"TITLE: Grantville Gazette.Volume XVIII" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

Stretching Out, Part Five: Riding the Tiger
Iver P. Cooper

Marshall's Creek, Suriname River

Long Dry Season, 1634 (July-November 1634)

Maria Vorst sniffed the wound, and grimaced. "It's infected." Her patient shrugged stoically.

"How did it happen?"

Captain Marshall answered for her charge. "Not sure, but probably just a cut from razorgrass, or a spiny vine."

Maria shook her head. "The men have got to get into the habit of inspecting themselves from head to toe, every day. We're in a rainforest, for heaven's sake; any break in the skin is bad news. If it doesn't get infected, then maybe some fly decides it's a dandy place to lay eggs."

"I'll need to clean the wound, and put some antiseptic on it," continued Maria.

"Antiseptic?"

"Yes, from the Latin, 'against rottenness.' You remember my lecture don't you? The one on the Germ Theory?"

"Indeed. I had bad dreams several nights in a row. Little armored critters with sharp fangs and claws, hunting us in great packs."

"Back in Grantville, Lolly showed me what they look like under a microscope. Pretty dull actually. Little balls or rods, mostly." Maria, an artist whose family ran the Leiden botanical gardens, had received botanical and medical training in Grantville.

"Well, in my nightmare, they had fangs and claws."

Maria had come upriver on the yacht Eikhoorn to visit Captain Marshall and his little tobacco growing colony of English Puritans. And the nearby Indian tribe, who were tapping rubber for Maria's people.

Despite earlier tensions, the colonists at Marshall's Creek had welcomed the latest visit by the crew of the Eikhoorn. Especially by Maria. Not just because she was the first white woman most of them had seen since leaving England, but also because of her medical training in Grantville. She had made the rounds, treating the illnesses and injuries of Marshall's people.

"All right, you're going to need to hold still now," she told her patient. She cleaned the wound with a warm decoction of bark. She took out a little rubber pouch-it was easy to come by, now that the Indians near Marshall's Creek were tapping the local rubber trees-and squeezed out an ointment. It was the thickened sap of another tree. Maria had learned about both the bark and the sap from Indians down river, near the new Swedish colony of Gustavus.

Of course, the Marshall Creek Indians had their own remedies. As the Gustavan's "Science Officer," Maria spent quite a bit of time learning native medicine, everywhere she traveled.

Maria wrapped cotton around the man's leg, to protect the wound while still allowing it to breathe. Even though the local cotton was gray, it still stood out against the black of his skin.

For the first time, she had met Marshall's other people… his African "servants." There weren't many of them, but their existence had been concealed from her and Heyndrick de Liefde on their previous visits. She wasn't surprised. Even if Marshall had not been told, when friendly relations were first established, that slavery was illegal in the Gustavus colony, he might have feared that the interlopers might try to incite the slaves as a cheap means of wiping out their upriver rivals.

Heyndrick, the cousin and agent of the founder of the Gustavus colony, had told Marshall that the Gustavus colony would not, for the moment, insist that Marshall free his slaves, and wouldn't encourage the slaves to flee, but he also warned Marshall that it would not return any fugitive slaves who made it downriver.

But that didn't mean that Maria couldn't attack the institution in subtler ways. "I have tended to this man's physical needs, but what have you done for his spiritual ones? Has he been instructed in the Christian faith?"

Marshall shook his head. "Of course not. He is only an ignorant savage."

"His ignorance can hardly be surprising, if you refuse to instruct him." Maria knew that this was a sensitive point with English slave owners. Since one of the justifications they gave for enslaving the Africans was that they weren't Christian, they feared that if they converted their slaves, they might be forced to free them.

Marshall temporized. "We don't have a minister of our own."

"I understand. I wish I could do something about that. But, I know that as a captain, you have read aloud from a prayer book. Surely your African servants can be allowed to listen and to learn what they can."

"Very well."

"And have you tried to teach any of them to read and write?"

Marshall laughed. "Mevrouw Vorst, few of my Englishmen have their letters."

"That is most unfortunate. In this new world, illuminated by the books of Grantville, being literate is going to be of great importance. Is that not true?"

Marshall nodded slowly.

"Well, I will see what primers we can spare, and all I ask in return is that at least one be dedicated to the edification of the Africans among you."

Based on the reading she had done in Grantville, Maria was fairly confident that there would be trouble over slavery, sooner or later. But for the moment, the colonists in Gustavus had more immediate issues to worry about. Like survival. And she agreed with Heyndrick that it would be better if the confrontation came after Gustavus was bigger and stronger.

The music faltered. The dozen or so Surinamese Indians, resplendent in body paint and not much else, stirred uneasily. Until then, they had been an excellent audience.

"Don't stop!" Maria whispered sharply to her assistant, and made a circular motion with her hands.

The English settler who had been given the honor of turning the crank on her mechanical phonograph nodded sheepishly, and brought the player back up to speed.

The violins, viola and cello played by the musicians of another universe went back to work, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik once again overrode the clicking and chirping of the insects of the rainforest.

Later that night, Maria tried putting on a Louis Armstrong record. Louis Armstrong had given the world such titles as "Alligator Crawl," "Trees," and "Rain, Rain." Despite this evidence of affinity, the Indians of Marshall's Creek were unimpressed, indeed, a little agitated. It appeared that the rainforest was not yet ready for jazz.

Maria salvaged the situation by hurriedly putting on Mozart's piano sonata no. 11 in A, Rondo Alla Turca. Tempers were appropriately soothed.

