How time flies, as Virgil had it. It is some sixteen years since I at last left my post in Boston. Goodwin Allen has been on campaign continuously since that time, marching from the coast to Louisiana and then fighting his way across the Caribbean. The British Navy has grown immeasurably in the twenty-two years since John Leake secured the channel against the enemies of the Republic. Many thousands have died in fighting to bring peace to the Americas, and in the war to let commerce flow along the trade lanes around the globe.

My own son, not yet born as the American radicals revolted, and only a child as the stock markets collapsed to the machinations of the pirates, will in two short years graduate from Palgrave and take his place at the college of his choice. I am not sure yet whether he will favour the philosophy of Oxford or the alchemy of Cambridge, or even some other nascent institution – perhaps even the disciplines of shipping and industry in Hartford, across the Atlantic. We shall see.

On the back of Allen’s success in the Caribbean, Putnam’s Radicals secured a second term. With the destruction of the base of the pirates, Haraden’s fleet disappeared from the Atlantic. Some say he was the victim of mutiny, unable to secure payment or plunder for his captains and seamen, and his fleet, damaged and disunited, broke apart and vanished. Whatever the event, the man’s hat was never located, though the jibes of the Liberal leader were insufficient to prevent a Radical victory, less convincing though that victory was than the last. Some speculate that squabbles amongst the Radicals have begun, with the party showing signs of fragmentation, the patchwork alliance of ministers of the ever-growing population of chapels that dot the nation, and agrarian laymen risen from agitators amongst the common men, unable to decide upon the true course of the Republic.

Part of the issue is the growth of trade with the freeing of the trade lanes. One of the great ironies of the victory in the war on piracy is that it reduces the allure of the Radical cause – for while the commerce of Indiamen coming from all corners of the planet enriches our nation, so the restraint of the merchant and mill owner by the agitation of the common man becomes less likely.

Mill towns spring up all around the country, or else grow greatly in size, with advances in industry bringing us new techniques in the making of steel and cloth. This in turn brings prosperity not only to our merchants and mill owners, but also benefit to the admiralty and war office, whose soldiers and sailors reap the rewards of the new weaponry springing forth from the desks of the military engineers in Cambridge and London.

As a new Commercial Basin in Bristol is completed, trade and industry grows in bounds, and so the nation as a whole prospers. It is difficult, as has been noted, to agitate a man after he has dined heartily. I predict that a compromise will be reached on the efforts of the radical leadership to extend the franchise, but as to whether further power to the common man is achieved, we shall have to wait and see.

Yet the cause of the common man is not forgotten entirely. Contest abounds amongst the thinkers at Oxford, with the conservative Berkeley between attempting to disprove the work of Newton and Leibnitz engaging in debate with the young radicals of the newer colleges. Amongst this furore, a new thesis entitled “The Rights of Man” has been borne of a particular group of young philosophers, and already the Radicals are championing its doctrines.

And so, as I step aboard the stagecoach to depart for the country, I am reminded of a speech by Alexander Putnam to Parliament. In it, he describes the notion of what he calls “Pax Britannica”, a peace brought to the world by the efforts of Britain at sea, on the field and in the mills and universities. Of course, this is rather fanciful – much of Europe is still embroiled in war, while the Indian peninsula falls slowly to the advances of the Maratha Confederacy, and in America many of the tribes to the cold North and wide, arid West remain hostile to our settlers and soldiers. Yet upon the deep, wide oceans, Britain reigns supreme, and it is here that we will bring peace and prosperity to the people that shelter beneath the proud flag of the Republic. Long may that peace reign, whatever the future may bring.

The following is translated from the notes of Albrecht Kohl, captain of the 1st Regiment of Hessian Infantry following the battle of San José de Oruña.

We followed the Royal Highway from the coast to Port de Spain, hoping to take the harbour in order to secure our hold on the sea routes into and out of the island, forcing the pirates into the inhospitable forests to the south. Instead, the pirate captain, seeing that his chance to win the day would suffer if we were to take the initiative, met us at the town of San José, some five British miles from Port de Spain. The town, as I understand it, was once the Spanish capital of the island, but had clearly suffered neglect under the long stewardship of the privateers.

