Seas of Fortune(22)

Despite Heyes’ blundering, David and his fellow investors had been confident that the colonists could grow wheat, tobacco and cotton, and hunt the whales that frequented the bay from December to March. Now that seemed a forlorn hope indeed.

David poked around in the debris at the foot of the gate, and found the bones of a large dog. A spiked collar and several more arrowheads lay nearby. David detailed two men to stand guard at the gate, and the rest of his party followed David inside.

All was chaos, both inside the blockhouse and without. The fort, quite clearly, had been looted. All that was left were the items that the savages had no use for. And the skeletons. David had hoped to find a diary, which might reveal the reasons for the attack. If one had once existed, it had burned, along with the furnishings, when the invaders had overturned lamps in their pursuit of the settlers inside. Or in their haste to find loot.

They then checked the fields. There was no sign, there, of any organized resistance. The skeletons of the Dutchmen and their livestock were scattered over the weed-infested fields. If they had been carrying arms, these were now in the hands of the Indians. The Lenape, David assumed, although it was possible that some other tribe, perhaps the Minquas, had been the enemy.

By now the sun was low in the horizon. This was no time to linger in hostile territory. “Back to the ship,” David ordered. David and his search party returned to the longboat, and rowed over to the Eikhoorn.

Jan Tiepkeszoon Schellinger, the yacht’s captain, greeted him. “What news?”

“The colony of Zwaanandael was wiped out, as we were told.” Some thirty men had sought a new life at Zwaanendael, David mused, where there was land for the taking. And their lives, all save one, had been taken instead. He wondered why this had been God’s will.

“Now what?” Jan asked. David was the squadron commander.

“Captain Schellinger, please fire one cannon. Just powder, no shot. I am returning to the Walvis for the night.”

“Yes, sir.”

Heyndrick looked at David quizzically.

“I am telling the Indians that I would like to negotiate,” David explained.

“Negotiate? With those savages? After they massacred our people?”

“We will hear what they have to say. After that, there will be time enough to take vengeance, if that is called for. Trouble is . . .” David bit his lip.

“Yes?”

“I knew Gilles Hosset, God rest his soul. I don’t like to speak ill of any man, but never was there a man less suited for command. Slow of thought and quick to anger.”

* * *

The next morning, David was awakened early.

“Captain, the lookout saw a column of smoke. From the pine woods outside Zwaanandael.”

“I’ll be right up.”

David checked his pistols and cutlass, and came out onto the main deck. He pulled out a spyglass, a Dutch invention. “I don’t see anyone in the open. Still, we accomplish nothing by sitting here. Mr. Vogel, on the double, please!” Vogel had been the interpreter on the Walvis’ last trip to Zwaanandael.

“First mate, detail seven men to join us in the longboat. All fully armed, muskets and cutlasses, if you please. Heyndrick, kindly bring your shotgun. Come along, Vogel.”

Some minutes later, they were past the breakers, in water they could wade in. David had decided not to land until he had seen the reception committee. They waited, sure that they were under observation, but saw nothing but the lapping of the waves on the beach, the wheeling of the birds in the sky, and the caress of the wind on the branches of the woods beyond.

The gulls cried overhead, like lost souls, and still the Dutchmen waited for the Indians to reveal themselves. David pointed out a particularly large bird to his cousin. “Heyndrick, bring that fowl down.” Heyndrick, readied his shotgun, and waited for the gull to fly near. He fired, and the hapless bird fell to the beach below. The crewmen cheered, and an answering cry came from some riverside weeds.

The Indians rose, with broken stalks littering their long hair. They waved their arms, and shouted something. The sailors gripped their weapons with white-knuckled hands.

“What are they saying?” David asked Vogel.

Vogel grinned. “They applaud our Heyndrick’s prowess as a hunter.” At this, the boat party gave its own cheer, and relaxed a bit.

David held up his hand to quiet them. “Tell the Indians to come down to the beach.”

Vogel cupped his hands, and shouted this invitation. The Indians conversed among themselves, and then answered. “They say to come ashore.”

“Hah! It will be a fine day in Hell before I do that. Tell them the tide is too low now, we will visit them at high tide tomorrow morning.”