November 4, 1912
Secretary's appointments secretary came into his office to announce his next guest. The William Chandler, the Undersecretary of State for European Affairs was punctual as usual. Wilson sitting at a large desk in his office at the Confederate Department of State's very Georgian building in Richmond rose to greet him. Sitting behind him on a console against the wall was the large bust of Thomas Jefferson that had watched over every Secretary of State for the last 90 years.
"Benvenuto! Accolga favorevolmente il mio amico! Venga si siedono." Wilson greeted Chandler in Italian. Then switching to French, "Comment allez-vous ? J'espère que votre épouse va bien."
Chandler smiled. The Secretary's French was almost as bad as his Italian. Still, the French and Italian foreign ministers would appreciate the effort. Answering in English: "She's very well Mr. Secretary, thank you for asking."
Chandler, 53, was relatively tall at 6 feet 3 inches, and had a full head of salt and pepper hair. He was just the sort of professional life-long civil servent that had reformed and then transformed the organs of state of the Confederacy into a relatively efficient and exceedingly professional set of organizations. He was also a polyglot, speaking English, Spanish, Italian, French, and German to at least some extent, and he was currently picking up a little Russian as well.
The Secretary picked up one of the many black leather-bound portfolios that were arranged neatly on his desk and opened it. "I've been reviewing your office's report on the various Greek factions. As you know, Congress allocated $1 for "Greek War Relief", and now we've got to figure out just how to spend it. What do you think we should do with that money?"
Chandler smiled wryly. "I expect that means we won't be wiring it straight to the new Greek Monarchy then?"
"Likely no." Wilson answered simply.
"Well, we expect it's likely that our Italian friends will want to back the Conservative Religious elements. Catholic solidarity and all that. The French, well, are as inscrutable as ever, but I suspect that they might back just about all the opposition groups."
"So what shall we do with our money then?" Wilson prodded.
"I think we need to make this investment carefully. There are so many factions in Greece now that chances are whoever we back might not be around in a few years. I fear civil war could be likely. Still if we have to back somebody, I think Mavromichalis's liberals and Dragoumis so-call modernists might be the best choices."
Wilson looked down at the summary of the groups in his folio for a moment. "So you think one of these groups might emerge as the opposition then?"
Chandler frowned. "To be perfectly honest, no, I don't. The people on the new Greece desk are unanimous in their belief that some sort of civil war is inevitable. Whoever survives that and isn't in power, by default, will be the opposition. All we can really hope to do is fund whatever factions we hope to prevail in such a conflict."
Wilson looked uncomfortable. This sort of realpolitik exercise was just the sort of thing he didn't like to have to do in this job. He'd much rather it be neat and tidy, that there be a single opposition in Greece. All this messy business of nationbuilding though...
Wilson asked "Do we have people on the ground in the region?"
"We may, but we likely will also have to depend on the Italians and the French for contacts with these groups, at least until we can gain some trust there."
"Go ahead and get started then. We'll, of course, raise the issue in our talks with our European friends as well."
Chandler had one more item of business: "Sir, there's also the question of a diplomatic presence in Athens."
Wilson frowned. This question was one which the Confederacy hadn't seemed to make any progress on yet. "The President hasn't come to a decision on that question yet. I think honestly he wants to wait for the French to open an Embassy there. After that, I expect some small consular presence will be required, at least at first. Why don't you go ahead and get started on the idea of a Consulate in Athens, but let's do it quietly, at least for now."
The Atlanta Journal
November 11, 1912
Richmond -- The White House announced in a brief written statement today, that President Roosevelt would embark on what would be an historic state visit to Maoria soon after the new year. The statement noted that the President expects to "hunt the great large game of that mysterious Island, to trade horses with the King of Maoria, and to open a new era of friendships between our two peoples." Travelling with the President will be his son Quentin.
The White House noted that the President would travel with a Naval squadron lead by the new battleship Oklahoma, and would remain in contact with Richmond via wireless telegraph.
The Atlanta Journal
November 12, 1912
Richmond -- Controversy erupted on the floor of Congress today, following the White Houses announcement that President Roosevelt would be traveling to Maoria for a state visit in the first part of the new year.
Democrats in the House were especially vehement in their criticism. "How can the President even contemplate taking what amounts to an extended vacation at this time, after we've seen just how fast a war can explode with the Balkan conflict, when he has no Vice President who could be expected to shoulder the burden of a future crisis until the President's return." Congressmen Hardwick of Georgia said in a speech from the floor.
Senator Bacon (D-GA), the Senate Majority leader, when asked of the issue, responded "Let me remind everyone that succession is clear. If the President is incapacitated or otherwise not able to perform his duties, in the absence of a Vice President, the Speaker of the House should assume his duties until such time as the President is again able to perform them. I think that being thousands of miles away from the CSA constitutes not being able to perform one's duties."
The White House countered that the President would be in constant contact throughout the trip via wireless telegraph.
For the White House, the outcries from Congressional Democrats was unexpected, and an unwelcome reminder of the controversy which followed the death of Vice President-Elect Taft in January of 1912. It was that controversy, born from the Constitution's silence on the question of Vice Presidential succession, which resulted in the compromise that saw the office of Vice President remain empty, and Democrat Woodrow Wilson appointed Secretary of State.