And so that, as the redcoat captains amongst our forces are fond of uttering, is that.

I daresay that it is currently unwise to utter the words “Roderick Dexter” in the presence of Alexander Putnam of present. Haraden’s fleet having taken the bait, the captain made the decision to withdraw instead of engage, having sighted more vessels, even in their damaged state, than he felt comfortable to handle. While public condemnation is not forthcoming, the government fearing loss of heart amongst the public as they ready to cast their ballot this coming autumn, neither is the Admiralty or Prime Minister of cheerful mind at present.

This fact, though, will soon be forgotten, as a message is sent to my desk that seven hundred under Goodwin Allen will have, as I write this, landed at Trinidad, and are preparing to move upon Port-of-Spain. Opposing them are, some estimate, a militia of some sixteen hundred men under feared pirate captain Ben le Clerc. All eyes thus turn to the West, as across the ocean the hastily-assembled Colonial forces make ready to do their duty for God, High Protector and Country, and end this bloody war, once and for all. If they win, Britain will emerge as the sole naval power in the entire globe, and a new era of unparalleled wealth and prosperity will emerge. If they fail – a government will fall, and a bloody and fruitless war will drag on, and with it peace and commerce will be but a distant dream.

As the temperatures fall, and the people of London scratch together fuel to withstand the coming months, the Colonial forces scratch together what reinforcement they can, impelled to victory by the Secretary at War, who in turn has a fire lit beneath his backside by Prime Minister Putnam such that we achieve swift victory in anticipation for the impending election. The cabinet is, of course, keenly aware that the voting man of Britain, still keenly noting the scarcity of certain goods from the colonies and trade lanes, might well not suffer to make a decision to deviate from Liberal rule a second time. Some Radicals even talk of expanding the franchise in order to garner a further prop for their power amongst the common man – though such talk is, for the moment, mere conjecture.

The Admiralty, meanwhile, under pressure from the constrained merchant classes, have sent a fleet of four ships of the line to defend trade interests on the Ivory Coast. Cynics amongst the chattering classes note that time is running out for Alexander Putnam to fulfil his boast of bringing Jorgen Haraden’s hat before the house, leading the leader of the opposition to offer scornfully that he might afford the purchase of a single hat from a reputable milliner for the Prime Minister by way of consolation. It is suggested thus that Dexter’s trade fleet is but a bait for the ships of the line to tempt the pirate captain into combat with the latest in British naval technology.

Meanwhile, attention in the admiralty turns to the colder northern seas, as Lionel Alden continues to intercept shipping from the ports of Prussia, and protect commerce with the Swedish to our ports at Grenwich. Firstly, the guns of the Medway sought out a brig and sunk her, while a sixth rate ship-of-the-line managed to evade them, retreating from the straits where our vessels loitered.

In a second engagement, two brigs were sunk, the vessels surrendered but too damaged to salvage or tow back as prize.

More miraculously, perhaps, a single galley was able to evade our guns, for which Alden sends a few words expressing a grudging respect for such resolve. Nonetheless, with not insignificant damage done to his vessels, Alden makes preparation to return to Portsmouth, as a captain Wilbur Paterson ready to take up station in his place.

The British dominion thus enters an election year with a mixture of hope and foreboding, as factions prepare for the coming election, while the vultures amongst the opposition circle above the harried government.

Log of Stede Bellamy, Captain of the Flying Dutchman

The battle began with a good omen, as the Pearl, a pirate Brig amongst the fleet that met us at the Dragon’s Mouth, the strait running between Trinidad and the mainland, succumbed to our shot. At this event, the Dumbarton Castle moved to fire upon the enemy flagship, a galleon known as the Adventure, as the Shannon endured heavy fire from its guns.

And so, as the Shannon chased her prey from the straits, I ordered the navigator to turn our vessel to port and retrieve the seamen who had managed to survive the wreck of the Dumbarton Castle, and make ready to blockade the Port-of-Spain in anticipation for Goodwin Allen’s rude introduction to these fair isles.

