Saphroneth
Banned
It was a fine day.
The RMS Trent, mail packet with the British Royal Mail service, steamed steadily east along the Bahama Channel - the relatively narrow deep-water route between Cuba and the Bahamas - and her bow splashed as it cut the waves, out of time with the steady sound of her paddles.
"It's quite warm for the season, isn't it?" asked one of the passengers. "I must say, I'd have thought the weather would be far worse - it is November, after all."
"You should have to ask someone from down this far south," replied the Trent's Captain, a man by the name of Moir. "But speaking for myself, this time of year is often one for storms or squalls - we seem to have a good passage so far."
He walked on, compensating for the swaying deck with unconscious ease, and stood at the bow for a long moment to look out at the horizon.
To the north, though the sky was clear but for a few fluffy clouds, he could feel a storm brewing. Not weather, but far worse - politics.
For months, now, the United States had been divided in twain. The Union called to arms to protect their unity, and the Confederacy mustered to win their freedom - and a small part of that distant war had come to his own Trent, in ten of the persons who had booked passage to England.
They were not ambassadors, because the Confederacy as yet was not recognized - was not considered a nation - and could not send ambassadors. But they rejoiced in the title of commissioner - one each for England and France - along with their secretaries, and in two cases their families.
Moir did not care overmuch for the outcome of the American War, for himself. But having met the men who the Confederacy had chosen to represent them, he found himself warming to them a little on a personal level.
Looking up at the sun, he adjudged the time to be a little short of noon. His cook was quite competent, so it would be a pleasant meal.
Then the lookout signalled down from the mast, and Moir learned that the American War had come to him in more ways than one.
"I don't like this," Moir said, watching as the vessel - a corvette or a frigate, though he recalled that the Americans called their corvettes "sloops" and did not make the distinction - lay acros their path, showing no colours. "Surely he sees the flag?"
"He must, Captain," agreed the Royal Naval officer onboard, Williams - a passenger himself, in charge of the mails. "At this distance we could see their ensign easily."
"Well, we shall soon find out what is up," Moir mused. "They must be waiting for us, or they would have made for their true destination. Do you think she is a Southern privateer?"
"If she is, then we will have no trouble with her," Williams pronounced surely. "But no Southern ship could be so large or powerful, not unless they have taken one of the ships captured at Norfolk and made her seaworthy."
He shook his head. "No, I think-"
Williams was interrupted by a puff of white smoke, and then the crash of a cannon-shot - and, ominously, the splash of a round shot impacting the water ahead of the Trent.
"By god, she has fired," Moir said. "Why would she fire a shot across our bows, without a blank shot first?"
"She is an American vessel," Williams pointed out, as the flag went up - and, just as he said, it was a stars-and-stripes, the Union's naval ensign.
"Sir?" called the man on the wheel. "Should we stop?"
Moir hesitated, thinking of the crew and the passengers and the diplomatic situation all at once. Before he came to a decision, however, the American ship fired another round.
This one was a shell, and burst not a hundred yards in front of the Trent's bow.
"Her guns are all out!" Williams warned. "She may mean to fire into us!"
"Heave to!" Moir ordered. "We'll see what this is about!"
He took up a speaking trumpet and walked to the side of his ship, waiting as she slewed sideways and lost way.
Then he hailed the American ship, asking for some sort of justification.
Some minutes later, an American lieutenant climbed aboard Trent from his cutter - one of two the American ship had sent over.
Two members of the crew escorted him to Moir, now up to a slow simmering boil of anger, and cleared his throat.
"Captain," he began. "I am instructed to demand from you a list of the passengers upon your ship."
"Lieutenant, you may not have it," Moir replied firmly. "This is an illegal action. What is your ship?"
"The San Jacinto," answered the American lieutenant. "My captain and I have been given positive assurances that there are men on board your vessel the Trent who are wanted by my government, and we will have them."
"You will not have any man, woman or child from this ship," Moir countered. "You have no right to take any person whatsoever from under the protection of the British flag."
"My instructions are to arrest Mr. Mason and Mr. Slidell and their secretaries, and send them prisoners on board the United States war vessel nearby," the lieutenant said simply. "I will have them, and I will have their baggage and dispatches."
There was a muttering from the passengers, which soon escalated into shouts and threats. The American lieutenant made no answer at first, but his men - nearly twenty seamen, armed with cutlass and pistol, and two ensigns with them - came aboard, forming a knot around their officer.
