Henrique’s party beached their canoe, and approached the fort. A bored-looking guard called down for him to identify himself. “I am Henrique Pereira da Costa. We come from Belém do Pará, in the Amazon.”
The guard’s boredom vanished. “Wait here!” He came back a moment later with several other Dutchmen.
“I am Commander Van der Goes of the Zeeland Chamber of the Dutch West India Company. You say you came from upriver, but ultimately from Belém do Pará?”
“Yes, we found the connection from the Amazon to the Essequibo.”
He was congratulated on this great achievement. The Dutchmen ignored Maurício, assuming he was a slave. And of course the Indians were equally uninteresting to them.
Maurício fidgeted. Henrique realized, suddenly, that Maurício might be uncertain of how their return to civilization would affect his status. Kasiri also seemed ill at ease, sensing Maurício’s discomfort. Coqui, on the other hand, appeared oblivious to their emotional turmoil.
Henrique interrupted the governor. “Forgive me. Allow me to introduce my fellow explorer, Maurício . . . my half-brother.”
Second Starts
May 1632 to July 1633
Grantville, May 2, 1632
“Race time ten minutes,” blared the speaker. The murmur of the fairground crowd rose in volume, then subsided.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Maria Vorst said. Maria had come to Grantville with her brother Adolph, the curator of the Leiden Botanical Gardens, and a member of the faculty of medicine of Leiden University. They had visited Grantville’s greenhouses, and Adolph had met with Dr. Nichols and Dr. Adams. Adolph had returned to Leiden; he had classes to teach and meetings to attend. Maria had stayed in Grantville to study botany and gardening.
Her partner, Lolly Aossey, waved to some of her middle school students. Lolly was their science teacher. She was also a girl scout leader and a gardener. Maria was boarding with her.
“Good luck, Ms. Aossey!” they chorused.
“Thanks, kids!” Lolly turned to Maria. “Don’t worry, Buffalo Creek is about as gentle a river as you are going to find anywhere.”
“There’s that drop,” said Maria doubtfully.
“Oh, that? Two feet, maybe three. Now, if we were running Schwarza Falls, upriver, you’d get some real action.”
“Buffalo Creek is more than enough for me, today.”
“One day I’ll teach you whitewater kayaking. Then you’ll look forward to a drop taller than you are.” Lolly taught canoeing, climbing and other wilderness skills at the Girl Scouts’ outdoor adventure camp each summer.
Someone bugled the traditional horse-racing “first call.” Lolly and Maria stood on either side of the middle of their canoe.
“Welcome, folks, to the fifth running of the Great Buffalo Canoe Race. Sorry we missed last year, but we didn’t expect to enter a time warp.
“Contestants, line up according to your entry number. The first team will start at the sound of the starting gun. After that, the teams will enter the water at one-minute intervals. Sorry you can’t all start at once, but the creek’s a wee bit too narrow for that. We will call you by number.
“Each team must start on the bank, at the starting line. Getting your canoe into the water, and yourselves into the canoe, is part of the fun.
“When you come to a drop, you can portage, but you must carry the boat and get back on board without outside assistance.
“Friends, don’t forget that one of our sponsors is Thuringen Gardens. Show them you appreciate their support of this event by drinking lots of beer! Of course, if you’re a contestant, you might want to wait until after the race. And if you’re underage, forget I said anything.
“Okay, all rise for ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’” The middle school chorus sang the anthem. The ceremonial marshal, standing on the footbridge, waved his staff.
That was the announcer’s cue. “Team One, on your mark, get set . . .” The starter fired his gun. “Go!” The Baker twins, Billy Joe and Jim Bob, grabbed the gunwales of their canoe and ran with it to the bank. One jumped down, painter in hand, and started pulling, while the other went to the stern and pushed. The canoe lurched down the bank, and the canoeists slid it into the water.
“Team Two!” The second pair, Walt Jenkins and his apprentice barber, the down-timer Erhard Matz, headed to the water. The Germans in the audience cheered.
“Team Three! Hey, it’s a brother-and-sister team, Phil and Laurel Jenkins. Try not to kill each other.”
“Team Four!” That was the cue for Phil’s friends, Larry and Gary Rose. They were carrying a garishly painted Chestnut Prospector.