Ceremoniously, the chief's wife handed Maria a cup of piwari. Maria took a carefully metered sip, and bowed her head in acknowledgment, hoping she had drunk enough to satisfy propriety. Piwari was a brew made with fermented cassava bread. Which wouldn't sound so bad, except the old biddies of the tribe chewed the bread and then spat it into the pot to ferment.

She couldn't help but remember a story Lolly had told her, about a practical joke played on a British diplomat. At some sort of exotic reception, a covered plate was put before him. When he lifted the lid, all that he saw was a spider. He stared at it, as his so-called friends watched him out of the corners of their eyes. A moment later, he grabbed it by the leg, announced, 'For the Queen,' and dropped it into its mouth."

So it could be worse.

After the meal, presents were exchanged. "And this is for you," Maria said, and handed the chief a strange ornament.

"It is like a piece of the rainbow," marveled the chief.

During her sojourn in Grantville, Maria had listened to CDs on her friend Lolly's player. She had also been introduced to the curious concept of the "coaster", a CD which was no longer functional, and hence suitable for nothing better than protecting the table from water marks. Maria asked if she could have a few of these specimens, and Lolly said, "Sure, why not."

Maria had them cut into quarters, and hole-punched. Maria gave one only to a chief, or his favored wife. They could be hung from the neck, so all tribesmen and visitors could envy how well, in one light, they acted as mirrors, and in another, they iridesced.

Though tensions had been reduced, there was still a certain amount of casual one-upmanship between the English and the Gustavans, as they both sought to win over the Indians of the Suriname River.

Maria was confident that the Gustavans had won this round. There was no way that Captain Marshall was going to be able to compete with the "rainbow."

Fort Kykoveral (modern Bartica), EssequiboRiver, Guiana

November 1634

Henriques Pereira da Costa, formerly of the Portuguese-Brazilian frontier town of Belem do Para, watched as a small cayman emerged from the Essequibo River and rubbed its belly on the river bank. It didn't have much time left to enjoy the afternoon sun.

"Henrique, would you believe that they only have six books, besides the bible, in the whole fort?" said his servant Mauricio. Mauricio had been trained by Henrique's father as a scribe and linguist.

"That many?" Henrique asked rhetorically. "I am surprised." Not that Henrique was much of a reader himself. He was more woodsman than scholar. He looked off to the west, toward the setting sun. Any moment now, he thought to himself.

"Five of them," Mauricio continued, "owned by the Commander."

The sun at last disappeared below the horizon. The skies darkened rapidly, that was typical of the tropics.

"As for the sixth-"

"Enough, Mauricio." Henrique took a deep breath, kneeled, and closed his eyes. "Hear, O Israel: the LORD our God, the LORD is one." Henrique was a marrano, a secret Jew, who had, when exposed as a "Judaizer," escaped into the Amazon with his servant and childhood companion, Mauricio.

Mauricio watched silently as Henrique prayed. Henrique had picked a location some distance from the fort, and out of its direct sight, so as not to give offense to their Calvinist hosts.

At last, Henrique completed the evening shema. He rose and looked at Mauricio. "There are some serious matters we need to discuss. Like what we do next."

"They don't seem to like us here much, do they?"

"Well, they're Dutch. Mostly Calvinists, too. They hate Catholics and they aren't too keen about Jews, either."

"Or free Africans, of any religion." Mauricio patted his pocket. "I keep my letter of manumission with me wherever I go, even in the jungle." Henrique's father, in his will, had instructed Henrique to make Mauricio a curtado, a slave who had the right to earn his freedom by paying a set price. Henrique instead freed Mauricio outright. But it was not until the two had made their way to Dutch-held Kykoveral that Henrique had acknowledged that they had the same father, and called him "brother."

"So, let me review our options." Henrique held up a finger. "First, we can make our home somewhere in the back country."

"Well, Kasiri and Coqui will be happy enough with that idea." In the course of their escape, Henrique and Mauricio had met the lovely Kasiri, and her brother Coqui. Kasiri and Coqui were Manao indians, from the distant Amazon.

Against all odds, they found their way to Fort Kykoveral, on the Essequibo river, and were welcomed by the Dutch commander. Only the welcome which Henrique received as a great explorer, had gotten a bit tattered once the Dutch realized he was Jewish. The Dutch were the least prejudiced of all the Christian peoples, but "least" wasn't the same as "not." And anyway, the Dutch didn't know quite what to make of Mauricio, Kasiri and Coqui.

"But I confess that while I am comfortable in the wilderness, I don't want to cut myself from civilization indefinitely." Henrique held up a second finger. "So the second possibility is that I can return to Europe."

"Right," agreed Mauricio, "we need to find you a nice Jewish girl."

Henrique gave him a quelling look. It had no discernible effect on Mauricio's smirk.

"We?"

At that, Mauricio lost his smile. Henrique, logically, should board the next Dutch ship, and return to Europe. His family had longstanding plans to help them make a quick getaway if they had to, and Amsterdam was the preferred rendezvous point. And it was uncertain that the Dutch in Kykoveral would tolerate the permanent presence of a Portuguese Jew.

But that would mean Mauricio would have to decide between crossing the Atlantic with Henrique or remaining on the Wild Coast with Kasiri.

Kasiri frowned. "What's troubling you, Mauricio?"

"Nothing."

"Right. My darling Mauricio barely speaks. He answers every question with a single word. It as commonplace as dolphins climbing trees."

Kasiri and Mauricio, of course, didn't talk to each other precisely like that. They communicated in a weird mixture of Manau, Portuguese and sign language, with many circumlocutions.

