by Eric Flint
The hubbub down on the streets had increased. “Now what are they doing down there?” asked Diogo. “It’s hard to see.” That wasn’t surprising; with the moon fully eclipsed, it was no brighter than if it were the time of New Moon. “I think I hear banging sounds.”
“Yes, they are banging on mirrors,” said Longobardo. “Which, here in China, are made of bronze. The mirror symbolizes the Moon; they are trying to get the dragon to cough back up the Moon it swallowed.”
“The world’s largest hairball,” said Schall.
When the shadow began to withdraw from the lunar disk, there was cheering from the street below, but not on the observatory rooftop; the discrepancy for the end of totality was thirty-eight minutes.
Nor was the Jesuits’ mood improved by their timing of the end of the eclipse; that was also thirty-eight minutes off. At that point, the Moon had nearly set. They watched it sink below the horizon, and then headed down the stairs and back to their residence.
Chapter 17
March 1635
Batavia (modern Jakarta, Island of Java, Indonesia)
The Rode Draak and the Groen Feniks entered the Sunda Strait, between Sumatra and Java, which was one of the main connections between the Indian Ocean and the Pacific. They passed a few miles to the east of Krakatau. The island was covered with trees, and there was not even a hint of steam emerging from the caldera. Jim Saluzzo openly marveled over how peaceful and idyllic it seemed, giving no hint that it would erupt cataclysmically in 1883, launching tsunamis killing tens of thousands of people, and influencing weather across the world for several years to come.
Several days later, they rounded Bantam Point, entering the Java Sea. The town of Bantam, on Bantam Bay, was ruled by a sultan, but there were English and Dutch trading houses there. The USE ships stopped in Bantam Bay to take on water, not at the city proper but from one of the nearby mountain streams that came down to meet the sea. A small group of natives from a nearby village came by to offer coconuts, fruit, chickens and other goods for sale or barter.
Having completed this resupply, the Rode Draak and the Groen Feniks set course for Batavia Roads. They worked their way through the archipelago that the Dutch called “the Thousand Islands,” with a cutter leading the way for the Groen Feniks, and that ship for the deeper-drafted Rode Draak. To the south, beyond the glittering sea, lay the coast of northern Java.
Eventually they cleared the Thousand Islands, and, flags flying, eased their way into the bay of Batavia. They exchanged salutes with an outlying fort, and then entered the harbor proper.
That harbor was filled with a forest of masts. Batavia was the nerve center of the Dutch East India Company, and the harbor was so well sheltered by islands that no Dutch ship had ever been lost to storm there. On one of those islands, Onrust, stood the naval arsenal and the dockyard. Had the Rode Draak or the Groen Feniks been sufficiently battered by storms on the passage from Europe, the dockyard would have been the first stop.
The ships in the harbor were not all Dutch, of course. The Malay, the Chinese, the Vietnamese, and even the Indians and Japanese came here to trade.
The city of Batavia rose from the marshy shores of the bay. Behind the city were undulating green hills, with groves of coconut and banana trees at their feet, and fields of rice climbing the sides. The Jacatra River, after descending from the Blue Mountains further south, threaded its way between those hills, emptying into the bay.
Captain Lyell was on the quarterdeck of the Rode Draak, giving orders—and conscious of how many eyes were watching his ship. Maarten Gerritszoon Vries stood beside Eric Garlow, giving him a running commentary.
“We call Batavia the ‘Queen of the East.’ See the river?” Eric nodded. “The colonists divided it into two branches, which form an artificial moat for the city. They unite below it. Just inside the moat is the city wall, twenty feet high.”
“What’s it made out of?” asked Eric.
“Mostly coral, from the islands,” Maarten replied. “There’s no quarriable stone for many miles. Well, except for lava from the mountains.”
Eric studied the city through a spyglass. It was a simple telescope of up-time manufacture, a child’s toy by twentieth-century standards, but its lenses were superior in clarity and form to those ground before the Ring of Fire. The telescope, after all, had only been invented a few decades earlier.
