Commander Cantrell in the West Indies(209)

But here was Sehested mentioning the prize hulls yet again. Tromp hoped that the Dane would not be so crude as to use his role as the magnanimous provider of tonight’s food and drink as a means of exerting pressure to yet again revisit the twice-approved division of spoils.

But that did not seem to be the Danish diplomat’s intent after all. “I understand that other bold actions were undertaken beforehand to secure our alliance’s resounding victory. I refer, of course to the daring raid upon Puerto Cabello. I had hoped to meet that commander, the Irish earl, here at the party but I am informed that he did not return with your fleet. Is that correct?”

“It is, Sir Sehested. He and one of our captains, Pieter Floriszoon, diverted to Montserrat. They had refugees to deposit there, and it was also thought best to also acquaint that island’s settlers with the earl of Tyrconnell bona fides.”

“Ah, yes,” Sehested said with a nod. “It is populated by Irish Catholics, is it not?”

“Yes,” affirmed van Walbeeck, “and it is our hope that they might proclaim loyalty to the earl. Which, given his service to Brussels, would mean adding another safe haven for the ships of the Netherlands.” He nodded at Eddie. “If we were to be able to count upon Montserrat as another island allied to our cause, along with those inhabited by the English, we would be most excellently situated, having control over all the northern Lesser Antilles. With the exception of our old colony on St. Maarten, that is.”

“That would be an excellent development,” agreed Sehested, “and it is fortuitous that you should mention St. Maarten. That island is of particular interest to his royal Danish Majesty, Christian the Fourth.”

“Indeed? Is he interested in its salt-flats? At some point we hope to return there to reestablish our salt-fish production. Would he wish to join us in this?” asked van Walbeeck.

“No,” Sehested said calmly. “He wishes to take and claim the island for Denmark, in recognition of his contributions to the defeat of the Spanish throughout the Caribbean and the rescue of your colony here in particular. Of course, his Majesty would be happy to grant the right to reopen the commercial operations you call ‘factories’ without tariff or other fee to his Dutch friends, and would be particularly gratified to materially aid those who lost their business interests in the place when the Spanish evicted you last year.”

Tromp was stunned but, being a fairly quiet man, knew that his stunned silence was not particularly noticeable. Garrulous van Walbeeck’s speechlessness, on the other hand, was a marked contrast with his usual demeanor. His cheeks puffing, he reddened slightly and finally sputtered. “This—this is most unexpected, Sir Sehested.”

Eddie Cantrell’s arch stare suggested that he had not expected it, either. “Excuse me, Sir Sehested.”

“Yes, Sir Cantrell?”

“Is this according to the will of the union     of Kalmar? Which is to say, does Gustav know anything about this—request?”

“No, he has not been apprised of this requirement. But after all, your royal father-in-law is a sovereign. In all that the term signifies and entails. This falls well outside the peripheries of consultation between the different monarchs who are bound together in the union     of Kalmar.”

“Yes. I see. Please excuse me a moment.”

“Do you have a pressing matter, Lord Cantrell? You shall figure prominently as we continue this discussion, I assure you.”

Eddie smiled—a bit too brightly, Tromp thought. “I’m sure I do, but as the spouse of one of this evening’s guests of honor, I have a little of my own coordinating to do before the festivities begin. Excuse me. I won’t be long.”

Tromp had to consciously stop himself from calling—“No! Don’t leave!”—after Eddie as Hannibal Sehested began discussing the optimal timetable for retaking St. Maarten from the Spanish.





Oranjestad, St. Eustatia





Anne Cathrine rolled her eyes as, yet again, there was a knock on the door. “We are hurrying as quickly as we may, Matilde,” she called patiently and, she hoped, sweetly to the young Dutch girl who had been working as messenger and girl Friday for the three young Danish ladies. Who were deeply involved in making their toilet and the dress preparations necessitated by their imminent presentation to Oranjestad society.

The voice that responded was not Matilde’s. “Uh, it’s me, Eddie.”

“What? Eddie? Husband—dear—I am, that is, we are—” Anne Cathrine glanced at shy, half-dressed Leonora and Sophie Rantzau’s calm, casual nudity—“we are indisposed. Most decidedly indisposed.”