Stars and Stripes Forever

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.

“Let the political johnnies take over,” he said. “I have done my bit. It has been jaw-jaw for far too long now.”

“You have indeed done your bit, Your Grace. You extracted terms far better than those originally proposed.”

“Like extracting teeth at times — and just as painful. But don’t diminuate your contribution, Somerville. I faced them across the conference table. But it was your words and your arguments that carried the day.”

“Happy to be of service, sir,” he said, bowing slightly and changing the subject. The ruling classes of Britain looked down upon the brainy ones and thought little of a man who flaunted his intelligence. “The armies are safely home, prisoners soon to be released, a messy affair there at an end. As you said, the politicians can cross the T’s and dot the I’s. The entire matter is well ended.”

“Is it?” The Duke hawked deeply and spat into the ocean. “Speaking from a military point of view it was a disaster. Our invading armies thrown back. Disaster at sea. Canada all but lost to us — ”

“The English in Canada are loyal. They will not join the French in this new republic.”

“They will be hard-pressed not to. And if they go — what do we have left then on this continent? The frozen colony of Newfoundland, that is what. Not what one would call an overwhelming presence in the New World.”

“But we have peace — is that not enough?”

“Peace? We have been at war ever since my cousin first mounted the throne. Queen Victoria’s little wars, I have heard them called. Wars of necessity as the British Empire expanded around the world. We have won them all. Lost a battle here and there — but never a war. And now this. It leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth.”

“We should treasure the peace — ”

“Should we?” The Duke of Cambridge rounded on Somerville, his jaw tight with anger. “If you believe that, well then, sir, you are in a damned minority, sir. The American newspapers crow about their great victory and the people strut about like cocks on a dungheap. While at home there is a continuous growl of resentment that will not cease. Yes, this armistice and this sordid peace were forced upon us. But this does not mean that we have lost the greater battle of Great Britain’s place in this world. Our country is intact, our empire fertile and flourishing. We have been insulted, all of us — insulted!”

“But there is nothing that can be done now. The war is over, the soldiers returned, the reparations to be paid…”

“It is never over — not while the stigma of defeat is upon us. Keels of ironclad warships are being laid even as we speak. In Woolwich the forges glare as guns and other weapons are produced. And our people are not happy, not happy indeed.”

Brigadier Somerville spoke quietly, tonelessly, attempting not to state his own position in this matter. “Then what do you suggest, sir? We will rearm, that is being done now as you say. Armies can be raised, armed and made ready. But then what? There is no cause to start another war.”

“No cause? You have witnessed our humiliation. Something must be done. What — I don’t know. But we shall confer upon this, yes we shall. That pipsqueak general, what was his name? Sherman. Had the bloody nerve to threaten a peer of the realm. Bloody snake and don’t tread on me and all of that. Well I have tread on many a snake and feel no fear in doing so again.”

The Duke turned and looked back at America now vanished in the hazy horizon. He felt the blood rise to suffuse his face as he remembered the defeats and the humiliations. It was more than one could possibly bear. His anger bubbled over and he shook his fist in the direction of that vile country.

“Something can be done — something will be done. This matter is not over yet. That I promise with all my soul and body. This is not the end.”