The Los Angeles Evening Herald
November 13, 1912
Controversy over President's Maorian Trip Shows Need for Constitutional Amendment
By: William Nelson, Editor at Large
As nearly everyone in the country has heard, the President will soon be taking a marvelous vacation to Maoria, and it seems no one will be left behind to mind the shop while he's gone.
The view from our distant perspective here in Los Angeles is likely sharper than that of the shrill politicians in Richmond. While it is likely true that he will be able to communicate on the most essential needs with the Capital via Marconi transmitter, his planned absence obviates the need for a Constitutional Amendment so that a President can travel overseas from time to time, without triggering a crisis through the question of who is in charge. Instead of arguing over these niceties though, the Congress and the President should fix the immediate Constitutional problem.
If one believes, as Congressional Democrats do, that an absent President is "incapacitated", then it is clear that the Speaker of the House should be acting President during Roosevelt's absence. This is clearly not a scenario to the White House's liking though, considering the considerable power the Speaker, a member of the opposing party, would yield during that time.
It would be best for the President to scrap this plan for now, and instead devote his efforts to solving the systemic problem that this controversy has revealed: that the CSA has no law dictating how an elected Vice President should be replaced.
It is the opinion of this writer that a new Vice President should be appointed by the sitting President in this case, but that he should also be confirmed by Congress. Alternate plans to elect in a general election a new Vice President are too onerous for the states that would have to arrange such an election, nor are the conducive to the efficiency of the executive branch. The idea that a President should be able to simply appoint a new Vice President with no confirmation mechanism is, however, abhorrent to our way of government.
So this publication calls on to pass a Constitutional Amendment for the replacement of the Vice President without delay, and for the states to ratify such an amendment. The absurdity of the succession compromise of 1912 has gone on long enough.
Monday, December 23, 1912
Wilson, punctual as always, was forced to wait in the outer office of the President's formal office at the Executive mansion. These sorts of waits always annoyed him, but he'd learned to live with it. This was, at times, what it meant to serve in the Cabinet of Teddy Roosevelt.
The wait this time was mercifully short, and soon after the President's appointments secretary took his hat and coat, and offered coffee (Wilson declined), the large door opened, and out flowed most of the Congressional delegation of the State of Missouri. Quickly Roosevelt filled the doorway, and bellowed "Woodrow! Do come in. I hope you haven't been waiting long. Come, come! We have much to discuss."
As Wilson found sat in the indicated wing chair by the fireplace, the President noticed the quizzical look on his face.
"Oh, them? It would seem that the Missourians would very much like to move the Nation's Capital to St. Louis. They have a spot picked out on the Mississippi and everything. I really don't know where all this talk of moving the Capital has come from."
"Mr. President, I believe you created that fuss with your speech about the need for more office space in the Capital." Wilson knew that the President knew full well that his criticism of Virginia for not condemning more acreage in Richmond for executive offices would again rekindle the debate about founding a "national district" somewhere more toward the center of the nation. Most Richmond insiders understood that to be an intentional distraction away from the succession controversy that the President's international travel plans had kindled.
"Yes, well, it surely was not my intention to give the idea that I thought the Capital should move. Now I'm obliged to entertain any number of members of Congress who have plans for us all to move to their states. Just this morning, the Texans were in here. It seems they have a wonderful plot of pasture near Houston that would make a wonderful new capital city. Houston! What a God-forsaken place. I'd sooner move to Guayamas! At least there are less mosquitoes there!"
"Shall we move to more serious business then?" Wilson asked.
Roosevelt sat down in the chair opposite Wilson, crossed his legs, and nodded.
"Mr. President, it is imperative that we get on the same page with respect to your trip to Maoria, and with regard to the conference in Nassau. First, might I ask, what are your goals in Maoria?"
"Well, the King has a number of horses he is eager for me to ride. I also hear that there are a number of unusual game in Maoria." Roosevelt was smiling broadly.
Wilson, working hard to maintain his calm demeanor, was annoyed. Dealing with this man could be so difficult. "Of course, I mean diplomatically, Mr. President."
"Oh, I have no intention of starting any wars in the Pacific, or anything like that, if that's what you are asking. I've reviewed the materials your people sent over, with regard to trade, etc. This is to be purely a mission of friendship."
"This is good, I can't emphasize enough how important good relations with the Maoris could be for us, especially if that heads off any future alliances between them and the Columbians. At the same time, we shouldn't want it to appear to Columbia that we're going out of our way to enlist the Maoris in an alliance against them."
"Even if we are Wilson?" The President was smiling wryly again. "Don't worry, I agree with the State Department's stated goals. An agreement of friendship and non-aggression is what we hope for, but no mutual defense clauses, at least for now."
Wilson nodded. Despite the fact the President liked to tease him, he knew that Roosevelt was shrewd and well experienced when it came to international relations.
"So Woodrow, about the Nassau Conference?" At nearly the same time that Roosevelt and his son Quentin, who would soon be attending the Confederate Military Academy, would be boarding a train for Los Angeles, and ultimately Maoria on board the new Battleship Oklahoma, Wilson would be traveling to Newport News to board the Cruiser Lincoln for his trip with his family to the Bahamas.
