“How long will this take? I am no expert on the Caribbean, but I do know that the hurricanes come in August and September.”
“Oh, we’ll have you back in the Thuringen Gardens, with your friends buying you drinks, and an admiring young fraulein on your lap, well before then.”
* * *
It didn’t work out that way. Blauveldt urged that if they couldn’t wait for the 1635 convoy to come to them, they could at least give the Granadans a few more months to accumulate treasure. Besides, if they waited, he could sail up to Bluefields, and Cabo Gracias a Dios, and recruit more Miskito allies, increasing their chance of success.
The Miskitos told the Dutch that there were several rapids upriver, and that it would be best to make the journey to and from Granada when the rains elevated the water level—July or August.
The captains finally agreed to launch the attack in July—virtually guaranteeing that David would be returning to Europe during the height of hurricane season. Not that David seemed especially worried. “There are only four or five hurricanes a year in the entire Atlantic, according to your up-time books.” Since, when they left Gustavus, David had been insistent on the importance of leaving before the hurricanes lay siege to the Caribbean, Philip had to assume that the siren song of Granadan treasure was to blame for David’s change of heart. It was . . . worrisome.
Nor could Philip conduct rubber-tapping business as usual while David was off freebooting. The nigh-universal Miskito reaction was, “You expect me to fuss around collecting sap from trees when I could be impaling a Spaniard or two on my cane lance? And when your Admiral David says that we can keep the Spanish guns and ammunition we capture? You are a funny boy.” It was also quite apparent that Philip would diminish in their esteem if he remained behind.
“Arggh,” said Philip to the jungle. “Now all I need are a parrot and an eyepatch.” The jungle didn’t answer.
July 1634
At last, Blauveldt’s ship glided back into the mouth of the San Juan. Some native canoes were carried on its deck, which was crowded with the new Indian recruits. The canoes and longboats were lowered into the water, and they all joined David’s group.
The assembled crews and their Indian allies milled about in excited confusion as they waited for David and his fellow captains and chiefs to give the order to begin the ascent. Philip watched as first one, then another alligator, disturbed by the activity, wriggled out of the water and onto a sandbank some yards away. Soon, a score of the big reptiles were sunning themselves. Most of them had their mouths agape.
A sailor from Blauveldt’s ship was sure of the reason for this behavior. “They hold their mouths open so as to catch flies,” he sagely remarked. “The saliva attracts the insects, and they swallow ’em when enough have landed.”
“That makes no sense,” said Philip. “Look how big they are! How many flies would an alligator have to catch in a day to keep himself alive?”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Certainly not. I’m just pointing out that you are being illogical.”
“I think you’re calling me a liar.” He put his hand on the hilt of his cutlass.
There was a cough behind him. “Is there a problem?” asked Cornelis, his own meaty hand squeezing the man’s sword arm into immobility. He was heavily built for a sailor; the sort of fellow who, had he gone to high school up-time, would have acquired the nickname “Tank.” He had his share of knife scars and powder burns, too.
Mr. Fly Catcher turned and gave Cornelis a slow once-over. His face took on a more calculating look. The sailors nearest him edged away, ever so slightly, and he shrugged. “Just a friendly conversation.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. But we talk when there isn’t work to be done. Should I find some work for you to do?”
Fly Catcher shook his head, and, as soon as Cornelis released him, sidled away.
“Thanks,” said Philip. “That wasn’t looking good.”
“Captain told me to look out for you, you being so knowledgeable in some things, but mebbe not in others.”
“I was just explaining about alligators.”
“Captain also said that if you talked someone into blowing your head off, I was to make sure I retrieved your wristwatch. You want to show me which arm you keep it on, to save me some time?”
* * *
While Philip was still worried about whether hurricanes would interfere with their return to Europe, he was happy enough to be ascending the Rio San Juan during the height of the rainy season. The rapids were bad enough even at high water; he didn’t like to think about what they would have done to the canoes if the rocks were exposed.