The African capital for the Dutch East India Company was Elmina, located halfway down the African eastern coast. After more than ten days of fighting fitful headwinds, I discerned lively apprehension among the officers as we drew near. Of all the Dutch colonies, Elmina was the most formidable of all.
Mr. Hines’ discussions with himself became livelier at mess when the rumors of Elmina became certain knowledge.
“About Mr. Gabriel Hines, you ask?” said Hines to Hines. “Oh, indeed, he was run through by a Dutch sword at Elmina and died a hero. A gallant fellow, mourned by all.”
“What do you say, man?” demanded Stempel with great irritation. “We don’t want that talk here.”
“Gabriel Hines will say what he pleases,” replied Hines. “A man who would trust the Dutch would trust Lucifer himself.”
“You just be ready on the gun,” Mr. Stempel retorted. “And no further remarks from Gabriel Hines, or he’ll receive a knock on the head.”
“‘Mourned by all,’” repeated Hines, stubbornly.
The morning we arrived the sunrise was hidden behind a bank of grey clouds well off in the distance, obscuring the port itself with tawny shadows. Captain Hearne had given the order to extinguish all lamps and to reef the courses and royals. We approached on cat’s paws. The Captain paced the deck, watching and listening. I stood beside Grimmel at the rail.
First one or two ships, armed Dutch traders appeared, then several more, all anchored. As the light kindled we saw nigh a hundred of the ships at anchor in the harbor, all idle and peaceful.
Through their scopes Hearne and our officers scrutinized the decks of the ships for activity, but all the ghostly hulks seemed deep in slumber. We maneuvered closer, passing within yards of one then another.
“Some ‘ave long beards, Captain,” Grimmel quietly observed. “They ‘ave been at anchor for a time.”
“It is strange that so many traders collect and sit idle,” joined Mr. Whitehead.
“What do you make of it?” Hearnes inquired.
“I don’t know, sir,” said Whitehead. “It appears they are all waiting for Judgment Day.”
“Perhaps our pirate friend was right about the opium,” replied Captain Hearne. “We’ll set out a splendid meal and invite the governor-general aboard, gentlemen. Now is the time to test our new friendship.”
As we neared the capital the town’s fortresses came into view, a broad stone wall with forty cannon directed at the sea. Flags waved atop the battlements and soldiers could clearly be discerned.
Hearne dispatched Mr. Brooks and a crew of twelve to shore to convey our goodwill and arrange the purchase of supplies. He was also charged with extending to the company’s governor-general and his officials an invitation to dine aboard the Sovereign that evening.
When he returned to report, I was present, drafting the day’s reports. Captain Hearne eagerly awaited his observations.
“Well, man?”
“The Governor accepts your invitation—” began Mr. Brooks.
“I don’t care about that fool!” interrupted Hearne.
“I saw much activity around the warehouses, Captain,” said Mr. Brooks. “Wagons and men coming and going. I could not get close enough to inspect, sir.”
Hearne drifted into thought for some time and then his eyes finally lit on me.
“Do you know port, Mr. Wren?”
“Port?” I replied. “No, sir.”
“This evening I may have a small duty for you.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You will serve dinner, keep the port flowing,” said he, “and then you and some others will take a discreet visit to shore. Think of it as your first shore leave, Mr. Wren.”
“Sir, Mr. Wren was impressed. He’ll be inclined to escape,” protested Mr. Brooks.
“Oh, come now, Mr. Brooks, we should all come to trust one another,” replied the captain. Then to me: “You will return.”
“I will, sir, on my honor,” I replied.
“Good! This should be a lively evening,” declared Hearne, smacking his two hands together in delight.
Elmina’s governor-general was a man named Franz Snyder. The company’s board of directors had only recently assigned him to his new authority. He had arrived barely two months before.
A fog crept in that evening, rolling in on folds over the water like a flannel cape. Just after sunset, a waxing yellow ball from a lantern appeared through the fog, which could be seen through gallery windows, and came to rest on the larboard side of the Sovereign. Mr. Snyder and two other gentlemen were hoisted aboard and escorted through the salty vapors into the cheery brightness of the captain’s cabin.