"Henrique doesn't think he can make his home here. He wants to cross the Great Sea to join his family."

Kasiri had never seen the ocean. To her the Great Sea was some sort of extension of the Amazon. And her people, the Manao, were traders, who made their home near the confluence of the Upper Amazon and the Rio Negro, but who traveled a great deal. So she just shrugged. A young man of her tribe, like Coqui, might travel hundreds of miles to visit, and perhaps take a bride home from, another tribe.

"And I am his brother and servant. I feel honor-bound to accompany him." Mauricio sighed. "Besides, if I don't, then I risk being re-enslaved by the Dutch. They are at war with the Portuguese, so they needn't honor my letter of manumission."

Kasiri smiled. "Fine, I will go with you across the Great Sea." Her frown reappeared. "Unless perhaps you have tired of me?"

"Of course not! It would be wonderful to have you with me. It's just… customs are different in Europe… For one thing, you'll have to wear more clothes."

"Hah! I am already wearing too much. Do I not see how you, and your brother, and these crazy Dutchmen suffer every day? You all need to wear less and bathe more."

"Be that as it may, in Europe, in winter, it is too cold to dress lightly."

"What is cold? And what is winter?"

Mauricio abruptly gave Kasiri a hug. "Until a ship comes, we don't have to make a decision. And perhaps we should take a canoe up to the mouth of the Essequibo, so you can see what the ocean looks like, before we decide anything. For now, let's go swimming together."

Clearly satisfied that she had restored Mauricio's spirits, Kasiri walked with him to the river. But she didn't know that Mauricio was, beneath his surface good humor, still in doubt. Kasiri would suffer in Europe, unless she was willing to wholly adopt the language and manners of a European, like a Amazonian Pocahontas. And even then, as an Indian married to an African, she could expect to suffer all sorts of slights.

Mauricio wasn't eager to see white sails billowing over the dark waters of the Essequibo.

Gustavus (Paramaribo), Suriname

Maria returned to Gustavus with rubber, cotton and tobacco from Marshall's Creek, and Heyndrick told the colonists that it was time to do some trading with other Europeans on the Wild Coast. At the town meeting, they announced, "We are taking the Eikhoorn to Fort Kykoveral, on the Essequibo." It was the principal Dutch colony in the Guianas, perhaps two hundred forty miles to the west. "We need samples of everyone's products that might find a market there, whether among the traders, the Indians, or visiting ships. And we need your 'wish list' of what to try to get there which we don't have here."

It would, of course, be more than a mere trading voyage. This would be their first chance to explore the coast, and Maria looked forward to seeing and drawing new plants and animals. And perhaps, just perhaps, some of them would be of economic value to the Gustavus colony.

At any rate, it was a chance to escape the ennui of helping to administer the colony. Maria now understood why David de Vries, their nominal leader, spent most of his time at sea.

On the coast of Guiana

They had made camp on a sandy beach, between the Berbice and Demerara rivers. They were now perhaps fifty miles from the mouth of the Essequibo. The next day's sail would be easy, with the trade winds broad on their starboard quarter. As, in fact, they had been every day on their trip westward. Getting back home to the Gustavus would be more arduous, of course.

As the tide went out, it became apparent that a little ways down the coast, there was some large object sticking out of the exposed bottom. Maria, Heyndrick and two sailors went out to investigate.

The object was the ravaged remains of the hull of a pinnace, its blackened framing timbers looking like the ribs of a sea monster. It didn't seem particularly likely that any useful artifacts would still be left, but they were now so close that it seemed reasonable to look and see.

"That's odd," said Maria. While Heyndrick and the sailors looked for stray coins, and the like, in the sand, she had been studying the hull.

"What's odd?" asked Heyndrick, who, out of the corner of his eye, had been studying her.

"Look how most of the wood is heavily holed."

"Sure, that's because of the teredo, the ship worm. They're a real plague in these tropical waters."

"Yes, but there is one piece that's barely pitted. You see? I think it's a different type of wood than the rest of the hull."

Heyndrick studied the mystery futtock more closely. He felt and sniffed it, and did the same to the nearby wood. "I think you're right. It couldn't have been part of the original hull, it must have been cut to make a repair."

"Can we take it out, please?" pleaded Maria. "I think it might be greenheart. It's a tree mentioned in the encyclopedias; it's resistant to marine borers. The crew of this hulk must have cut a greenheart tree and used it to make repairs, without realizing their good fortune. Might be a fine export product if we can find a grove to harvest. We can ask the local Indians… once we find them."

Heyndrick scratched his chin. "Even if you're right, the Indians are going to have a hard time figuring out what tree you are looking for, if all they have to go on is a bit of cut wood. They don't cut their trees into lumber, they just hollow them out."

"We can shave off the outer layers of the piece, then they might recognize it as being the same wood as one of their dugouts."

Heyndrick shrugged, and ordered a sailor to cut out the wood of interest. Once he had done so, Maria asked him to chop off a small piece and give it to her. She took it down the beach, to where the waters of the South Atlantic played with the sand, and dropped it in. It sank.

Maria nodded thoughtfully, and turned her head to look at Heyndrick, who was standing a few feet behind her. "It's denser than water. That's true of greenheart, too. One of the reasons it's a strong wood."

"Then you might be right that it's greenheart, Maria, but please don't get your hopes too high. Even a wood that normally floats can sink if it gets waterlogged."

Maria shrugged. "When we find some Indians, we'll get some answers. I hope."