Our woes in the war against the pirates are compounded by news from Jacques Paine, whose fleet was chased and engaged by the same privateers that attacked his operations in the East Indies. Though his ship managed to isolate and sink a vessel of that fleet, his valiant attempts to stand against this foe were for naught, and his Fluyt was forced to retreat. The other craft sailing with him was not so lucky, and was captured by the pirates.

Despite these losses, the industry of the British people advances in bounds, with the city of Manchester growing into a substantial mill town, spurred by the growth of the port of Liverpool.

Over the winter break, then, I had taken another opportunity to pry into the darker corners of government, and asked a few questions of the records and the remaining cloistered servants of the Radical party who, like myself, had not yet taken leave of their station for the year. It seems that Mr Prowse, far from vanishing into obscurity, had simply been persuaded after the collapse of his company to join forces with one of the growing number of ministries in Bristol, and had availed himself of the funds that still remained to his part of his trading operations. With them, he had found new purpose as a financier of politicians, turning his back on the grime and grit of his particular trade. This fact, it seems, is not known to many outside of the closest acolytes of the party. I wonder how many have, as my colleague did, asked themselves the question as to where the Radicals, a party of simple ministers and thinkers and simpler agitators amongst the people, came by sums sufficient to win an election.

Of course, these questions became somewhat more academic as word came that, upon giving chase to a pirate sloop off the coast of the Windward islands, vessels under the command of captain Bellamy found their way south, and, after capturing the vessel, learned of the sloop’s intended destination.

And thus, the missive ends, Stede Bellamy has assembled a small force of but two sixth-rates, the Dumbarton Castle and sister-ship Shannon, and one repurposed galleon, the Flying Dutchman. This fleet, representing but a fraction of the strength of the High Protector’s navy, races for the islands of Trinidad and Tobago. There, a force of pirates lies, ready to repel the might of the British armed forces, their very survival at stake.

Whilst the majority of the machinery of government slowly enters hibernation in preparation for the holidays of Christmas, a report comes to my desk from the New World, where Stede Bellamy of the British Navy communicates the latest action amongst the islands of the Caribbean.

It is with pleasure that I bring to you news of the successes of the British Navy in the American theatre. Firstly, the vessels troubling our trade from the port of Kingston should no longer concern our High Protector’s government, given swift response from a detachment under captain Adams.

With our artillery shelling the defenders, the Colonial Line opened up on the ill-disciplined militia, scattering them. Thusly, the Windward Islands have been secured with the minimum of losses on the part of the British.

The Secretary at War, before departing for the country, took the opportunity to further lionise the efforts of Allen and the Colonial forces. Despite this, members of the Liberal opposition mutter that the campaign has run out of objectives, with the pirate menace unchecked. With a further election in two years, they mutter with no small amount of mirth, a failure to address the threat to our commerce and peace amongst our colonies might well convince the electorate of Britain and the colonies of the true worth of a Radical government.

In London, investors hoping to expand after the monetary disasters of the end of the last decade have begun selling shares in their companies at an ever-increasing rate, boosting the fortunes of ailing companies in need of financial aid. Critics, however, abound, particularly amongst the rising class of Radicals moving into the City, and many cite the panic of the merchant classes following the collapse of the South Sea bubble as proving God’s distaste for the excesses of trade speculation.

Further to the rise of the Radical viewpoint, many professors in Oxford and, increasingly other institutions, have begun to ponder the nature of the Rights of Man, and the conditions that should be afforded to the individual. Many of the elder Liberals sneer at such notions, though only in private, lest their popularity wane with the increasingly influential mob.

Across the Channel, better news is brought by our allies in the Low Countries, with the office of the Stadtholder sending word that Dutch forces have taken Flanders from the Spanish, forcing the armies of the Spanish King to retreat across the border into France. Many speculators are buoyed by this news, and industry in Grenwich town is, I am told, renewed of late as shipbuilders take orders from investors expecting increased cross-Channel trade.

Alas, the prospects abroad are not as rosy. At Kingston, the pirates have struck again, their light escort vessels harassing ships leaving for the European trade lanes. The admiralty vow to High Protector Mainwaring that this indignity will not stand, friends connected with matters of defence confide in me that they would rather concentrate on striking at the heart of the problem, rather than severing the many heads of the Hydra.