I had expected a dry man of business, pale and waxy as are the Dutch race, but instead found a hard-faced, stout creature, hairless as a newborn mouse who spoke impeccable English. He bowed and doffed his cap to the captain, revealing a dirty bald head ringed with pimples and assorted scars. One ear was partly missing. He lifted a pair of lash-less, insipid gray eyes to the captain.
“Welcome to Elmina, Captain,” said he. “I am Franz Snyder.” He turned, indicating his two companions. “This is Mr. Ber and Mr. Rolf, both senior merchants with our company.”
“Jacob Hearne,” returned the captain with a bow, “Captain in His Majesty’s navy. Welcome aboard the Sovereign, sir.” Then gesturing to Mr. Brooks, Mr. Grimmel, Mr. Whitehead and Lieutenant Kettle. “These gentlemen are my officers.”
Each man in turn offered a brief, polite introduction, including Mr. Snyder’s two comrades, whose English was heavy with accent, while the porter and I poured wine all around and prepared the table. The door opened and Lord Greyson entered the cabin.
“May I present Lord Douglas Greyson,” said the captain.
The Dutchman’s eyes lit on Greyson and he extended his hand along with a bow.
“Lord Douglas’ reputation is known to all in Amsterdam,” announced Snyder with what appeared genuine admiration. “His business talents precede him. I am surprised to find you aboard, sir. I come expecting hard tack and find Christmas pudding.”
“Very kind of you, Governor,” answered Greyson.
“Your mission, Captain, must be of great trade importance, then?”
Hearne directed Snyder into a chair beside him.
“I am not a stockholder in that concern, Governor,” said Hearne. “I’m just an old ignorant seaman, sir, with no head for business.”
“You kindly overestimate my importance, Governor,” remarked Greyson.
“Don’t be modest, Lord Douglas,” pursued the governor. With a twinkle of humor he eyed Lord Douglas. “A hard-driving fellow under the escort of one of the Crown’s most infamous brawlers? What other surprises do you keep aboard, Captain?”
“We carry salt and brine, Governor.”
Snyder settled into his chair and looked about the room with interest.
“It may interest you to know, Captain, that I was aboard this ship once many years ago, before our wars. I was a young seaman then. And this old horse was a spring mare. One of the loveliest ships I had ever seen. Our Dutch ships are plain, as you know, but hardy, meant for stubborn trade. I can’t recall the name of the man who captained her…”
“Perhaps another spot of port will stir those memories,” said Hearne, gesturing to me to fill the governor’s glass. “And cheer one sailor to another.”
“Diplomacy is not among my accomplishments,” declared Snyder with a sly wink. “Too much grinning and talk. The one who succeeds often has the hardest arse and can sit the longest. I’m a man of plain fact and reaction. I believe you and I are the same in that, Lord Douglas?”
“I always consult the ledgers before I make a move, Governor,” replied Greyson.
“Exactly so!” said the governor, brandishing his glass.
As the men settled in, the conversation drifted easily to sundry topics—the strange customs and lore of the local natives, the remarkable plants and animals, and the remoteness of civil society. Th
e governor’s two companions were clearly on his leash, for they reflexively cast an obsequious glance at the man before responding to a remark or offering one. The governor listened to every comment with a cocked ear, as if sniffing out a truffle of truth about our affairs. It was only when one of the other two gentlemen ventured to recount a lively tale of a Dutch trader captain that Captain Hearne shifted the winds of the talk.
“I have observed many an idle ship in this harbor, Governor.”
Governor Snyder speared more pork from the platter before him and stuffed a morsel into his mouth before responding, as if feeding himself an answer.
“The trade has been poor of late,” said he. “Revolution in the East Indies has been fomenting from Calcutta to Bombay. Maratha rebels are at war with the emperor. Pirates abound. The Mughals seek to dictate the price of every scrap of cloth and pinch of spice they sell to us.” Here color came into his cheeks and he stabbed his knife toward Greyson for emphasis. “I tell you, Lord Douglas, if we are to contain the cost of goods we must act to control the political situation of those peoples.”
