Copyright © 2006 by Robert Conroy

“YOU MAY STAND for this, but damned if I will” snarled an outraged Lord Palmerston_: prime minister of England, to his cabinet in late 1861. He was referring to the Trent Incident, and while not quite a declaration of war, his statement showed the depths of his and England's anger.

Today we are almost blinded to past realities by the so-called Special Relationship between the United States and Great Britain. We have fought side by side in two world wars and numerous other actions. England is the closest thing we have to a friend in the world. It was not, however, always so. We fought England twice and nearly came to blows on several other occasions. England in the nineteenth century saw us as an upstart and a rival. Our government frightened her. Democracy as we practiced it was raw and brawling in the eyes of the British ruling class. They feared the British lower classes would be infected by the contagion.

Thus, the possibility of England entering the war on the side of the Confederacy was very real, and the Trent Incident, the seizure of a British mail packet by the U.S. Navy, was an opportunity almost too good for Queen Victoria's government to pass up. The War Between the States was threatening the English economy. Something had to be done. Only the fact that the Confederacy would not let go of its slaves stood in the way, but the Trent Incident almost provided a casus belli that overrode that inconvenient fact.

Of course, cooler heads prevailed and the war never happened. Conventional wisdom has generally held that Britain's entry into our Civil War would have tipped the scale on the side of the Confederacy and we would now be two nations. But England was severely stretched militarily at the time, and it might not have been the easy victory that some have envisioned. Indeed, it might not have been a British victory at all.

Several distinguished historians have stated that one reason for Lincoln's almost groveling apologies to England over the Trent Incident was because we needed saltpeter to manufacture gunpowder. We bought saltpeter from India and it would have been embargoed. No saltpeter, no ammunition, and a quick defeat is the theory.

However, saltpeter exists in nature and deposits of it do occur in the United States and a number of other countries. It can also be manufactured, and saltpeter “plantations” were then in use in several countries. I am confident that the DuPont people, who made the gunpowder, would have solved the problem in relatively short order. I am also confident that other nations, Russia and France in particular, would have found ways to sell it to us. Therefore. I decided to ignore it. After all, the tightly blockaded Confederacy had no problem getting gunpowder.

I would like to thank my wife, Diane, and my daughter, Maura, along with the few friends I have left for their support. I would also like to thank the people at Random House, Ron Doering and Tim Mak in particular, for the leap of faith that resulted in the publishing of 1862.

– ROBERT CONROY

THE CAPTAIN AND crew of the U.S. sloop of war San Jacinto watched with grim intensity as the speck on the horizon grew larger with each thrust the warship made through the waves. It was the San Jacinto's prey, the British mail packet Trent.

Locating the British ship on the vast ocean was a feat of seamanship combined with a great deal of luck. The San.Jacinto had first found the Trent in Cuba, and had to give her a head start when she had sailed lest she grow suspicious and turn back to the safety of the neutral Spanish port. With the knowledge that the Trent was headed for England, the American ship had steamed as fast as possible and then turned back along the usual track to Europe in hopes of finding the Trent coming towards her. The maneuver had worked.

The San Jacinto was going to stop the Trent and remove from her the two men who were on their way to England as emissaries of the Confederate States of America.

The San Jacinto was a steam-powered sloop and was more than a decade old. Although she was small in comparison with other modern warships, she was formidably armed for her size with one eleven-inch gun_: ten nine-inch Dahlgren guns_: and a twelve-pound Parrott rifle. The Trent was unarmed.

Captain Charles Wilkes_: U.S. Navy_: watched eagerly as the San Jacinto closed on the packet. When they were a mile apart the Trent raised the British flag and the San Jacinto followed suit with the Stars and Stripes. It sometimes surprised landlubbers to find that ships at sea only flew their flags when identifying themselves or during battle. The wind would rip the expensive fabric to shreds if they flew them all the time.

The San Jacinto signaled the Treat to heave to. The Trent declined. The stage was set.

“Now, Mr. Fairfax,” Wilkes ordered. A nine-inch gun fired with a sudden flash and roar, sending a solid shot across the Trent's bow where it raised a high splash in the sea. It was an abrupt and imperative second order for her to stop.

Soon they were alongside the British ship with their guns run out and ready for battle. Captain Moir of the Trent used a voice trumpet to tell the American ship that his government service vessel was in international waters and not subject to the laws of the United States. He could barely be heard over the wind and waves, but his anger and purpose were apparent. The Trent did not slow down.

Wilkes glared across at the British captain. “Mr. Fairfax, load a nine-inch gun with exploding shell.”

Lieutenant Donald Fairfax, second in command, started to protest, but a glare from Wilkes silenced him. They'd had the argument many times in the last few days and to no avail. Wilkes would not listen.

Tall and ruggedly handsome, Charles D. Wilkes was sixty-three years old and had been in the navy since the age of twenty. A learned and studious man, he had come to a number of thoughtful conclusions. First, he understood fully that both slavery and the Confederacy were evils that had to be stamped out. In this, he was supported by Fairfax and the other officers of the San Jacinto. Their differences arose in the interpretation of the law and their orders.

The San Jacinto had been ordered to try to intercept and capture the two Confederate gentlemen, John Slidell and James Mason, who were allegedly en route from the Southern states to England, where they would serve as emissaries of the Confederacy to the court of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria. In Wilkes's opinion, they were traitors and should be hanged forthrightly. Mason was to be the Confederacy's representative to Great Britain, while Slidell was to go on to France and the court of Napoleon III. Both men were tasked to cause mischief to the United States and, hopefully, negotiate alliances with either or both European powers. France was sympathetic to the rebel cause, while England was openly supportive. Along with their two secretaries, the four men were considered serious threats to the United States.

With typical thoroughness, Captain Wilkes had researched the laws of the sea. He concluded that the papers carried by the traitors were contraband and subject to seizure. By logical extension, he also decided that the carriers of those documents, said Mason and Slidell along with their staffs, were also contraband and could be seized. He had no quarrel with their families, who traveled with them.