Napoleon in America by Shannon Selin

Author:Shannon Selin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Napoleon, Napoleon Bonaparte, alternate history, alternative history, historical fiction, 19th century, history, United States, America, France, royalty, political, military
Publisher: Dry Wall Publishing
Published: 2014-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16: Rupture

Charleston, South Carolina, 30th August 1822

Along the wharf and across the ample bay ships lay with their sails loosed to dry in the blazing blue sun. From vessels’ holds, seamen hoisted bags of coffee and barrels of sugar to Negroes who hauled them, foreheads dripping, to the stores of merchants and planters. Near a ship embarking for Rotterdam, coopers headed up casks of rice to be rolled up the planks. The dock was thick with bales of cotton, hogsheads of molasses, boxes of pineapples, barrels of flour and cases of goods piled high on top of each other, their owners’ initials peeking from beneath the cords that had held them tight on their voyage from Europe or the West Indies. Beside a brig arrived from Havana stood a pile of unripe bananas; beside these a pyramid of cocoa nuts, some with their husks still on. And from the shadow of the bow of a schooner from Cayo Romano, a strip of Cuban sand positioned conveniently at the southern edge of the Old Bahama Channel plied by traders and slavers, Jean Laffite observed two Frenchmen hoping to catch the sea breeze.

“My pirate!” Napoleon delighted as Laffite, sporting the frayed broadcloth of a down-at-heel gentleman, made his presence known. “See how I am recovered.”

Laffite commented favorably on the Emperor’s health. Indeed, from being the weak and shrunken figure the captain had left with Girod, Napoleon was now full and hearty. In place of his greatcoat and bicorne, he wore a nankeen shirt and trousers and a wide-brimmed straw hat. His twinkling eyes, round chin, short neck and protruding belly gave him the appearance of a kindly priest. In fact, it had been Marchand whom Laffite had recognized, something that would have pleased Napoleon had he known. It had been his game on the great tour that had taken him over two thousand miles—from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Lexington, Louisville, Vincennes, St. Louis, Nashville, Knoxville and, finally, across the pine barrens and swamps to Charleston—to pass unrecognized as much as possible. This had not been easy given Joseph’s train of courtiers and baggage now resting at the Planters’ Hotel.

“Where is the Séraphine?”

“Alas, she is taken by the Spanish.” Laffite provided few details of the skirmish in which he had lost not only the ship, but most of his crew. The story he spun was of an innocent captured at sea, an unjust imprisonment in a colonial jail, and a plucky escape. “It has become impossible for an honest privateer to make a living. It is difficult enough to contend with the Spanish and the British. Now the Americans treat us all as pirates who respect no flag. I defy any man to prove that I did ever capture any other vessels but those navigating under the flag of Ferdinand VII.” He omitted his recent plunder of an American ship, which resulted in his chase and capture by the United States Navy. They turned him over to Cuban authorities, who—aware of Laffite’s boon to the local economy—let him get away.

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