“Go right ahead. Don’t gorge yourself too much while you’re helping,” Heinrich said knowing full well why Klaus wanted to go to the galley. Karl always whipped up some sort of tasty snack for the galley crew; especially when the cabin boys begged him long enough. The rest of the crew was not in a position for such special treatment.
“Vielen Dank, captain.”
Out of ear-shot, Heinrich said to Otto, “He must think we’re a bit daft.”
“Or he’s smart enough to take advantage of his relationship with us,” commented Otto.
Heinrich eyebrows rose and said, “Hmm, I believe you might be right. That young lad has some nerve.”
“He realizes he is privileged.”
“I’m going to have a talk with the boy about taking advantage of our relationship.
“He’s just mimicking his adopted older brother. I swear, Heinrich, sometimes you amaze me with your lack of observation.”
Heinrich ignored the barb and asked if Otto thought America would become the new capital for raw cotton.
“Oh, I have no doubt. Right now, in seventeen-ninety-eight, most cotton mills are using the latest machinery. Those that do not will either fail or they must find new methods. Until recently, the raw material suppliers were the ones delaying production. Now that the machines output a horrendous amount of product, the raw suppliers cannot keep up.”
“So, what is the solution?”
“Well, for some time now, the cotton farmers in America have been blessed with a harvesting machine; the cotton gin developed by an American, Eli Whitney, in 1793. By the way, many people think that Whitney invented the first cotton gin. Actually, the first roller system to remove cotton seeds was invented in India long before Whitney’s gin. It was called a Churka, and was imported to America, but was in limited use. It’s hard-wood rollers freed the seeds from the cotton by pressing the bolls through grooves cut into the rollers as it stretched the raw material. From what I’ve been told by merchants who had sailed to India and the New World, was that Whitney improved upon the Churka’s design for the short-staple cotton that they prefer to grow in America versus the long-staple preferred in India. The short-staple cotton has more tightly bound debris and seeds. The Churka’s design could not handle American cotton; hence manual labor was required to clean it, which we know is costly. Instead of rollers that squeezed the fibers pressing out the seeds, Whitney used course wire teeth that passed through a metal grating to separate the seed from the fiber. Two workers could produce the same amount of cotton fiber using Whitney’s system as one hundred workers using the traditional method.”
Heinrich had known Otto for eight years, and he found his best friend’s vast knowledge a remarkable gift. At times Heinrich was awe-struck by how much Otto knew – and the detail. Otto was always reading about current events and retained just about everything his brain took in. He was a human archive. Mostly, Heinrich enjoyed listening to Otto and respected his knowledge and consequently his opinion. Heinrich snacked on the bread and cheese while Otto talked on.
“Now the material suppliers can keep up with the demands of the factories as long as there are enough ships like ours that can deliver the raw material. Hey now, I think you’re taking advantage of me talking while you do the eating.”
Heinrich gave his friend a shrewd smile and continued his meal. Otto dug into his plate and stopped talking altogether. A few minutes passed, and then there was a sharp rap on the cabin’s doorframe. Conrad and Manfred stood at the open door waiting to be invited in. Heinrich gave them a nod and waved them inside. The two men in charge of the cannons drew up a couple of chairs beside the desk. They also looked extremely haggard from the long day they had spent scouring for weaponry in town.
“I’ll make this quick, Heinrich. Then we’re off to get something to eat also,” offered Conrad. Those sailors who had sailed with Drope for years addressed him on a first name basis. After all, they shared a close friendship. “We have been told in town that there are a few places in Charleston that offer the type of weapons we want. We’ve been told that there are many more weapon merchants in Savannah, so we hope that is indeed correct since that will likely be our last anchorage before departing for the Caribbean.”
