Seas of Fortune(82)
Antoa licked his lips. The Ashanti were gold miners and warriors, not farmers. “And was there more?”
“I am sure there’s more. Much more. I could smell it.”
* * *
Antoa was thinking, once again, about Kojo’s gold. Antoa had promised not to tell anyone else about it. No, he remembered, he had promised to do nothing to offend Maria, the seeress. Well, then what was wrong with telling the other Ashanti, and looking for gold themselves? If she were a seeress, then she would know that they were going to do that, wouldn’t she? And she couldn’t take offense at something that was fated to happen.
With this exercise in sophistry completed, at least to his own satisfaction, he went off in search of his hunting partner, Owisu.
Beginning of Long Rainy Season (April to July) of Suriname, 1636,
Near modern Paranam, Suriname
Heinrich Bender set down his shovel with a grunt of relief, and turned to his fellow bauxite miner, Erasmus Stein. “It’s getting late. Where are the Ashanti?”
Erasmus shrugged. “Perhaps it’s some religious thing.”
“Wouldn’t they have told us in advance?”
Erasmus swung his pick, not bothering to answer.
Perhaps an hour later, Kojo arrived.
Heinrich waved. “Where are your buddies, Kojo? We could use some help!”
“I am sorry, my friend,” said Kojo. “They are gone.”
“Gone, why?”
“When a drum has a drumhead, one does not beat the wooden sides,” he said mysteriously.
Heinrich took a moment to think this through. “They found a better occupation than mining?”
“Better than bauxite mining,” Kojo admitted.
“Better than—they found gold? Where? When?”
“They didn’t find it, I did. Where Maria told me to look.”
Erasmus raised his head so abruptly that Heinrich thought it was a wonder it didn’t fly off.
Kojo ignored him. “She is going to be very angry with me when she finds out I told them. But they are my kinfolk, I had no choice. And I had to tell you why they are gone, lest you think that something bad happened.”
“So why are you here, and not looking for more? Or spending what you’ve got?”
“I must wait for Henrique. He is to take me to Havana, so I can find and buy back my children.”
“So, uh . . . just what was it that Maria told you?”
Kojo hesitated.
Heinrich put his arm around Kojo. “When Maria said not to tell anyone, I am sure she meant strangers. You have known me since you came to this place. And I helped free you. It was I who unlocked your shackles on the slave ship.”
Those were the magic words; they unbound Kojo’s lips.
“She said . . . she said that it was near the dream-place Cottica, on the Marowijne. And she was right.”
“Dream-place, are you—oh.” Heinrich suddenly realized it was the best the Ashanti could do with the difficult concept of a town that would have come into existence in the up-timers’ old timeline, but didn’t exist now, and probably would never exist. The town was undoubtedly on the maps that were displayed in what passed in Gustavus for a city hall.
“Can you . . . can you show us what you found? And tell us where to find more?”
On the Marowijne, between modern Suriname and French Guiana
As the Ashanti ascended the Marowijne, they encountered several Indians, presumably Arawaks of some kind. The Indians were naturally alarmed to see such a large party, and black men were totally outside their experience. However, the Ashanti were able to trade for fresh food by dumb barter.
Perhaps ninety miles from where they had entered the Marowijne, the train of Ashanti canoes neared a place where two smaller streams came together to form the Marowijne they had been ascending. The right one was the Tapanahony, and the left, the Lawa.
Recalling Kojo’s instructions, Antoa gestured with his paddle toward the left branch. “That one.”
Just then, a pink-bellied river dolphin leaped into the air, crossing their path, and landing with a great splash.
All the canoes came to an abrupt halt so that the Ashanti could decide whether this was a good omen or a bad one. While dolphins could be seen off the Gold Coast, the Ashanti country began a good fifty miles inland, and their band knew no old tales about them.
After some minutes of fruitless discussion, they decided to make an offering to Tano, the God of Rivers, and keep going.
Soon thereafter, a small Ashanti hunting party came across a lone Indian. He proved brave enough, or foolhardy enough, to come close enough to talk. The Ashanti knew something of the language of the Arawak Indians who lived near the Suriname and Commewijne rivers, and that was good enough. The Indian confirmed that one could find what he called “tears of the Sun” in the creeks that fed into the Lawa, especially after a hard rain, and he agreed to guide them in return for a glass bauble that Antoa offered him.