked, "I don't care, seaman. You knew full well the penalty for desertion. If the navy wants you, it will be a hundred lashes. If not, it’s the rope."

Gesturing towards the redcoats, Hoskins ordered, "Take him to the prison."

With that, the weeping sailor was led off, his precious food falling to the ground.

Bending to retrieve the bread, Hoskins stated happily, "Well, it looks like dinner will be a mite larger than usua…"

Abruptly, he stiffened as a bayonet appeared near his throat. Standing over the prostrate Marine, Michael Bates quietly uttered, "Sergeant, I believe you mean to offer that to the prisoner's family. Surely, you wouldn't steal food from the very mouth of our shipmate’s wife and children?"

Leaning close, Joyce whispered, "Sailors guard each other, Hoskins. We'd make you pay on patrol some dark night. There aren't enough redcoats around to protect you.

Lethally, Bates finished, "You'd never know which of us got you."

Immediately, Joyce and the other sailors closed ranks around their comrade. Obviously outraged, Hoskins maintained enough sense to return the food to the ground. Joyce promptly gathered it in his arms. Mustering his dignity, the sergeant glared at the sailors before resuming his march.

Almost giddily, Bates closely followed Hoskins' path and reminded, "I believe our patrol will take us in the other direction, towards the Tinker's shop, sergeant."

Momentarily, Joyce thought the old man would defy his nominal subordinate. However, his sense of survival outweighed his affronted dignity. Turning on his heel, Hoskins led the patrol towards the quarters of Simms' family.

Shipmates always protected one other from outsiders. For a moment, the sergeant forgot that. Joyce hoped that Simms would not pay a price for Hoskin's humiliation.

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1809

Canton

Watching the young ensign help the last of his officers onto the unfamiliar ship, Nelson made a conscious effort not to gawk at the unfamiliar surroundings. Though on the surface, there was little difference between his own flagship and this foreign vessel, he could not help but consider it a bit…..shabbier… than his own. In all honesty, only the mismatched seamen uniforms, as well as the incorrect flag fluttering on the mast, identified this ship as not in the service of the King. The young ensign waited politely until the British officers composed themselves from their climb up the rope ladder and, with a nod from Wesley, escorted them toward the ship’s master.

Awaiting them on the open deck was a short, squat man of perhaps fifty years who oddly bore a passing resemblance to King George. Nelson noted with amusement that the vessel’s crew was at attention in virtually the same disciplined formation Wesley ordered when the Chinese envoy arrived on the Serapis weeks prior. Perhaps they would attempt the same intimidation tactic of firing off an unexpected cannon salvo as well. With his typical precision, Wesley drew across from his opposite number as Nelson and the senior officers unconsciously drew up in line behind him. Stepping forward, the foreign general, dressed in what was apparently his nation’s answer to an officer’s uniform, addressed Wesley.

“General,” he said formally, “I am James Wilkinson, General in the United States of Columbia’s Army. On behalf of my nation, I welcome you to the USS Philadelphia.”

With a formal bow, Wesley stated in equally respectful tones, “General Wilkinson, thank you for the courtesy of you invitation. General Arthur Wesley in service of his majesty, King George.” Turning toward his officers, he continued, “Might I introduce Admiral Horatio Nelson, commander of our squadron, Colonel Steven Reims, my chief of staff, Captain Marcus Stone, Major Allen……”

As Wesley and Nelson continued the niceties of the introduction, Nelson surreptitiously scanned the ship. The Philadelphia was a stout frigate constructed along British lines. Built for maneuverability rather than sheer firepower, in the hands of competent sailors it may prove a ferocious opponent. Given their shared ancestry and maritime tradition, Nelson possessed little doubt the men walking her decks were more than competent. Hopes a long sea voyage to China thinned the Columbian crew by hardship and disease were dashed by the healthy tans and constitutions of the soldiers and sailors crowding the Philadelphia’s decks.