“The houses inside the city seem to be Dutch in style…” he murmured.
“Yes, and if they weren’t enough to make you think of Amsterdam, the streets are laid out in a grid, and each major street has a tree-lined canal running down the center.”
Eric was still studying the prospect. “Is that a Chinese temple I see?”
“Yes,” said Maarten, “and there are several mosques too, this part of Java being Mohammedan. Now, in front of the city proper, and outside the city walls, you can see the citadel. It is quadrangular, with walls thirty feet high, and four bastions—Diamond, Pearl, Sapphire and Ruby.”
Eric made a face. “Considering the history of the city, it would have been apter to call them Nutmeg, Mace, Cloves, and Pepper.”
“Hah. You’ll find the residence of the governor-general inside the citadel, of course.”
“What’s he like?”
“Hendrik Brouwer? I know him only by reputation. He is supposed to be a formidable individual.”
* * *
Governor-General Hendrik Brouwer was a man in late middle age, somewhere around fifty-five years old. Since he was sitting behind a desk, Eric couldn’t accurately gauge his height, but he suspected he was fairly tall for a down-timer. Brouwer had a long face with a big nose. His hair was a rather striking snow-white color, both on his scalp and beard.
“Well, you certainly are a young man with connections,” the governor-general commented, after he finished reading the letters that Eric Garlow had handed to him. “Letters from the Prince of Orange and from the board of directors of the VOC, both advising us that the United States of Europe is a Dutch ally and forced the Spanish under Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand to agree to a cease-fire, thus relieving the pressure on Amsterdam.”
“I am directed to provide you with any necessary provisions and repairs, and permit you to buy trade goods marketable in China…all at a reasonable price, of course. And to give you adequate directions to the coast of China, and to permit you to trade at our colony on the island of Taiwan should you so desire. Again, within reason.”
Brouwer raised his eyebrows. “You understand that I cannot permit you to engross the Chinese trade and thereby deprive us of our rightful profits.”
Eric smiled. “There’s plenty of silk and porcelain in China. It would take a hundred ships, not our two, to have a serious impact on the market. Besides, it would be to your advantage if the Portuguese monopoly on direct official trade were broken by a Dutch ally, and we are guardedly hopeful that the opportunity to meet people from the future will give us an early entree to the imperial court.”
Brouwer stroked his chin. “Yes, I was fairly sure you were a man from Grantville. Your teeth, your complexion, your height, and of course your horrible Latin. ‘Up-timer,’ is that the term? You are the first such to come to this part of the world, at least openly. I first heard rumors of Grantville when I went to London as part of a trade delegation, in 1632, but I was appointed governor-general in April of that year and therefore never had the opportunity to visit Grantville. One day, perhaps.”
“We sent our own delegation to London in 1633. King Charles imprisoned them in the tower.”
“How unfortunate.”
“More for King Charles than for them. We sent a timberclad paddle wheeler up the Thames in May 1634, and blew up the damned tower.” Eric was aware that it was actually Harry Lefferts’ crew that did all the bang-making, but felt it better to impress Brouwer with the might of the USE Navy.
“How droll, then.”
“That was, of course, after our ironclads compelled the surrender of Copenhagen, an
d immediately before the same timberclad forced the Spanish to stop shooting at Amsterdam.”
“Thank you for that. By the way, I couldn’t help but notice that the credentials you provided named Johann Adler Salvius as the ambassador, and you merely as his successor. Was there a change of plans?”
“Not of plans, merely of circumstance. Salvius died at sea.”
“May God rest his soul then,” declared Brouwer piously. “I hope his death was not a painful or lingering one.”
“He fell overboard.”
“Ah. With age comes wisdom, but not surefootedness.”
Eric nodded, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.
“Well, I wish to invite you, your fellow up-timers, the captains of your two ships, and those of your staff who are not mere servants, to dine with me tonight.”
