All the news was bad.
“First that disastrous adventure in the American South. Naval defeat in the Potomac. General Champion killed in battle. Our West Indies bases taken — Quebec fallen. And now this. You, Clive, you’re supposed to be the brainy one. Can you explain it?”
Brigadier Clive Somerville hesitated. The answer seemed obvious enough.
“Go on, then,” the Duke urged.
“Well, Sir — I imagine that warship is the cork in the bottle. The Yankee ironclads were reported in the St. Lawrence heading for the sea the last we heard.”
“The ice will stop them.”
“Not hard enough or thick enough yet to stop a steam powered iron ship. And I am sure that the enemy troops are marching close behind them.”
“Cork in the bottle, you say?”
“Yes, Sir. That armored ship of the line could bombard the city, drive us out if they wanted to. I think that they like us just as we are.”
The Duke of Cambridge looked at the dark form of the warship again and shivered. “Damn cold out here. Let’s to the fire. Someone find me a large brandy.” He led the way inside.
Soon after dawn the next morning the small flotilla of ironclads appeared out of the mist. They anchored next to the Avenger, which launched a boat as soon as they had dropped anchor. A portly form in a heavy cloak climbed slowly down and was transported to the leading ironclad. Very soon after that a boat started toward shore. A soldier in the bow held a white flag aloft.
“Send someone down there,” the Duke ordered and reached for his brandy glass. His staff officers talked uneasily among themselves as they waited. The Duke was still seated when the messenger returned, followed by a gray-garbed officer. He was turned out smartly in a gray uniform, gleaming boots, gold sash with a bold feather in his hat. He stopped before the Duke and saluted.
“General Robert E. Lee,” he said. “Of the United States Army.”
“What do you want?” the Duke snapped.
Lee looked him up and down coldly as he sprawled in his chair. There was more than a little contempt in his voice when he spoke.
“I want to speak to the commanding officer here. Who are you?”
“Watch your tone or I’ll have you run through!”
“This is the Duke of Cambridge,” Brigadier Somerville said quietly. “He is Commander-in-Chief of the army.”
“Well now, I think that will surely do for being in charge. I have a message from General Sherman, Commander-in-Chief of our forces. He would like to meet with you to discuss terms of surrender.”
“I’ll see him in hell first!” the Duke shouted, draining his glass and hurling it into the fireplace. Lee was unmoved, his soft Southern voice unperturbed.
“If you refuse this meeting all of the ships, military and civilian, in this harbor will be destroyed. This city will be burnt. Our army, less than a day’s march away, will make prisoners of any survivors and we will send them in chains to the United States. I must advise you that you have no choice in this matter.”
Brigadier Somerville broke the impasse once again.
“The Duke will see General Sherman here…”
“No.” All warmth was gone from Lee’s voice now. “The meeting will take place at the waterfront in exactly one-half hour’s time. The Duke is instructed to have no more than three officers with him.”
Lee did not salute again but turned on his heel and stamped from the room. The fire crackled as an ember burst: this was the only sound.
On the bridge of Avenger Commander Goldsborough glanced up at the ship’s clock, then raised his telescope again. “Ann, there at last. A portly officer wearing furs, three others.”
“Time to go,” Sherman said grimly.
The two boats moved swiftly to the shore. There was some delay as Commodore Goldsborough was half-lifted ashore. Then more than a dozen officers stepped onto the dock before General Sherman appeared. They opened ranks, then strode behind him as he walked across the cold stone towards the waiting men. A thin scud of snow swirled around them.
“I am General William Tecumseh Sherman, Commander-in-Chief of the United States Combined Forces. I understand that you are the Duke of Cambridge, Commander-in-Chief of the British Army.”
The chill air had damped some of the Duke’s bellicosity. He nodded abruptly.
“Good. The only course open to you is unconditional surrender. You will be relieved of all your guns, weapons and arms. If you do that you have my word that all of your men and officers will be allowed to board the transports and will be allowed to return to England. You and your staff will not go. You will accompany me to Washington for discussions with the American government about war reparations. There will be payments in gold as partial recompense for the destruction you caused to American cities, as well as the unwarranted deaths of her citizens.”
“I’ll see you in hell first!”
“No you will not.” Sherman barely controlled his fury, his transparent eyes cold as death. “You brought this war to our shores and will pay the price for that audacious act. Your forces in the field are destroyed or captured, your naval bases taken. The war is over.”
The Duke was now blazing with fury. “The war will never be over as far as I am concerned. Hear me you contemptible Yankee upstart — you are not taking on some pipsqueak little country. You have offended the greatest country in the world and the greatest Empire. You do that at your peril.”
“Our peril? Has it not been drawn to your attention that you have lost this war? As you have lost here on this continent before. If you are any student of history you will know that America was once a British colony. You were forcefully ejected from our shores. You forgot that lesson in 1812. And now you have forgotten it yet again. We fought the Revolutionary War under many different flags and banners. Now we have but one for we are united as we never have been before. But I must remind you of one of our revolutionary battle flags. It depicted a snake with the legend ‘Don’t Tread on Me’. Remember that for the future. You have tread and you have been defeated. To save America we have taken up arms against invasion and hurled you back.
“To save America we will do the same again, whenever we are threatened.”
General Sherman stepped aside until he was facing the other three officers.
“You have an hour to decide. One hour. Then the bombardment begins. There will be no more discussion of this matter. Your surrender is unconditional.”
He started to turn away, then swung back. There was no warmth in his smile or his words.
“I personally prefer the second way. For the sake of my country I would happily blow you all away, every ship, every soldier, every officer, then blow away your Politicians and your Queen.
“The choice, gentlemen, is yours.”
The snow grew heavier, the day darker, the wind more chill as the American officers returned to their ship and the British officers were left in silence.
DAY’S END
The Duke of Cambridge had stayed in his cabin ever since the Cunard steamer had departed from Washington City. Stayed below in the stuffy fug, looking unseeingly at the shadows thrown by the paraffin light rocking in its gimbals. Only when the swaying of the lamp became more regular, the movement of the ship rolling steadily from side to side, did he grow conscious of his surroundings. This was the motion of the great Atlantic rollers; they must be out of the river now and standing out to sea. He rose, tightened his collar and put on his jacket, went up on deck.
The air was warm and salty, a June day to relish. Brigadier Somerville was standing at the rail; he turned and saluted when the Duke came up to him. They leaned on the wooden rail and looked in silence at the American coastline vanishing behind them. The Duke turned away and grimaced, preferring instead to look at the sails and the laboring sailors rather than the shores of the United States.