“Agreed, sir,” replied Lord Douglas.
“It would benefit the continent as a whole,” continued Snyder, “by stabilizing the marketplace. We then increase profits and deliver these miserable wretches from their heathen misery.”
“Will the Dutch company then seek to enter into a war with—”
The governor cut Hearne off with a crisp smack of his hand upon the table.
“Tell me, my Lord Douglas,” spoke the governor, turning to Greyson. “Rumors have it that the British East India Company plans to expand eastward.”
“I don’t know where you receive your intelligence, Governor,” replied Greyson coolly.
“Milord, an oar does not stir the water that the great Dutch navy does not hear it,” said he, adding icily, “That would bring us in conflict. Have not these wars been tiresome enough for you?”
“We desire no conflict,” replied Greyson. “Our two countries have had enough disputes. I’m told your company shares are now beneath 400 guilders, and rumor has it that your dividends are now greater than your profits, sir. That is a woeful return for war.”
“Our company army is large and formidable,” replied Snyder, flustered. “And our navy is equal to that of any nation. It is our profits that secure her.”
“So I have been told,” answered Greyson.
The governor let out a delighted laugh.
“What is your port of call?
“Amoy,” replied Hearne flatly.
The governor was taken by surprise. He looked to Greyson as if to confirm the captain’s response. Greyson’s face colored at the captain’s indiscretion.
“Amoy!” muttered the stout governor thoughtfully, advancing on his port again. “That is a wild and dangerous place, at war with the Emperor. To what advantage, I wonder?” He scrutinized the two men. “China?”
Hearne was about to answer, when Greyson sharply interjected.
“I think that’s enough said on this subject.”
At this moment, the captain gave me a slight nod, a signal for which I had been waiting. I made for the door.
On deck three men were waiting for me, Mr. Hines, Mr. Heath and Simon Wouk, the pirate. Wordlessly, we gathered at the starboard rail, then one by one rappelled down a rope and into a waiting boat. Mr. Hines and Mr. Heath took the front oars and Mr. Wouk and I took the rear. Behind us in a tidy line sat all of our boats at the ready, which had been surreptitiously lowered after our guests arrived.
Our boat pushed off toward shore, and we muffled the noise of our oars. Our tiny bark quickly disappeared into the fog. My comrades and I, with all stealth, meant to gain entrance into those warehouses and catalogue their contents. With us we carried but an iron bar and a shuttered lamp. Mr. Wouk had been selected to go on our mission because he spoke the Dutch language.
We approached shore and our bow scraped over the pebbled beach. We four clambered ashore. There were distinct sounds about us in every direction, reverberating through the mist, but none so near as to cause us alarm.
Hines addressed Mr. Wouk in a low whisper.
“We have our eye on you, Mr. Wouk,” said he.
“You’ll have no trouble from me, sir,” replied Wouk. “Though they be my own people, I have no love for them, nor they for me.”
The warehouses were set in a row some fifty yards from the water, adjoined by a receiving dock. Now the building appeared peaceful and quiet, without a trace of human interest.
“The meat, Mr. Wren,” whispered Mr. Hines.
From my belt under my coat I brought out a shank of pork, still warm from the meal. A guard dog was tethered to the moldy pile that led to the workhouses. We crept forward and the animal began to growl then bark ferociously at the sound of our footfalls. I sprang forward and pitched the shank toward him. In a moment the beast was quiet, gnawing on his prize.
We approached the first warehouse. Mr. Hines brandished his iron bar, Mr. Heath covered the object with his coat to muffle the sound, and with dispatch Mr. Hines broke the lock. We slipped inside and Mr. Heath opened the shutters of the lantern and held it aloft. Within the pale spill of light I beheld great walls of chests, so deep and tall that the rafters of the warehouse were obscured. Some of the stacks leaned precariously forward while others inclined listlessly to the sides. The chests were of every description and size. Some were made of oak, others mahogany and pine; some had plain faces while many bore the elaborate carvings of the ancient Orient. Flemish words were painted on every parcel.
“What do they read, Wouk?” asked Hines.