"Mr. President, we hope only to cement what already is our de-facto alliance with France and her allies there. There might be, we expect, some discussion of technology development Nothing more." The President couldn't help but notice a bit of a twinkle in Wilson's eye.
"No grand pronouncements? No talk of national self-determination then? You know that you make people nervous when you talk that way."
"No Mr. President. Our goals for the conference are well understood."
"And the technology exchange? We need to make sure that our technology can't be sold to our enemies in the future."
"I'll do my best, Mr. President."
The President wasn't so sure he could trust his Secretary of State on this. He was eager to secure a mutual defense pact with the French and particularly the neighbors to the North in the UNK, but at the same time he worried a little that Wilson, completely unsupervised, might let his more idealistic instincts take over. At least he could have faith that the Italians would reign him in if necessary.
The President rose. "Very good then. I hope you and your family have a happy holiday, if I don't see you again, and that you have a pleasant working vacation in Nassau."
"And I hope you have one of your grand adventures in Maoria, Mr. President."
The Colombians are no doubt puzzled by the President's failure to make clear his successor.
Good writing, as usual.
Thanks.
The President is in a spot now (as another planned news posting will further illustrate). The other party holds both houses of Congress, and their leadership is bound and determined to have a say in whoever might be appointed VP. And if something bad were to happen to the President, the Democrats would then hold the Presidency. So some sort of compromise is highly likely.
Completely OOC: I dug up this "controversy" as a way to give Teddy something to worry about domestically, and eventually to lead to the next election.
Quote from: guinness on August 20, 2008, 09:01:19 AM
the death of Vice President-Elect Taft in January of 1912.
GAH you killed off my Relative LOL couldnt you atleast let him be President first =P (he realy is my relative on my grandmothers side somehow, assuming you are talking about the OTL Taft)
So does this mean there will be no future Tanthalas in the N-Verse?
If it's any comfort, he didn't die while stuck in the bathtub :)
Quote from: The Rock Doctor on September 10, 2008, 07:00:02 AM
So does this mean there will be no future Tanthalas in the N-Verse?
Not sure how that would work he is my however many greats unkle so shouldnt realy matter on my progression LOL
The Los Angeles Times
Saturday, January 4 1913
Thousands Turn Out to See President Off for Maoria
Santa Monica Beach and Breakwater Crowded with Throngs of Wellwishers
Planned Presidential Speech Cancelled Over Concerns About Size of Crowd
Presidential Wireless Telegram Hints at Succession Crisis
Santa Monica -- A crowd estimated at more than 50,000 crowded the breakwater and beaches next to the Naval Station at Santa Monica this afternoon to witness President Roosevelt's departure for Maoria.
The President, wearing a white safari coat, knee britches, and riding boots, boarded a steam launch from the long main pier just south of the breakwater, turned to the crowd, and waved his wide brimmed hat, as the boat pulled away toward CSS Oklahoma which was riding at anchor about a mile away. Loud cheers of "Huzza!" could be heard from the breakwater, while on the beach to the south of the naval station, patriotic songs were being sung, often sever different ones at once.
It had been announced that the President would be speaking before boarding the new battleship. Many arrived shortly after sunrise to take possession of the choicest spots before the podium which had been constructed at the base of the breakwater facing the beach to the north of the naval station. Most brought blankets and picnic baskets, and seemed content to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather brought on by the Santa Anna winds.
By 10 am, however, the press was notified that the Secret Service, with the Christmas Day attack on the Pope still fresh in their minds, was concerned that security precautions for the speech were not adequate considering the size of the assembling crowd, and had recommended to the President that he not speak to the crowd as planned. Instead, shortly after 11 am, he stood up on a flatbed railcar on the main pier and spoke to a hurredly assembled body of Navy men for only a few minutes. In the meantime, announcements to the crowd that the President would not be speaking brought about a near stampede as spectators jockeyed for new positions with a good view of the Oklahoma. Fortunately, the crowd was largely civil, and no serious injuries were reported.
Shortly after noon, the President boarded the Oklahoma's steam launch in the company of his son Quentin, and was transported to the Oklahoma, waving to the crowd from the launch's stern for the entire trip. The crowd reciprocated with wild cheers and songs, which continued well after he'd come aboard the Navy's new flagship.
Oklahoma, her consorts the cruisers Panama City and San Felipe, and the Fleet Tender Ingalls weighed anchor and departed shortly after 2:30 in the afternoon, at which time the large majority of the crowd was still assembled, and what amounted to a street festival had begun along the Santa Monica waterfront. The party went on well into the evening.
The Atlanta Journal
January 7, 1913
Compromise Appears Near on Succession Issue
Richmond -- After weeks of controversy and haggling in Congress, and protestations by the Executive that nothing need be done, it appears that a compromise between the Democratic majority and Republican majority is near.
