Grantville Gazette-Volume XIV

by Eric Flint

  * * *

  Heinrich Bender, formerly of Heidelberg, was clutching a piece of sketch paper in one hand, and a rock in the other. "Frau Vorst, Frau Vorst, we found it!"

  Maria looked up. "Bauxite, you mean?" The sailors and colonists were searching creek beds and other rock exposures in the vicinity of old time line Paranam, some miles south of Gustavus, because the up-time encyclopedias had said that bauxite was mined there. Maria had divided them into groups, and given each a "Wanted" sketch showing what bauxite looked like. Maria, who was an experienced artist, had made the drawings back in Grantville, basing them on photographs in various up-time field guides owned by the school libraries.

  Heinrich nodded.

  "Let's see." He handed her the paper and the rock. Maria compared her sketch with the specimen. The sketch was deliberately done in charcoal, to avoid misleading the searchers—bauxite could be white, yellow, red, or brown. This specimen was red.

  For bauxite, the telltale sign was its "raisin pie" texture. Okay, the up-timers called it "pisolitic." Yep, the pisolites—little pea-sized concretions—were present in Heinrich's find.

  Heinrich was fidgeting with excitement. Maria wasn't surprised; David had promised a bounty to the first person to find bauxite. "Well, is it bauxite? Is it?"

  "Looks promising, bear with me." Maria tried scratching the rock with her fingernail. She brushed away the white powder to make sure that it was the rock, not her fingernail, which had succumbed. Yes, there was the scratch. That meant that on the Moh's scale of hardness, the rock was less than 2.5. Bauxite had a hardness ranging from 1, like talc, to 3, like calcite. A bit harder than most clays.

  What else? Right, specific gravity. She hefted it; it seemed to have about the right density, two or two-and-a-half times that of water. She could measure it when she went back on board the yacht, but clearly it was in the ballpark.

  "Good work, Heinrich," Maria said. "Show me where you found it."

  "It was over here . . . no, over there."

  Maria saw a second rock, much like the first. She called over some more of the colonists, and set them to work digging test holes near the find, so she would know how deep the formation was. And then she wrote a note to David, and sent Heinrich off with it to claim his reward.

  * * *

  The formation turned out to be enormous in extent; miles wide, and usually just a few feet below the surface. In places, powdered bauxite, or so Maria presumed it to be, actually turned the soil to a dark purple-red, as if someone had soaked it in beet-juice.

  Out came the shovels, the pickaxes, and the wheelbarrows. For now, all they did was collect the bauxite. If the market for bauxite took off—meaning, someone succeeded in duplicating the Hall-Heroult process of making aluminum—then they would see about converting bauxite to alumina right in Suriname. Four tons of bauxite made two of alumina. That would reduce transportation costs—if the necessary reagents could be produced by the colony.

  The Company even hoped that one day it could harvest the power of the cataracts of the Suriname river to produce electricity. If so, then they might actually be able to produce aluminum locally. Two tons of alumina, with great gobs of electricity and a dash of cryolite to reduce the melting point of the alumina, would make one ton of aluminum.

  For that matter, she had been told that alumina made a great refractory. So even without cryolite, the bauxite might come in handy.

  Be nice, Maria thought, if she could carry out a proper chemical test, but she didn't happen to have any cobalt nitrate handy. Hah, she might as well wish Gustavus had an atomic absorption spectrophotometer, while she was at it. At least, wonder of wonders, the high school in Grantville actually had one . . . an unlikely gift from a large construction material manufacturer. So when they got the ore home, the chemists could definitively determine that it contained aluminum.

  Of course, David and Maria would feel kinda stupid if they carted twenty tons of bog iron home, when they were looking for bauxite.

  * * *

  Finally. Maria could get on with her real work. Documenting and collecting the extraordinary plants of Suriname, for the greater glory of the Leiden Botanical Gardens. Which she thought of as the family firm. Not without reason; her father Aelius had taken it over in 1599, and then her brother Adolph in 1624.

  She would start close to town, on the coastal plain, and ultimately have David take her upriver, to explore the rain forest.

  For documentation, she had her pencils, chalks and paints, and her leaf press. But live specimens would be better yet. She collected both seeds and seedlings. The seeds were mixed in with charcoal, or sawdust or sand, and placed in bags. Those, in turn, when into what she hoped were insect-proof boxes. If she found any rubber tree seeds, those would get treated with fungicide and go into one of her small supply of plastic bags. Seedlings could go into cases with glass sides and tops, so they could kept moist and given the benefit of the sun during the long trip home.

  Nor would she ignore the fauna. She drew pictures of some, and they had both live and dead specimens to ship to the savants and curiosity collectors back home. Philip had brought her, no doubt as a peace offering, a curious fish he had caught. It had four eyes. Well, not quite. It had two eyes, but each was divided into upper and lower halves. Philip told her that it swam on the surface, with the upper halves above the water.

  Maria never tired of painting the wildlife. The birds, in particular, were beautiful. And even many of the insects.

  Some of the insects, she could definitely do without.

  * * *

  David studied the mark in the sand bar. It was, quite clearly, the imprint of a European boot. He tapped the shoulder of one sailor, whispered to him, and sent him to collect the others.

  Soon, they were back on the deck of the Eikhoorn. David, an explorer at heart, had taken command of the yacht, leaving its usual skipper to supervise the loading of bauxite ore onto the Walvis.

  "We're not alone."

  "Indians?" asked a crewman. He looked around nervously.

