Chapter 367: Ironclads
Ernest:
"Excellent. You'll handle this personally—first secure cooperation from the Haitians, then help them connect with the Americans. This will be a win-win-win for all three parties. But be sure our identity stays hidden; ideally, use the French as the go-between."
Thomas understood immediately:
"Understood, Your Highness. Everything will appear to be the work of French slave traffickers, with no trace of involvement from us. After all, everyone knows Haiti used to be France's colony."
Currently, Americans could never imagine that in some future era something like "Black Lives Matter" would emerge. For white Americans of this era, the idea of enslaved Africans truly turning the tables is utterly inconceivable. If only the Southern planters knew what fates awaited their descendants, they might have waged the war to the bitter end—so long as they refused social reform, those Africans would never overturn the order.
History often plays out with irony. For instance, the Mamluks—once slaves imported into Egypt—eventually rose to rule the land. Or the way Rome fell into the hands of the very Germanic "barbarians" it had so despised.
For Ernest, it wasn't about belittling Africans; in his eyes, at least in modern society, the African American and Jewish communities were the best at "theater." Waving the banner of discrimination, they demanded privileges, using moral blackmail on the entire world, as though everyone owed them something.
Who remained on the African continent? They were precisely those Ernest was on guard against. He had once only driven them westward, but realized that was still not safe. With their frighteningly high birthrate, short of wiping them out—and modern civilization priding itself on "enlightenment" while harboring legions of hypocritical do-gooders—he must be vigilant. Meanwhile, the Arab world had no such qualms. So how to prevent these Africans from swallowing up the kingdom he'd built? Ernest believed caution was essential.
"Fight poison with poison," Ernest muttered.
"Your Highness, what was that?" Thomas asked.
"Nothing. Go take care of this."
"Yes, sire."
Just then a new idea flashed through Ernest's mind: Africans can multiply quickly, yes, but so did everyone else before industrialization. For instance, if the Arabs stuck to their old ways, they'd multiply into the tens of millions, thanks to oil money, populating the deserts. East Africa, by contrast, must either place some barrier states between itself and the African majority or risk a demographic "backflow."
If he could install or incite certain puppet states to the west—like a buffer that would keep the rest of Africa at bay—he could keep African populations from moving east and reversing everything he'd built. It was feasible. Historically, the international community often turned a blind eye to Africa's internal strife. But that was for later. For now, East Africa still needed migrant labor from the interior.
"Knock, knock, knock…"
"Come in," Ernest said.
It was Thomas, the steward from Hechingen Castle.
Thomas:
"Your Highness, the schedule for the Trieste vessel is settled. You may depart for East Africa at any time."
Ernest:
"Good. Thomas, once I'm gone to East Africa, you're in charge here. You'll handle affairs in Europe."
Thomas:
"Rest assured, Your Highness. If you say east, I won't go west. If you wish my life, I'll give it without complaint."
"Let's not be so dramatic—your family has served Hechingen for generations. I trust you."
Of course, Thomas couldn't well betray the Hechingen royal house. Ernest simply needed someone reliable in Europe to keep an eye on the Hechingen conglomerate's operations. Thomas was effectively his royal commissioner.
Thomas:
"By the way, I did swing by Trieste to check on that ironclad commissioned by the Austro-Hungarian shipyard. The Archduke Ferdinand is now about 30% complete."
Ernest:
"Very good. Once it appears in front of my father-in-law, he'll at least have some dignity."
A few months ago, Ernest had promised to add two more steam-sail warships for the East African navy, commanded by Archduke Ferdinand, to placate him. After all, Ferdinand was father to Ernest's future bride; the wedding was two years away. The father's discreet visits to Austria were embarrassingly hush-hush, so Ernest wanted him to see tangible proof that his position in East Africa wasn't worthless.
Yes, the father-in-law is tool—er, no, the father-in-law…anyway, if someone asks Archduke Ferdinand at the imperial wedding in Vienna, "Where have you been hiding?" or "We heard about your fiasco in Mexico—did you get executed or something?"—though they might not literally say it, the vibe alone would be humiliating. Now, if he can say "I'm the East African Navy's Supreme Commander," how impressive was that?
But if they asked, "So does your East African navy have real strength?" with the Archduke Ferdinand ironclad nearing 7,200 tons, plus six 283mm Krupp guns, that should wow them. Indeed, "Archduke Ferdinand" dwarfed Austria's own 7,000-ton Lissa—crown jewel of the Austro-Hungarian navy. By the time it was finished, the East African fleet's prestige would surge.
All the while, Archduke Ferdinand remained in the dark. He was still fussing over the mere two steam-sail warships from Ernest.
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