Sources close to the negotiations who requested that they not be named reported that an agreement in principal on the replacement of a deceased or otherwise permanently incapacitated Vice President, or a Vice President who had been elevated to the position of President had been reached. In such a case, the President would appoint a new Vice President, who would then be confirmed by a vote of both houses of Congress. The main issue of contention now, sources report, was weather the candidate would need to be confirmed by simple majority in both houses, or some sort of super majority in one or the other.
The Democrats, still publicly asserting that with the President now out of the country, that the Speaker of the House, James Beauchamp Clark of Missouri, should now be acting President, are apparently holding out for a simple majority vote in both Houses, to assure that a candidate amendable to the Democratic majority would be appointed. Sources close to the Republican leadership, who again requested not to be named because of the sensitivity of current negotiations, report that the Republican prefer at least a 2/3 majority requirement in the Senate, which would mean that even if the Democrats could break a possible filibuster there, that a sizable number of Republican votes would be required to confirm any candidate.
The negotiations are likely to come to a head by Friday, when Senate Democrats have promised to introduce a resolution proclaiming the Speaker to be President, a move that Republicans will filibuster, a move that would shut down the Senate until either a compromise is reached, or less likely, the filibuster is broken.
The Nashville Tennessean
January 16, 1913
President of CSS Tennessee Society Testifies Before Congress
CSS Tennessee in Urgent Need of Drydocking, Other Repairs Congressmen Told
Richmond -- Rutherford E. Slydell III, the President of the CSS Tennessee Society, today testified to bef0re the House Subcommittee on Naval Construction as to the dire condition the venerable Battleship, which has been installed at New Orleans as a museum since 1903, is in. Detailing the repairs needed, Slydell told Congress that ship was in urgent need of a drydocking, as the hull has become so leaky that pumps installed aboard for the purpose are now having great difficulty keeping several of her compartments below the waterline from filling with water. If action isn't taken urgently, he said, Society volunteers would have no choice but to seal compartments up, inluding the main boiler room compartment, lest the ship sink to the bottom of the Mississippi next to the dock where she is moored.
Several members spoke of their agreement that the Confederacy has a duty to provide assistance to save the museum ship, and advocated legislation directing the Department of the Navy to provide a drydock where the ship could be repaired.
CSS Tennessee, laid down in 1876, and commissioned 3 years later, was the first Confederate naval ship who's hull was constructed without use of wood, also pioneered several other attributes within the Confederate Navy, including it's twin-turret design, which improved greatly on it's single-turreted predecessors which were laid down just two years before. Thousands contributed pennies to a campaign preserve her as a museum in 1903 after the Navy announced plans to scrap her, as she had become obsolete. At that time, she was already the oldest armored ship in the CSA Navy, after the destruction of the ironclad Virginia, and the scrapping of Virginia's near sister Louisiana.
OOC: This was really just an excuse for me to sym an old ship for fun. I'm posting the SS report in the new ships section. If Congress as a whole can be persuaded, maybe Tennessee will be spending some time in a drydock at New Orleans soon.
"C'mon, Congress - defer a couple of those pork-barrel projects till next year!"
I say what about making the Tennessee one of those Pork Barel Projects :)
OOC: I started this as a short summary of the whole trip to Maoria for the Roosevelts, but I got carried away. So more installments soon!
January 16, 1913
My Dearest Flora:
This trip has already been such a whirlwind!
The trip from California to Maoria was uneventful. The weather, except for about a day of rather high seas and rain, was on the whole beautiful, although I understand that we took an extra day in arriving to stay well away from the heart of a rather large storm. Really the only matter of complaint for me was that Father insisted in sampling the food served to the crew aboard Oklahoma, which we both agreed was not very good. He declared that will have to change after we get home.
We arrived at the Maori city of Pukeroa late in the morning of Wednesday, January the Fifteenth, yesterday as I write this, and were greeted by a great display of Naval might. It would seem that nearly every vessel in the Maori Navy was their to greet us! They were all bedecked in flags, both signal flags as we are accustomed to, but also great flags of native designs, which I'm told displayed greetings for us, as well as displayed the various symbols for various Houwaka, which I understood to be sort of like tribes.
A Maori Admiral, who's name is only semi-pronounceable for me, and of which I have no idea how to spell, was brought aboard Oklahoma by steam launch, and Father and the Admiral proceeded to give him the grand tour. He was a large man, at least by our standards, but we learned later that many of the Maori men, particularly those who are considered Warriors, are often fairly tall in stature, and shall we say, of large appetite, particularly later in life. He seemed particularly attentive during the tour, and asked many questions about things like ammunition handling and boiler routines, which seemed to impress the Navy men.
After our tour, we were taken ashore by the Maori, while certain items from the Okalahoma were unloaded. We were told that Oklahoma couldn't put in at the harbor of the Capital, Kaiwera, because the harbor isn't deep enough. So instead, we were to be embarked on the king's personal train for the ride to Kaiwera. The trip would take 3 hours, and we were to have dinner on the way with several of the King's ministers and generals, etc.