Fort Kykoveral (modern Bartica), EssequiboRiver, Guiana

Short Wet Season (December 1634-January 1635)

"Well, there it is. A sail," thought Henrique. "Kykoveral" meant, in Dutch, "looks over all," and he had an excellent view of the river from his position on the parapet.

It made him think of the legend of Theseus. Theseus had gone to Crete to slay the Minotaur. He sailed, with the other sacrifices, on a ship with a black sail, but he promised that when he returned victorious, he would hoist a white sail so his father Aegeus would know he had succeeded. Unfortunately, he forgot, and Aegeus threw himself into the sea.

This time, it didn't matter whether the sail Henrique saw was black or white. Either way, it would bring both joy and sorrow.

To Henrique's surprise, the ship, although Dutch-built, wasn't from Europe. Nor was it en route to the Caribbean, or America. Rather, it was from another colony on the Wild Coast, paying its respect to the traders at Kykoveral.

Which meant that perhaps, just perhaps, there was no need for the foursome to separate.

Commander Jan van der Goes of the Zeeland Chamber of the Dutch West India Company cleared his throat. "Mevroux Maria Vorst, permit me to introduce Henrique Pereira da Costa, formerly of Belem do Para, the intrepid discoverer of a river route between the Amazon and the Essequibo."

Henrique bowed.

"Senior da Costa, I introduce to you Mevroux Maria Vorst. She is the daughter of a physician, and sister of the curator of the Leiden Botanical Gardens. She has received training in natural philosophy at Grantville, the town of the future that you have surely heard of by now. She is attached to the new Swedish colony to our east, Gustavus." She curtseyed.

"And her companion, Captain Heyndrick de Liefde, is of a good merchant family in Hoorn, and has been to the Caribees, Zwaanandael, Virginia and New Netherlands." Zwaanandael was the ill-fated Dutch colony in Delaware. "His cousin, David Pieterszoon de Vries," founded Gustavus, and Captain de Liefde has given us the great pleasure of transporting Mevroux Vorst to our company."

"Yours must have been quite a dangerous journey, Senor da Costa," Maria murmured. In the meantime, she was trying to visualize the up-time maps, and guess at its length. Twelve hundred miles? Sixteen hundred?

"Indeed it was, my lady. Giant crocodiles. Poisonous snakes. Deadly rapids. A thousand times, I thought myself at death's door, and took solace in the thought that I would be taken into Heaven. And then I made it here. And now I must wonder whether I died after all, and have come to Heaven, for surely you are an angel."

Heyndrick rolled his eyes.

Maria smiled at Henrique. "Surely it is too warm here to be Heaven."

Heyndrick saw the smile. "I am surprised that you speak so blithely of Heaven, Herr da Costa. The guards told me that you are a Marrano, a secret Jew, wanted by the Inquisition for heresy." Having been baptized, however insincerely, Henrique could not avow Judaism without being considered a heretic.

"I am a heretic only in the eyes of the Catholic Church, not in the eyes of the Lord," Henrique retorted. "And I daresay that the Catholics would consider you, too, to be a heretic, Captain." Heyndrick was indeed Protestant.

Commander van der Goes winced slightly. "Tell me more about your colony, Mevrouw Vorst."

"We have both a sawmill and a glassworks, the first on the Wild Coast, I believe. So we have manufactures which we can sell here and to other colonies. We have shipped home a kind of clay called bauxite. We have planted, as cash crops, cotton, tobacco, and the dye tree orlean. And we are collecting the sap of a strange tree which I doubt you would have heard of, since, until the coming of the up-timers, the only Europeans who knew of it were a few Spanish, and they had no use for it."

"Oh, what tree is that?"

"It is called the rubber tree, the up-timers know much about it. Its sap hardens into a material which is waterproof, and is elastic, an-"

"I know what rubber is!" Henrique interjected. " That is what I was collecting, in Brazil!"

Maria spilled her drink. "In Brazil? How did you learn of it? Have you shipped any to Europe? Who is buying it? I would have heard if, before I left, someone was selling Brazilian rubber in Grantville. And that's the only market for it."

"Dear lady, I suspect that my family knows about it the same way you do, we have some connection who has studied the books of Grantville. In 1632 I was given a map, and a description of the tree. We started tapping the trees in the summer of 1633, and the first shipment went out soon thereafter, on one of the sugar ships out of Bahia. When rubber first reached Lisbon, I know not." He was too polite to mention that, beside storms, the likeliest reason for the rubber not reaching Lisbon was interception by privateers. Dutch, French or English.

"And I don't know what my family would have done with the rubber. It might have been some time before they sent samples to business associates outside of Portugal or Spain, and in these troubled times it could have taken many weeks to reach Grantville. It is somewhere near Magdeburg, is that right?"

"Hmm… we left Hamburg in December 1633. That would explain why we heard nothing about it. Is Belem still shipping rubber to Portugal, you think?"

"It is hard to say. Mauricio and I were the only Europeans involved in the tapping operation. We are both here now. The same.. . incident… which led me to leave Belem, would also have had unpleasant repercussions for my family. I hope they were warned, and fled in time. The Inquisition seizes the properties of heretics. It is possible that they will read the private papers, decide that rubber trees are worth exploiting, and send an agent to Belem to take over the business. More likely, they will decide it is too much trouble, or tainted by its association with Grantville, and the Indian seringueiros I recruited will just return to hunting and fishing."

"We will have to ask Henrique and his friends to join us at Gustavus," said Maria.

Heyndrick snorted. "I think that would be a mistake, Maria. Henrique's allegiance is to Portugal, and, so long as Philip rules Portugal, the Portuguese are our enemies."