Glancing back toward Wesley, still exchanging pleasantries with his counterpart, Wesley sensed a discrete stare from one of the Columbian Naval officers. At first more interested in the ship than its Captain, Nelson belatedly recognized his mistake. The shockingly young fleet Captain, one Steven Decatur, was apprising him as effortlessly as Nelson was the former’s ship. With a polite nod, returned by the Columbian with a carefully bland expression, Nelson turned his gaze back towards the landsmen commencing the time-honored dance of military courtesy. Before he had the chance to fully pry his attention back to the inane banter, Nelson stiffened. Cursing his own feeble memory, he recalled when he had heard of this officer. Decatur led a small flotilla a few years back against the Barbary pirates. In an act of audacious daring, the man slipped into Tripoli Harbor at night and seized the USS Philadelphia, previously captured by the pirates, right out under its captors’ noses. Upon hearing of the deed during a dinner party, Nelson himself had deemed it “the most bold and daring act of the age.” That might have been an exaggeration given the amount he had drunk that night, but it certainly was worthy of a respectful toast.

Thankfully, Wilkinson and Wesley finished their introductions and niceties relatively quickly. With a polite invitation below decks, the Columbian soldier and sailor led their guests into the belly of the ship to a small wardroom. Obviously cleared recently to make it suitably tidy for guests, Nelson felt it odd that the maps, logbooks, and other naval paraphernalia typically cluttering such quarters would be absent. Certainly, Decatur would have been adamant no classified material be present for prying British eyes to glean even the slightest intelligence on Columbian intentions. Gracefully gesturing his guests to sit to one side of the room’s sole table, Wilkinson nodded for a steward to dispense what appeared to be a strong Columbian brandy. Once all seemed comfortably seated, he leaned forward towards his opposite number at inquired rhetorically:

“Now, where do go from here?”

Later:

With the departure of the senior naval and army officers from his personal stateroom, Nelson quietly poured a cup of tea for himself and the sole other remaining occupant. Seeing Wesley slumped in the chair with his head hanging back, eyes snapped shut, Nelson simply placed the steaming cup in front of him and settled in himself. During the long journey from England, he had witnessed Wesley in this state enough to understand its nuance. When the usually impeccably dignified soldier abandoned his rigid posture, it was a sure indication that his mind rapidly churned to find a solution to an unusually difficult conundrum. Judging it best to allow his friend time consider Wilkinson’s shocking offer, Nelson chose not to prompt Wesley from his revelry.

Instead, Nelson took a sip of his drink and ran his mind over the last few hours for what seemed like the thousandth time. The discovery that, despite the recent wars occupying the affairs of global powers, another nation was negotiating for expanded trade in China was unpleasant enough. That competition for Chinese markets was coming from an unexpected source was worse. That the competition had brought a full squadron of warships to enforce their claim was utterly unacceptable. Nelson could not get over his surprise the former colonists even mustered the resources for such an expedition.

The debate over their response to Wilkinson’s offer raged for hours once the British officers returned to their own ship. Opinions ranged from demanding open warfare to stalling to opening negotiations. Wesley, to everyone’s consternation, declined to state his mind, instead preferring to listen to each officer’s opinion without immediate comment. Other than calming the most heated disagreements, Wesley simply thanked them for their advice and stated that he wished to consider their words overnight. Wesley’s officers, familiar with his moods, immediately perceived their dismissal and exited the stateroom with a few of the arguments voluminously continuing outside. With a slight nod, Nelson dismissed his naval adjutants as well. Alone, he and Wesley would determine their course through these uncharted waters. A man preferring independence of command, Nelson for once wished that the admiralty lay a bit closer. He did not relish the idea of making a policy such as this independently.

These thoughts were going through the sailor’s mind as he poured another drink to steady his nerves. Wesley barely moved an eyelash. On more than one occasion when witnessing the soldier’s concentration, Nelson suspected his friend of falling asleep. The slow intake of breath proved the lie on this occasion as Wesley open his eyes and looked at Nelson.

With no visible expression, Wesley stated bluntly, “He’s a traitor, you know.”

Coughing up his last swallow, Nelson gasped incredulously, “He’s a what?!!!”

“Wilkinson,” Wesley explained calmly, “has been on the payroll of Spain, probably France, and most likely a few other nations, maybe even ours, for years. Rumor has it that, during his assignment of the Columbian forts in Western North America, he did more to forestall a Columbian invasion of Louisiana that anything the French or Spanish military did. Burr was planning a war with France from his inauguration. Wilkinson was supposed to lay the groundwork for an assault down the Mississippi river. If reports are to be believed, he meticulously prevented anything remotely resembling Columbian military efficiency in the west. And was paid extremely handsomely for it by Spain and, once the territory was taken over by France, by Bonaparte’s intelligence service.”