Manfred added, “We purchased a mix of sabers and knives. Also, thirty pistols and twenty-five newly-crafted rifled long guns – the type that fire with much better accuracy and distance over the smooth-bores. These rifled guns are costly, but we think they will prove to be worth their weight in gold by hitting targets at the distances we will require at sea. We bought all they had because others would have taken them otherwise. A small amount of powder was to be had, and very little cannon shot was available. That leaves us short on everything. If we come up dry in Charleston and Savannah, it will make things extremely difficult. My opinion is that we go easy on cannon practice, just in case.”
“We’ve also been told that most of the ports in the Caribbean are heavily stocked in these armaments, but costs are sky high and the merchants can name their price,” stated Conrad. “Surprisingly, many of the pirate ships frequenting the islands get what they want because they can pay the high prices. I’m sure they have the means with the money gained by having pillaged from honest folks.”
“You’re telling us that pirate ships can dock at will even though the authorities are after them?” Otto asked incredulously.
“Nein Otto, most of the authorities, when not paid off to keep silent, are indeed on the lookout for these cutthroats. The pirates acquire what they need covertly; they send a few of their men well-dressed into port to make the deals, and then the supplies are delivered at a remote location outside of town where they collect them. That’s how it’s done normally. Very hush-hush,” Conrad explained.
“If that’s all, we’d like to get some food,” Manfred asked. We have not eaten since early this morning, and it’s been a very long day,”
“Jawohl. We know what that is like. Danke, Herren,” said Heinrich. “When will we have the weapons you bought today?”
“They are being unloaded as we speak, captain. “Tomorrow we will inspect every piece,” Conrad answered. There is no sense going back into town if no more is available.”
“Gute arbeit – Good work. I hope we can do better in Charleston and Savannah.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MORE RECRUITS
During the summer months, the sun hovered low in the sky even at this late hour of the evening, its pale rays filtered into Heinrich’s cabin from the open doorway. If the crew thought New York had been hot, Charleston was even more unbearable with higher humidity. The temperature hardly dropped at night during these summer months, which made sleeping very uncomfortable. The journey along the Atlantic seaboard here from New York was uneventful.
Both boatswains, Fritz Huber, and Ernst Mayer were at the captain’s cabin open door way and knocked on the frame.
“Aaah, good timing. Come in and tell me some good news …,” Heinrich beckoned.
“Captain, we brought with us twelve good candidates for crewmembers,” Fritz started in. “We spend the day talking to dozens of sailors, and these are the ones that passed our initial smell-check.”
“Let’s see what they smell like to me,” Otto said as he licked his stubby fingertips free of the bits of cheese he had devoured for supper.
The two men rose and went out, making their way along the starboard gangway where twelve men were standing.
Fritz did the introduction. “Men, this is Captain Drope and the ship’s first officer, Herr Kleist.” Then to Otto, “These sailors are ready for further questioning at your convenience.”
Nods and words of greeting were exchanged. Otto looked the men over trying to read their body language and facial expressions. In his occasional style depending on his mood, Otto paced in front of them with his hands clasped behind his back. As he walked, he slowly canted his head side-to-side with pursed lips as if he was inspecting a unit of naval cadets. Several of the sailors looked at each othe
r with quizzical expressions as Otto scrutinized them. Ernst saw Fritz, the master boatswain, shake his head and roll his eyes at Otto’s circus performance.
“They are all Germans with the exception of the one at the far end,” Ernst pointed out. “He is a Spaniard with extensive sailing and military experience. We thought his military experience might come in handy.”
“Sehr gut, Herren – very good, gentlemen. I will speak to each man individually.” Otto stated, and he started right in with the first one.
While the others quietly waited, the Spaniard glanced at Reiner nearby, who was wearing his complement of weaponry while directing his last training session of the day.
“Aaah, a Toledo espada.” A most remarkable piece of craftsmanship,” the Spaniard commented.
Reiner responded to the lithe Spaniard as he stepped closer to address him, “Si, tiene razón – Yes, you are right. How is it you are familiar with Toledo blades, señor?”
“Anyone that knows blades seriously can identify such a formidable weapon. The saber and dagger are of Toledo origin as well it looks to me from here,” he stated as a fact, not as a question.