And what a meal it was! While hurtling through the Maori countryside, the sun setting ahead of us, we dined on pig and ostrich, and any number of exotic fruits and vegetables. We drank a sweet alcoholic beverage, unlike anything I'd ever had before, but which father declared to be sort of a "mead-wine". For desert we had sort of pies made of steeped pink fruits on an odd sort of flat cake crust. It was also very tasty. It was all very exotic. Throughout the whole affair, Father seemed to be having a grand old time, talking of hunting and his usual favorite subjects. No one seemed very keen to talk about business, however, as one often sees at these sorts of affairs. The Maoris seemed especially keen to hear about my plans, and our system of education, and those sorts of things. They also asked me if "I had a woman back home." The answer, of course, was yes! The most beautiful woman in the whole world! That got a hearty laugh from the whole contingent.
We arrived at Kaiwera after dark, and were greeted at the train station the King had recently had built at his main Palace by another pageant of Maoris in native dress, much dancing, and chanting, and drum music, all of it lit by torchlight. Father and I were lead to our quarters in the Palace, so that we could change into our evening clothes. From there we were lead to the Royal Audience, and were greeted by King Yuuno and all three of his wives. Also there was his Cousin, the Prince, who is a couple of years younger than I am. This is where I learned that the Crown of Maoria passes down through the women. Thus King Yuuno's own son would not be the next King. Needless to say, Maori family traditions are a bit strange when compared to our own.
Yuuno wasn't at all what I expected. He was smaller than many of the other Maori men, and while friendly, not nearly as gregarious as those that had ridden the train with us. He did though, have the sparkle of a sharp intellect, and spoke a fair amount of rather good English, though he often turned to his translator for help with various items of vocabulary.
After more dancing and chanting, we sat down for another dinner. I couldn't believe they expected me to eat again! There was more Ostrich and Pig, though this time the pig was in fact Wild Boar, which they served on a platter large enough to sleep four people, and carried by 10 stout men. If I'd known we'd be eating again so soon, I'd have saved room! Father, as always, didn't seem to have much trouble making room for more food and drink. Throughout dinner we were entertained by native dancers and various other performers, including jugglers, a sort of Maori chanting choir, and an entire company of actors performing what was translated for us as being "Maori Opera". It was overwhelming.
So, by late in the evening (I don't even know what time, I've yet to identify anything resembling a clock here), we were all quite drunk, Father had made plans with the King for some horseback riding tomorrow, and I needed to find a bed. I was quite prepared to sleep with my boots on when arriving back at my suite of rooms, when I realized the Maoris had provided me a sort of native butler, who was waiting for me with a Maori native sleeping garment, which is somewhere between a bathrobe as we know it, and a Japanese Kimono, but as it turned out quite comfortable. I slept well.
This morning, I awoke fully expecting another feast for breakfast, but was frankly relieved to learn that the morning meal in Maoria is traditionally a light one of native melons and breads, and squeezed fruit juice. My butler (who may or may not have been watching me all night, as he magically appeared nearly as soon as I awoke) lead me to a relatively plain enclosed veranda for breakfast, where I found Father and the King were already awake, and discussing in some depth the current efforts to build a railway to Key West back home.
After breakfast, father and I were lead to the palaces main men's bath room, which includes a great communal bath which we'd consider a swimming pool back home. It was quite refreshing, and helped clear the last of the remainders of last nights libations, thankfully.
Now having dressed, I found myself with a little time to send off this note, which my new butler assures me will be posted immediately, so hopefully you'll receive it soon. Hopefully, I'll find more time to write soon.
Your Devoted Always,
Quentin
January 19, 1913
My Dearest Flora:
Please pardon the delay since my last letter. The last two days have been even more hectic than the day we arrived, if such a thing is possible.
Soon after I finished my last letter to you, Father and I joined the King and a sizable retinue on a long horseback ride through the Maori countryside from the palace outside Kaiwera to the King's hunting lodge, which is atop a ridge that overlooks the coastal plain where Kaiwera is located on one side, and the plateau atop a large ancient extinct volcano on the other.
The ride started out uneventful enough. The palace itself is situated on the very edge of Kaiwera proper, where it has both a view of the sea, and of the mountains inland. Between the palace and the mountains are rolling plains, mostly used for a prime agricultural activity, the best translation of which I could get was "pig ranching".
I'm told that domestication of the large pigs, such as the ones that provided much of the meals on the first night here, is a relatively new endeavor on the island. Instead of farming the pigs in pens as we might be accustomed in North America, the pigs here are still quite close to the wild boar, and live on large ranches. When it comes time to slaughter a pig on these ranches, it must be caught in a sort of a hunt.
The pigs naturally have a rather large range, so the ranches themselves are quite large, and usually owned either by rich leaders of the tribes here, or in some cases, communally. These ranches also provided us with wonderful land over which to ride the horses.
The King and Father found great entertainment in sampling the many steeds we brought along for the ride, including the two horses Father brought with us for the trip. We stopped frequently to change horses along the way. The Maori ride mostly on European style saddles, but the king said he found great comfort in my saddle, to which he was almost perfectly sized. We didn't even have to adjust the length of the stirrups.
