Wrapped in Flames: The Great American War and Beyond
- Thread starter EnglishCanuck
- Start date
It's entirely possible to write battle scenes without really giving a damn, in fact this TL would take much, much, less time if I simply said "the Battle of X was decided by General Y moving on the flanks and driving back General Z to a poor location and forcing him to withdraw" however, my focus on trying to inject as much realism into TTL as possible keeps me from doing so, though I am considering truncating much of the 1864 battles simply to get things moving.
However, my current process usually keeps me looking for period appropriate maps and keeps me trying to plot out who is where on a given battlefield, at least at the division level and occasionally at the brigade level. When the armies range into the 100,000+ men range though, I usually settle for divisions.
William F W
When William was born, his mother and father spent some time discussing whether to call him William Fenwick Williams or William Frederick Williams. In TTL they chose to call him William Frederick Williams. (In OTL William Fenwick Williams.) This caused very few butterflies initially but overtime more things changed. So I believe the initial POD for TTL was the choice of names by William's parents. (Just speculating, of course)
Oh definitely not our Churchill. That said, the circumstances of his birth (mildly scandalous for the period) were very unique. I have plans for the Churchill family, but they're not quite so far reaching as the Churchill we knew.
Heh, that might tie things neatly up in a bow, but not quite what I have in mind! Besides, Williams parentage is mildly up for debate...
I'm limiting myself to anyone born between 1862 and 1865 will escape being eaten by butterflies (unless their biological parent happens to eat a bullet or catch a disease between then) simply because I have no desire to count months between the POD in 1861 and because it's annoying to count out dates before 1865. So the cardinal rule is anyone born after 1865 will not exist.
If they're born after that you won't see them in the timeline at all I'm afraid!
ah fair enough.bit disappointed but there's lots of other cool characters .a few of the soilders fighting now will live to see almost the end of the century and maybe even fight in the ww1 equivalent if there is one.
just curious how far do you plan this TL to go?
sorry if you answered before.
just curious how far do you plan this TL to go?
sorry if you answered before.
He was a nobleman of the highest circles (as he was the younger son of a Duke) and she was a rich American woman so they were NOT exactly married for love or their wedding so unusual for that timeframe. The circumstances of Winston’s birth were without doubt mildly scandalous as his parents most likely had not waited for the end of their families’ business discussions about their wedding for consummating
I think, although it could never be proven or disproven, that if a timeline divided, they would diverge very quickly. It's be like putting a stick in a river and taking it out again, there would be a wave of changes spreading out from that point and rather quickly, not a H2O molecule would be in the same place. So in a timeline like this, someone like TR, born in 1958 would still exist, but the minutiae of life, would diverge. He would be unlikely to marry the same woman (although given a relatively small pool of upper class New Yorkers, there's a small chance in this case.) For someone like Lloyd George, born 1863, there still might be a Lloyd George, since his parents were probably married in 1861, but it wouldn't be the same Lloyd George, because it would be essentially statistically impossible for his parents to have sex at exactly the same time and the same sperm to meet the same egg.
As to whether a WWI might have occurred, there might be a similar war, with similar belligerents, because there probably was a kind of inevitability. It's a pity we can't do experiments. For example, what would have happened if Antonio López de Santa Anna had been executed by the Texans after the battle of San Jacinto, which was probably 95% likely at the point in time he was captured. Texas would still likely have maintained its independence, been annexed by the USA, and a Mexican-American War still eventuated of the issue of the Nueces strip. The Mexican-American War may have gone similarly, but would have not gone the same, in part because Santa Anna led the army. Or maybe it wouldn't have, because a different Mexican political structure might have offered to recognise an independent Texas with the Nieces River as the border. The border certainly wouldn't be in the same place, because it was simply a line drawn on a map by Nicholas Trist.
Well a few people who died OTL might live on long enough to surprise you a great deal
As for a WWI equivalent, well, I'm on the record as saying that with the growing spheres of influence of the major empires and the stirrings of nationalism that came about in the 1860s I do feel that some kind of great European conflagration was pretty inevitable by the dawn of the 20th century. Whether it is a world war or merely another general European war remains to be seen...
Currently I'm planning on at least making it to the election of 1872, depending on how far people still enjoy reading this! However, I have notes all the way up to the 1920s. This post should give you some idea of what is totally planned out!
I'm currently very anxious to polish off 1863, move on through 1864 and then move to the end of the war. I've already got a few chapters on the post-war world written out or done in rough form. The Siege of Washington, tying up the knots at Ticonderoga and then moving out west for the fate of Grant and Johnston are my pressing work for January and February, then its working on the political stuff leading through September 1863 to March 1864.
Very true. I mostly decided to use a butterfly net up to the end of 1865 because I didn't want to worry about tracking down the movements of many individuals. Originally it was going to be to the end of 1862, but in doing rough notes for the 20th century I gave myself a bit of a headache trying to figure out who was born where and did what. So some of this is "cheating" with the butterfly net, but some is more for my own convenience in mapping out the post Great American War world.
That's pretty spot on. I don't think it's a stretch to say that it's unlikely that many of the events like Italian Unification, the rise of Prussia, the Meiji Restoration and others will go the same way. There's plenty of room for butterflies.
The following is, not quite a story post, but it's a little teaser for how this has morphed into a long term project. There's more information here, but needless to say I'm working on this in my spare time as well as the TL. One honestly does influence the other, and I'm hoping that these keep me motivated going forward!