"I have no quarrel with your ship, captain," the lieutenant said. "But my government, and my captain, and I - we will have Mr. Mason, and Mr. Slidell, and their secretaries Mr. Eustice and Mr. McFarland."
The muttering rose again, but before it could break out into another round of threats one of the passengers stepped forwards.
"I am Mr. Mason," said the gentleman. "What do you want of us?"
The lieutenant looked mildly relieved. "You four, to be taken as prisoners upon the San Jacinto, and your baggage confiscated."
"We will not go with you, not unless we are forced," the diplomat stated.
His fellow addressed Captain Moir directly. "We claim the protection of the British Flag, as passengers upon your ship."
"That is your answer, lieutenant," Moir said.
"Then I must take charge of the ship," the lieutenant stated positively. "It must be searched for dispatches as well."
At that, Commander Williams stepped up from the back of the crowd, full of indignation. "In this ship I am the representative of Her Majesty's Government, and I call upon the officers of the ship and the passengers generally to mark my words when, in the name of that Government, and in distinct language, I denounce this as an illegal act - an act in violation of international law - an act, indeed, of wanton piracy, which, had we the means of defence, you would not dare to attempt."
"But you do not have the means of defence," replied the lieutenant, then signalled to his ship. Almost at once three more cutters launched themselves across the gap, each one full of sailors, and within a few minutes nearly a hundred armed American sailors were aboard - accompanied by thirty marines, complete with their officers.
"If you will not accompany me to my vessel, then I must take the ship by force," the lieutenant said, voice still calm but in a glassy way - that of a man who knew the situation could in moments explode into violence.
"We will not come willingly," Mason said. "But if the alternative is for a fight, we must surrender to duress."
Moir sighed slightly, trying to disguise his relief as the four Confederates were taken into American custody, only for the lieutenant to continue. "Sergeant!"
"Sir," one of the marines said, coming to attention.
"Search the ship."
"You may not," Williams denied. "You may take the baggage of the commissioners, for they are travelling with you, but you may not search this ship - that would be an act of piracy against the British flag."
"Captain Moir!" Slidell called. "I hope you will understand that I expect redress from the British government for this outrage while under the protection of the British flag! I understand that you had little choice of yourself, but I trust you will represent the case properly!"
As the boat with the prisoners in stroked towards San Jacinto, the lieutenant paused.
"My orders are also to take you, captain, and your papers, on board the San Jacinto, and to take the Trent into company with my vessel."
Moir's eyes narrowed.
"You will find me on my quarter deck; if you want me, you will have to come there for me," he said, and turned to walk away without another word.
About an hour later, the Trent was under way once more - lighter by four Confederate envoys, their baggage, and considerable provisions, the latter having been requisitioned by the captain of the San Jacinto to allow him to feed his prisoners.
Moir stared at his plate, still half-full of his lunch.
"What an awful day," he said, shaking his head. "What a fine mess."
"Fine mess indeed," the Royal Navy commander agreed. "But not as fine as it could have been, captain. Firstly, your ship may make all speed for England to report this disaster, instead of being captured by those pirates; secondly, she is unmarred and undamaged, where she could have been fired upon and riddled or sunk; thirdly, no man or woman was killed today, though it was undoubtedly a risk; fourthly, the wives and children of our passengers are safe, though they might not have been; and, lastly, I took the liberty of securing the emissaries' mail as being under our protection, for we could not provide protection to their persons."
Moir looked up, startled. "When on Earth did you do that?"
"I confess, captain, it was what I was doing whilst you were talking with the lieutenant, at first," Williams explained. "Mr. Slidell's daughter showed me where the mails were kept, and I took them to my quarters in haste before joining you on deck."
He smiled at the private joke, then his smile faded.
"This is bad business," he added. "The war in America is already a large one, with great armies, for all that barely a battle has been fought... now our own country may be drawn in."
Moir stood, and nodded. "I fear you may be right," he said softly.
He turned to look out the window. "We cannot proceed to Britain," he said. "Not after such an incident. I will have us make for St. Thomas, and put in there."
"A fine idea, captain," Williams approved. "The Plata leaves from there shortly, does it not?"
Moir nodded silently.
"I cannot conceive of any man put in charge of a great warship being so hot-headed," he said. "Not unless his instructions were positive that he should act that way, if circumstances allowed."
It was still a fine day, but he didn't really appreciate it any more.
(As far as possible this is reconstructed from the account in the Times and on Wikipedia, including all the direct quotes I could get in. It was hard to write without making the Americans look insanely arrogant, because the course of events as described has them continuing to suggest things after being informed that they're acts of literal piracy...)
