Napoleon in 1812

Chapter 93

16. Sea Men – 1

‘Cloud. Spring will not come to the stolen fields. Because the God of nature will not give them a time when sprouts bloom and new life pulsates.’

These were the last words left by his old friend who was dying with a bullet piercing his abdomen. Red Cloud’s face was engraved with the traces of time, as he remembered them without missing a single word. Now, long after the death of his friend, Red Cloud was able to answer him.

“You were wrong, East Wood, the land taken away by the invaders has spring like our fields. It hasn’t changed over the past 30 years.”

On the contrary, the invaders were rapidly developing at a pace that the tribesmen of America did not dare to imagine.

Looking at them achieving an absolutely brilliant and splendid civilization, Red Cloud thought that they might be the people truly blessed by the God of nature.

The white-skinned invaders were not satisfied with the territories they occupied by brutally slaughtering the natives.

Even though they already had vast and fertile land, they were greedily turning their guns toward new fields. The native tribes against them were fragile like lanterns in front of the wind.

The Mohican tribe[1], led by Red Cloud, was probably the tribe facing the most transformation in these turbulent times.

Living in the Hudson River basin, they settled in Georgia, migrating as many as three times to avoid the flames of war and persecution.

Red Cloud, who had been through all kinds of trials and experienced the process himself, had gained an eye to see the world.

Rather than protesting against invaders who did not hide their greed for the land, Red Cloud insisted on actively learning their culture and skills.

The Mohican tribe sided with Britain in the American Revolutionary War and fought against the new country, the United States, but in return, they were brutally slaughtered and their territory was devastated.

They pretended to devote their loyalty by acting submissive in front of their opponent. The chief needed to be the most courageous. Red Cloud was proud, even if he had to face fierce criticism from the elders.

‘In order to catch a giant, you must be able to climb on the giant’s shoulder.’

If his family had not been exterminated by the United States, and if his close friend, who vowed to stay by his side for the rest of his life, had not died by their hands, his loyalty to the tribe would have been questioned and he would have been branded as a traitor and expelled. Anyway, Red Cloud and the other Mohican tribesmen were currently having a hard time.

Having learned to obey their enemies by suppressing their souls, it was now time to transplant and develop the strength that they had gained from the invaders. The Mohican people received special guests not long after they realized it.

“We are from Paris.”

Some strangers introduced themselves like this. It was true that the range of life and perception of Native Americans was narrow compared to those of Europe.

However, no matter how narrow it was, they knew which city ‘Paris’ was. It was especially true for the Mohican tribe, which was trying to get used to the civilization of white people.

“I have always thought of France as a country that is fighting Britain hand in hand with the United States.”

“Of course that’s true. However, there is a saying in the iron rules of international diplomacy: ‘There is no eternal ally or enemy. There are only opponents who can benefit me and those who can’t.’ We came here thinking of the Mohicans as the former.”

What the French suggested was surprising.

“You want to hire the warriors of our clan as guards for the villages of Dahlonega and Villa Rica?”

“That’s right. His Majesty, the Emperor of the Empire, has been delegated economic and development rights to several villages in Georgia for 50 years in exchange for tolerance for the United States trade agreement. And His Majesty wants to share the wealth and values that grow naturally with the natives who were the original owners of the land.”

“…!!”

The Mohican tribesmen were stirred up by stories that could not be easily believed. Red Cloud narrowed his eyes. There were several natives living in Georgia, and among them was the Mohican tribe.

He had heard about the number of French migrants increasing sharply in the past year or two.

He thought that the involvement of the French Emperor was quite suspicious. The stories of Napoleon Bonaparte, the Emperor of France, had been told across the sea and had reached this place.

Stories about Europe, the land of white people like the invaders, and about the king who conquered it. But why was he trying to coax them from far away?

“Share the wealth and values… It sounds like you know exactly what wealth is produced in the villages there and how big the values are. Am I right?”

“That’s right. Then, can I take it as meaning that the chief knew about the hidden values of the villages of Dahlonega and Villa Rica?”

Red Cloud smiled and leaned against a chair made of elk’s fur.

“It wasn’t long ago that our tribe settled around here. But even our sources are not clumsy. I’ve known for a long time that there are gold mines in both villages.”

It was not necessary for them to understand right away why Napoleon, who owned the gold mines in exchange for a legitimate deal with the United States, would want to share them with the native tribes instead of monopolizing them.

In any case, they would have time after accepting the contract to find out whether these people were true friends or invaders with hidden knives behind their smiling faces.

“I think you will reach out to not only our tribe, but also many tribes living on the continent…”

“The more friends we have in the distance, the better it is. Our Ministry of Foreign Affairs hopes to form a progressive and complementary relationship between the Empire and the indigenous tribes, starting with small cooperation.”

If France had been a country right next to the United States, they would not have fallen for such a deal. Because in the end, it would just have been a trick to covet the land of the natives.

However, France was far away across the sea in Europe, and it was difficult to actively intervene in the battle for supremacy between Britain and the United States.

Red Cloud’s senses, as he had led a tribe of thousands of people for many years, were speaking. This could be an inflection point that would dramatically change the Mohican tribe, which was currently in a tight spot.

“Our first encounter was great. If we build trust and keep our promises while narrowing the gap between our positions, we will be able to accomplish many things.”

For the first time in his life, Red Cloud reached out to a white person first and asked for a handshake. This was an expression of courage and will in its own way.