Otherwise, enjoy this little peak at how I'm still rolling in the world of the 1860s, and feel free to offer any comments you like!
November 8th, 1861
The Bahama Channel, RMS Trent
A salty sea breeze wafted over the decks of the Royal Mail Steamer Trent and the echoing sound of gulls in search of the flotsam and waste from the vessel could be heard as she plied the waters of the Caribbean Sea. John Slidell, the minister plenipotentiary of the Confederate States of America to France, stood with his wife Mathilde, gazing over the blue waters of the Caribbean, which would soon give way to the colder waters of the Atlantic. The churn of the ship’s paddle added to the cacophony of the sea life and the soothing lap of the waves against the hull.
“Beautiful is it not my dear?” Slidell asked. His wife leaned into him, an affectionate gesture made more practical by the rocking of the seas.
“It is indeed.” She replied. “Though I do think it will look much more beautiful on the beaches of Normandy. At least my feet won’t feel nearly so limp.”
“Ah but I would be only too pleased to catch you.” Slidell said, giving her an affectionate squeeze.
She laughed.“Scoundrel! Propositioning a Southern belle in such a way! What would my father say?”
“He would reiterate his hope for our marriage of course.” Slidell said, casting a wink at her. She was warming up a retort when a pleasant voice broke in.
“I hope two of me guests of honor are enjoying their voyage thus far?”
Slidell turned to see Captain James Moir of the Trent approach them, smiling wide in greeting. Though not entirely sure of his sympathies, Slidell suspected the Captain was like many of his English brethren in believing the Southern cause was just. The number of Southern passengers on board surely made that position clearer.
“The voyage so far has been very pleasant captain.” Slidell said smoothly. “Certainly much more pleasant than our run on the Theodora from Charleston.”
“If I may say it is a testament to your sailors you made the voyage comfortably at all in that little tub Mr. Slidell!” Moir laughed
“The will of the men fighting for the independence of our Southern Confederacy is not to be underestimated sir, I assure you.” Indeed, since the fighting had broken out in April, the South had largely been carrying all before it in the eyes of the world. Bull Run was the watchword of the day, and the North had yet to drive them from near Washington. With success on the field of battle, it was hoped Slidell and Mason could translate this into recognition and aid abroad.
The Captain made soothing motions with his hands, highlighting the black armband around his upper arm.
“Of course not Mr. Slidell.” He said with a laugh.
“I’m sorry to ruin the joviality of our conversation, but I must pass on my, and my nation’s, sympathies.” Slidell said gesturing to the black band of mourning. “The death of the Prince Consort has come as an unfortunate shock to the whole of the civilized world.”
Moir’s face took on a somber look and he nodded. Prince Albert, the husband of Queen Victoria, had died in a highly publicized accident in Berlin in October. It was a great tragedy for the British nation, the Queen in particular. She had shut herself away in mourning at Windsor, and the whole of the United Kingdom of Great Britain had followed her in that.
“I must thank you for that Mr. Slidell. The nation is in a bad way, this has been a trying month. I will be sure to pass on your condolences to the crew.”
“Mr. Mason is sure to share them, and he’ll be sure to pass them on as well.” Slidell said, hoping his counterpart who was to be minister to Britain had thought of such a thing.
“Yer husband is truly an emblem of the chivalrous South madam.” Moir said with an artful bow. Mathilde gave Slidell and affectionate squeeze.
“That is how we of the South differentiate ourselves from those wretched Yankees sir.” She said with a trace of haughtier. Slidell couldn’t help but smile at her slight arrogance, even in this situation. It was a sign that the women of the South should not be underestimated. Moir laughed, but squinted beyond her shoulder as he did so. Slidell turned to look and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Is there a problem captain?” He asked.
“Neigh necessarily Mr. Slidell. That vessel has been following us for some time though, and she has gotten awfully close.”
They spoke of a ship bearing on the same course as the Trent, which made it odd in and of itself. Though the Bahama Channel was always busy, a ship coming so close to another was something which Slidell had never heard of as being common. If it had news it meant to deliver it could signal so with flags and be picked out by the lookout.
“Odd she would follow so close.” Slidell commented.
“Indeed.” Moir said. Another figure walked up to them, scowling. Commander Richard Williams, of the Royal Navy, charged with the mails of the Trent wandered over.
“I make her a warship Captain.” He was looking angrily in the direction of the approaching vessel.
“One of ours?”
“Far too slow in my estimation. I think it’s a Yankee warship.”
A look of consternation passed over Moir’s face. They all stared quietly at the approaching vessel for a few moments. Judging this to be a conversation for gentlemen, Slidell patted his wife’s arm.
“You ought to go below dear, see to the children. If you see Mr. Eustis, send him up to me.”
“Of course.” She replied, excusing herself. Captain Moir followed immediately, offering to escort her before he returned to the bridge. For a few minutes Williams and Slidell stood in silence watching the rapidly approaching vessel. Soon his personal secretary George Eustis joined him, followed thereafter by the puffy faced James Mason and his secretary McFarland. The five men all stood in tense silence peering off towards the warship. Soon more passengers and crew had joined them, numbering perhaps sixty in all.
“Do you think she’s here for us?” Mason finally asked after a long lull.