Alas, these heads are manifold, and in this environment captain Jaques Paine, now retired to trading in the East Indies, has sent word to London that he has been engaged by a large and motley array of vessels under the flag of piracy. While the admiralty insists that its policy is bearing fruit, some mutter that, without a clear lead as to the location of any further pirate hiding places, it has begun to run out of ideas.

After what seemed an interminable length of time, the first reports arrived at the end of summer, as the long, balmy evenings begin to shorten and parliament returns to its bickering, indecision and smattering of injuries sustained in the lines of government. At first word came from a fast cutter having passed the Caribbean on the trade triangle to Bristol port, then at last written confirmation from Goodwin Allen himself, having gathered together an exhaustive missive on the actions of his campaign against the island of Antigua.

By way of variety, I present documents found in the town house in St Johns, discovered by colonial troopers as they secured the settlement. It is supposedly the work of a Dutch captain, Ebberich Hacker, who saw the action of the day from the roof of one of the buildings during the battle. It was translated for me by a good friend in the foreign office, whose contacts in the Stadtholder’s office gives him ample contact with the tongue of the Low Countries. The translated work is thusly recorded as follows:

It was perhaps nine of the morning when our scouts returned the news that the British Navy had made landfall at Falmouth, and begun unloading their troops in preparation to march across the island and take St Johns for the accursed High Protector in London. Stories abound of outlying farms raided by the redcoats under the American general Allen, who fought with John Churchill in his brutal suppression of the American uprising. I know not how many of them were true, and part of me wishes that they were not. Nonetheless, they shall be held to account, truth or no.

Alas, they were unable to change the will of God, and thus He decreed our defeat. We now make for the coves, where we might still slip past the blockade under the dead of night, to regroup and prepare for the battles to come.

And thus, Allen’s report shows a loss of 400 men, full half of his forces, yet a heroic victory for the Colonial forces. Jubilation abounds amongst the common man and the mercantile classes alike, though privately, some in the Admiralty and War Office remain dubious of our final victory. Though they do not admit it in public, dark sayings are uttered behind closed doors that this may be but the first of many difficult battles before our shipping lanes are truly safe from the scourge of piracy.

After spending a the Christmas vacation watching my son dash about like a lunatic in the snows of the country, I returned to business in London. Looking back upon the images of pristine snow trampled by tiny feet, it is uplifting to watch the breathless excitement of the young, unhampered by tales of war and strife abroad. Some years ago, with the combined navies of our enemies lapping at our shores and rioting in the streets, I would have worried for the safety of the young, but, as our coach jitters like a winsome steed along the metalled paving of the highway that leads to the city, I am soothed by the thought that these things will perhaps not trouble my son as they have my generation. The future for this young one, with a little application, should remain bright and prosperous, God allowing.

The new year brings information slowly, the bitter, lingering winter seeming to freeze the course of events across the Old World. The missives working their way to my desk remain sparse, though a steady trickle remains, keeping these restless hands from the temptations that arise through idleness.

Alden sends word via a Swedish merchant vessel from Malmö. Engaged in the business of raiding Prussian shipping and harbours from Gdansk to Copenhagen, he has given his damaged vessels some respite from the sting of Prussian escort vessels looking to break the blockade on the Baltic.

Further south, our imperial allies in Austria slowly expand their dominion, pressing the Prussian empire to their north, the Polish to the East and the Ottoman empire to the south. In many ways, I admire their spirit, though our politics be at odds with the imperial court. Perhaps with their pressing on land and our efforts at sea, the Prussian threat to our shipping may become greatly reduced.

To the Orient, the Mughal empire slowly and gracefully collapses, as the Maratha Confederacy presses at its gates, raiding the long, treacherous roads of the over-extended empire, and cutting their dominion in to two parts, with the city of Ahmadnagar surrounded by the expanding tide of orange.

To the West, across the ocean, the tide of war laps once more against the shores of Antigua, as reinforcements from the mainland reach the port of Guadaloupe by conveyance of a small fleet of fast escort vessels, and join General Allen in the march north to the pirate stronghold. This is the last word I have received, as our colonial army makes preparations to assault the settlement, and end by decapitation the reign of anarchy and piracy that plague our shores and shipping lanes.