Tides Of Treason

By Charles Eugene Anderson

In the midst of the American Revolution, a bold plan emerges among the Continental forces: to construct the Minnow, a clandestine submarine aiming to undermine British naval dominance from below the ocean's surface. This secretive endeavor is led by Captain Elias B. Strong, who gathers a diverse team, including the determined Lieutenant Abigail Mercer and the innovative Dr. Amelia Hart.

On the other side, Captain Richard Shaw oversees the formidable British fleet, a steadfast defense against the rising rebellion. As the Minnow begins its covert assaults, increasing the tension, Shaw collaborates with intelligence agent Isabel Montfort and the astute Commander Edward Hawthorne to thwart this hidden menace.

Amidst the clandestine world of espionage and the vast battlefield of naval warfare, a strategic game unfolds between veteran leaders and unexpected champions. With groundbreaking technology and unwavering bravery, each side strives to gain dominance in a conflict that is about more than just victory—it's about the very identity of a nascent nation.

Tide Of Treason is a riveting blend of historical fiction and intense battle drama set during the American Revolution. Packed with gripping action, the novel immerses readers in an era of innovation and turmoil. Exploring themes of innovation, allegiance, and the cost of war, it delves into the complex moral landscape that defines the line between triumph and loss in the throes of battle.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mad Cow Press
• Release date: Jan 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224075065

Charles Eugene Anderson

Charles Eugene Anderson lives in Colorado. Chuck is a former teacher. He now spends his time writing, hanging out with his pup, Champ, and learning how to bake. More about Chuck at http://charleseugeneanderson.com

Book preview

Chapter One

THE BIRTH OF THE MINNOW

July 2, 1779

Thick foliage embraced the clandestine workshop like a living shroud, its walls of rough-hewn timber camouflaged by nature's hand. A brook bubbled nearby, its chatter playing counterpoint to the hushed tones of sentinels who moved like wraiths, their muskets cradled with an air of silent vigilance. The only hint of human endeavor was the occasional glint of lantern light that fought through chinks in the boarded windows, betraying the fervor of activity within.

At the heart of this hidden sanctum stood Captain Elias B. Strong, his silhouette sharp against the forge's glow. His eyes, alight with a fire not born of any flame, surveyed the room—a kingdom of oak benches strewn with tools and sketches, the air heavy with the scent of iron and wood shavings.

Make no mistake, gentlemen, he began, his voice threading through the din of hammers and saws, our work here is the very essence of audacity.

His men paused to listen, respect etched on their soot-smudged faces. They beheld their Captain—tall and commanding with an unruly mane of hair that seemed to defy order as much as he did. Strong's hands, calloused from quill and cutlass, gestured emphatically as he spoke.

Each stroke of the hammer, each turn of a wrench—it's more than mere construction. It's an act of defiance, a blow for liberty!

A younger soldier, entranced by the Captain's oratory, nodded fervently, swept up in the passion of his leader's words. Strong caught the lad's eye and felt a surge of camaraderie. This was his crew, his comrades-in-arms, all sharing the burden of a secret that could alter the very course of their struggle.

He returned to his plans, spread across a large oak table. The drawings were meticulous, a testament to countless nights spent bent over candlelight, imagining the unimaginable. In these lines and numbers lay the Minnow—the project whispered in awe-struck tones amongst the select few who knew of its existence.

Lieutenant, a hint of disbelief lacing his question, stepped forward. Captain Strong, is this feasible? An underwater vessel seems... beyond our reach. Strong's eyes, burning with a determination that seemed to ignite the air, met his lieutenant. We must not only consider it feasible, Lieutenant, but necessary. His fingers traced the outlines of the blueprints with reverence. The British command the seas, believing in their unchallenged supremacy. We shatter that illusion, introducing them to a power they never fathomed."

His mind whirred with the implications, the myriad challenges they faced. Would the hull withstand the pressure? Could the air purification system sustain life beneath the waves? Each question was a demon to be wrestled into submission, and Strong relished the fight.

Sir, some say it can't be done, another craftsman ventured, skepticism lacing his words.

Let them talk, Strong replied, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. "They lack vision. But we, my friends, we are architects of the future. With the Minnow, we will rewrite the rules of warfare."