“Possibly.” Slidell said dispassionately. They had tried to leave the Confederacy in the utmost secrecy. Their departure couldn’t possibly have been totally concealed from agents of the Northern government of course, but they had hoped that by using a British vessel they might be shielded from any Northern reproach.
The vessel bearing down on them bore lie to that idea.
Giving more lie to the idea there was a puff of smoke from the approaching vessel and soon the faint boom of a cannon could be heard. A plume of water appeared ahead of them. In response they heard a snap from above as the Trent unfurled the Union Jack. The ship continued on, but then another shot boomed out as the Northern warship approached. It crashed uncomfortably close in the waves, and there was the horrific sound of shrapnel impacting the hull. The gulls, so recently following, scattered as the ship came towards them.
“If you would George, see that our diplomatic bags are safely stowed away with the mails.” Slidell said. His secretary nodded and trotted off, Commander Williams running close behind him.
The Yankee warship bore inexorably closer, and soon they could see men standing along its rails. Beneath them, rows of guns had been run out and Slidell fancied he could make out the glint of bayonets amongst the crew along the sides of the ship. A voice boomed “Your vessel is instructed to heave to and prepare to be boarded!”
Soon enough two cutters with armed men were making their way towards the Trent. Captain Moir appeared, looking considerably agitated. He stood waiting for the envoy from the American warship to climb aboard. A crowd of crew and passengers, men and women both, gathered around him. Commander Williams appeared by Slidell’s side and whispered conspiratorially to him.
“I have locked both of your dispatch bags in the mail room. I have the key in my pocket and whatever their object may be they must pass over my body before they enter that room.”
Slidell nodded his thanks as the cutters bore up along side. A young man vaulted over the rail to stand before the assembled crowd. He wore a fine Yankee uniform, and Slidell was sad to see he looked dignified and utterly at ease with the situation.
“I am Lieutenant Donald Fairfax of the United States Naval vessel San Jacinto, and I have come to speak with the Captain of this vessel.” He declared. Moir stepped forward, his face not even attempting to conceal his outrage.
“I am Captain James Moir of the Royal Mail Steamer Trent. May I ask, Lieutenant, why ye have insisted upon waylaying a vessel of Her Majesties domains on the high seas?”
“You may. I have been informed that enemies of the United States government are on board. I would politely ask for a list of the passengers your ship is presently carrying.”
Moir bristled. “For a damned impertinent, outrageous puppy, give me, or don’t give me, a Yankee. You go back to your ship young man and tell her skipper you couldn’t accomplish your mission because we wouldn’t let ye! D’ye understand that?” The assembled men and women applauded. Shouting over them Fairfax laid out his mission.
“I am under orders to arrest these enemies of my government! These gentlemen, Misters John Mason, James Slidell and their secretaries Eustis and McFadden are reported to have boarded this ship in Havana!”
Slidell decided that there was little reason to conceal his presence and stepped forward, seeing Mason do the same with their secretaries.
“I am he, and these gentlemen here are a part of our entourage. What is the meaning of this lieutenant?” Slidell demanded.
“I am under orders from my government to arrest Misters Mason and Slidell and their secretaries and to send them as prisoners on board the United States vessel of war nearby.”
Upon his proclamation there was an eruption of jeers and catcalls. Moving closer the assembled passengers booed and hecklers hurled abuse at the Yankee officer. “Throw the damned fellow overboard!” someone yelled. There were hearty calls of agreement and scowling men advanced. Fairfax, above the catcalls, gestured behind him.
“My every move is being closely scrutinized through spyglasses on my vessel and a heavy battery of guns is now trained upon this ship. Any injury or indignity to an American sailor or officer may lead to dreadful consequences for this ship and its passengers.”
“I will have peaceable behavior on board my ship.” Moir suddenly bellowed. The crowd quieted, after a time, but remained surly and Slidell could feel the hostility in the air despite Fairfax’s threat. Soon eight armed sailors with muskets and affixed bayonets hurried aboard. The crowd once again turned hostile and Moir furiously shouted at them. “You will remove these men at once from my ship! This is an act of undisguised piracy!” He snarled.
“The gentlemen here will have their baggage delivered into my possession now captain.” Fairfax said, some of his composure breaking. Moir, looking at the hostile crowd, and then the menacing bulk of the warship behind, looked to Slidell and Mason.
“We will not go voluntarily with you Lieutenant. You will have to compel our extraction.” Mason said, and Slidell nodded his agreement.
“Very well, then you must lead me to your things and we shall prepare to escort you away.” Fairfax said. He gestured for them to lead on. Slidell adopted a diplomatic smile and said nothing but descended into the ship with the Lieutenant, another Northern officer, Mason, Commander Williams, Captain Moir, Eustis and a number of surly passengers in tow. They reached the lower deck coming on the little lounge near their staterooms. Taking a breath and steeling himself for the next course of action, Slidell turned to Mason.
“We cannot be compelled, save by force beyond this point sir.” Slidell said. Mason nodded vigorously. There was a hearty cheer by the passengers and crew nearby. Fairfax, looking annoyed, was about to retort when Mathilde burst forward from the crowd.
“And who sir, is in command of the vessel which makes such unjust attacks upon a British merchantman?” She demanded.
“Why your old acquaintance, Captain Wilkes.” He said. Mathilde looked shocked and put a hand over her heart.
