1633

by Eric Flint

  Heinrich laughed, "Those are further north! But there are other dangers that are just as likely here. I wouldn't want to face him if I lose anyone, especially you." The group piled into the two boats and headed for shore.

  The landing was uneventful. The beach was level and the boats were pulled up above the tide line. Heinrich told the two sailors with the group, "Stay with the boats, but stay alert. We may need to push off with little warning. If you spot any natives, push off out of range of their weapons but stay near. We may have to abandon our gear and swim for it if troubles develop." The two men nodded energetically. Heinrich turned to Svend, "Which direction does the Captain’s map say from here?"

  Svend pointed toward a hill just inland, to the south.

  Heinrich had a private conversation with Joseph, who then headed off in the direction Svend had indicated. Heinrich turned back to the prospectors, "We'll follow along in a few minutes. Get your gear and be ready. Joseph will scout ahead and blaze the trail. Watch for two axe notches on the trees, about shoulder height." Svend carefully folded the map and returned it to his pack. After shouldering the light pack, he opened his drawing pad and started to sketch the forest opening Joseph had disappeared through. Before he had even finished roughing in the scene, Heinrich passed the word quietly to start out. Svend closed the pad and joined Heinrich at the head of the small party.

  An hour later Svend was beginning to have second thoughts about exploring. The short stop at Christianburg had not toughened his legs from the long sea voyage and his shins were sore. As if reading his thoughts, Heinrich called a rest halt. Svend gratefully sat down on a nearby, fallen log. Before he could stretch out, Heinrich came over and asked, "How far does the map say to the site?" Svend opened the pack and pulled out the map. After studying it and checking for landmarks, it appeared that the stream should be just over the next ridge. Before he could answer, there was a rustling from the undergrowth ahead. Heinrich started to raise his musket, but a quiet hail revealed it was only Joseph returning.

  As he stepped into view, he pointed back over his shoulder. "I think I've found the site. It's just up ahead." Heinrich looked to Svend, who nodded agreement.

  "Very well. Let's get there and we can take a longer rest." Shouldering their tools and weapons with groans for their aching legs, the group set off. Fifteen minutes later, they broke through a patch of brambles and found the stream. Heinrich called a halt and started directing the setup of a temporary camp. Svend stood to the side and watched as Heinrich started a fire for cooking a noon meal so that no smoke showed. The three miners chose their spots to excavate and then guards were set out to give warning of any intruders. Everything was done quietly and with a minimum of fuss. Hopefully, he could do as well if he was called upon to do this in the future.

  After a warm meal of boiled salted beef and cabbage, work started on the excavation. Svend stood by and sketched the three men as they worked their locations. Gunther was working the rocky hillside, trying to determine what was in a very small vein in the rock formation. He was the only one of the three with any schooling on mining and minerals. Luke had told Svend to stay close to him and learn what he could. The other two, Karl and Franz, were alternately panning along the stream and digging and sluicing their spoil to see what was near the surface. After about an hour, Gunther had gathered a large enough sample to take back to the ship for testing. Karl and Franz packed up their gear. Franz showed Svend a miniscule speck of yellow. "Your map was right. There is gold here. If I worked for a month, I might find enough to pay for one good meal at the Schwein und Stein back home." He spit on the ground in disgust. "I thought we would find gold by the bucketfuls. That's why I came." Karl nodded in agreement.

  Svend vigorously defended the map. "I'd think you would be happy. The map said there was gold here and there was. It didn't say how much, but maybe the next stop it will be plentiful. That's why we have to search."

  Karl chimed in, "This seam looks to be just the end of an outcropping. He's right. We may have better luck if we can locate a main seam. I've worked twenty years hunting for metals and this is the first time I've at least had a lead on where to look." He seemed satisfied with his day's effort.

  Heinrich had Joseph recall the guards and they all headed back to the boat. During the whole time, not one alarm had been raised. By the time they reached the Köbenhavn, the sun was just touching the top of the hill. Gunther reported to the captain on what was found and Luke then gave orders to set sail for the next site.