"But now that they know he is Jewish, he cannot return to Portugal. He must find a new home. He was born and bred in the New World. What would he do in Europe?"

"I still think he would be a bad influence. His whole life has been a lie. We can expect him to have imbibed deceit with his mother's milk."

"Heyndrick… I do believe you're jealous."

Heyndrick took a deep breath. "I have no claim on you… other than one of friendship… and affection." He didn't dare say more, not yet. She was of substantially higher rank than him, although not hopelessly so.

"I have already married once and have been a widow for several years. I have become accustomed to making my own decisions. And the good women of Grantville have taught me that I need be in no rush to remarry.

"Which isn't to say that I don't like you…"

"Now then. Back to business. And Henrique, flowery compliments and all, is strictly business. He has run a rubber tapping operation. We could use him to do so for us, up at Marshall's Creek, and at the same time keep a closer eye on Captain Marshall and his men."

Heyndrick nodded slowly. The thought occurred to him that if Henrique were in residence at Marshall's Creek, then Maria wouldn't have to travel there so frequently. And he would be mostly out of Maria's sight and hence out of Maria's mind. Or so Heyndrick hoped.

But suddenly he realized that Maria was still speaking. "And if he was able to cross over a thousand miles of rainforest, he must have impressive survival skills… and no doubt an impressive knowledge of the plants and animals. Some of that knowledge will doubtless be relevant here in the Guianas, too. In fact, I have a question or two to put to him right away."

"Greenheart?"

"Greenheart."

"Senor Henrique, I am looking for trees with a particular wood, called 'greenheart,' because it is of a dark green color. It grows"-she stopped to consult her notes-"seventy to one hundred thirty feet high, and three feet or more in diameter. It is very strong and heavy, heavier than water. And I think I found some lumber cut from it, in a ship's hull, but of that I am not sure. Here is a sample piece."

Henrique examined Maria's mystery futtock. "It was used in a ship? And it is strong, but too heavy to float? Perhaps it is like the 'stone tree,' itauba, which we have on the Amazon. Coqui had a dugout canoe made from that tree. It is good for running rapids, but if the canoe fills with water, it sinks."

Mauricio coughed. "I don't suppose you have any idea what the native word is for this 'greenheart' of yours?"

"Actually, I do. At least if the encyclopedias in Grantville are right. They said that it was called 'bibiru' or 'bebeeru' in one language. And 'sipiri' in another. But I don't know which language."

"Bibiru," Henrique muttered. "Sounds like a word from the language of the Indians who live just north of the Amazon delta. They call themselves Aroo-waks, I think. Are there Aroo-waks, here? 'Bibi' is 'mother,' I think. Or maybe it's just 'woman.' But I don't recognize 'bibiru.' Do you, Mauricio?"

Mauricio shook his head. "Not 'sipiri,' either. Do the 'encyclopedias' say what the Indians use the tree for?"

Maria wiped sweat from her brow. Guiana was warm even in December. "Not clearly. But the wood is used in the construction of ships and docks, and the bark to make some sort of febrifuge. Probably tastes vile."

"Isn't that something that the physicians insist on?" asked Mauricio. "Don't they figure that the worse a medicine tastes, the better it is?"

Henrique laughed. "Presumably on the theory that the patient will get better so he doesn't have to keep drinking the medicine."

Mauricio shifted his weight. "Excuse me, Henrique, I have to go," said Mauricio. Kasiri is waiting for me."

Henrique waved him off. "And if the lovely and learned Maria is through questioning me, I have some business with the commander." Maria inclined her head, and he and Mauricio both took their leave of her.

"I wonder if Lolly knows any nice Jewish girls I can match him up with?" Maria pondered.

The local tribe was called the Lokono, which of course just meant "the people" or something like that. Henrique, Mauricio, Kasiri and Coqui introduced Maria to their Lokono Arawak friends, and helped her with her inquiry. They knew the tree, or at least they knew of some tree they called "bibeera," which sounded close enough. At least, the tree was tall enough, and its wood didn't float. Some young Lokono women led her up the hilly banks of the Essequibo river, and pointed out several "bibeera" trees to her. They had the growing pattern common to many rainforest canopy trees; that is, branching only near the summit. Maria judged these specimens to be a good eighty feet tall.

The Lokono showed her how to remove the cinnamon-brown bark; it had to be beaten before it could be peeled off. The yellowish infusion they made from the bark tasted just as horrible as Maria had expected. It made up for this by smelling nasty, too.

Two of the sailors had come with Maria, and, on her instructions, cut down a few of the trees, trimmed them to logs of manageable size, and skidded them back to the Eikhoorn. Back in Gustavus, the carpenter would test them out and, if they were as good as the encyclopedias said, they would send the supply ship on to the Essequibo, with orders to pick up a cargo to take back to Europe for sale. Assuming that Maria and Heyndrick didn't find a greenheart stand closer to their own colony.

Henrique, Mauricio and Kasiri decided to go swimming; this stretch of the Essequibo was pleasantly free of piranha, electric eels, and crocodilians. Coqui watched Maria and the Locono women for a while, then grabbed his bow and headed to the river.

In the meantime, Maria noticed that the larger of the trees were surrounded by nuts the size of apples. She decided that it might be advantageous to collect these, and plant them near Gustavus. If the greenheart trees were useful, it would be better if they didn't have to go each year to Essquibo to harvest them.

As she put the nuts in her basket, the Lokono women started giggling. She tried to figure out why, but her linguistic skills weren't up to the task. One woman did pat her own tummy. Maria took this to mean that the nuts were good to eat, but the Lokono didn't seem interested in sharing Maria's haul.