Though such incidents of disloyalty were hardly unheard of in Europe, Nelson still had difficulty understanding treason. Pillaging, bribery, embezzlement…..yes, that was understandable if not commendable. But treason itself against your own nation was unthinkable.

Not bothering to wait for a response, Wesley continued, “I suspect Emperor Bonaparte’s failure to reestablish control of Saint Domingue or the rest of the French West Indies, and his subsequent sale of Louisiana to the Columbians, was the only thing to prevent actual war between Columbia and France.”

“It’s a pity. We could have used another ally in 1803.” Nelson responded absently while looking into his cup. “Is there a way that we can use that to our advantage?”

“I’ve been thinking about just that. Unfortunately, I don’t see how he can be bribed in front of his officers.” Taking his first gulp of the now tepid tea, he continued, “Besides, given the man’s reputation, I have to suspect he may have designs on the China trade itself likely to dwarf any profit he would receive from us. Either way, I have little inclination to offer money to this man.”

“How did you come by this information?” Inquired Nelson, belatedly realizing British Generals were seldom so well informed about the character traits of Columbian officers.

“During the height of the tensions between Britain & Columbia, I was asked to prepare an operations paper on strategic strengths and weaknesses of the United States. This included probable military leaders and their expected military objectives. This Wilkinson was among them. Fortunately, one of the truces with France allowed us to halt the policy of impressing Columbian sailors on the pretext that they are British deserters, at least temporarily.” Taking another drink of tea, he continued contemptuously, “That was perhaps the most idiotic and destructive policy I ever witnessed coming out of the admiralty.”

Stiffening at the perceived slight towards his service, Nelson, a bit more harshly than intended, retorted, “It was a necessary policy. The Royal Navy cannot exist without strict discipline toward deserters.”

With no noticeable change in tone or volume, Wesley looked up at Nelson and calmly replied, “Our own internal investigations revealed the vast majority of those taken off Columbian ships were never part of the British Navy. In fact, a minority were even born in Britain. No, we have been taking foreigners off their own flagged vessels and forcing them to serve on British warships.”

Nelson noticed his friend’s passion stirring on a subject as Wesley started to pace around the room while he continued, “And look at the result. Profitable trade with North America has been lost as the Columbians launched a national boycott of our nation’s products. Their embargo on wheat exports has proved extremely unpopular to the British commoners as prices increased. Your own service often lacks badly needed timber, pitch and hemp normally acquired from Columbia.”

Working himself into a near fury, an unusual state for the dignified, upper-crust officer, Wesley went on, “Now Columbia is falling further and further into France’s orbit. Worse, this fleet,” he said as he pointed in the general direction of the American flotilla, “is the final proof of our idiocy. No self-respecting nation on Earth would tolerate such an insult to their flag. Once content to their backwoods existence, the Columbians have built a fleet to defend their people. Now dozens of warships patrol the Western Atlantic in direct opposition to us. For the price of a few hundred, perhaps a thousand sailors, most of whom desert at the earliest opportunity, we have created an enemy out of what could have been our closest friends. I still have no idea how open war has not broken out. As if France were not enough to handle. Perhaps the war department is just getting bored.”

Abruptly, Wesley stopped. Realizing the extent of his outburst, he grinned sheepishly towards Nelson and sat back down. It had been a long and stressful day. Having no desire to quarrel with his friend, and realizing the Wesley was likely in the right anyway, Nelson put aside his own anger and returned to the problem at hand, “Again, we are left with the original question. What do we do about Wilkinson’s offer?”

Settling back into his chair, Wesley looked out into space and wondered aloud, “What would Lord Howick think about this? Cooperation, a merging of Columbian and British military forces to pry open China to both nation’s markets? I cannot answer that question.”