  Chapter 19

  Copenhagen, May 1634

  Bundgaard stood by his cell door, listening to the cannon fire. Ever since he had been thrown into prison for dealing with the French, he had been trying to escape. Hopefully, his cousin was working on getting him out. Without his signature, none of his funds could be claimed by anyone else. Once he got out, there was one expense he would definitely pay. His old acquaintance, Oskar the Silent, would be given a job. If it was the last thing he ever did, that bitch at the inn, who had turned him in to the Swedes, would die. Then her brats could starve on the streets.

  It sounded outside like the American wonder ships had finally arrived and were shelling the palace. Bundgaard smirked, “I hope they drop a round right on Christian.” The next broadside sounded, then everything went black. Sometime later, he woke to see daylight streaming in around a huge pile of rubble. Pushing aside the timber that had knocked him out, he said, “Well, it looks like the King will have to forego the pleasure of hanging me for awhile.” Crawling through the opening, he saw the way out was clear. Still hobbling from a twisted knee, Bundgaard hurried as quickly as he could to freedom.

  Mette Foxe watched the evening crowd as they arrived for dinner. Two ships had arrived that afternoon and both captains had chosen to dine at her inn. They were in deep discussions with an American that she knew worked for Francisco Nasi. Since she had helped Nasi identify a French spy ring in the harbor area, the inn had seen a rise in foreign visitors. Francisco had even hinted once or twice that he might be interested in the inn as a cover for his work. When the time came to join Luke she would have to see if he was still interested.

  A commotion at the door caught her attention. A disreputable looking vagrant had pushed past a departing patron, knocking him into the doorframe. As the intruder swept aside his cloak and reached for something, the American kicked back from the table and drew a gun. As the thug reached back to throw the knife he'd had concealed in his belt, the American fired. Mette heard a thud and turned to her left. The knife was buried in the post next to her. She turned back in time to see the assailant sink to his knees and then fall on his face.

  The American turned to face her. "Sorry about that, ma'am. Mr. Nasi has had a number of us watching over you. Gammel Bundgaard managed to escape last month and we had heard he might try something." He nudged the corpse with his foot. "Looks like he tried, but was too much of a coward to do it himself. The town guard has been looking for Oskar here for some time on another matter. When I recognized him, I didn't have time to warn you. We thought all Bundgaard would try was some intimidation. That was his modus operandi in the past. It looks like he really doesn't like you."

  Mette didn't know exactly what modus operandi meant, but the context was clear. She was in trouble. Maybe it was time to talk to Mr. Nasi further about selling her inn and joining Luke in the New World earlier than planned.

  Chapter 20

  Off Bois Island, Newfoundland, May, 1634

  Captain Foxe sat in his cabin in a funk, staring at the mineral map of Newfoundland without seeing it. His thoughts were far away, wondering how Mette was doing. This was pleasant, but not solving the problem! He really needed to concentrate on what his next move should be. Five sites had already been explored and so far, no rare metals had been found that were worth mining.

  Gunther was ecstatic about some unusual metals that had shown up in the samples, but as far as Luke could tell, they were of little commercial value. So far, all that the v
aluable information he’d found in Grantville had done was cost him time. If it weren't for the iron deposits at Christianburg, the expedition would have little to show for itself at this point. He stared at the map. It showed coal deposits on the west side of the island, but they were some distance inland. The iron deposits would be much more valuable if they could locate a ready source of coal to smelt the ore into finished ingots. His eyes wandered across the map. Too bad he couldn't get to Cape Breton. The coal deposits there were substantial and closer to the coast for hauling. But without a contact, the possible trouble with French officials was more than he cared to risk.

  Their next stop in the morning would be the English settlement, Ferryland, on the east coast of the island. Rumor had it that the Lord Baltimore had abandoned the settlers after building a good port and defenses. Maybe they might have some knowledge of the interior of the island and the Boethuck natives that no one had seen yet. Or maybe they had news on the Dutch ship that was raiding in the area. In either case, worrying about "maybes" wasn't going to make tomorrow come any faster. It was getting late. He reached up, extinguished the flame of the lantern, and headed for his cot. His dreams that night weren't of coal.