Maria returned to the fort, basket in hand, and got out her sketchbook. It wasn't until sundown that Henrique and company came back.

"What is it that the Indian women find so funny about me being interested in the nuts of the greenheart?"

"Mevrouw Vorst, it will be an honor and a pleasure for me to find out," said Henrique, bowing. He and Mauricio went off in search of their Lokono friends, with Coqui and Kasiri trailing behind.

Curiously, at the dinner table, Henrique wasn't quick to share his findings. Maria managed to contain her impatience until they were all done eating. "Well, Henrique, what did you find out?"

Henrique looked at Mauricio. Mauricio looked at the ceiling.

Henrique also seemed to have trouble looking straight at Maria. "Mevrouw Vorst. Umm. They use the nuts to, um, keep from having babies."

Coqui wasn't thinking about babies, but he was devoting some thought to the related subject of women.

He had decided to join Henrique, Mauricio and Kasiri on their little trip because he wanted to find a mate. And none of the girls of his own village appealed to him particularly.

As they made their way down the Rupununi, they had passed through the lands of the Wapishana and the Macushi. Unfortunately, they had done so at the time that the upper Rupununi was in flood, creating a great lake that bridged it to the rivers of the Amazon. While that made travel relatively easy, it meant that it was hard to fish, and the Indians of the region spent that season mostly in the uplands, where they could hunt land game.

The bottom line was that he hadn't met any eligible females en route. As to the women of the Lokono Arawaks, they fell into three categories. The pretty available, ones, who had struck up relationships with the Dutchmen at the fort. The pretty, unwilling, ones who had prudently moved deeper into the forest, where they could avoid unwanted advances. And the old women who insisted on flirting with him at every opportunity.

Logically, then, he should go deeper into the forest, but he was reluctant to trust his sister Kasiri to the highly dubious wilderness skills of her new boyfriend, Mauricio. It was too bad that she hadn't picked Henrique, who was actually competent. For a European.

This Maria said that there were Indian women near her colony. He would have to investigate.

Paramaribo (Gustavus)

Short Dry Season (February-March, 1635)

The black schooner rounded the sandy spit which marked the eastern edge of the entrance to the Suriname River. As it continued westward, it came into view of the recently constructed Fort Lincoln, which lay on the broad vee of land between the mouth of the Comowine River, and the main channel of the Suriname River. Gustavus itself lay on some distance further up the Suriname, on the west bank, where the ground was less prone to flooding.

Fort Lincoln, at this point, was more bark than bite. Most of its "cannon" were actually artfully blackened logs. However, there was just enough real ordnance to fool an enemy ship which merely wanted to test the defenses. For all it knew, if the fort didn't fire all its guns, perhaps it was just conserving ammunition.

Captain Dirck Adrienszoon, the original skipper of the Eikhoorn, and acting fort commander, lowered his spyglass.

"Slaver," he said.

"How can you tell?" asked Heinrich Bender. He was a member of the colonial militia.

"From the smell. Just wait for the wind to blow this way again. Want a look-see?" Dirck handed the spyglass to Heinrich.

Heinrich adjusted the focus; he was near-sighted. "You think they're here to sell slaves?"

"That's one possibility."

"Hey, that's a Spanish flag they're flying. That means we should shoot at them, doesn't it? Since the Netherlands, the SOTF and Sweden are all at war with Spain."

"The international law on the subject is a bit complicated. The Spanish supply slaves to all the Caribbean plantations, and so they probably have papers granting them immunity from privateers and warships of any country. At least, those which buy slaves, like the Dutch, the English, and the French. I am not so sure if the SoTF and Sweden will honor the papers."

On Dirck's command, Fort Lincoln fired a signal shot, warning the visitor to keep its distance, and alerting the settlement upstream that company had come knocking. The schooner prudently anchored several miles away, in two fathoms of water. Soon thereafter, it lowered a longboat.

Dirck walked out to the beach to meet them; he didn't want the Spaniards getting a closer look at his guns.

The longboat crew was led by the first officer of the Triton. Their ship, an eighty tonner carrying two hundred slaves, had left El Mina several months ago. It had misjudged its position, gotten caught in the doldrums and run out of water. Crew and cargo alike were in desperate straits.

"And so, Senior, we beg of you that as a good Christian, you tell us where we may find drinkable water, that we may refill our casks and be on our way. We are willing to pay, of course, for the privilege. And naturally, if you wish to buy any of our merchandise, we can give you a special price."

Dirck told him that he would have to get permission from the governor of the colony, at the main settlement. Dieter promised that he relay the Spanish requests at once, but warned that the Spanish must stay where they were until a decision was reached.

Carsten Claus, the acting governor of Gustavus, and a CoC activist, was in favor of attacking the ship and freeing the slaves. Maria agreed, and Heyndrick, though less enthusiastic, admitted that their up-time support would evaporate if they did anything else.

But it wasn't as though Carsten had a company of Marines he could order into battle. What he had instead was the crew of the Eikhoorn, some sailors, from other ships of David's flotilla, who had been left behind nine months earlier to recuperate from illness or injury, and the settlers themselves. Some of these had served in village militias, and a smaller number were ex-mercenaries, but it was hardly a professional force. Carsten decided that he would have to persuade the colonists to take action. So he called a meeting of the town council.

"What's the problem?" asked Denys Zager. "Make them pay through the nose for the privilege, and send them on their way. It's all profit and no risk."

