Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

16. Becoming a Great Power

February 22, 1898

USS Oregon

Caribbean Sea

Placing one foot on the metal railing, I hoisted myself up and leaned forward. The sea breeze whipped my skirts around my ankles as I carefully raised my binoculars.

The Spanish squadron remained docked at the Port of Havana, Cuba. As I scanned the warships, I spotted soldiers milling about the decks—there were four cruisers and two destroyers in total. My eyes eventually found one of the US battleships that were coming around to anchor just outside the crowded harbor.

Lowering the binoculars, I narrowed my eyes against the wind. Spain thinks they can bully us.

Not long ago, a mysterious explosion aboard the USS Maine had occurred in the harbor, which cost over two hundred American lives. Congress immediately ordered an inquiry into the incident. Our delegation was escorted by two armored cruisers and four battleships, which put the antiquated Spanish fleet to shame.

If it came to light that Spain was involved in the incident, war was likely. Complicating the situation, the Cuban people were on the march for independence from Spain. It embodied the slipping grasp of European colonialism in North America.

"Quite the pair of sea legs you've got, miss."

I steadied myself on the railing before looking back in surprise. A young American sailor squinted up at me. "Thank you," I laughed. "My family owns a fleet of...trading vessels."

My boots hit the metal deck with a cluck.

He nodded. "You must be with the delegation."

"I am."

He gestured out across the bay. "What do you make of all this?"

When I turned back, the wind swept my hair across my face. "We can only assume at this point," I mused. "But Spain's 'investigation' looks more like a blockade to me."

"Don't trust 'em?" he asked quizzically.

Suddenly, an echo of canon fire reached our ears. The crew on deck reacted strongly as an officer's voice called out from above:

"Steady, men! Steady!"

A second volley rang out almost immediately. As the crewman dashed off to his station, I raised my binoculars to get a better look. Twin plumes of smoke rose from the harbor, making it impossible to distinguish which ship fired first—the Spanish destroyer or the American battleship. I heard the sails above me unfurl as we began a swift retreat.

I grasped the railing with one hand to keep my view steady. Round after round of canon fire reached our ears as the battle erupted in the harbor. The crew of the Oregan began to holler and cheer for their comrades. Within minutes, one of the Spanish ships was listing to the side, taking on water, and sinking into the sea.

My lips twisted into a smile.

~

The peace treaty was arbitrated by the French.

When the official signing finally disbanded, France immediately pulled me aside. He proceeded to drag me all the way to the outdoor patio of the embassy. It was late at night, and the Cuban air was heavy with heat and humidity. Insects in the surrounding trees buzzed a chaotic melody, an unsettling backdrop to an inevitable confrontation.

France pointed to a chair. "Sit," he barked.

I complied. I smoothed my skirt in my lap and then looked up to—

Bam!

France's hands were planted on the table, and his eyes were wide and demanding answers. Such a rare display of anger unnerved me. I straightened indignantly.

"The war is over," I began evenly. "It was practically the shortest war in history."

He remained as still as a statue. "Eight months is not the shortest war in history."

I wet my lips, grasping for defenses. "If Spain is so upset, why isn't she here?"

His silence dared me to continue.

"They were going to lose Cuba anyway. We only...hurried it along."

"The Cubains were fed and clothed. What is to become of them now?" he demanded. "Will you send them food? Will you send them clothes?"

I raised my voice to match his. "Y—Yes we will! Until they can support themselves as a free and independent nation."

He released an almost hysterical laugh. "That is no different from what Espagne was doing!"

I gaped at him, unable to respond quickly.

Heaving a long sigh, he rubbed his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I grow tired of these antics, Amérique."

I drew back, flabbergasted. "Antics? What antics?"

He gestured angrily. "These—these silly wars!"

Astounded by his hypocrisy, I put my hands on the table and rose to my feet. "The Monroe Doctrine is simple," I ground out. "These 'silly wars' wouldn't happen if you Europeans kept your noses out of the Americas!"

When he stared at me blankly, I felt a surge of pride at having silenced him.

"Including you!"

His eyes burned at this. Only when he suddenly turned his back on me did I realize that I had gone too far. My shoulders slumped.

"I—I mean...France, I know you only meant well. What...what I meant was—"

"You," he interrupted sternly, "are disrupting a balance of power in Europe that has existed for over a millennium. Many Nations are taking notice. And they are not happy with you."

I sank down to my seat, eyes searching the empty table. A long moment of silence went by.

"I'm not trying to disrupt anything," I whispered through the tightness in my throat. "I'm not trying to draw attention. I just want Americans to be...safe. And free."

When I felt the sting of tears, I covered my eyes with my hand. Without seeing his face, I could only assume the worst. He'll never speak to me again after this. I shook my head as I drew in a shaky breath. A quiet sob wracked through me.

We're finished.

Suddenly, warm fingers pulled my hand away. France knelt in front of me, his expression all sympathy and devotion. He reached up to cup my cheek as I tried to stem the flow of tears.

"Oh, F—France..."

His thumb gently wiped away tears as he stared up at me. "As your friend...non...as your lover..."

I grasped his wrist with both hands, my heart overflowing with emotion.

"Be careful, ma petite." A frown tugged at his lips. "The eyes of the world are fixed on Great Powers such as you and me."

~

A/N: Who do you think fired the first shot??

Espagne | Spain