Tentatively, Nelson offered, “We both know we can never conquer as vast a land as China with eight hundred regulars and a dozen ships. Our entire armed forces could not do that. Our only hope on this mission lay in forcing China to the negotiating table with a show of our military superiority. Failing that, our next step can only be to damage internal trade to such an extent that China must bow to our demands. Cutting off traffic along their rivers, capturing key cities, seizing or burning vital Chinese shipping, these can all certainly damage the nation but not conquer it. Eight Columbian warships and a few hundred more men would certainly bring the objectives closer at hand.”

Arm resting over his eyes against the glare of the lamps, Wesley considered and replied, “Too true, Horatio. However, the price Wilkinson demands may be too high for both the foreign and war offices. Remember, these men consider Britain to be the master of nations. No other nation has the right even to contemplate an empire. Our supremacy must not be challenged. Not in India, not in China, not in the Americas. You might remember how the Columbians reacted to our attempt to force them to remain in our empire a few decades ago. Only Great Britain may rule the world. Sharing power and profits are not in our people’s nature.”

“Then we battle them for it,” Nelson finished. “I’m certain we will prevail in any engagement.”

“You are so sure?” Wesley inquired absently, eyes once again drifting off into space.

“Absolutely,” Nelson replied confidently, warming to the subject of battle as he always did. “We outnumber them twelve to eight. And we have two heavy frigates that the Columbians cannot match.”

Frowning, he admitted, “Unfortunately, I don’t think that we can catch the enemy by surprise. Decatur had placed his fleet in excellent position between the mainland and a small island, eliminating the possibility being outmaneuvered while simultaneously allowing each ship to cover each other. In the short time we were on his ship, I noticed the other frigates had double watches posted. With Decatur’s reputation, I doubt he will reduce his vigilance in the future.”

“So you advise an assault?” asked Wesley with little hint of expression.

“I see no other choice.” Nelson replied. “We will win such a battle based on the forces available. I cannot guarantee much more. As children of Great Britain, the Columbians are a seafaring nation with a large pool of qualified sailors. From what I understand, they are well paid and led by a small pool of competent officers. Unlike the useless, unwanted flotsam that the French conscript and call sailors, the Columbians won’t fall apart at the first round of cannon fire. But they will be defeated, nonetheless.”

“And the result of this victory?” Wesley inquired.

Not certain of Wesley’s question, Nelson slowly responded, “Why, the ejection of the Columbian fleet, of course. It will be years before another can arrive to challenge us.”

“Yes, Horatio. But you forgot to add that this Decatur will certainly damage or destroy a good portion of our limited fleet as well, severely shrinking our chances of success. Nor did you mention the fact that you and I would have unilaterally decided to declare war on the United States of Columbia. Do you think London really wishes that, despite their ridiculous provocations of the Columbians?” In unusual cruelty, he added callously, “Didn’t you learn anything from Copenhagen?”

Seeing Nelson openly stunned by his vicious remark, Wesley immediately regretted it. “Forgive me, Horatio, it has been a trying day, I should not have said that.”

Attempting to master his emotions, Nelson replied with as much control as he could, “You would not have said it if it were not true. I think back to that day and……” Head hanging, Nelson trailed off without finishing his sentence.

Truly distressed that he had caused his friend pain, Welsey attempted to explain, “You realize that I merely wished to relay my desire to avoid unnecessary conflict.”

Recognizing Wesley’s attempt to salvage his feelings, Nelson waved off his concerns with false good humor, “No apologies please, Arthur. You are correct. With another war with France liable to start any time, British and Columbian’s killing each other would be a tragedy.”

 

[Gentleman Johnny]

Small nitpick. I believe you mean "Arthur Wellesley" rather than "Wesley".

 

[Alt History Buff]

Small nitpick. I believe you mean "Arthur Wellesley" rather than "Wesley".

His original name was Arthur Wesley. It became Wellesley (and older spelling and pronunciation of "Wesley") when his famous brother Richard changed the family name in 1789 (and Arthur followed suit in 1798) as it was "more pleasant to the ear".

In this scenario, Arthur Wesley's brother did not become Governor General of India because there was no British India. Therefore, Arthur Wesley never moved to India or had a such a distinguished career meriting a knighthood, ennobling to a Dukedom, etc.

Here, the family name remained Wesley.

 

[souvikkundu25140017]

Is chatrapati control whole india now? Any changes in economic or social or industrial sector?