Impressed, Reiner looked the man over. He had known men who tried to appear nondistinctive but they were far from it when called to action. He saw this Spaniard in the same light. He was of average height and weight. Although his physical appearance lacked distinction, Mannheim bet the man’s physical prowess was otherwise. He deemed this one should not be taken lightly.
He wore a colorful bandana around his head and a goldish neck chain. A non-descript sheathed dagger was stuck into his sash at waist level. It was not an impressive weapon, but Reiner determined it would be more than sufficient in the hands of a professional this man seemed to be. Reiner watched as the man’s dark eyes darted back and forth scrutinizing the schooner and crew. He stood in a composed manner, yet his bearing exuded confidence of one that had a keen knowledge of the world and its volatility and dealt with it with masterful resilience. Stepping up to the man, Reiner introduced himself, and the Spaniard reciprocated.
“Diego Cordoba, at your service, señor.”
“Actually, you will be in the captain’s service, Diego,” Reiner said motioning to Heinrich who was watching the exchange from nearby.
“Señor Cordoba, what ship were you on your last sailing?” Heinrich asked.
“The Scarlet Pike, capitán. She made her Atlantic transit approximately a month ago from Greece. She is an old ship, presently undergoing extensive repairs to her hull, the Spaniard answered in German.”
“Ich verstehe. Ihr Deutsch ist exzellent – I understand. Your German is excellent. Where have you picked it up?”
“I have sailed on ships from different countries, señor. I have sailed for many years with German and English crews and speak both languages.”
“Sehr interessant – very interesting. Have you been to the Caribbean?”
“Si, capitán. On many voyages.”
“And what is your opinion of the region?”
“It has a mystique about it, capitán, filled with natural beauty, abounding in delicious fruit, including the women of which I have tasted with exquisite delight,” he said with a sly grin. “It may be captivating, but it is also full of perilous surprises if one is not careful,” the dark tanned Spaniard further stated with a flair for the romantic.
“Perilous surprises in what sort of way? I hope you do not mean the women.” Heinrich responded in kind.
Diego smiled at the remark. “No, no, capitán, although the women can be charmingly captivating. What I mean is that the Caribbean is an untamed region. It is not at the civility European people are used to. It is a frontier filled with rough men who have no issue in taking for themselves what they can with force. Plundering runs rampant. A merchant ship such as yours is fresh for the taking, capitán. I do not mean any disrespect in saying that, but I must warn you.”
“None taken. I appreciate any information you can provide. What ship duty is your strong suit, Señor Cordoba?”
“I am but a modest able seaman, señor.” Then he motioned to the cannons and further stated, “But you will find me best suited around any weaponry.”
“How is your skill with the blade?” Heinrich prodded.
“If I may be so humble, señor, I am a long-time student of any blade you may provide me. My father was a capitán in the Walloon Guards in Spain’s military for many years. He is responsible for my knowledge and use of weapons. But due to political upheaval in my homeland and to escape my country’s turmoil – and I must candidly add some personal resentments – were the reasons I left for sea as a young man.”
Heinrich knew a tad about France and Austria’s part in subjugating the Spanish people. As for personal reason; many a man had gone to sea due to circumstances that mandated a speedy departure. Nevertheless, this one’s character stood out. He exuded confidence; he had strong mettle. He came across as a man used to danger and surviving calamity. Heinrich sensed the determination of this sailor, and he took an immediate liking to this Spaniard.
“We would like to find out how skilled you are, Cordoba. We have a need for talented fighting men to help thwart danger on our voyages.”
“When I heard what your destination was, I assumed you were looking for some who knew the Caribbean intimately and perhaps the need for men of the sword in lieu of that fact. That is why I am here, capitán. It is one of my skills besides being an experienced sailor, of course.”
“Of course, señor. I do not doubt that,” Heinrich stated. “Reiner Mannheim here is our combat master and will be coordinating the ship’s defenses.”