“Really? Captain Wilkes is playing into our hands!” She declared.
“Perhaps Madam, this is not the most opportune moment to be discussing such things.” Mason said as his own wife approached.
“I would be honored though, to extend my captain’s invitation to you and your children to accompany your husbands aboard the San Jacinto and be conveyed with them back to United States territory.” Fairfax said.
“What nerve!” Mathilde exclaimed. “How dare you even suggest further kidnapping a man’s family!” Mason’s wife swiftly rejected the offer as well, and both women walked off in a huff. More jeers followed from the crowd. Fairfax, looking annoyed by this point, firmly shoved Mason forward, his younger companion pulling Slidell in tow.
“Now gentlemen I expect we will be removing your items shortly.” He snapped. “Make way and do so.”
“You will not enter my stateroom sir.” Slidell said cheerfully. At that moment, his daughter Marie burst forward.
“My father will not be leaving this ship! You have no right to take him!”
“Miss, I have every right granted to me by the power of the United States government.” Fairfax said.
“He will not be taken from this ship! Nor will Mr. Mason! This is a vessel of the British Empire, and you will face dire consequences for interfering with it!”
“Quite right!” Commander Williams shouted back.
“They shall be removed!” Fairfax shouted. He turned to his companion. “Go fetch Lt. Greer and his marines. We’ll move this lot by force if we must!” The other officer ran off. The further threat of force caused the crowd to become incensed.
Cries of ‘pirates’ and ‘bandits’ were hurled around, as well as a steady taunt of ‘Bull Run’ where the crew and passengers threw the great Federal defeat of last July into Fairfax’s face. Looking more and agitated he bellowed his right to take the men.
Finally a cry of ‘Shoot him!’ went up from one passenger. Slidell opened his mouth to shout it down when the pounding of heavy feet sounded from the deck above. Eight armed marines, bayonets glinting in the low light, forced themselves into the small space. Their leveled muskets pushing the crowd back as many reacted with alarm. Shouting with outrage the mob moved nonetheless, glowering at the armed troops, many hurling insults still. Only Marie looked unimpressed by the marines.
“This is madness and piracy!” She said, shouting around one of the marines towards Fairfax. The lieutenant himself breathed a sigh of relief with the armed guards escorting him. Ignoring her he turned his gaze to the two envoys once more.
“Gentlemen, I must demand your bags.” He said.
“You may not.” Mason replied.
“I will search your rooms if you are unwilling to submit your belongings to me.” He gestured to the marines and the bayonets advanced, Marie let out a small yelp as they moved on, Commander Williams hurled himself in front of her and glared at them.
“This is British vessel gentlemen, you have no right to search her unless you mean to take her as a prize. I beseech you to leave now lest you incur the wrath of Her Majesty's Navy.” The crowd applauded and jeered again. Fairfax was visibly losing his calm.
“Captain Moir, disperse this crowd at once! If you do not I shall be compelled to-”
A great lurch cut him off as the ship rolled heavily. Fairfax staggered into his junior officer, and the marines stumbled forward as well. As they did, one man’s musket thrust forward, bayonet catching Commander Williams square in the stomach. The Commander staggered back, into Marie and looked in shock down at his sudden bleeding stomach.
“Oh,” he said, a great look of surprise crossing his face. Shocked silence descended over the whole scene. For a moment no one moved, the entire focus of the room centered on the now bleeding Williams. Very suddenly, he collapsed. Then Marie screamed.
“Poltroons!” Moir snarled.
“Bandits!” Eustis cried, striking out with his fist and catching one of the Marines square in the face. The man squawked with little dignity, tumbling back into his fellows. The rest of the crowd surged forward as well, whirling around Mason and Slidell, compelling the marines now to withdraw, brandishing their bayonets in defence. Shouting, snarling and shoving the mob pushed the men back to the ladder, Moir shouting for calm all the way. Finally, a shot broke the crowd up and an unlikely silence descended over the scene.
“Captain Moir!” Fairfax bellowed, brandishing a still smoking pistol. “We will have order on this damned ship, and I will remove these men, is that understood?”
The marines formed a firm line, faces stern. Moir looked from them, to the crowd, and then back to the bleeding Williams. His face was tight with anger.
“I must make it clear that ye have removed these men by force, and I will make such clear in my report to my government. But I will lodge one final protest regarding this outrage.” Facing Mason and Slidell his face looked pained. “I am sorry gentlemen, but I cannot endanger my ship and my crew any more than it has been already. Now I must go fetch the ship's surgeon.”
“Think nothing of it sir.” Slidell said. “This incident merely lays Yankee barbarity plain for the world to see.” He turned to Eustis whose face was flush with anger. “Please see to my things.” He said gently.
“Right away sir.” The secretary said moving off stiffly. Returning his attention to Fairfax Slidell continued. “Lieutenant, we will surrender ourselves, however unwillingly, into your custody.” Fairfax nodded roughly and Slidell was soon seized by the marines who prodded him, none to gently, towards the waiting cutters. Mathilde followed close behind, wailing, many of the ship's other passengers were in similar states of distress as the news of what happened below spread. Soon their baggage was being piled by the launch.
Slidell looked over the state of the ship. The hostility of its passengers, the angry looks on the faces of the crew, his wife’s hysterics. His mind was whirling with the diplomatic implications. The San Jacinto had illegally set upon a British ship in international waters, they had injured a member of Her Majesties Navy, and they were seizing men as contraband. Cynical as it was, he knew this could only help the cause of the Confederacy in their present bid for independence.