"If you are worried about risk, why did you come to the New World?' complained Michael Krueger. "You're Dutch, aren't you? Here you have a heaven-sent opportunity to combine patriotism with profit. Capture the ship, and then sail it to a neutral port-St. Kitt's perhaps-to ransom off the crew and sell the slaves."

"Do you remember our journey here?" said Bender. " How, as we passed the Canaries, we feared that every ship on the horizon was a Turkish slaver? If it be wrong for them to make you a slave, though you be their enemy, how can it be right for you to take as a slave an African who has done you no harm? Who has not consented to serve you? Can that be Christian?"

"Of course it is Christian," said Krueger. "Did not Abraham own slaves?"

"In the time of the up-timers, all of the great nations made slavery unlawful," Maria added. "Every religion condemned it as sinful. History judged us, and found us wanting. Now, through God's grace, we have the opportunity to choose a more righteous path."

"Have any of you brave souls considered that these slavers are heavily armed, in order to keep the slaves in line, and stand off pirates?

"I have," said Heinrich. "What of it? Captain Adrienszoon says there probably aren't more than twenty to thirty of them. We outnumber them perhaps ten to one. And we have more and bigger cannon than they do."

"Wearing a militia badge on your hat doesn't make you an experienced fighter," Zager warned. "They may be more trouble than you think."

Krueger was unimpressed. "They have been dying of thirst for days, maybe weeks. I doubt they'll put up much of a fight. And we have our own "sea beggars," the crew of the Eikhoorn, and the men the other ships left behind. As well as the town militia. The profit from capturing the ship, and the cargo, is worth the risk."

"I agree that we should capture the ship, if we can," said Carsten. "But it is wrong to keep slaves. And anyway, slaves aren't very productive. Give them farmland and tools, and we and they will both profit more in the long run."

"I agree," said Johann Mueller, the glassmaker. He had been doing well enough trading beads with the Indians.

"Give them farmland," said Zager, "and they will steal the tools and disappear into jungle. Probably after cutting our throats." Zager, their sawyer, had a tendency to see the worst in human nature. Probably thanks to the years he had spent, as an apprentice, as the low man on the saw. The one in the saw pit.

Maria held up her hand. "They will see us tie up the slavers and strike off their chains. Surely they will understand, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Freeing the slaves would double the size of the colony. And we have Mauricio to interpret for us. Make sure there are no misunderstandings."

Carsten nodded. "They can be settled on the other side of the river. Less friction that way." And so it was agreed. Although not without some lingering dissent. Mostly with respect to freeing the slaves. The Triton was no mere jacht like the Eikhoorn; it would come in very handy even if they didn't sell it off.

There was still the practical issue of how to assault the ship. The Eikhoorn just had six swivel guns. Fort Lincoln and Gustavus both had cannon, brought over when the colony was established, but the Triton was out of their range.

Consequently, the following morning, the Gustavans invited the Triton to go up the Suriname River and dock at Gustavus pier. The pier was brand new, with pilings made of the greenheart brought back by the Eikhoorn.

"You can't stay anchored out here, the bottom won't hold the anchor if a storm comes in. As often happens this time of year. Just tie up at our dock."

And once they docked… "Ordinarily we would sell you our water, but it is the dry season now. There is a very reliable spring, upriver. You go up the river until the river turns sharply through twenty-four points of the compass. It then enters a long straightaway, and then veers to port. Just there, you will see a hill in front of you, on the right bank. There is a tree which was split by lightning just below the spring, you can't miss it. If you leave before the tide goes out, you can probably make it back tomorrow." Carsten paused for effect.

"Only, the natives there give us trouble from time to time, so be sure to bring plenty of men, well-armed."

"Can you give us a guide?"

"Certainly, if you can wait until the day after tomorrow. That's when we expect the fellow back."

The first mate of the Triton looked at his captain, and said softly, "I don't know if we can last that long."

Carsten had thought that would be the reaction. And if it hadn't been, Carsten could have stalled a bit more, without fearing that the Triton would try to seize a guide. The Triton was under the guns of Gustavus, after all.

"Go at once," ordered the Captain. The first officer of the Triton crammed the longboat full of empty water casks, and sailors armed to the teeth, and headed upriver.

"So, Captain," said Carsten, "perhaps you would care to join me for dinner. I am sure you will be surprised at the hospitality which our rude young colony can afford you."

He was surprised all right. He had just recovered from bowing to Maria when he was quite conclusively coshed from behind. The burly Heinrich Bender, their blacksmith, smiled with satisfaction.

A plank connected the Triton to the dock. It was guarded on the ship's part by two sailors, armed with pistols and cutlasses. And the town in turn guarded itself from an unwanted incursion from the ship by posting watchmen at the shore end of the dock.

The townspeople thoughtfully hung a lantern on the dock, so the Triton 's guards could see what was happening there. If, incidentally, it destroyed their night vision, so they couldn't see anything moving in the water on the far side of the ship, well, so be it.

The town watchmen were far enough from the lantern so they couldn't be seen too clearly by the deck guards. However, they were clearly enjoying their night out under the stars, laughing and drinking.

The Triton 's deck guards could watch this in silence only so long. One looked at the other, received an affirmative nod, and stepped onto the plank. It creaked, and the town watchmen immediately stopped celebrating and looked up. Very slowly, the approaching Triton sailor set his pistol and cutlass down on the dock, and then walked toward them.

"I couldn't help but notice… that you seen to be drinking something. Perhaps you have something to spare?"

"I don't know," said the head watchman doubtfully. "Do you have coin?"