  Ferryland, Harbor, Newfoundland, May, 1634

  A fog had risen during the night, but the morning sun was rapidly burning it off. Captain Foxe waited by the wheel, trying to sight the settlement he knew lay just to the west. The long boat was already swung out to send a party ashore. He handed his telescope to Svend and motioned aloft. "Go see if the shore is visible. I think we may just be in an isolated fogbank."

  Svend hurried aloft. As he faded from sight in the fog, he paused and called down. "You were right, Captain; the fogbank ends less than a cable west of us. It's clear from there to the shore. We're about two miles from the dock."

  Luke passed the order to the first mate, "Take her in Mr. Barrow, just like we discussed. We'll anchor offshore and send the boat in. Oh, and have a signal gun ready. The map I have shows they're spread out a bit and may not have a watch set."

  "Aye, aye sir!"

  The sun and the westerly heading soon had the Köbenhavn clear of the fog. Svend kept the deck posted from aloft on the situation ashore. "The dock seems to be intact, but two boats pulled up on the beach appeared to have burned. It looks like someone has tried to start repairing the least damaged of the pair. I can't make out any activity in the few houses in view." The Köbenhavn continued to sail toward the dock. It was barely making way. The cutwater off the bow was not much more than a child would raise in a puddle after a rainstorm. "Still nothing moving."

  "Fire the signal gun, Mr. Barrow. Maybe these farmers are still asleep!" Luke's expression suddenly changed, "Or maybe something has happened."

  The discharge of the gun on the forecastle banged out and then reechoed from the nearest hillside. "Do you see anything yet, Svend?"

  "There's some movement behind the wall back from the beach. I'm not sure . . . "

  The rest of Svend's answer was drowned out in an answering blast from behind the wall. Two clouds of smoke rose from the concealed cannons there. Seconds later, there was the sound of ripping linen and two holes appeared in the mainsail.

  "Come about, Mr. Barrow, and get us out of range. These folks don't seem to want visitors." As the ship came about, it seemed to slow down and then stayed heeled over a degree or two. The tide was at ebb and the Köbenhavn had slid up on a small sand bar. As the crew tried to sort out what had happened, another volley sounded from shore. This time, one ball hit the foretop yard and it split in two. The pieces flopped but their supporting chains held them aloft.

  Luke gave a quick glance to where the guns were hidden. His cannon could not bear on the battery. "Mr. Barrow, get two more boats lowered. We'll shift the forecastle guns back and try to tow her off." As the crews lowered the boats, another volley slammed home. Both shots hit the hull but bounced.

  "They're only using a pair of four pounders Captain." The bosun who had called out had served in the Danish navy before joining the Köbenhavn.

  Luke snapped, "I don't care what they're using. If we stay here much longer, even a rat could nibble us down." He turned to Svend, who had nearly run down the ratlines when the first shots had been fired. "Raise a white flag. Maybe we can parley and find out why they're so belligerent."

  Svend raced below and returned with a bed sheet from his cot. Another two shots rang out, but this time they were clean misses. The sheet was tied on to a line and quickly raised. After ten minutes without another volley, Luke relaxed a little.

  "John, you're in charge. I'm going ashore to find out what this is all about. Keep trying to get us free from the bar. And keep sounding the well, in case we sprung something. Svend, grab your notebook. I want you along as my aide." Luke stepped to the ladder and headed down to the main deck and the entry port. Svend ran back to his cabin and packed the paper, ink, and quill into a pack. He reached the boat just as a seaman passed a small white flag to one of the rowers. Svend took it after he settled in. Hopefully the people on shore would honor the flag.

  As the boat approached the dock, an armed party of about fifteen men came out to meet them. Even at a distance, angry shouts in English and French could be heard. The seaman in the front of the longboat tied the line to a piling and Luke stepped up to the dock. He was met by an old, weathered man, who probably had been the captain of one of the burned boats. "Who are you and where are you from?" he demanded before Luke could say a word. The question had been accentuated with a wheelock pistol in his hand.

