Seas of Fortune(39)
It would be nice, Maria thought, if she could carry out a proper chemical test, but she didn’t happen to have any cobalt nitrate handy. Hah, she might as well wish Gustavus had an atomic absorption spectrophotometer, while she was at it. At least, wonder of wonders, the high school in Grantville actually had one . . . an unlikely gift from a large construction material manufacturer. So when they got the ore home, the chemists could definitively determine that it contained aluminum.
Of course, David and Maria would feel rather stupid if they carted twenty tons of bog iron home, when they were looking for bauxite.
* * *
Finally. Maria could get on with her real work. Documenting and collecting the extraordinary plants of Suriname, for the greater glory of the Leiden Botanical Gardens. Which she thought of as the family firm. Not without reason; her father Aelius had taken it over in 1599, and then her brother Adolph in 1624.
She would start close to town, on the coastal plain, and ultimately head upriver, to explore the rainforest.
For documentation, she had her pencils, chalks and paints, and her leaf press. But live specimens would be better yet. She collected both seeds and seedlings. The seeds were mixed in with charcoal, or sawdust or sand, and placed in bags. Those, in turn, went into what she hoped were insect-proof boxes. Seedlings could go into cases with glass sides and tops, so they could be kept moist and given the benefit of the sun during the long trip home.
Nor would she ignore the fauna. She drew pictures of some, and they had both live and dead specimens to ship to the savants and curiosity collectors back home. Philip had brought her, no doubt as a peace offering, a curious fish he had caught. It had four eyes. Well, not quite. It had two eyes, but each was divided into upper and lower halves. Philip told her that it swam on the surface, with the upper halves above the water.
Maria never tired of painting the wildlife. The birds, in particular, were beautiful. And even many of the insects.
Other insects, she could definitely do without.
* * *
David studied the mark in the sand bar. It was, quite clearly, the imprint of a European boot. He tapped the shoulder of one sailor, whispered to him, and sent him to collect the others.
Soon, they were back on the deck of the Eikhoorn. David, an explorer at heart, had taken command of the yacht, leaving its usual skipper to supervise the loading of bauxite ore onto the Walvis.
“We’re not alone.”
“Indians?” asked a crewman. He looked around nervously.
“No, Europeans. We don’t know their nationality. If we’re lucky, they’re Dutch.” While the colony was under the protection of Sweden and the United States of Europe, it also had a license from the West India Company. Since David was a patroon of the West India Company, it hadn’t been difficult to obtain. Especially since Sweden and the USE were the only Dutch allies remaining.
“Listen up. If they’re English or French, they won’t know about the Battle of Dunkirk. Well, probably not. And while I am palavering with them, I don’t want you to give away the information that they have any reason to fear us.” David’s crew was almost entirely Dutch. “So, no insults, no glares, no nattering among yourselves as to how treacherous the English and French are. Have your weapons ready, but don’t point them until I give you leave. Understood?”
He turned to Maria. “So much for the up-time encyclopedias. First settled by the French in 1640, my eye!”
* * *
The Eikhoorn continued a mile or two upriver, but its crew didn’t spot any signs of habitation, European or otherwise. They retraced their route, and this time went up a creek, rowing with muffled oars. It wasn’t long before they heard voices. English voices.
David signaled a halt, and called out. “Hello, be you English?” There was an excited clamor, and several roughly dressed Europeans stepped out of the trees. They looked at him goggle-eyed.
“We are. We are Captain Marshall’s men. Who are you?”
“I am Captain David de Vries, a patroon of the Dutch West India Company, currently in the service of His Majesty the King of Sweden and the emperor of the United States of Europe.” That sounded impressive enough, he hoped.
They murmured among themselves. One ventured, “I am sure Captain Marshall will want to entertain you. To hear news, if nothing else.”
“When did you last have news?” David asked.
“A ship comes once each summer to collect our dried tobacco.”
“Really? Do you have any left for sale? How much do you sell each year?” Their answer gave David some clue as to how many acres were planted, and thus, of how many settlers were engaged in tobacco cultivation. It was clear that the crew of the yacht was outnumbered. But not the colonists he had left downriver.