For revenge, freedom, and survival of his tribe, he could make friends with people with faces that resembled the invaders at any time. The man from France did not reject it.

“I would like to give a word of advice to the new friends of our tribe. It is better not to expect that all native tribes will be hostile to the invaders. Keep in mind that there are not a few of them who dream of extremely private and shallow purposes in harmony with them.”

“Of course, we are well aware of that. France will only reach out to tribes who are fully aware of the value of freedom. At least the chief in front of me is a brave man who meets that standard.”

“That’s nicely said.”

Laughing with his eyes glowing, Red Cloud asked the tribesmen around him to step down. The Frenchman, who came as the head of the delegation, also sent his men away and faced Red Cloud one-on-one in response.

“Among the tribesmen of the continent who harbor the banner of rebellion against the United States, there is one of the most courageous and outstanding warriors I know. However, he is currently in danger of losing his family and tribe, and is running wild recklessly. Please, find him before the other tribes, stop him, and convince him to plan for the future.”

“Hmm… Who is he?”

“Tecumseh. We call him Tecumseh.[2] If he joins our cooperation, you will surely not regret it.”

The wheel of history was gradually deviating from its orbit.

===

France, a great and glorious Empire. Had the Gauls ever had such a brilliant golden age since they settled on this land?

France overpowered numerous competitors who coveted its fertile ancient lands with strength and wisdom, even subdued Britain, and came to reign undisputed over the European continent.

The citizens of this country who were walking under the tricolor flag also deserved to share this great honor. However, European society in the 19th century had a complex composition scattered with numerous directions and diversity.

There were also people who were externally pleased with the great success of their country, but were dissatisfied or bitter on the inside.

There were mainly two kinds of such dissatisfied people. The first were those who were opposed to Napoleon’s reign itself, and the second were those who had been shunned, or let alone, in the current imperial system.

The former was highly likely to commit treason or rebellion, and so deserved to be classified as dangerous, but the latter should be embraced and comforted.

Even though they had not been appointed so far, there was among them important ‘right people’ indispensable for the transformation and development of the Empire.

Like Carnot, a university professor at Heidelberg, and Colin, a fraudulent tax collector, there were people who were wasting their time not using their talents. They were the ‘possibilities’ hidden within the French Empire.

===

“On the sea painted in black, the creaking noise of a sailing boat!
A huge swirling wave of salt, but the devil’s holy water that can never be drunk!
The deck full of salted beef, moldy bread, and the smell of rotting wood are exclusive to brave sailors!
Exploring the legendary Holy Grail, we’re going, we’re going!”

“Ah! The men wear albatrosses around their necks instead of crosses after a damn long day!”

“Crying out to God in groaning and weeping, I pray that I will be awake tomorrow!”

One could tell by looking at the lyrics of this sailors’ song that it was never meant to glorify sea life. Rather, it looked like a song about wanting to quickly end this difficult life as soon as possible. But French sailors and marines often sang this song. Even more than ‘Le Chant du Départ’, the national anthem of the French Empire. Through this song, which directly expressed the hardships and difficulties of sea life, many boatmen were able to comfort and relieve their emotions.

“Haha! Your voice is so loud today! Come to think of it, you’re overflowing with energy these days! Did something good happen!?”

“How can I not be happy that the demonic oppressors licked Gaul’s ground and begged for life!”

“Hahaha! I keep forgetting that you’re from Ireland! Is it because I’m getting old?”

The transport ship heading toward the mainland, while riding the rough waves of the Atlantic Ocean, was full of cargo.

The two men talking next to the mizzen mast seemed to be old friends. The sight of a man with impressive red hair and an old man with white hair next to him was very unique.

The name of the red-haired Irish man was Drennan, and the old man with white hair was Pierre.

After traveling along the ocean and wind, the wooden sailboat arrived at the docks on the Brittany Peninsula.

While sailors and porters disembarked the cargo from the trade ship, Drennan and Pierre were supervising them and burning tobacco. The sailors called Pierre Captain and Drennan Quarter Master.

“Once the British bastards’ terrible coastal blockade is lifted, the traders will be busy. There will be more work for people like us.”

“Haha… Thanks to it, I won’t be hungry.”

But for Drennan, who knew Pierre’s true identity, it just sounded like a joke.

As with all the sailors, there were many personal circumstances that led them to do such hard and dangerous work. The same was true of Drennan. He had settled in France, dreaming of a very personal revenge.

“Today is my last day.”

“Oh… Are you leaving now? Well, you’ve enjoyed it for quite a long time for a hobby of a rich former noble.”

“Ha, but… you’re leaving with me as well.”

Pierre smiled at Drennan, who had a strange expression on his face, and turned to the people waiting for him outside the port. In the attention of the sailors, they saluted Pierre respectfully.

“Without Your Excellency, how could we defeat the powerful navy of those islanders? We greet the hero of the Battle of the Chesapeake Bay.”

The identity of the old man with white hair called Pierre was Pierre de Vaugiraud de Rosnay, the best captain of the time, who commanded the flagship ‘Ville-de-Paris’ under the French admiral Count François Joseph Paul de Grasse during the Battle of the Chesapeake Bay, France’s most decisive naval victory in the American Revolutionary War.[3]

TL notes

[1] Mohicans

[2] Tecumseh

[3] François Joseph Paul de Grasse, Battle of the Chesapeake.