"I wish," the slaver responded dolefully. "We don't get paid until we get to Hispaniola."

The head watchman sighed. "Well, in the interest of international amity, we can share."

He handed over a skin. This is our little local specialty. It's made from a fruit which grows here, ananas. Some people call it pineapple." He declined to mention that the little beverage was then distilled-it was handy having a glassmaker in the colony-to ninety proof.

So far, so good. Carsten had told him, "Don't just go up and offer them a drink, let it be their idea. And feign reluctance."

The mood of the erstwhile ship defenders passed from celebratory to somnolent. The head watchman gestured to the waiting assault team. The two Triton crew members were quickly gagged, bound and dragged off.

From a point out of view of the deck of the Triton, a colonist used a hooded lantern to signal to the Eikhoorn, which was waiting quietly downstream. It slowly approached the other side of the Triton , moving on muffled sweeps.

With the Eikhoorn's swivel guns commanding the deck of the Triton , there was no reason for further delay. One of Coqui's arrows, six feet long, took down a man who came up on deck as the assault team, lead by Heyndrick, snuck onto the dock. It was the wrong time to use the head.

The assault team came across the plank, and spread out quickly. The most experienced fighters opened the hatches and jumped down. The second mate was surprised in his hammock. The most resistance came from the cook, who was obviously both a light sleeper, and a man who liked to keep the tools of his trade close at hand. The cook managed to grab one of his knives and threaten to carve Henrique into little pieces. Henrique maneuvered him so his back was to the entranceway, and another Gustavan put the cook back to sleep.

The rising sun reddened the waters of the Paramaribo.

"The slavers' longboat just came around the bend." said one of the Gustavans, crouching beside the readied cannon. There were perhaps a score on board.

"Good," said the gunner. "The angle is set. When it comes even with that rock-the one whose top looks like a parrot's beak-light the fuse and blow the sucker out of the water."

The longboat crew couldn't possibly have seen the lit fuse. But they may have caught a glimpse of the men hiding by the cannon. For whatever reason, at the last moment, they backed water, and the ball missed them. Just barely, they were still sprayed.

With surprise lost, the Gustavans brought other cannon into action. A second shot was fired, then a third, bracketing the longboat.

The longboat might nonetheless have tried to reach the Triton -figuring, with some justice, that a colonial militia probably weren't skilled artillerists-but at that point the Eikhoorn, which had been downstream, swept past the prow of the Triton, her swivel guns all manned. They were formidable anti-personnel weapons.

The longboat swung around, trying to claw its way back upriver, and out of the range, at least, of the fort's cannon. The first officer of the Triton might well have intended to beach the longboat as soon as he was safe from cannonshot, and lead his men inland, to neutralize the Eikhoorn 's swivel guns, too.

However, in changing direction, it lost speed, and that made it a better target. A cannonball holed it, and the longboat sank quickly.

The Triton -newly dubbed Der Vrijdom- was now anchored in two fathoms of water, off the east bank of the Suriname River. The slaves were brought up from the hold as gently as possible, still shackled.

They stood blinking in the sun, knowing that there were strangers on board, but knowing the significance. Then the former crew of the Triton were brought before them, in shackles. Even the captain, his mouth gagged because he had demonstrated an amazing gift for continuous invective.

The slaves' eyes widened as they took in this sight.

Then Mauricio, the only black among the Gustavans, came aboard. Heyndrick had loaned him a military uniform. Maria had put a harpy eagle feather in Mauricio's hat, and hung one of her iridescent CD quarter-slices around his neck. The inner circle-Carsten, Maria, Heyndrick, Dirck and, to Heyndrick's annoyance, Henrique-had decided that Mauricio would be their most convincing spokesman, and that he should be "dressed to impress."

Mauricio knew several of the African languages. He gave the slaves the same message in each of them. They were about to be set free. Their captors were now captives, but were not to be harmed. The Africans were now among people who wanted to be their friends. Their new friends couldn't take them back across the sea, but could give them a new place to call home, so long as they behaved as good neighbors. They would help each other.

Mauricio made a grand gesture. Heinrich Bender produced the key-taken from the second mate-and unlocked the shackles on the nearest slave. The poor fellow virtually collapsed, but Heinrich caught him. Henrique gave him water to drink, and another colonist led him down to a waiting dinghy for transfer to the shore.

Mauricio motioned the next African forward.

"We are riding the tiger, Maria," said Heyndrick softly. "We don't know if these ex-slaves are warlike or peaceful, thievish or law-abiding. They are in a strange land, and they will have a hard time surviving. They will be tempted to prey upon us. Even if they don't, their gratitude may ebb quickly, and we may find that they refuse to trade with us, and occupy lands which we could put to better use ourselves."

It is safe to ride a tiger if you have friends to help you dismount," said Maria.

To be continued in Grantville Gazette 20

Author's Note

In the old time line, David Pieterszoon De Vries founded a colony at modern Cayenne, in French Guyana, in September, 1634. He went off privateering, and in December, 1634, while he was away, his colonists decided to seize a Spanish slave ship which had come in search of drinkable water. They didn't free the slaves; they sold the ship, the slaves, and the crew in Jamaica, and abandoned the colony. Most of them did not profit from this from this act of piracy and betrayal. The two ringleaders, English ex-pirates, had persuaded the other colonists (who didn't speak English) to sign an English contract of indenture, each signer thinking it a credential that helped prove that he was a legitimate sailor and not a pirate. The ex-pirates sold the indentures in Jamaica, too. The other colonists thus all passed into bondage themselves. Which proves that truth is stranger than fiction.