“Some spice, mostly tea,” declared Mr. Wouk, holding his lamp aloft. “That stack there are bolts of cloth and dyes.”
“Tea? Dyes?” said Mr. Hines curiously. “Let’s ‘ave a look, boys.”
Mr. Wouk and I slit the leather bindings of several of them as Mr. Hines lifted their lids, one after another, and inspected their contents.
“Opium! Every one,” he declared, astonished. “There must be above a thousand chests here.”
The second and third warehouses, though smaller, were equally crammed with the same dusty cargo.
“Ships idle,” remarked Mr. Heath, “and enough opium here to fill every apothecary in Europe. What say you, Mr. Hines?”
“I say they drive up the market price.”
As silently as church mice we scurried back along the dock, past the feasting cur, toward the boat. As we reached the boat, Hines lifted the shutters on our lamp and held it aloft in a signal to the waiting boats. Within minutes they appeared out of the fog and settled quietly along the shore. Lieutenant Brooks stepped out of one of the boats.
“Well?”
“You can begin loading, sir,” replied Mr. Heath.
Brooks signaled the others toward the warehouse, while my small crew withdrew to the ship.
Upon our return I entered the Captain’s cabin again with several fresh bottles of port in my hands to find the captain and his guests in a merry exchange. Pipes were blazing and the room was as thick as the fog in the harbor.
“You discovered the port, I see,” said the captain. “We were near run out.”
“Aye, sir, with Mr. Heath’s assistance,” I replied subtly. “We have a rich supply, sir.”
The captain took my meaning and smiled with every tooth shining, tipping his hand like a reckless schoolboy. This roused Lord Douglas from his torpor and he regarded the captain suspiciously.
“Then we should be generous and make a fine gift to our Dutch friends,” said Hearne. “But first we must drain away what we can.”
The banquet proceeded until the wee hours in games of whist. Two of our Dutch guests were growing blanched and laconic. One fellow’s head slid from his hand and like a cannon ball hit the table and rolled onto the forearm of his compatriot. This spurred riotous laughter and loud calls for port. I noted that, despite his devotion to his drink, the governor retained his good sense and liv
ely engagement, as did Jacob Hearne.
“Tell me, Captain,” asked the governor, “why don’t men like you and me have our own fleets? Why are we not scouring the world for profit? We should be monarchs in our own kingdoms, sir.”
“We are both captives of our honor, Governor,” replied Hearne, offering a lamenting sigh. “And that is a rich kingdom indeed.”
“And one that every pauper may enjoy,” countered the governor soberly.
“I would wager, Governor Snyder, a man such as yourself would not trade away one pebble of your integrity for ill-gotten gain. You are not that man, sir!”
“Nor you, Captain!” The governor paused here, midway into a salute. “But who has not thought of profit as one nears old age?”
“Some do, I suppose, in frail moments. Tell me what’s on your mind, Governor,” said Hearne, with a clever, baiting grin.
Governor Snyder reconnoitered his two companions cautiously.
“I am well compensated by the Company, sir,” said he. “I merely propose that you and I trade useful information that might further our interests.”
“And what useful information do you have to offer?” responded Captain Hearne, inclining his head discreetly.
“I have been informed that Raja Ram Singh will send a treasure ship on the first week of June. She will be traveling to Bombay by a French frigate ”
“And what of it?”
The governor shrugged, admired the rose reflection in his port then drained the glass. “You understand a Dutch hand cannot be detected. It would not do for the Company.”
“You propose I turn into a pirate?” Hearne replied, leaning back on the heels of his chair and taking the governor in with amused astonishment.
“Did I mistake you, sir, as a man of industry?” the governor snapped. “Pirate indeed! I extend the plum of opportunity, a simple bit of intelligence, and you misconstrue it as an assault on your fine character. I tell you, Captain Hearne, every sea robber in the East Indies would have hands on this. And I offer it to you.”
“And what share would you wish?”
“Well, in the event that all proved successful,” the governor drummed his fingers lightly on the table. “One-sixth I think would be a fair exchange.”
Mean Sun (The Diaries of Daniel Wren, Privateer Book 1) Page 6