At any rate, except when stopping to change horses, we rode non-stop from mid-morning until mid afternoon, when we reached the foot of a steep trail leading up to the King's hunting lodge. There a great tent had been set up for us for the night, and though it was still relatively warm out (it's summer here), a great fire had been built. We dined on Maori "traveling food" which includes a selection of strips of dried meet, small sort of flatbread biscuits, and many fresh and dried fruits, and of course, more mead-wine, which this time had a distinctly different, more bitter character, which I rather enjoyed.
While around the fire, we were regaled with tales of our planned prey for the second part of this excursion, which was planned to be a great hunt. The most fearsome predator in Maoria is a very large, flightless bird. The closest translation of the name for this animal is apparently "Terror Bird", and terrible it is! The largest can grow to 10 feet in height, and can run at great speeds. They have great razor sharp beaks, and even claws on the ends of their stubby wings use to help bring down prey. The Maoris told us about just how cunning they were, and how it is a great test of a warrior to hunt and kill one alone. Thankfully, we'd be hunting in a rather larger group!
The next morning, we finished our ride up the sharp, winding trail to the King's hunting lodge. The lodge is a large building, though not nearly as large as his palace. It is decorated much less ostentatiously however. The main building itself has a central structure, flanked by 2 wings, which themselves each open out onto a central courtyard with a great fire pit in the center. The king has decorated his lodge with many native carvings and implements of hunting and war. On the whole though, it was quite comfortable. We occupied our evening there with a native ceremony which is meant to bring good luck and favor to the planned hunt the next day.
The next day, we rose very early, and I was surprised to find a number of trucks waiting for us. In Maoria, the horse is a very rare beast indeed. Only the King and a few of the richest most important men own any. In fact, there are very few beasts of burden at all. Most work we normally associate with horses and oxen is done by trucks or tractors now. We were told we'd be leaving the horses at the lodge, and boarded the trucks for the trip to the hunting ground. The truck trip itself took about 3 hours, and the Maori spent the time singing traditional songs.
Along the way, the land changed quite a bit. The inland plateau is quite a bit dryer than the coastal region, and not nearly as lushly vegetated. Instead, its more of a scrubland, which Father said reminded him of Africa. We arrived at our destination, and dismounted, proceeding on foot.
Now a word on how the Maori hunt these great fearsome birds. First of all, they do it entirely on foot. Traditionally, spears and later bows were used, but today, they use primarily small firearms. We were issued short carbines of Norman and Japanese origin, of approximately .22 caliber. The idea is you lie in wait for a big male bird to come along, shoot it with the rifle, and then it will either decide to put up a fight, at which point you dispatch it with traditional weapons like spears of the Maori short swords. Of, if you are more lucky (or less, I suppose, depending on how you look at it), the bird will run, and the chase is on!
So, after another 45 minutes of walking through the brush, the King's hunting guides brought us to our ultimate destination, a small watering hole, surround on almost all sides by thickets of bushes. The guides pointed us to tracks in the muddy banks: telltale signs that terror birds visited here often. So we concealed ourselves in the bushes and waited.
It wasn't long before the first bird turned up. What a sight it was! Standing at least 8 feet tall, it moved cautiously to the pond to take a drink. We didn't shoot at it though, as this bird had rather plain plumage around it's head, which I was told meant it was female. So we waited a while longer.
Soon, another bird came up to the pond. This one was even bigger and more magnificent than the first. I was told that it would be obvious when we encountered a male, and so it was. This bird stood very near to 10 feet tall, and have very bright plumage on it's head, and a striped multi-colored beak. We raised our carbines to the ready, everyone trying to remain as still as possible. We were no more than about 100 yards from the great bird. The King held his hand up, telling all to wait, as the bird approached the pond and bent down. As it's head came back up after a short drink, the king pointed to father and I, and we opened fire. With a start, the bird stepped back from the pond, turn, and ran. We weren't sure we'd hit it, but the King was convinced we had, and the chase was on!
We all bolted from our positions, running around the small pond, and after the bird. One of the King's guides found blood in the mud on the bank, confirming that the bird was wounded. It was moving away at great speed, and we ran after it, hooping and hollering in delight.
The Maori moved much faster and with greater fitness than I'd anticipated, and frankly I had trouble keeping up with some of them, including the King. Father was laboring even more, but was enthusiastic as usual. The bird was moving instinctively in a zig zag fashion, and we'd run at least a mile before it showed any sign of slowing down.
That was when I stepped in a hole. The sound I made as I went down could not have been dignified, and Father, right behind me, stopped immediately. I was in great pain, but unfortunately, most of the Maori were ahead of us and didn't realize I'd fallen. I told Father to go on, and he sprinted ahead, yelling at the top of his lungs to get the rest of the party's attention. I tried to get up and follow, but I couldn't, the pain from my left leg was just to great.
While I laid there, off in the distance, I saw the great bird stop running and turn on its pursuers. The end was relatively quick though, as the Maori used their long spears to dispatch the bird. Soon after, several Maori came running back toward me, with Father. One of them was the King's personal physician. He took one look at my leg, and determined that I'd broken it just above my ankle. He and the King's hunting guides proceeded to fashion a splint, and the King sent two of his men back toward where we'd left the trucks at a full sprint, to bring a truck up to carry me. Through the whole ordeal, I was more embarrassed than anything else, but the King himself told me not to worry, and that these things happen out in this bush, where there are many burrowing animals. That was, he told me, one reason they left the horses behind.
