I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 693 694: Dividends and Tableware

While British troops continued to be ravaged by disease, Black governments from Jamaica, the Bahamas, and the Lesser Antilles began sending reinforcements to Santo Domingo.

As members of the "Caribbean Military Committee," these nations knew that if Santo Domingo—the strongest Black-led government in the region—fell, they would likely face destruction at the hands of the British one by one.

Moreover, these islands had previously received aid from Santo Domingo. Now, it was their turn to return the favor.

Every day, Black volunteers from these islands boarded American merchant ships, traveling steadily to Santo Domingo.

These ships also carried vast quantities of food, clothing, medicine, and even warhorses—supplies that supported the thousands of Black soldiers in the Duarte Mountains as they launched continuous guerrilla attacks on the British forces.

London, 10 Downing Street.

"The situation seems quite grim," remarked Lord Grenville, placing Cunningham Marquis' report on the table and turning to Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger.

The report was filled with despair.

Of the 7,500 British expeditionary troops sent to the Caribbean, fewer than 4,000 were still fit for duty; the rest were suffering from various illnesses.

In the past few months, only about 300 British soldiers had been killed in combat, while disease had claimed the lives of 530—a figure recorded two months ago. By now, the number of sick troops was undoubtedly higher.

Despite occupying key towns like Port-au-Prince, Marian, and Magua, Cunningham Marquis admitted in his report that he had been unable to locate the rebel forces.

He had attempted to lead his troops into the mountains to pursue the "Black devils," but the damp and muddy terrain quickly bogged them down, forcing a retreat after just two weeks.

In the final lines of his report, Cunningham pleaded that unless London dispatched 4,000 additional troops to the Caribbean, he would likely lose control of Port-au-Prince within six months.

"This is worse than the worst-case scenario I had envisioned," Pitt sighed deeply. "Have you heard? Spain is also preparing to recognize the government of those Blacks. That means three major powers will acknowledge Santo Domingo's independence."

Indeed, following the Netherlands, the United States had also recognized the Santo Domingo Republic, driven by the lucrative profits of the sugar trade.

"Make that four," Grenville corrected. "France will soon follow suit."

Pitt nodded. "Yes. To be honest, the French have played a masterstroke this time."

After months of maneuvering, even Britain now recognized that the chaos in the Caribbean was part of a larger strategy orchestrated by France. Failing to see this would mean Britain was no longer fit to sit on the throne as the world's preeminent power.

"Both General Jervis and the Marquess of Windham strongly advocate sending more troops. What is your opinion?" Pitt asked.

Jervis was the First Lord of the Admiralty, while Windham was a former Secretary at War.

"Trying to hold onto everything will leave us with nothing," Grenville replied. "Santo Domingo is clearly a bottomless pit. We've already poured £500,000 into this campaign, and all we've gotten in return is dead soldiers. It's time to abandon that place."

Pitt gripped the armrests of his chair, taking a deep breath before saying:

"But we need sugar."

"The solution lies with France," Grenville replied without hesitation. "If we can force France to submit, we can demand that they sell their beet sugar to us at subsidized prices.

"Once the Blacks in the Caribbean lose French support, we can think about reclaiming control there."

Pitt smiled faintly. "There's someone who shares your exact sentiment. Do you know who?"

"Yourself?"

"No, the Marquess of Wellesley."

Grenville nodded. "I hear his military reforms are progressing well."

"If it weren't for opposition from the traditionalists, they'd be even more effective."

"So, it's time to expedite the path to war?"

"The problem is that our allies haven't finished their 'desserts' yet," Pitt replied wryly.

He was, of course, referring to Austria and Prussia's division of Poland.

"Then let's help them buy some new tableware," Grenville suggested. "After all, that's a necessary expense."

Pitt chuckled. "I'll have someone propose a £500,000 'tableware' budget in Parliament the day after tomorrow. Please offer your support."

"Of course."

The two men then hashed out the finer details of the aid package for Austria and Prussia before Grenville prepared to take his leave.

As he reached the door, he stopped, turned back, and said,

"By the way, Mr. Pitt, we might still be able to claim some 'dividends' from the Caribbean."

"What do you mean?"

"Hand the Caribbean over to the Americans," Grenville explained. "At least that way, we can prevent the French from controlling it."

Pitt pondered this suggestion before nodding. "It seems you should make a trip to Philadelphia."

"With pleasure."

Western Poland, Poznań Province.

General von Hohen glanced back at the fortress behind him, feeling little sense of accomplishment.

The Polish forces were almost entirely unprepared. Fewer than 600 soldiers had been stationed at the western stronghold—Poland's most important defense in the region.

Just one day after Prussia declared war on Poland, Hohen's army had effortlessly taken the fortress.

King Frederick William II must regret waiting this long to act, Hohen thought.

Looking westward, he muttered, "Thank you, King George III."

He was sincere in his gratitude. This campaign would not have launched without Britain's offer of a £250,000 low-interest loan in exchange for immediate military action.

The loan was to be disbursed monthly, with the stipulation that payments would cease if Prussia failed to achieve its agreed military objectives.

Turning northward, Hohen murmured,

"At this rate, it won't even take two months—perhaps just one—to meet our goals."

The king had ordered him to capture the entirety of Greater Poland, including the critical port of Gdańsk, within two months.

Over the next three days, Hohen led his 35,000-strong army on what seemed like a leisurely tour through Gniezno, encountering no resistance before claiming the city.

The Poles, still naïvely trusting in the Polish-Prussian Alliance Treaty, had refused to believe Prussia would attack them—even after French Crown Prince Joseph repeatedly urged them to remove Prussian officers from their command structure.

Just ten days earlier, Polish Foreign Minister Count Szczęsny Potocki had even traveled to Potsdam to request Prussian military assistance against Russian aggression.

King Frederick William II had curtly refused, citing Poland's unilateral implementation of a constitution without Prussian approval.

Days later, Hohen's army had plunged a dagger into Poland's back.

At that evening's strategy meeting, Hohen studied a map of Poland and instructed one of his generals:

"General Hopner, take the Stendal Corps, the Berlin Corps, and the Royal Seventh Artillery Battalion, and advance toward Kalisz."

He then addressed the other officers in the room:

"The rest of you will follow me north. We'll seize Gdańsk as quickly as possible."

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