Seas of Fortune(32)

But they sure said plenty about Greenland being the only source of cryolite. The critical flux for making aluminum from alumina. Which in turn was made from bauxite.

David decided to buy some more shovels and picks. Right away.





North Sea, December 1633





David and his band of sailors and colonists left Hamburg on a blustery, rainy December day. It was an uncomfortable time of year to venture out on the North Sea. But that was an advantage, too; the Spanish war galleons weren’t especially seaworthy and tended to spend the winters in port.

David was once again captain of the Walvis. As its name implied, it was a whaler, but it was also a licensed privateer. And, just as on his last journey, the Walvis was accompanied by the yacht Eikhoorn.

The Company had doubled his force by adding the Koninck David, a two-hundred-tonner with fourteen guns, and a second yacht, the Hoop.

It was the ideal combination of ship types for making the dangerous run south to Africa to pick up the trade winds for the Atlantic crossing. The Barbary corsairs ranged from the English Channel to Cape Verde, always hoping to capture an imprudent European ship. If they did, all aboard, crew and passengers, would be held for ransom, or simply sold as slaves at the marts of Sallee or Algiers.

The yachts could scout ahead, warning the flotilla of danger, and in turn they could shelter under the big guns of the fluyts if they encountered any formidable foe. They would come in handy in the New World, too, being ideal for inshore work.

Some investors in the Company had been more intrigued by David’s descriptions of the profits to be made from privateering than by the more prosaic plans to tap rubber and mine bauxite. They had prevailed on their fellows to beef up the crews, so that David would have additional manpower for working the cannon, adjusting sail, and boarding enemy ships (or repelling boarders). That was good.

Unfortunately, David felt a bit betwixt and between. He had more men than was truly economical for the operation of a fluyt, but not so many as would be on a true privateer on a short range hunting mission. And his ships were larger, and therefore less handy, than the piratical ideal.

David was well aware that this uncomfortable compromise was the natural result of decision-making by committee.

“Captain, we have a stowaway.”

David looked at his cousin, Heyndrick. “He must be very ingenious to escape detection this long.”

“I suspect it was more that he was very generous to a sailor or two. He is a young American, and many of them are rich.”

David started swearing. “And no doubt he is on board without parental permission, and his parents will be raising bloody hell with my investors. Bring him to my cabin.”

A defiant young American teenager was brought in a moment later.

“What’s your name, and age?”

“Phil Jenkins. I’m sixteen. And a half.”

“Sixteen, huh?”

“And a half,” Phil reminded him.

“That’s young for an American to leave home. Do your parents know that you are here?”

“I mailed them a letter. From Hamburg. Anyway, I’m old enough to join the army, so why can’t I go overseas?”

“So . . . you stowed away because you want to see the world? Or perhaps you have seen one of those romantic American movies about pirates, and fancy yourself with a black eye patch and a parrot on your shoulder?”

“I know a lot about trees, and stuff like that. I thought I could help Maria—”

“Maria, huh? Would you be as keen to look at trees in Suriname if Maria weren’t on board?” Phil colored. “I knew having Maria on board was going to mean trouble,” David muttered. “I don’t suppose you have any nautical skills?”

“Well, Grantville was located about two hundred miles from Chesapeake Bay. But I know how to hunt and fish, and I can handle a small boat . . .” Phil paused. David’s stern expression was unchanged. Phil’s voice trailed off. “On a river or lake.”

David waved toward the porthole window. “Does that look like a lake to you?”

“No, sir.”

David studied Philip, and decided that he was not entirely unpromising material for a colonist, or a mariner. Still . . .

“All right. You’re more trouble to me than you’re worth. I can’t afford to turn around—we waited a long time for a northeast wind—but as soon as we see a friendly ship heading toward Hamburg or Bremen, you’re out of here. If you can’t pay for the passage, you’ll write me a promissory note, and I’ll give you the money.”

“But sir—”

“No buts. This is not your American legislature; there is no debate. Cousin, find a place for him to swing a hammock, and keep him out of my hair.”