 

[Gentleman Johnny]

His original name was Arthur Wesley. It became Wellesley (and older spelling and pronunciation of "Wesley") when his famous brother Richard changed the family name in 1789 (and Arthur followed suit in 1798) as it was "more pleasant to the ear".

In this scenario, Arthur Wesley's brother did not become Governor General of India because there was no British India. Therefore, Arthur Wesley never moved to India or had a such a distinguished career meriting a knighthood, ennobling to a Dukedom, etc.

Here, the family name remained Wesley.

A quick Google search shows you're absolutely correct. I can't believe I never knew this. Sorry about that.

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1809

Battle Line south of Belfast

Tired of being constantly jostled by the junior officers and messengers rushing in and out of Marshal Ney's command tent, Colonel Jose de San Martin paused momentarily to rest as his compadres jabbered excitedly regarding the impending battle. Since Major Ramirez had fallen ill during the outbreak of typhoid in Dublin, the Spanish Colonel had been forced to take direct command of the 10th Cavalry's 2nd Battalion in addition to his Regimental duties. Fortunately, Ramirez, who appeared to be recovering, was the only officer San Martin had lost. One of the French Dragoon Regimental Commanders witnessed the entirety of his staff officers laid low by a case of food poisoning. When the cook was questioned, the nervous Irish Catholic admitted that much of the fare was actually dried pork reserved for the Royal Navy. Upon investigation, a French Commissary was shocked to learn the pork withered in storage for over a decade and was thoroughly gnawed by vermin. The common soldiers, served only moldy potatoes, fared better.

"How many soldiers, dammit?" Ney was shouting in French towards a terrified junior officer bearing the uniform of a scout. "What is their distribution? Is it mainly militia or redcoats? Answer me!"

The youth managed to stammer, "By our best estimates, ten thousand soldiers in total, sir! Perhaps five thousand redcoats and another ten thousand of what appears to be local militia. Very little cannon, four batteries at the most. Perhaps a total of five hundred British Cavalry and an equal amount of Irishmen."

"You are certain," Ney warned menacingly, "that there are not reserves?"

Shaking his head, the Lieutenant confirmed vehemently, "No, General. There are few hills in this area, nothing which any significant force can hide behind. If there are additional British forces, they have been left in Belfast or many miles to the northwest in those mountains west of the city."

Evidently satisfied, Ney dismissed the relieved scout and returned to a map liberated from the British garrison commander's office in Dublin. The detailed topographical representation of the land south of Belfast hinted at low, rolling hills but few true natural barriers. It was good land to fight a battle.

"The enemy line parallels a small creek meandering east to west and, at one point, a backcountry road lined by stone fences," Ney noted, "The British apparently are not willing to submit to a siege of Belfast, not with such poor defensive fortifications. By making their stand here, they might still retire north to the hills and the city of Londonderry."

"Aye," added one of the Irish militia commanders whom Ney raised to a Colonel mainly due to his mastery of French, "No redcoat wishes to find himself at the mercy of his adoring Irish inferiors. If the lobsters suffer a defeat…..well, I wouldn't give a bottle of warm spit for their chances."

Ney, for his part, ignored the babble of his council of war as the peered intently at the map. Yes, this is good land for a battle. Let us make it the last true campaign in Ireland.

Clearing his throat, San Martin inquired, "Marshal, by the scout's description, much of the farmland is fenced by stone, limiting my Cavalry's effectiveness. How shall the Light Horse, Hussars, Heavy Cavalry and Carabiniers be utilized?"

Frowning, Ney conceded the point before answering, "Your regiments will be our last reserve. Once the enemy is broken, you will be ordered to run them down."

San Martin nodded and stepped back as several other officers sought instruction. It was amazing the Army of Bordeaux effectively conquered most of Ireland before facing a major engagement. Perhaps it was too much to ask to hope the British would simply depart without rancor. Despite the Emperor's assurance, neither reinforcements nor significant supply had reached Ireland since the Army of Bordeaux's arrival in Cork. Much of the powder, shot, muskets and horses had been appropriated from meager British stores. Like many officers, San Martin privately felt disquieted by the alarming shortfall. Should this assault fail to dislodge the British…..

Well, then, he amended vehemently, we shall not fail.