* * *
The official Dutch reception for the USE mission and the ships’ officers had been going on for several hours. Food and drink had been served; in the center of the hall, some of the Dutch were singing a drinking song. The quieter souls, including Judith Leyster, had migrated to the corners. However, there were relatively few European women in Batavia and she did not go unnoticed.
“I am so pleased to find a countrywoman among the members of the USE mission,” Brouwer remarked. “It is truly an honor to meet a master painter.” He bowed.
Judith Leyster curtseyed in return. “Well, formally that’s true; I was admitted to the Guild of Saint Luke’s in Haarlem. But I still have a lot to learn, I know.”
“Would that some of my master merchants shared your attitude. Was your masterwork of a nautical nature?”
Judith laughed. “Oh no, it was a self-portrait. Indeed, I wore for it the very attire I am wearing now.” At that moment, Judith was sporting a white head scarf, a sober gown with a black bodice, long purple silk sleeves and skirt, and a wide, well-starched white lace ruff.
“We have little art here in Batavia. Perhaps I can interest you in undertaking a commission?”
“I would love to, if it is of a nature that I could complete it before the Rode Draak leaves for China.”
“Are you not worried about how the Chinese will treat you? I have heard that the Chinese bind the feet of their women, so they can barely walk, and confine them in seraglios, like the Mohammedans. I cannot help but fear for the safety of a good Christian woman in such a benighted land.”
“I thank you for your concern, but of course I will be with the mission, and under its protection.”
“Yes, of course,” said Brouwer. “The Rode Draak appears to be a stout ship, and I am sure you will be safe on board. But do think about that commission I mentioned, and the advantages of living among Dutchmen. There are even some respectable women here…and more than three at that.… But please excuse me.…”
* * *
After he left and she was sure he was out of sight, Judith made a face and shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do was part company with the USE mission. She had come to trust the up-timers, and had her own recent experience with just how badly even a prominent man could behave. If she left the mission, she would be on her own, without people she already knew, and it was unclear how far Brouwer’s patronage would run. She would also lose the opportunity for profit by private trading in China.
* * *
The next day, Eric Garlow questioned the rest of the USE mission as to what they learned from their conversations with the Dutch, and discovered that not only Judith Leyster, but also Peter Minuit, Maarten Gerritszoon Vries, Zacharias Wagenaer, Colonel von Siegroth, and Aratun the Armenian had received offers of employment, or at least hints that such might be available, from Brouwer.
“It appears that our good friend the governor-general has attempted to instigate a brain drain,” he told the other up-timers. “At least of the down-timers associated with the mission or the trading company.”
“So much for the sincerity of his promise to honor the instructions from the Prince of Orange and the directors of his own company,” Jim grumbled. “What about the ship’s officers and crew?”
“Well, save for the captain, they weren’t at the reception. But I imagine that they will be approached by Brouwer’s underlings.”
“What do we do?” asked Mike Song.
“Peter Minuit suggested that we start approaching Brouwer’s people about joining us.”
Jim laughed. “Oh, I like that. Turnabout is fair play.”
“What if Brouwer takes advantage of it, uses it to place a spy or even a saboteur into our midst?” asked Mike.
“Minuit mentioned that possibility, too. He said that we don’t have to actually take Brouwer’s people, that it’s just a shot across the bow.”
* * *
Eric Garlow pushed back his chair slightly. “So, Maarten, please repeat for my colleagues what you have learned about current events.”
Maarten Gerritszoon Vries, Peter Minuit, Captain Lyell and the four up-timers were gathered around the conference table in the Great Cabin of the Rode Draak. The ship was docked, and so, while it still bobbed with the water, the movement was barely perceptible.
“First, we have heard that the Portuguese Japan Fleet of 1633 to ’34 was seized in Nagasaki Harbor,” said Maarten. “Second, the Dutch and Japanese launched a joint surprise assault on Manila, and captured the city, as well as the shipyard at Cavite. Cebu is still in Spanish hands, however. Third, the Japanese offered their Christians a choice: abjure Christianity, go into exile, or die.”
“Exile, where?” asked Jim. “The Philippines?”
“Across the Pacific. America.”