Turning to the marines he gestured to his wife. “If I may?” Fairfax gave an impatient nod. Grabbing Mathilde’s hands in his Slidell smiled.
“Fear not my dear, this is but a small matter in the grand scheme of things. Be brave, and spread this news far and wide. Take our children to France, and God willing I shall see you there in time.”
Sobbing she squeezed his hands and nodded. He was finally led away by the marines as his luggage was loaded. The crowd was now silent as they watched him move, none to gracefully, down the ladder and into the cutter. Squeezed uncomfortably in between two armed sailors, he looked up at the faces peering down over the side of the Trent. He smiled to them as the boats started to row away.
“England will not forget this outrage!” Someone shouted. Slidell nodded at that, and sincerely hoped it was true. For now, all he could do was watch as he was rowed away and the Trent was left drifting in an uncertain sea.
Otherwise, enjoy this little peak at how I'm still rolling in the world of the 1860s, and feel free to offer any comments you like!
November 8th, 1861
The Bahama Channel, RMS Trent
A salty sea breeze wafted over the decks of the Royal Mail Steamer Trent and the echoing sound of gulls in search of the flotsam and waste from the vessel could be heard as she plied the waters of the Caribbean Sea. John Slidell, the minister plenipotentiary of the Confederate States of America to France, stood with his wife Mathilde, gazing over the blue waters of the Caribbean, which would soon give way to the colder waters of the Atlantic. The churn of the ship’s paddle added to the cacophony of the sea life and the soothing lap of the waves against the hull.
“Beautiful is it not my dear?” Slidell asked. His wife leaned into him, an affectionate gesture made more practical by the rocking of the seas.
“It is indeed.” She replied. “Though I do think it will look much more beautiful on the beaches of Normandy. At least my feet won’t feel nearly so limp.”
“Ah but I would be only too pleased to catch you.” Slidell said, giving her an affectionate squeeze.
She laughed.“Scoundrel! Propositioning a Southern belle in such a way! What would my father say?”
“He would reiterate his hope for our marriage of course.” Slidell said, casting a wink at her. She was warming up a retort when a pleasant voice broke in.
“I hope two of me guests of honor are enjoying their voyage thus far?”
Slidell turned to see Captain James Moir of the Trent approach them, smiling wide in greeting. Though not entirely sure of his sympathies, Slidell suspected the Captain was like many of his English brethren in believing the Southern cause was just. The number of Southern passengers on board surely made that position clearer.
“The voyage so far has been very pleasant captain.” Slidell said smoothly. “Certainly much more pleasant than our run on the Theodora from Charleston.”
“If I may say it is a testament to your sailors you made the voyage comfortably at all in that little tub Mr. Slidell!” Moir laughed
“The will of the men fighting for the independence of our Southern Confederacy is not to be underestimated sir, I assure you.” Indeed, since the fighting had broken out in April, the South had largely been carrying all before it in the eyes of the world. Bull Run was the watchword of the day, and the North had yet to drive them from near Washington. With success on the field of battle, it was hoped Slidell and Mason could translate this into recognition and aid abroad.
The Captain made soothing motions with his hands, highlighting the black armband around his upper arm.
“Of course not Mr. Slidell.” He said with a laugh.
“I’m sorry to ruin the joviality of our conversation, but I must pass on my, and my nation’s, sympathies.” Slidell said gesturing to the black band of mourning. “The death of the Prince Consort has come as an unfortunate shock to the whole of the civilized world.”
Moir’s face took on a somber look and he nodded. Prince Albert, the husband of Queen Victoria, had died in a highly publicized accident in Berlin in October. It was a great tragedy for the British nation, the Queen in particular. She had shut herself away in mourning at Windsor, and the whole of the United Kingdom of Great Britain had followed her in that.
“I must thank you for that Mr. Slidell. The nation is in a bad way, this has been a trying month. I will be sure to pass on your condolences to the crew.”
“Mr. Mason is sure to share them, and he’ll be sure to pass them on as well.” Slidell said, hoping his counterpart who was to be minister to Britain had thought of such a thing.
“Yer husband is truly an emblem of the chivalrous South madam.” Moir said with an artful bow. Mathilde gave Slidell and affectionate squeeze.
“That is how we of the South differentiate ourselves from those wretched Yankees sir.” She said with a trace of haughtier. Slidell couldn’t help but smile at her slight arrogance, even in this situation. It was a sign that the women of the South should not be underestimated. Moir laughed, but squinted beyond her shoulder as he did so. Slidell turned to look and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Is there a problem captain?” He asked.
“Neigh necessarily Mr. Slidell. That vessel has been following us for some time though, and she has gotten awfully close.”
They spoke of a ship bearing on the same course as the Trent, which made it odd in and of itself. Though the Bahama Channel was always busy, a ship coming so close to another was something which Slidell had never heard of as being common. If it had news it meant to deliver it could signal so with flags and be picked out by the lookout.
“Odd she would follow so close.” Slidell commented.
“Indeed.” Moir said. Another figure walked up to them, scowling. Commander Richard Williams, of the Royal Navy, charged with the mails of the Trent wandered over.