  "I'm Captain Luke Foxe, of the Danish ship Köbenhavn. We're here on an exploring mission." Any comments on settlements and other ships could wait until the situation was less tense.

  "Then why did you shoot at us? Are you in league with that damned Dutchman?" All the guns were pointed at Luke and his sailors. The rage was evident on all the faces in the crowd. Unless something was done quickly to defuse the situation, a single tense finger on a trigger could cause a massacre.

  Luke laughed. "That was our signal gun! From the water, it was evident something had happened here. Since no one showed themselves, we fired to attract your attention. We heard from a passing ship that a Dutchman was raiding these waters. If there were desperate survivors, we wanted to let them know succor was at hand. Now put down that pistol before you shoot a fellow Englishman."

  "But I thought you said you were Danish?" Uncertainty was starting to replace the rage.

  "We're chartered to a Danish company that's partly owned by Sir Thomas Roe." Luke noticed that everyone in the crowd looked gaunt, so he added, "We're provisioned for a two year voyage. If you need supplies we'd be glad to share. How many are you?" The instant smiles told Luke he had hit the right note.

  "We've forty-three English settlers and twelve French sailors that were marooned here by the Dutchman, with no supplies. We tried to rebuild one of the boats they burned but we didn't have anything for cordage or sails. It's been over a year since our last supply ship arrived from England. Our food is almost gone."

  Luke called to Svend, "Return to the ship and ask Mr. Barrow to hoist out a barrel of flour and some cabbages as soon as he has the ship off the bar." Even as he said it, he heard a cheer from the ship and could see that the Köbenhavn had refloated with the returning tide. "Come back to me as soon as you've delivered the message." Luke was now surrounded by well wishers pounding him on the back, grateful that the specter of starvation had been lifted.

  Later that evening at a modest feast laid out in celebration of their rescue, Luke sat down with Captain Willem Holmes, the leader of the group in the morning and Captain Rene Chaumont, the leader of the French sailors. As Luke poured them all mugs of wine he asked, "So, what's the story on this Dutchman? All we heard was from a passing ship that a Dutch ship was raiding off the Banks."

  Rene raised his mug and pointed at the crews in the room, "We were all fishing off the Banks, minding our own business. Next thing we know the Dutch comes sailing
into view and fires a shot across our bow. He sends a boat over and tells us we're his prisoner. We ask why and he says that France stabbed Holland in the back and that we're at war. They gave us five minutes to gather our personal belongings and then they whisked us into the boat and set fire to my Berthe ! Two more times that day they do this. The entire fishing fleet from Baie de Mordienne he sinks! Even if we get back, our village is ruined!" He slammed the mug down to emphasize the loss. "He tells me he wants to hurt the English too, since they helped the French. Since there were few Englishmen working the Banks at that time, he decides to kill two birds with one stone and sails here, to Forillon and sets us off without supplies and burns the English boats."

  Willem nodded agreement and added; "It was already a rough winter for us, with no supplies from England. We knew nothing about any war. We were just trying to hold on." Tears started to roll down his check. "We've already lost six this season from sickness and the start of scurvy. One was my youngest daughter."

  Luke's mind was racing. These people were facing the same problems he had worked so hard for his expedition to avoid. He couldn’t undo the harm they had suffered, but he might be able to give them a better future. The problems facing the village presented an opportunity for all of them.

  He recalled the charts from the previous evening. Baie de Mordienne would become Port Mordien in another future. The Port Mordien that would also become the site of the first coal mine in Cape Breton. He just had to present the solution the right way. "From what we heard before we left Copenhagen, it sounds like Lord Baltimore may have decided to cut his losses here and go elsewhere. Our major backer was Sir Thomas Roe, an English diplomat to King Christian's court. He has friends in England that know Lord Baltimore and they had told him that Newfoundland was being abandoned. That's why we're here. We're setting up a mining settlement near Bell Island. From there, we plan on expanding into the Hudson's Bay area. This harbor would make an idea second site for the fishing boats we plan on supplying the settlements."