“What the hell!” said Jim. “Where in America? How did they get there? Do the Japanese have a large navy and merchant marine?”
“They don’t,” said Maarten. “Nor do they have much experience in colonization. However, they received much assistance from the Dutch in Nagasaki, in Taiwan, and here in Batavia. And I understand that the Chinese in those places also supplied ships and crews.”
“Grantville is going to want to know more about this,” said Eric. “I guess we’ll have to send some kind of mini-mission to Japan at some point.”
“I could lead such a mission,” Peter Minuit volunteered.
Eric studied Minuit. “I don’t doubt you could. But who would then run the trading venture?”
“Maarten here, with the aid of Aratun the Armenian, can handle the sale of silver for silk and other traditional products. Colonel von Siegroth was to interest the Chinese in our armaments. And your fellow up-timers were to draw attention to our more exotic wares.”
“And you are comfortable that you can represent USE interests in Japan, despite the preexisting Dutch interests there?”
Minuit’s lips thinned. “I am not Dutch. I am a Walloon born in Wesel, Germany. As Maarten or Judith can tell you, I speak Dutch with a German accent.”
“But you were an important official in the Dutch West India Company, the director of the New Netherlands colony. And you are married to a Dutch woman.”
“True enough. But the WIC treated me most unfairly. Do not your Grantville histories report that in consequence, I entered Swedish service and founded the colony of New Sweden on the Delaware River? Thus greatly affronting the Dutch in New Netherlands?”
Eric looked at his fellow up-timers. They all either nodded or shrugged. Eric looked back at Minuit.
“Okay. I’ll send a coded message to Grantville and Magdeburg with the intelligence that Maarten has provided, and the recommendation that you be given credentials as an envoy to the shogun. Hopefully, the Dutch will send it back with the next homebound convoy.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” said Martina.
“I’ll tell the governor-general that it’s my report on Salvius’ death. Which will be true, in part. And he wouldn’t be surprised that such a report is long, and in code, either. He may send it on quickly in the hope that Gustav Adolf’s response is to recall us.”
“Even i
f he does, it could take a couple of years to get a reply,” Minuit complained.
“That’s true. But for the moment, I need your help. If we aren’t permitted entry at Guangzhou, we’ll be sailing for the Pescadores and Taiwan. And since there’s a Dutch colony on Taiwan that trades with the Chinese, having a Dutchman of stature on board could come in handy.
“However, if and when we get entry to a mainland Chinese port, whether that be Guangzhou or someplace further north, I can spare you. I might be able to let you go to Japan on the Groen Feniks, and if that’s not possible, you can take a Chinese or Dutch ship there.
“But if we haven’t heard from the emperor by then, yours would have to be a pure fact-finding mission.
“Thank you, Ambassador Garlow,” said Peter Minuit. He offered his hand.
Eric took it.
* * *
When the meeting came to an end, Eric asked Mike, Jim and Martina to remain behind. After the down-timers had left, Eric told them, “Brouwer’s people have also been asking the crew questions about the death of Ambassador Salvius. What do you think we should do?”
“The only sailors who know anything firsthand are officers,” said Jim. “The captain and the steersman. I don’t think we need to worry about them. There may be rumors among the crew, but instructing them not to talk is probably an exercise of futility.”
“And that cure would probably be worse than the disease,” Eric admitted. “I am actually worried more about Anders Hansson, since he was Salvius’ man.”
“Could you confine him to the ship? As Salvius’ servant, he is part of the mission staff, and under your jurisdiction.”
“I am tempted,” said Eric, “but we could be here for weeks, and he has not committed any crime.”
“What profit is there for Brouwer in inquiring into the incident? Finding an excuse to hold Judith Leyster here, and thus depriving us of her services?”
Eric leaned back in his chair and pondered this. “I don’t think so. He isn’t likely to put much weight on whether a diplomatic mission includes an artist. Perhaps if he could argue that there was foul play involved, he could use it as an excuse to refuse our credentials, and deny us the aid he was instructed to provide.”