“I make her a warship Captain.” He was looking angrily in the direction of the approaching vessel.
“One of ours?”
“Far too slow in my estimation. I think it’s a Yankee warship.”
A look of consternation passed over Moir’s face. They all stared quietly at the approaching vessel for a few moments. Judging this to be a conversation for gentlemen, Slidell patted his wife’s arm.
“You ought to go below dear, see to the children. If you see Mr. Eustis, send him up to me.”
“Of course.” She replied, excusing herself. Captain Moir followed immediately, offering to escort her before he returned to the bridge. For a few minutes Williams and Slidell stood in silence watching the rapidly approaching vessel. Soon his personal secretary George Eustis joined him, followed thereafter by the puffy faced James Mason and his secretary McFarland. The five men all stood in tense silence peering off towards the warship. Soon more passengers and crew had joined them, numbering perhaps sixty in all.
“Do you think she’s here for us?” Mason finally asked after a long lull.
“Possibly.” Slidell said dispassionately. They had tried to leave the Confederacy in the utmost secrecy. Their departure couldn’t possibly have been totally concealed from agents of the Northern government of course, but they had hoped that by using a British vessel they might be shielded from any Northern reproach.
The vessel bearing down on them bore lie to that idea.
Giving more lie to the idea there was a puff of smoke from the approaching vessel and soon the faint boom of a cannon could be heard. A plume of water appeared ahead of them. In response they heard a snap from above as the Trent unfurled the Union Jack. The ship continued on, but then another shot boomed out as the Northern warship approached. It crashed uncomfortably close in the waves, and there was the horrific sound of shrapnel impacting the hull. The gulls, so recently following, scattered as the ship came towards them.
“If you would George, see that our diplomatic bags are safely stowed away with the mails.” Slidell said. His secretary nodded and trotted off, Commander Williams running close behind him.
The Yankee warship bore inexorably closer, and soon they could see men standing along its rails. Beneath them, rows of guns had been run out and Slidell fancied he could make out the glint of bayonets amongst the crew along the sides of the ship. A voice boomed “Your vessel is instructed to heave to and prepare to be boarded!”
Soon enough two cutters with armed men were making their way towards the Trent. Captain Moir appeared, looking considerably agitated. He stood waiting for the envoy from the American warship to climb aboard. A crowd of crew and passengers, men and women both, gathered around him. Commander Williams appeared by Slidell’s side and whispered conspiratorially to him.
“I have locked both of your dispatch bags in the mail room. I have the key in my pocket and whatever their object may be they must pass over my body before they enter that room.”
Slidell nodded his thanks as the cutters bore up along side. A young man vaulted over the rail to stand before the assembled crowd. He wore a fine Yankee uniform, and Slidell was sad to see he looked dignified and utterly at ease with the situation.
“I am Lieutenant Donald Fairfax of the United States Naval vessel San Jacinto, and I have come to speak with the Captain of this vessel.” He declared. Moir stepped forward, his face not even attempting to conceal his outrage.
“I am Captain James Moir of the Royal Mail Steamer Trent. May I ask, Lieutenant, why ye have insisted upon waylaying a vessel of Her Majesties domains on the high seas?”
“You may. I have been informed that enemies of the United States government are on board. I would politely ask for a list of the passengers your ship is presently carrying.”
Moir bristled. “For a damned impertinent, outrageous puppy, give me, or don’t give me, a Yankee. You go back to your ship young man and tell her skipper you couldn’t accomplish your mission because we wouldn’t let ye! D’ye understand that?” The assembled men and women applauded. Shouting over them Fairfax laid out his mission.
“I am under orders to arrest these enemies of my government! These gentlemen, Misters John Mason, James Slidell and their secretaries Eustis and McFadden are reported to have boarded this ship in Havana!”
Slidell decided that there was little reason to conceal his presence and stepped forward, seeing Mason do the same with their secretaries.
“I am he, and these gentlemen here are a part of our entourage. What is the meaning of this lieutenant?” Slidell demanded.
“I am under orders from my government to arrest Misters Mason and Slidell and their secretaries and to send them as prisoners on board the United States vessel of war nearby.”
Upon his proclamation there was an eruption of jeers and catcalls. Moving closer the assembled passengers booed and hecklers hurled abuse at the Yankee officer. “Throw the damned fellow overboard!” someone yelled. There were hearty calls of agreement and scowling men advanced. Fairfax, above the catcalls, gestured behind him.
“My every move is being closely scrutinized through spyglasses on my vessel and a heavy battery of guns is now trained upon this ship. Any injury or indignity to an American sailor or officer may lead to dreadful consequences for this ship and its passengers.”
“I will have peaceable behavior on board my ship.” Moir suddenly bellowed. The crowd quieted, after a time, but remained surly and Slidell could feel the hostility in the air despite Fairfax’s threat. Soon eight armed sailors with muskets and affixed bayonets hurried aboard. The crowd once again turned hostile and Moir furiously shouted at them. “You will remove these men at once from my ship! This is an act of undisguised piracy!” He snarled.
“The gentlemen here will have their baggage delivered into my possession now captain.” Fairfax said, some of his composure breaking. Moir, looking at the hostile crowd, and then the menacing bulk of the warship behind, looked to Slidell and Mason.
“We will not go voluntarily with you Lieutenant. You will have to compel our extraction.” Mason said, and Slidell nodded his agreement.