Soon enough, the men returned in a truck, and I was loaded in the back, along side the massive form of our prize, and we proceeded back toward the other trucks at a walking pace. Eventually we were all truck born again, and on our way back to the hunting lodge. The next morning, the doctor and I traveled back to the palace by truck, while the rest of the party rode back on horses, pulling the great bird which they'd cleaned the night before in a wagon. We feasted on it last night. It was a most peculiar meat. Red like beef, but very lean. It had an entirely richer taste than the ostrich they eat here more regularly.
So this morning, I'm writing you from my invalid bed in the palace. The King's physician has set my leg, and tells me he doesn't anticipate any difficulty, but that I should be very careful with it until it heals. He also fit me with a permanent splint of the sort they use in Maoria, which is a beautiful device made of carved wood and a sort of supple leather, custom fit to my leg.
Father and the King and company have set off again, this time by train for Whanganui, where the King is eager to show off the large shipyard there, including the new battleship Paradox, which he is very proud of. I hope to follow in a day or two, after I've had time to recuperate.
Your Devoted Always,
Quentin
Excellent letters. I look forward to more.
IC: I've taken even more liberties with Maori geography, so if I'm wrong about that being largely uncharted territory, please let me know.
January 24, 1913
My Dearest Flora:
I realized after posting my last letter that I might have alarmed you unduly. Let me assure you that my stay under physician's care was a brief and precautionary one. Today I'm up and about, and feeling in good health, with the exception of the broken leg of course.
I write today from the large and rather industrial city of Whanganui. The reason the King's physician was so insistent on me staying over a couple of days is that the trip by rail from Kaiwera is a long and arduous one. Just a few years ago, I'm told, such a trip wasn't even possible, as the rail line linking the two cities, which are nearly on opposite sides of Maoria from each other, wasn't completed. Today, a single line runs straight through the heart of the country, linking the more populous area on Maori's north coast near the capital with the most important city on the country's south coast.
After an extra night in the care of the doctors, the Maori issued me the most exquisite pair of carved wood crutches. I don't know if they were made expressly for my use, but they fit me perfectly, and I was encouraged to get up and make use of them. It was good to move around again. After examining me once more, the King's physician declared me ready to travel, and soon enough I was whisked away in time to catch that night's train to Whanganui. The trip would be a long one, I was told, in excess of 36 hours, so I made sure to pack a couple of books within convenient reach to stifle the boredom. Traveling with me would be my faithful Maori butler, who's name I finally learned, is Tanemahuta. Also along for the trip would be one of the King's Physician's medical students, who went by Wiri. I was told that Wiri was traveling home to visit family, and was along just to keep on eye on me. Fortunately, I wouldn't be needing his services.
The three of us were delivered to Kaiwera's train station by the royal limousine, which in and of itself created a mild sensation, and were immediately shown to the the first class waiting room. I inquired as to train tickets, and it was then I learned that an entire first class sleeper car had been made available for our trip.
We boarded the train with ample time before departure, where Tanemahuta and a stewerd had to help me aboard. The accommodations were not nearly as sumptuous as on the King's personal train, but were still on par with anything we are accustomed to in our own country. Soon after departure, dinner was served in the first class dining car. We dined on fish this time, a first since our arrival in Maoria, but Wiri, who's english is quite good, told me that most Maori who live near the coast eat more fish than any other meat. After that, I settled in to a chair in the salon car, enjoyed a pleasant drink with my new Maori friend, and went to bed a bit early.
It was a good thing I did go to bed early, because when the rising sun beaming through the train's windows awoke me the next morning, we were moving through some of the most beautiful countryside I've ever seen. We'd already passed over the dry inland plateau, and were now moving through a lush green mountainous region. Along the rails I saw great flocks of a different sort of small ostrich, and several other species of flightless birds. There were many other beautiful sights of this magical country as we rode. I must say that many times I was frankly awestruck. It was the equal to the natural beauty of our own deserts on the ride west toward California.
The scenery was a welcome diversion, but it was the conversation with my new friend Wiri which helped pass the time on the long trip. He told me tales of his ancestors, family stories of their trip to the island in canoes. How his grandfather had been disappointed when his father had chosen to travel to the UNK to learn engineering. How his father had hoped Wiri would take a prominent role in his family's mining business in Whanganui, but was dissapointed when Wiri instead decided to become a physician. For me, the youngest child and, I know, my father's favorite, it is interesting to hear of the pressures and difficulties of being the first born. I suppose some things are universal, but it does give me just a little bit of sympathy for my brother Ted.
Wiri is impressive. Quite reserved normally, when he opens up, you can barely stop him from talking. He told me his father had taught him English from a young age, and still insists on his children speaking it with him whenever they are together. He has an agile mind, with insights far beyond the purely medical, and it seems, many of the same interests in things mechanical that I have. On our parting at the Whanganui train station, we promised we'd both write. I rather hope to see him again. It is rare to meet someone with whom you find such a fellowship so easily, much less someone you meet in another country.
