The Rebellion Burns Bright

Ripotó, Ëtulá Ëria [1], American Overseas Territory, Africa
July 14th, 1837

Lieutenant Commander Liam Kennedy watched as Governor-General Joaquim Azevedo Pereira paced in front of his desk and stared out the window. The sight from the hastily built Governor’s Residence revealed a small but flourishing town filled with civilian and military ships docked at the harbor. A handful of Marines patrolled the streets as merchants transferred cargo and bought the local cocoa and palm oil grown on the island.

Frankly speaking, Commander Kennedy thought Ripotó was more of a village than a town, but it was the largest settlement on the island, as Spain could never centralize its control over the natives. America hadn’t either, but it cooperated with the locals and encouraged self-rule. It was why the Bubi people allowed the existence of Ripotó (which translated to “a place of foreigners” in the local language).

“Governor?’

“Am I really supposed to believe that the president would want us to cooperate with the Lobsters?” Governor Pereira questioned as he pointed at a particular group of ships resting offshore. Five ships were flying the Union Jack proudly, the flags waving in the wind as if they were greeting the wary Americans. The cloudless sky shone upon the hundreds of British sailors milling around and waiting on the decks.

“It’s to eradicate slavery and piracy in the region.”

“Which we can do without the British!”

The Navy commander rubbed his forehead and fixed his neatly combed brown hair. “With all due respect, Governor Pereira, I don’t think you understand the Navy’s situation. Our ships were already overstretched before the War. We lost three-fourths of our Navy during the War, and our dockyards are struggling to fill in the gaps. It’ll take at least a decade to have enough ships to patrol and cover all our overseas territories, not to mention our extensive trade routes to Europe, Asia, and Africa. You have read the papers sent to you by the State Department, yes?”

“Reports of piracy activity are up nearly five hundred percent since the end of the Anglo-American War around Africa alone; yes, I have read the damn papers. Not to mention, the Brazilians importing more slaves through the Portuguese in Angola… That does not excuse working with the Tory jackals, caralho!”

“I understand your feelings, Governor. I’ve read your heroics during the Battle of Timstown and your near-death experience there,” Commander Kennedy assured. “The British nearly killed me during the war; they sunk the torpedo boat I was manning in the Gulf of Mexico. But these are orders from the top. The president and the Senate approved this joint partnership after receiving the offer.”

“Wait, the British requested to work with us?’

“Supposedly, their queen did as a show of ‘goodwill’ between our two nations.”

Governor Pereira threw back his head and laughed as he slammed his hand on his desk. “Ah yes, I suppose next month, that puta of a queen will lob shells into Columbia to ‘benefit both of our nations.’ What a load of merda. They just want access to this port and go about with their imperialism in Africa as if nothing happened between America and them.”

“They also offered to protect our shipping off the African coasts, Your Excellency.” Captain Kennedy sighed. “Also, they purchased the coastal areas of Guinea from the Spanish, so theoretically, they don’t need this port.”

“Further proving my point about the imperialism bit.”

“Governor.”

“You’re not going to let me say no, are you?”

The lieutenant commander frowned. “Unfortunately not. As much as I would enjoy sticking a shell or two into the British as…. I mean ships, the world will be a better and safer place with our two nations working together. For now.”

“Very well. I will send my complaints to Columbia and argue why this is a terrible idea. You have my reluctant approval of allowing the British to access the port.” Governor Pereira sighed. “Now, please excuse yourself from my office. I’m still trying to learn the local language and deal with the native tribes. Which cabra in Columbia thought that because the Spanish owned this island, the locals would speak Spanish? At least the inhabitants of São Tomé and Príncipe can speak Portuguese….”

After he was waved away by the governor, Commander Kennedy stepped outside into the warm humid outdoors. At the entrance, one of his officers, Lieutenant John Davis, saluted him. The man was short yet imposing with fierce onyx eyes and a wild black mane. “How was the governor?”

“Stressed and very colorful with his words. Columbia is making him govern the islands with a string and a stick.”

“So he can croch [2] himself if things go south?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. It seems Ëtulá Ëria is last on our government’s list of priorities.”

Lieutenant Davis nodded. “I heard they’re building big infrastructure projects in the Azores and the Canary Islands. Here, it seems like the Seabees hastily slapped a port together and then called it a day.”

“Unfortunately, our nation’s resources aren’t infinite. We’re already spending millions on new ships and building up the overseas territories, not to mention all the new things happening back home.”

“Let’s just hope there’s at least a decent bar somewhere on this island.”

“Agreed. I’m going to need a drink after meeting with the devil,” Commander Kennedy mused.