“Very well, then you must lead me to your things and we shall prepare to escort you away.” Fairfax said. He gestured for them to lead on. Slidell adopted a diplomatic smile and said nothing but descended into the ship with the Lieutenant, another Northern officer, Mason, Commander Williams, Captain Moir, Eustis and a number of surly passengers in tow. They reached the lower deck coming on the little lounge near their staterooms. Taking a breath and steeling himself for the next course of action, Slidell turned to Mason.
“We cannot be compelled, save by force beyond this point sir.” Slidell said. Mason nodded vigorously. There was a hearty cheer by the passengers and crew nearby. Fairfax, looking annoyed, was about to retort when Mathilde burst forward from the crowd.
“And who sir, is in command of the vessel which makes such unjust attacks upon a British merchantman?” She demanded.
“Why your old acquaintance, Captain Wilkes.” He said. Mathilde looked shocked and put a hand over her heart.
“Really? Captain Wilkes is playing into our hands!” She declared.
“Perhaps Madam, this is not the most opportune moment to be discussing such things.” Mason said as his own wife approached.
“I would be honored though, to extend my captain’s invitation to you and your children to accompany your husbands aboard the San Jacinto and be conveyed with them back to United States territory.” Fairfax said.
“What nerve!” Mathilde exclaimed. “How dare you even suggest further kidnapping a man’s family!” Mason’s wife swiftly rejected the offer as well, and both women walked off in a huff. More jeers followed from the crowd. Fairfax, looking annoyed by this point, firmly shoved Mason forward, his younger companion pulling Slidell in tow.
“Now gentlemen I expect we will be removing your items shortly.” He snapped. “Make way and do so.”
“You will not enter my stateroom sir.” Slidell said cheerfully. At that moment, his daughter Marie burst forward.
“My father will not be leaving this ship! You have no right to take him!”
“Miss, I have every right granted to me by the power of the United States government.” Fairfax said.
“He will not be taken from this ship! Nor will Mr. Mason! This is a vessel of the British Empire, and you will face dire consequences for interfering with it!”
“Quite right!” Commander Williams shouted back.
“They shall be removed!” Fairfax shouted. He turned to his companion. “Go fetch Lt. Greer and his marines. We’ll move this lot by force if we must!” The other officer ran off. The further threat of force caused the crowd to become incensed.
Cries of ‘pirates’ and ‘bandits’ were hurled around, as well as a steady taunt of ‘Bull Run’ where the crew and passengers threw the great Federal defeat of last July into Fairfax’s face. Looking more and agitated he bellowed his right to take the men.
Finally a cry of ‘Shoot him!’ went up from one passenger. Slidell opened his mouth to shout it down when the pounding of heavy feet sounded from the deck above. Eight armed marines, bayonets glinting in the low light, forced themselves into the small space. Their leveled muskets pushing the crowd back as many reacted with alarm. Shouting with outrage the mob moved nonetheless, glowering at the armed troops, many hurling insults still. Only Marie looked unimpressed by the marines.
“This is madness and piracy!” She said, shouting around one of the marines towards Fairfax. The lieutenant himself breathed a sigh of relief with the armed guards escorting him. Ignoring her he turned his gaze to the two envoys once more.
“Gentlemen, I must demand your bags.” He said.
“You may not.” Mason replied.
“I will search your rooms if you are unwilling to submit your belongings to me.” He gestured to the marines and the bayonets advanced, Marie let out a small yelp as they moved on, Commander Williams hurled himself in front of her and glared at them.
“This is British vessel gentlemen, you have no right to search her unless you mean to take her as a prize. I beseech you to leave now lest you incur the wrath of Her Majesty's Navy.” The crowd applauded and jeered again. Fairfax was visibly losing his calm.
“Captain Moir, disperse this crowd at once! If you do not I shall be compelled to-”
A great lurch cut him off as the ship rolled heavily. Fairfax staggered into his junior officer, and the marines stumbled forward as well. As they did, one man’s musket thrust forward, bayonet catching Commander Williams square in the stomach. The Commander staggered back, into Marie and looked in shock down at his sudden bleeding stomach.
“Oh,” he said, a great look of surprise crossing his face. Shocked silence descended over the whole scene. For a moment no one moved, the entire focus of the room centered on the now bleeding Williams. Very suddenly, he collapsed. Then Marie screamed.
“Poltroons!” Moir snarled.
“Bandits!” Eustis cried, striking out with his fist and catching one of the Marines square in the face. The man squawked with little dignity, tumbling back into his fellows. The rest of the crowd surged forward as well, whirling around Mason and Slidell, compelling the marines now to withdraw, brandishing their bayonets in defence. Shouting, snarling and shoving the mob pushed the men back to the ladder, Moir shouting for calm all the way. Finally, a shot broke the crowd up and an unlikely silence descended over the scene.
“Captain Moir!” Fairfax bellowed, brandishing a still smoking pistol. “We will have order on this damned ship, and I will remove these men, is that understood?”
The marines formed a firm line, faces stern. Moir looked from them, to the crowd, and then back to the bleeding Williams. His face was tight with anger.
“I must make it clear that ye have removed these men by force, and I will make such clear in my report to my government. But I will lodge one final protest regarding this outrage.” Facing Mason and Slidell his face looked pained. “I am sorry gentlemen, but I cannot endanger my ship and my crew any more than it has been already. Now I must go fetch the ship's surgeon.”