The RMS Trent, mail packet with the British Royal Mail service, steamed steadily east along the Bahama Channel - the relatively narrow deep-water route between Cuba and the Bahamas - and her bow splashed as it cut the waves, out of time with the steady sound of her paddles.
"It's quite warm for the season, isn't it?" asked one of the passengers. "I must say, I'd have thought the weather would be far worse - it is November, after all."
"You should have to ask someone from down this far south," replied the Trent's Captain, a man by the name of Moir. "But speaking for myself, this time of year is often one for storms or squalls - we seem to have a good passage so far."
He walked on, compensating for the swaying deck with unconscious ease, and stood at the bow for a long moment to look out at the horizon.
To the north, though the sky was clear but for a few fluffy clouds, he could feel a storm brewing. Not weather, but far worse - politics.
For months, now, the United States had been divided in twain. The Union called to arms to protect their unity, and the Confederacy mustered to win their freedom - and a small part of that distant war had come to his own Trent, in ten of the persons who had booked passage to England.
They were not ambassadors, because the Confederacy as yet was not recognized - was not considered a nation - and could not send ambassadors. But they rejoiced in the title of commissioner - one each for England and France - along with their secretaries, and in two cases their families.
Moir did not care overmuch for the outcome of the American War, for himself. But having met the men who the Confederacy had chosen to represent them, he found himself warming to them a little on a personal level.
Looking up at the sun, he adjudged the time to be a little short of noon. His cook was quite competent, so it would be a pleasant meal.
Then the lookout signalled down from the mast, and Moir learned that the American War had come to him in more ways than one.
"I don't like this," Moir said, watching as the vessel - a corvette or a frigate, though he recalled that the Americans called their corvettes "sloops" and did not make the distinction - lay acros their path, showing no colours. "Surely he sees the flag?"
"He must, Captain," agreed the Royal Naval officer onboard, Williams - a passenger himself, in charge of the mails. "At this distance we could see their ensign easily."
"Well, we shall soon find out what is up," Moir mused. "They must be waiting for us, or they would have made for their true destination. Do you think she is a Southern privateer?"
"If she is, then we will have no trouble with her," Williams pronounced surely. "But no Southern ship could be so large or powerful, not unless they have taken one of the ships captured at Norfolk and made her seaworthy."
He shook his head. "No, I think-"
Williams was interrupted by a puff of white smoke, and then the crash of a cannon-shot - and, ominously, the splash of a round shot impacting the water ahead of the Trent.
"By god, she has fired," Moir said. "Why would she fire a shot across our bows, without a blank shot first?"
"She is an American vessel," Williams pointed out, as the flag went up - and, just as he said, it was a stars-and-stripes, the Union's naval ensign.
"Sir?" called the man on the wheel. "Should we stop?"
Moir hesitated, thinking of the crew and the passengers and the diplomatic situation all at once. Before he came to a decision, however, the American ship fired another round.
This one was a shell, and burst not a hundred yards in front of the Trent's bow.
"Her guns are all out!" Williams warned. "She may mean to fire into us!"
"Heave to!" Moir ordered. "We'll see what this is about!"
He took up a speaking trumpet and walked to the side of his ship, waiting as she slewed sideways and lost way.
Then he hailed the American ship, asking for some sort of justification.
Some minutes later, an American lieutenant climbed aboard Trent from his cutter - one of two the American ship had sent over.
Two members of the crew escorted him to Moir, now up to a slow simmering boil of anger, and cleared his throat.
"Captain," he began. "I am instructed to demand from you a list of the passengers upon your ship."
"Lieutenant, you may not have it," Moir replied firmly. "This is an illegal action. What is your ship?"
"The San Jacinto," answered the American lieutenant. "My captain and I have been given positive assurances that there are men on board your vessel the Trent who are wanted by my government, and we will have them."
"You will not have any man, woman or child from this ship," Moir countered. "You have no right to take any person whatsoever from under the protection of the British flag."
"My instructions are to arrest Mr. Mason and Mr. Slidell and their secretaries, and send them prisoners on board the United States war vessel nearby," the lieutenant said simply. "I will have them, and I will have their baggage and dispatches."
There was a muttering from the passengers, which soon escalated into shouts and threats. The American lieutenant made no answer at first, but his men - nearly twenty seamen, armed with cutlass and pistol, and two ensigns with them - came aboard, forming a knot around their officer.
"I have no quarrel with your ship, captain," the lieutenant said. "But my government, and my captain, and I - we will have Mr. Mason, and Mr. Slidell, and their secretaries Mr. Eustice and Mr. McFarland."