The ‘devil’ was a peculiar British officer waiting at the docks. A tall and imposing man in his late forties, with sweeping brown hair and a weathered face. He was guarded by two American Marines, who looked less than pleased having to guard a British officer on American territory. Meanwhile, the admiral was sitting on a crate and smoking a pipe, creating a strong stench of tobacco that wafted through the air.

The British officer only looked up after his American counterparts were in front of him. “Have we been granted permission by the esteemed governor to dock?”

“Yes. You may bring your ships into port.”Commander Kennedy was already annoyed with the man due to his tone, even though he had only met him moments ago. He mentally cursed out his superiors for his situation and smiled forcibly.

“About time.” Admiral Nelson whipped out a red handkerchief from his coat and waved it at his ships. Within a few minutes, the British ships were slowly moving toward the shore. They were carefully watched by half a dozen American warships, including the steel frigate USS Enterprise. “Pardon me, where are my manners? Rear Admiral Maurice Nelson of Her Majesty’s Navy, at your service. I assume you are Commander Kennedy?”

“Correct. Lieutenant Commander Liam Kennedy of the United States Navy. This man is Lieutenant John Davis, the executive officer of my ship, the USS Enterprise

Surprisingly, the admiral shook both of their hands firmly.“I am quite pleased to meet both of you. However, I was expecting more… well-known officers for this partnership. Perhaps Admiral Cochrane or Admiral Jones.”

Commander Kennedy frowned at his words and recognized the bored look in Admiral Nelson’s eyes. “Admiral Cochrane is now the Chief of Naval Operations in Columbia, handling fleet assignments and ship deployments. Admiral Jones is currently commanding the entirety of the US West Atlantic Fleet.”

“Ah. Shouldn’t you be more guarded with important strategic information?”

“That is common knowledge. Besides, America has nothing to fear or hide.”

“Quite.” Admiral Nelson glanced at the USS Enterprise. “I meant no offense with my statement. I was simply surprised that America thought so little of us, not even sending an admiral for our joint mission. As an admiral, it is quite… insulting to me, to say the least. Especially since Her Majesty…”

“What Her Majesty desires are of no concern to us, admiral. I’m sure our government in Columbia would be happy to hear your objections. However, I am the one that was assigned to this partnership. Until you are recalled or this mission is completed, we will be stuck together for the foreseeable future. So I suggest you get familiar quickly.”

Silence reigned for a few moments after the American commander’s tirade. Admiral Nelson guffawed as he refilled his pipe and inhaled. “Quick with your words, aye? I’m beginning to see why they sent you over here. Judging by your name, I’m assuming your family is Irish?”

“Yes,” Commander Kennedy crossed his arms, waiting for his counterpart to blunder into a mess. “Is there a problem?”

“None at all. Some of my best crew are Irish; they’re good lads that deserve better. My father has been trying to get the old duds in Parliament to treat them a bit more fairly, but you know how it goes with politics.”

“Messy,” Lieutenant Davis said.

“Always. The Despard Plot is still a sticking point for many.”

Commander Kennedy stared. “Your father is a member of Parliament?”

“The Honorable Horatio Nelson, Viscount Nelson of Biscay, and Burnham Thorpe. A Whig, mind you. Not a damn Tory.”

“I see…”

“And yes, the previous king was quite balmy, and we should uproot the perverted practice called slavery from the world. I think all of us can agree with those facts, no?”

“Well, it looks like we have some common ground.” Commander Kennedy agreed as he uncrossed his arms and relaxed his fists.

The three silently chatted about notable slave outposts in Angola and the Kongo, plans regarding intercepting slave ships, and politics. As the British ships entered the harbor, the American officers noticed that quite a few crewmates were of non-European origin. Lieutenant Davis spoke up first, “You’re recruiting Asians into your Navy now?”

“Somewhat,” Admiral Nelson answered. “The Orientals in the East Indies are particularly well-suited for the demands of our Navy. Hence, we have been… offering them benefits for serving under Her Majesty.”

“Impressment,” Commander Kennedy mumbled under his breath. “Their navy suffered significant losses in the War, and they've decided to fill its ranks as fast as possible.”

“But why from Asia?” Lieutenant Davis whispered back.

“I guess they’re learning from us. They’ve finally realized that they have millions of untapped potential across their Empire, and they’re integrating them slowly but surely….”

+++++

[1]: TTL’s Bioko. The name “Bioko” didn’t exist until the 1970s, as it was the name of one of Equatorial Guinea’s modern politicians. This is the original native name of the island.

[2]: ITTL, “lynching” is called “croching” (a word of Irish origin due to the Irish terrorists killing British settlers in Oregon). It’s also been popularized to reference a hanging.