As his team returned to their tasks, inspired anew by their Captain's zeal, Elias B. Strong allowed himself a moment of introspection. This was the crucible in which history would be forged, and he was the smith. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him, but it was a weight he bore with pride.

Press on, he whispered to himself. For freedom. For victory.

And so, under the cloak of secrecy and the mantle of determination, Captain Elias B. Strong stoked the fires of innovation, shaping metal and destiny alike.

The thunder of cannon fire reverberated through the dense canopy of the hidden forest, a relentless reminder that the war clawed at the edges of their seclusion. Amidst the towering oaks and the murmur of vigilant sentries, Captain Elias B. Strong stood within earshot of the skirmishes, his eyes narrowing as he deciphered the distant cacophony. It was more than sound—it was the pulse of revolution.

Reports from the north suggest another skirmish near Saratoga, Lieutenant Abigail Mercer announced as she strode into the clandestine workshop, her silhouette stark against the flickering lantern light.

Another? Strong's jaw set with determination, his hands involuntarily balling into fists. And our brethren in the south?

Pressed hard by Cornwallis. They're holding, but for how long? Mercer's voice carried the steely resolve and the undercurrent of urgency that had become the lifeblood of their cause.

Too many are falling, Sergeant Tommy Reed grumbled, wiping oil-smeared hands on his trousers. We need something to tip the scales, or⁠—

Or we fight until there's none of us left, Private Elijah Clarke chimed in, youthful optimism tinged with a sobering dose of reality.

Strong's mind raced with the gravity of their situation, the pressure of command churning like a tempest within him. Every day, brave souls perish for the dream of liberty. We cannot allow their sacrifices to be in vain. He let the weight of his responsibility settle over him, a familiar cloak that was both burden and honor.

Indeed, we need a disruption, Dr. Emily Hart added, her gaze fixed on Strong, understanding the stakes all too well. A new kind of strength.

Exactly what we're building here, Strong said, motioning toward the obscured form of the Minnow, its existence known only to those within these walls.

Tell me, Captain, Mercer leaned closer, her eyes probing, do you truly believe this machine can alter our fate?

Strong met her gaze squarely. I do. His conviction resounded in the cramped space, silencing doubts. This is not just a war of muskets and bayonets; it's a battle for the very idea of freedom. If we cling to conventional means alone, we surrender our advantage.

Conventional has kept us alive thus far, Reed countered, skepticism etched onto his weathered face.

Survival is not enough. We must thrive. We must innovate. Strong paced before them, the passion in his speech as palpable as the air they breathed. We have fought valiantly on land, but our enemy rules the seas. What if we could challenge that? Strike where they least expect?

Underwater... Clarke mused aloud, the gears turning in his head.

An unseen phantom, delivering justice from the depths, Hart added, a glimmer of admiration in her eyes.

Phantoms don't win wars, Captain. Results do, Reed stated flatly, crossing his arms.

True, but phantoms create opportunities for victory. Opportunities we desperately need, Strong affirmed, locking eyes with each team member. This is more than just a vessel—his inner voice urged—it's about hope.

Let's get back to work, Mercer said, breaking the brief silence. We've got a tide to turn.

Indeed, Strong agreed, feeling the surging anticipation of his crew. Together, they turned toward the Minnow, their shared resolve fusing with the sparks that flew from the anvils. Each hammer strike, every tightened bolt, was an act of defiance—a declaration that their spirit would not be quenched by the might of the British fleet.

As the clamor of industry filled the chamber once more, Elias B. Strong allowed himself a fleeting smile. In the heart of the conflict, amidst the urgency and chaos of war, they were not just fighting—they were forging the future.

The scent of iron and sweat permeated the dimly lit workshop, where the relentless ring of metal against metal provided a rhythmic backdrop to whispered conversations. Shadows danced on rough-hewn walls as Captain Elias B. Strong stood at the center of it all, his gaze fixed on blueprints that promised the unthinkable. 

Imagine, he began, his voice steady and imbued with a fervor that demanded attention, a vessel not bound by the whims of the wind nor visible to the keenest of watchful eyes.

Submerged, Captain? one of the engineers ventured, squinting at the drawings.

Exactly, Strong confirmed with a nod. The British rule the waves with their mighty fleet, but we aim to introduce a new player in this deadly game of cat and mouse—the Minnow.