Father was there to meet me in Whanganui on my arrival, right around dinner time. I must say that this city is quite different from those in the north. First, the climate is much different. Even in summer, it's rather cool here, no doubt because of it's position fairly far south. In character, the city is somewhere between our own Atlanta and Pittsburgh in the UNK I think. First and foremost, this is a working city, and that is clear in the bustle of the people on the streets, in the sounds and smells coming from the shops, and in the nearly constant construction one sees everywhere.
We dined in the city's finest restaurant, which had apparently been rented out just for the our party for the occasion. Food here is quite different. It's spicier, maybe with a more refined character. Also we were served wine of the sort we are accustomed to at home, and after dinner, and excellent scotch I was told is distilled in a town inland from here. At dinner, the talk turned more toward business than it had before. This is likely as a result of the presence of several of Whanganui civic leaders. We discussed things like coal mining a primary enterprise in the region. And we discussed ship building.
Father was apparently quite impressed by his visit to the ship yard, and his tour of the Paradox. He couldn't stop talking about the excellent organization of the yard, and the workmanship. The King was very proud. I also learned that Whanganui is the site of a primary armory for Maori's closest thing to a standing Army, the King's Guard, which we would be reviewing the next day.
The next morning was all work for Father, and I sat in on the working sessions. Several fairly tedious diplomatic subjects were discussed, including a treaty of friendship between our two countries, something that seemed to be a forgone conclusion, or as Father put it, "a task now best left to the diplomats to make sure all the right letters are dotted and crossed."
After lunch, we reviewed the troops. The King's Guard was paraded before us on one of Whanganui's main streets. Most of them were more or less like any western army. Their uniforms and arms were more or less as we are used to. However, there was a company of men who marched in traditional uniforms, with traditional equipment. They wore a sort of skirt, no shoes or shirt, and carried heavy spears and shields. When they reached the reviewing stand, they performed a native dance, called a Haka, which is meant to guarantee the the good graces of the gods before they go into battle. The men themselves are the best in the Maori army, large, fit, and bright. I'm told that several of them are also members of the Maori rugby side.
So, after the parade, and an intricate farewell ceremony, Father and I were put back aboard Oklahoma. She's to sail at sunrise, so I'm posting one more letter to you before we leave, delivered to the post by the always trusty Tanemahuta, who I was guaranteed will put it on the train so it can hopefully arrive to you before I do.
If so, know that while I've found this trip thoroughly enlightening and entertaining, our time apart has also been painful, and I can't wait to see you again.
Your Devoted Always,
Quentin
Yeah, the geography's off pretty far. My fault, not Guinness's, in not making it clearer, sooner - I'd've done a better map, but Paint fucked up the color balance on the one I have and won't let me change it ever at all. >.<
Anyway. The districts take their names from the houwaka, 'new canoes', the hereditary tribal divisions dating back to the ships that carried particular families' ancestors from New Zealand to Maoria. A member of a given houwaka may live anywhere in the country, but their greatest concentrations are in their namesake districts.
Taongau is the district along the northern coast, semitropical and mountainous; the mountains are volcanic, the kind that occasionally goes boom rather than erupting, like the Cascades, and the climate is sort of like Maryland or West Virginia, warm and wet in the summer, chilly and dry in the winter. It's densely populated but agricultural; most of the people there live in small towns and farm.
Tangapoi is the western coast, which is mostly flatland with farms and small-to-medium cities. The climate is sorta Japanese or Korean - warm and sticky in summer, cold and snowy in winter, with variations according to latitude. Its eastern edge rises into the foothills of the main inland mountains.
Fiheoru is mountain country, a middle-aged range mostly forested with the taller peaks snowcapped, all cliffs, jagged stone peaks and broad valleys. The forest is old growth, and the country is thinly peopled with most of the population urban or in mining. It produces a large share of Maoria's power without even having tapped half of the hydraulic energy available.
East of Fiheoru is Kaiwera, a broad, glacier-scraped plain at the heartland of the island, watered by snowmelt and the occasional rains brought from south or east in the summer. An otherwise rather dry and extreme climate - like inland Patagonia or the southern Canadian plains - is moderated by a number of large, shallow lakes. The national capital, also called Kaiwera, is located where the region's second largest river feeds into the largest of these lakes. The largest river, navigable to small ocean-going vessels, drains the complex to the south. Its industries are the youngest and most military-focused; the city of Kaiwera was chosen as a defensible arsenal for the nation and produces most of the country's guns and army equipment.
South of Fiheoru is Pukeroa, home of the country's largest city and one of its two main shipbuilding centers. Pukeroa the city is located at the deepest part of the bay formed by an immense sunken river valley, threading through the basalt plateau that forms most of Maoria's southeastern coast. The district is mild and wet in the summer and cold and snowy in winter - it's located square in the path of an ocean current straight from the Antarctic.
Northeast of Pukeroa is Whanganui, the other major port and industrial center. Whanganui is a bit warmer and a bit dryer, and lacks the large bay, but is otherwise very similar.
Offshore of both is the sunken rift of the crest of the East Pacific Rise, and beyond that, the Poi Islands, which mirror the coastal plateau of Pukeroa and Whanganui.