The muttering rose again, but before it could break out into another round of threats one of the passengers stepped forwards.
"I am Mr. Mason," said the gentleman. "What do you want of us?"
The lieutenant looked mildly relieved. "You four, to be taken as prisoners upon the San Jacinto, and your baggage confiscated."
"We will not go with you, not unless we are forced," the diplomat stated.
His fellow addressed Captain Moir directly. "We claim the protection of the British Flag, as passengers upon your ship."
"That is your answer, lieutenant," Moir said.
"Then I must take charge of the ship," the lieutenant stated positively. "It must be searched for dispatches as well."
At that, Commander Williams stepped up from the back of the crowd, full of indignation. "In this ship I am the representative of Her Majesty's Government, and I call upon the officers of the ship and the passengers generally to mark my words when, in the name of that Government, and in distinct language, I denounce this as an illegal act - an act in violation of international law - an act, indeed, of wanton piracy, which, had we the means of defence, you would not dare to attempt."
"But you do not have the means of defence," replied the lieutenant, then signalled to his ship. Almost at once three more cutters launched themselves across the gap, each one full of sailors, and within a few minutes nearly a hundred armed American sailors were aboard - accompanied by thirty marines, complete with their officers.
"If you will not accompany me to my vessel, then I must take the ship by force," the lieutenant said, voice still calm but in a glassy way - that of a man who knew the situation could in moments explode into violence.
"We will not come willingly," Mason said. "But if the alternative is for a fight, we must surrender to duress."
Moir sighed slightly, trying to disguise his relief as the four Confederates were taken into American custody, only for the lieutenant to continue. "Sergeant!"
"Sir," one of the marines said, coming to attention.
"Search the ship."
"You may not," Williams denied. "You may take the baggage of the commissioners, for they are travelling with you, but you may not search this ship - that would be an act of piracy against the British flag."
"Captain Moir!" Slidell called. "I hope you will understand that I expect redress from the British government for this outrage while under the protection of the British flag! I understand that you had little choice of yourself, but I trust you will represent the case properly!"
As the boat with the prisoners in stroked towards San Jacinto, the lieutenant paused.
"My orders are also to take you, captain, and your papers, on board the San Jacinto, and to take the Trent into company with my vessel."
Moir's eyes narrowed.
"You will find me on my quarter deck; if you want me, you will have to come there for me," he said, and turned to walk away without another word.
About an hour later, the Trent was under way once more - lighter by four Confederate envoys, their baggage, and considerable provisions, the latter having been requisitioned by the captain of the San Jacinto to allow him to feed his prisoners.
Moir stared at his plate, still half-full of his lunch.
"What an awful day," he said, shaking his head. "What a fine mess."
"Fine mess indeed," the Royal Navy commander agreed. "But not as fine as it could have been, captain. Firstly, your ship may make all speed for England to report this disaster, instead of being captured by those pirates; secondly, she is unmarred and undamaged, where she could have been fired upon and riddled or sunk; thirdly, no man or woman was killed today, though it was undoubtedly a risk; fourthly, the wives and children of our passengers are safe, though they might not have been; and, lastly, I took the liberty of securing the emissaries' mail as being under our protection, for we could not provide protection to their persons."
Moir looked up, startled. "When on Earth did you do that?"
"I confess, captain, it was what I was doing whilst you were talking with the lieutenant, at first," Williams explained. "Mr. Slidell's daughter showed me where the mails were kept, and I took them to my quarters in haste before joining you on deck."
He smiled at the private joke, then his smile faded.
"This is bad business," he added. "The war in America is already a large one, with great armies, for all that barely a battle has been fought... now our own country may be drawn in."
Moir stood, and nodded. "I fear you may be right," he said softly.
He turned to look out the window. "We cannot proceed to Britain," he said. "Not after such an incident. I will have us make for St. Thomas, and put in there."
"A fine idea, captain," Williams approved. "The Plata leaves from there shortly, does it not?"
Moir nodded silently.
"I cannot conceive of any man put in charge of a great warship being so hot-headed," he said. "Not unless his instructions were positive that he should act that way, if circumstances allowed."
It was still a fine day, but he didn't really appreciate it any more.
(As far as possible this is reconstructed from the account in the Times and on Wikipedia, including all the direct quotes I could get in. It was hard to write without making the Americans look insanely arrogant, because the course of events as described has them continuing to suggest things after being informed that they're acts of literal piracy...)
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