A murmur rippled through the room, a blend of excitement and disbelief. The notion was audacious; a craft capable of slipping beneath the waves could disrupt the naval superiority that had long allowed the British to blockade ports and control the tides of war.

Sink their ships from below? No warning, no defense? another engineer asked, his hand tracing the outline of the submersible, eyes wide with intrigue.

More than sinking, Strong clarified, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked among his team, intelligence gathering, cutting supply lines—all without the hazard of being spotted.

Captain Strong, General Mercer's voice cut through the din as he stepped into the workspace, flanked by aides. All chatter ceased, yielding to a respectful silence.

General, Strong acknowledged with a crisp salute.

Your reputation for strategic innovation precedes you, Mercer said, his stern expression softening slightly. Which is why the Continental Congress has chosen you to lead this venture.

Strong felt a jolt of surprise surge through him, electrifying every nerve. He'd envisioned the project and dreamt of its potential, but to be given the helm of such an undertaking was both an immense privilege and an exhilarating challenge.

Me, sir? he managed, his usual eloquence momentarily deserting him.

Who better than you, Captain? Mercer replied, clapping a firm hand on Strong's shoulder. You have the courage, the intellect, and now, the authority. Make us a ghost in the water.

Thank you, sir, Strong responded, feeling pride in his chest. To conceive a plan was one thing, but to execute it—to bring such a revolutionary idea to life—this was the honor of a lifetime.

Work swiftly. Work silently, Mercer instructed before turning to exit, leaving Strong amidst his thoughts.

As the general's footsteps receded, Strong took a deep breath, letting the weight of expectation infuse his resolve rather than burden it. He turned back to the schematics, to the eager faces of his crew, feeling their anticipation mirror his own. 

Back to our phantom, gentlemen, he announced with renewed vitality. "The Minnow will be our silent savior—our hidden blade. And with her, we shall carve a path to victory."

The engineers nodded, emboldened by Strong's confidence. They congregated around the plans again, their gestures animated, their discussions heated. Strong momentarily watched them, a silent observer, as he contemplated the journey ahead.

This could change everything, he thought: the tide of war, the future of our nation. His heart beat with a rhythm akin to the hammers upon the anvils, resolute and unyielding. With a sharp exhale, he stepped forward to join his team, ready to breathe life into the Minnow—a creation born of necessity, a secret weapon forged in hope.

Captain Elias B. Strong stood at the head of the table, his eyes tracing over the rolled-out blueprints that sprawled across the rough wooden surface like a map to uncharted territories. The lantern light flickered across his stern features as he contemplated the intricate design of the Minnow. This vessel could very well dwell in the realm of fantasy. His fingertips brushed against the parchment, its lines and measurements echoing the tremendous task entrusted to him.

Are we truly considering this a feasible endeavor? Lieutenant Hammond, a seasoned engineer with furrowed brows and a skeptical eye, questioned the room. He tapped the blueprint where the hull's curvature was supposed to withstand the ocean's relentless pressure.

Strong's gaze lifted to meet Hammond's. We must be, he affirmed, though his voice carried the gravity of the statement's magnitude. Within those words lay the lives of men and the fate of their uprising, all hinging upon a vessel untested by the unforgiving sea.

Water is an unforgiving mistress, Captain. If she wishes to claim us, she'll not be deterred by a few planks of wood and clever mechanisms, another engineer, Master Sergeant Collins, chimed in with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Yet, if we do not harness her mysteries, what hope have we against the British fleet? Strong retorted. His hands formed fists at his sides, not in anger but in silent acknowledgment of the countless variables that could render the Minnow a glorious triumph or a watery grave. 

Captain, Hammond interjected, stepping closer, I am not blind to the ingenuity here nor the courage it would take to man such a vessel. But what good are our efforts if this... contraption collapses beneath the waves?

Then we shall build her so she does not, Strong said crisply, his tone leaving no room for doubt, even as the seedling of uncertainty sought to take root within him. The British believe they rule the seas. Let us teach them otherwise.

His crew fell into a contemplative silence, each man wrestling with his own visions of glory and demise. Strong knew their fears; they were his own, after all—fears that clung like barnacles to the underbelly of his confidence. Yet there was no room for hesitation, not when the spark of revolution demanded a blaze.

Consider the lives we will save if we succeed, Strong continued, his eyes scanning the faces of his compatriots. Imagine the advantage we gain with such surprise and stealth.