Simon Bolivar tapped his foot impatiently as he stared off into the horizon of the Caribbean Sea. A gentle sea breeze slapped his face as his lungs took in the fresh, salty air. It was early morning and he was waiting in the port town of La Guaira for the third day in a row. Normally, he would've stormed off after the second day, mumbling swears under his breath, but Bolivar knew that the expected shipment was crucial to the security of Venezuela. Besides, he hardly wanted to embarrass himself and his nation in front of the Americans. They were Venezuela's suppliers and friends, an older brother that watched over the new republic (nothing like the American one, as the Venezuelan Republic was a confederacy of different provinces). Some were critical of the United States for sitting on its hand and snatching parts of New Spain and Louisiana while revolutionaries across the Americas struggled for their independence. However, Bolivar knew better. From the stories he heard from merchants and traders, the Yanks (as they affectionately called themselves) were more than ready to lend a hand to fellow American nations. This shipment from the United States proved that, as it contained a lot of "special things" to help Venezuela liberate the remainders of New Granada. If anything, Bolivar saw the current American president, Andrew Jackson, as a genius. President Jackson forced Spain to sell Louisana and a large chunk of New Spain for a decent price. And immediately after the treaty was officialized, he turned his guns on the Spanish and told them to back off from Venezuela and the Federation of South America. It had been five months since the cease-fire between Spain and Venezuela began, which gave plenty of time for both sides to lick their wounds. While Venezuela had been building up its strength and government, Spain was busy dealing with a revolution in New Spain and another one in Chile as well. Bolivar saw this as a golden opportunity to strike, and President Miranda (who won the first presidential elections for the Confederacy handily), agreed. But not before some help from the United States came over.

Finally, after waiting an additional hour, two frigates and a fourth rate sailed into the harbor, making Bolivar jump with joy. A few of the soldiers under his command were watching from a distance, as they knew better than to disrupt their superior when he was in deep thought. When the ships finally docked, an aristocratic-looking gentleman wearing a long blue coat and a decorated sword greeted him through a translator, "The USS Caribbean, the USS Huron, and the USS Hudson Bay are here for General Simon Bolivar."

"That is me," Bolivar replied as he hastily straightened his uniform.

The American naval officer did not look impressed, "I thought you would look a bit more... proper, sir. After all, you are the highest-ranking commander of the entire Venezuelan military."

Bolivar's eyes narrowed at the response. It was true that he was the second-highest ranking general in all of Venezuela (after Commander-in-Chief Miranda). While General Lewis was Miranda's favorite, he took the position of Minister of Defense. Miranda offered him the spot first, but Bolivar pointedly refused, as he preferred to fight on the battlefield since that was his specialty. The Venezuelan general knew he was a good officer, leading a few critical victories during the Venezuelan Revolution (alongside the Legion of Hell and Jose Tomas Boves, who he could barely command). Yet, he wasn't exactly the most impressive looking officer. Still, it hurt his pride when the American pointed it out so rudely.

"And I thought Americans knew better than to judge a person by their looks?" The Venezuelan shot back.

"I'm not a damn Yank," The "American" replied curtly, "Rear Admiral Thomas Cochrane of the American Navy, but I was born and raised in Britain."

"Why are you serving the United States then?"

"They promised me a rank and action, along with some good pieces of land and steady pay. How could I refuse?"

"So a mercenary then."

Admiral Cochrane scowled, "A professional that was sought out by the American President himself. Now before I change my mind, do you want to see what I have to offer?"

Bolivar reluctantly nodded and the admiral commanded the sailors of the three American ships to start unloading their cargo. The Venezuelan officer smiled widely as he saw the "gifts" that were coming out of the vessels, "Are those artillery pieces?"

"The finest that America has to offer: the M1802 6-Pound Field Guns. They're relatively easy to drag around, very accurate, has a fire rate of two shots per minute, and an effective range of 1,600 yards. Though, I heard the Yankees are designing and building new ones, claiming their weapons are "getting old," Admiral Cochrane snorted, "As if entire regiments armed with breechloading rifles, repeating pistols, and long-range artillery pieces aren't good enough."

"How many are there?"

"Sixteen. Those crates are filled with ammunition and my ship has an artillery crew that will teach you and your men how to operate them effectively."

The other Venezuelan soldiers started to drag the artillery pieces away while Bolivar peeked into a box marked "Rifles." He pulled out a sleek rifle and looked at the design, "The famous American breechloaders?"

"Three thousand of them, in these crates and more onboard the other ships. Plenty of ammunition to go around for that as well."

"Any more surprises?" Bolivar asked. Miranda had kept him in the dark about what the shipment entailed, but he promised that it would be worth the wait. Now he could see why. With the artillery pieces and rifles, he could easily sweep the Spanish forces in New Granada, whose strength was being sapped due to Spain's focus on New Spain.

"Just a few more. Don't be so impatient," The British/American admiral stated bluntly, "In my flagship, there is nearly $300,000 worth of gold and gems. It's a gift from a "sponsor" in the United States. The sponsor told me to inform you and your president that they are to be spent to improve the Venezuelan nation."

"$300,000?" That amount of money was nothing to scoff at. It could pay the salaries of the entire army for months! Or build an entire city for that matter.

"Finally, these three ships are from yours to keep. The crew of each ship will teach your lot how to sail and maintain them. The only condition is that I am to be the admiral of the three ships, even after they are officially transferred to your nation."

Bolivar's jaws nearly dropped. "These three ships?"

Admiral Cochrane rolled his eyes, "Do you see any other ships?"

"But... that ship is..."

"A ship that is almost a ship of the line, but your president received more money from the "sponsor" in the previous months and ordered these ships. They were sold to your government at a heavily discounted price, of course. But they're still mighty fine ships. The fourth rate, my flagship, has sixty cannons. The two frigates have thirty-two guns each."

Bolivar realized just why Miranda looked so smug for the past month. The president knew he was getting something to bulk up the entirety of the Venezuelan military. The general was told to remain in the harbor until a "relief force" arrived (which would take at least a few days). It all started to make sense. The "relief force" was most likely the men that were to be trained as Venezuelan sailors!

"If that is all, General Bolivar, then perhaps you can give me a small tour of this town? After all, I will be stuck in these... lands for some time."

The Venezuelan nodded with enthusiasm as his mind was filled with the different ways he would utilize his new weapons to break Spain's hold in New Granada, "Of course, Admiral."