“Si, I knew right away that he was your man for that position. If I may, capitán?” I find that a visual demonstration does wonders to assert oneself. He pointed to the barrels stored in a far corner some twenty-five feet away.
Heinrich and Reiner momentarily were at a loss of what the Spaniard meant to assert. They didn’t have to wait long.
“See the center barrel with the dark knot at the very top?” the Spaniard said as he pointed.
Heinrich’s and Reiner’s eyes followed the man’s left hand, and in a flash, Cordoba’s right hand shot forth as he unleashed a thin and shiny object in the barrel’s direction. With a hollow thud, the dagger’s point struck inside the knot.
“That is just a small demonstration of my skills, gentlemen. I desire to be a part of your schooner crew. I assure you I can be of use to you.”
As Cordoba went to retrieve his dagger from the barrel, Heinrich and Reiner looked at each other in amazement and nodded with satisfaction.
“Señor Cordoba,” Heinrich said after the man returned. “Please allow Herr Mannheim to get you squared away on board. Reiner, see to it that Otto is clued in about Diego Cordoba’s employment.”
“I can hear you quite well,” Otto remarked. He was facing the three men and had witnessed the dagger throw as had the other recruits, who were now looking at Cordoba with new interest.
“You are now officially a crewmember, Señor Cordoba. Reiner will see you to your quarters,” Otto said.
“Gracias, Señor Kleist.”
“Capitán,” Cordoba said as he slightly bowed his head. “I am most grateful for taking me on.”
Otto then turned back to the others as Heinrich stepped up to see how things were going. He caught Otto in the middle of his questioning and listened for a few moments.
“You say you two were both Hessian soldaten - soldiers?” Otto asked a pair of Germans.
“Jawohl, Herr Kleist. Arnold and I are first cousins. We’ve been together since we were young lads and joined the Hessian troops as chasseurs and served for six years before we left to go to sea. Soldiering has been our only profession besides able seamen.
“You say you were sharpshooters in the infantry. That was many years ago. Have you used a musket since then?”
“Ja, first officer,” answered Bruno. “In fact, we own our rifles. We keep them with us wherever we
go.”
“Your previous captains allowed you to have your own weapons on board ship?” Otto asked in amazement.
“That is true. Every ship we have sailed has utilized our expertise as riflemen for onboard security, and thus they have allowed us to keep our own rifles at the ready,” stated Arnold emphatically.
Otto looked at Fritz with intrigue as the boatswain grinned. Both spotted Heinrich off to Fritz’s side listening intently with interest.
“The last captain we sailed for is still in port, and he can tell you. We are more than happy to prove our worth as riflemen,” Bruno stated.
“You keep saying rifle; I’m more familiar with muskets. Is there a difference?”
“Ja there is, mein Herr,” stated Bruno. “The weapons Arnold and I most prefer to use are rifled barreled air guns. They are of a different design than the black powder weapon and they -”
“Wait just a moment,” Otto cut Bruno off completely bewildered. “You are telling me that your mus … rifles rather, are fired without powder? What sort of magical weapon is this?”
“Allow me to explain.”
“You two best not be pulling my leg. I am not a firearms expert, but I am certainly not a fool either. I have never heard of such a weapon,” Otto stated harshly as he gazed at Heinrich and Fritz, who both expressed quizzical looks. “Well go on then. Explain these contraptions to us.”
Bruno said confidently. “Allow us to demonstrate the rifle for you.”
Otto said impatiently, “That would be most enlightening. Please do.”
“Right away, mein Herr. You will have no doubt of their potency, I assure you. They are in our packs on the dock.”
Otto gave him a cool nod. “Go fetch one of these rifles. We will wait here.”
The former Hessians returned with an elongated leather case. Arnold laid the case in front of Otto, opened it and took the weapon out; a gun, yet different than any Otto had ever seen. Both Heinrich and Fritz stepped closer also quite curious about the weapon. All three men had expressions of bewilderment as they looked at the strange gun. But rather than state their obvious opinions too soon, they said nothing and allowed the two cousins to continue.
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