“Think nothing of it sir.” Slidell said. “This incident merely lays Yankee barbarity plain for the world to see.” He turned to Eustis whose face was flush with anger. “Please see to my things.” He said gently.
“Right away sir.” The secretary said moving off stiffly. Returning his attention to Fairfax Slidell continued. “Lieutenant, we will surrender ourselves, however unwillingly, into your custody.” Fairfax nodded roughly and Slidell was soon seized by the marines who prodded him, none to gently, towards the waiting cutters. Mathilde followed close behind, wailing, many of the ship's other passengers were in similar states of distress as the news of what happened below spread. Soon their baggage was being piled by the launch.
Slidell looked over the state of the ship. The hostility of its passengers, the angry looks on the faces of the crew, his wife’s hysterics. His mind was whirling with the diplomatic implications. The San Jacinto had illegally set upon a British ship in international waters, they had injured a member of Her Majesties Navy, and they were seizing men as contraband. Cynical as it was, he knew this could only help the cause of the Confederacy in their present bid for independence.
Turning to the marines he gestured to his wife. “If I may?” Fairfax gave an impatient nod. Grabbing Mathilde’s hands in his Slidell smiled.
“Fear not my dear, this is but a small matter in the grand scheme of things. Be brave, and spread this news far and wide. Take our children to France, and God willing I shall see you there in time.”
Sobbing she squeezed his hands and nodded. He was finally led away by the marines as his luggage was loaded. The crowd was now silent as they watched him move, none to gracefully, down the ladder and into the cutter. Squeezed uncomfortably in between two armed sailors, he looked up at the faces peering down over the side of the Trent. He smiled to them as the boats started to row away.
“England will not forget this outrage!” Someone shouted. Slidell nodded at that, and sincerely hoped it was true. For now, all he could do was watch as he was rowed away and the Trent was left drifting in an uncertain sea.
@EnglishCanuck
Well, this is very good news!
I'm whising you luck with the novel project. I was sincerely hoping you'd do it and I am not disapointed by that sneak peek, it sounds different than the TL and I like it. I will be buying this book for sure when the time comes and I can already say I'll keep an eye on your forum until then. If I may ask, have you settled on a title?
Since it's almost time, I will also grab the opportunity to wish you and your loved ones an happy New Year. I hope you're well in these troubled times, let's hope 2021 brings us a little less bad news!
Best regards,
Well, this is very good news!
I'm whising you luck with the novel project. I was sincerely hoping you'd do it and I am not disapointed by that sneak peek, it sounds different than the TL and I like it. I will be buying this book for sure when the time comes and I can already say I'll keep an eye on your forum until then. If I may ask, have you settled on a title?
Since it's almost time, I will also grab the opportunity to wish you and your loved ones an happy New Year. I hope you're well in these troubled times, let's hope 2021 brings us a little less bad news!
Best regards,
My sincere thanks! Wishing you a safe and happy New Years to all your loved ones as well!
As for a title, the first novel is called, Wrapped in Flames for convenience sake. The second is tentatively titled, At All Hazards while I'm tossing around ideas for the third such as Fire All Around Us or Writ In Letters of Blood.
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Well bud, just let us know when there's a release date and I'll toss an order in.
I loved the vignette there, people sometimes forget how quickly things can go from zero to crazy when there's a shouting match happening.
This forum will be the first to know! Thank you for the support!
Thank you! This is, so far, the prologue for the novel. It's based as close to the real life events as I could make it (I even had to excise a few details that would probably have been over the top or cluttered the narrative) but the hostile crowd, the cry of "shoot him" and the almost comical cavalcade of raucous passengers and armed marines is exactly historical. The swell which swept the ship and sent the bayonet into Commander Williams stomach is historical, but of course in OTL it didn't happen quite like that.
Monck is more of a "hands off" leader. The civilian government and British military are leading their spheres and Monck doesn't have a whole lot to do because the Brits and Canadians are generally in agreement on most things given they're being invaded. One of the chapters lists who's in the war cabinet, so it would worth it to take a peek.
As The Gunslinger says, Monck is very much "hands off" and in Chapter 9 I do give him some detail. He's mostly working as a go between for the provincial politicians. the military and London. Monck technically has the final say on most matters of provincial import from defence (for instance, he would be the one who would declare martial law and was responsible for the issuing of the militia order in December 1862) but he's much more likely to sit back, listen to advice, offer his own, and let the experts have their way. His greatest strength is as a mediator between the potentially fractious Canadian political factions and the government in London.
The way everything works is, frankly, a little bit byzantine. The Province of Canada was in desperate need of political reform in the 1860s, and Monck was one of the people who saw that. It was his support for the Confederation project alongside Macdonald, Cartier, Tache and Brown (and depending on who you ask, Dennis Godley, his secretary) that really got the ball rolling. Historically he helped get feelers out in high places, entertaining the Lt. Governors of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick in 1863, putting his official weight behind Macdonald et all, ect. TTL isn't much different and September 1863 will be a very busy time for him too...
This has honestly been such an amazing timeline to read. I am very excited to see how the Siege of Washington ends, but I have to admit my favorite part of this story is the Western Theater. The fighting between Grant and Pope on one side with Beauregard and A.S. Johnston should be really interesting to see it’s conclusion