  "No, Europeans. We don't know their nationality. If we're lucky, they're Dutch." While the colony was under the protection of Sweden and the NUS, it also had a license from the West India Company. Since David was a patroon of the West India Company, it hadn't been difficult to obtain. Especially since Sweden and the NUS were the only Dutch allies remaining.

  "Listen up. If they're English or French, they won't know about the Battle of Dunkirk. Well, probably not. And while I am palavering with them, I don't want you to give away the information that they have any reason to fear us." David's crew was almost entirely Dutch. "So, no insults, no glares, no nattering among yourselves as to how treacherous the English and French are. Have your weapons ready, but don't point them until I give you leave. Understood?"

  He turned to Maria. "So much for the up-time encyclopedias. First settled by the French in 1640, my eye!"

  * * *

  The Eikhoorn continued a mile or two upriver, but its crew didn't spot any signs of habitation, European or otherwise. They retraced their route, and this time went up a creek, rowing with muffled oars. It wasn't long before they heard voices. English voices.

  David signaled a halt, and called out. "Hello, be you English?" There was an excited clamor, and several roughly dressed Europeans stepped out of the trees. They looked at him goggle-eyed.

  "We are. We are Captain Marshall's men. Who are you?"

  "I am Captain David de Vries, a patroon of the Dutch West India Company, currently in the service of His Majesty the King of Sweden and the New United States." That sounded impressive enough, he thought.

  They murmured among themselves. One ventured, "I am sure Captain Marshall will want to entertain you. To hear news, if nothing else."

  "When did you last have news?" David asked.

  "A ship comes once each summer to collect our dried tobacco."

  "Really? Do you have any left for sale? How much do you sell each year?" Their answer gave David so
me clue as to how many acres were planted, and thus, of how many settlers were engaged in tobacco cultivation. It was clear that the crew of the yacht was outnumbered. But not the colonists he had left down river.

  "My friends don't speak English," David said. "Excuse me while I explain to them that I am going to pay a call on Captain Marshall." He then added, softly, in rapid Dutch. "Be on guard. Let none of the English on board in my absence. If I don't return by tomorrow morning, make haste to the settlement and warn them. From the extent of the tobacco crop, there must be several dozen English here, at least."

  "Why are you visiting them? Wouldn't it be better to just come back in force?" asked Maria.

  "It's a calculated risk. I need to see just how many of them there are, how well fed and armed, whether they have a fort, and more. And much more. Are the local Indians friendly or hostile? Are the English of the royalist or parliamentary factions? Are they Church of England, or Puritans, or even Catholics?"

  * * *

  David was gone the rest of the day. A lone Englishman came back to the creek and informed them that David had been invited to dine with Captain Marshall, and spend the night.

  Maria and the others could only hope that the messenger was telling the truth. Two men remained on watch at all times.

  The next morning, while mist still shrouded the creek, David emerged, together with two of the English. They were better dressed than any of the men seen the day before. David said something to them, and they waited at the forest edge as he came up to the yacht. "Captain Marshall and one of his colleagues, a Mister Francis Scott, will be enjoying our hospitality. Remember what I said about keeping your lips buttoned. I am fairly sure that Scott is being brought because he speaks Dutch—whether he says so or not."

  "How many of them are there?"

  "Sixty, all men. They have been here since 1630, and they cultivate tobacco. Perhaps half a mile up the creek they have a fort, with a wood palisade. But I need to get back to them, lest they grow suspicious. Fortunately, the custom in the Guianas has been for the few English, Dutch and French in the country to live in harmony, so they aren't expecting trouble.

  "Mevrouw Vorst—"

  "Please, Captain, by now I think you can call me Maria."

  "Maria, ply Marshall and Scott with questions about the Indians, the animals, the plants, the weather, and the like. Philip, you can tell them about the wonders of Grantville. Stay off the topic of politics! All right, I better go fetch them now."

  * * *

  "Ahoy, the Walvis! Captain De Vries and party, with two English guests," bellowed the first mate of the Eikhoorn.

  The men on the deck of the Walvis stopped what they were doing, and stared.

  "They don't seem happy to see Englishmen," Captain Marshall commented.

  "The Dutch-English relationship has sometimes been a troubled one," David replied. "But you are my guests."

  * * *

  Heyndrick and Philip were both on the deck of the Walvis. Heyndrick finished cleaning his fowling piece. Heyndrick looked up, and saw Philip sitting on the railing, a fishing rod in hand. He studied Philip for a moment, and decided he might as well just ask the question he had been thinking about lately. "How are things between you and Maria these days?"

  Philip turned. "I dunno. Okay, I guess. I've recovered from my case of hormonal insanity, if that's what you mean."

  "Good. If that means what I think it does. So it wouldn't bother you, if . . . if I wanted to be better friends with Maria?"

  "I guess not. It's hardly poaching, after the way she told me off. It was nice of you to ask, though."

  "Excellent. Come to my cabin, share a glass of brandy with me."

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Marshall and Scott had come down, together with Maria, to David's cabin. "Our colony is a new one, I can offer you better hospitality here," David explained.

  At dinner, David came to the point. "I understand your last news of England was from this past summer."

  Marshall gave Scott a meaningful look.

  "I regret to tell you that King Charles has made alliance with the Catholic powers, with France and Spain."

  Scott cursed. "I knew it was a mistake for him to marry that Frenchwoman."

  "Worse, rather than declare war on the Dutch Republic openly, he and the French betrayed us. The French and English squadrons which sailed with Von Tromp's Sea Beggars, to meet the Spanish fleet at Dunkirk, pounced on him from behind. "

  "So England and the Dutch Republic are at war. Are Scott and I prisoners? Hostages?"

  "Formally speaking, I am right now in the service of Sweden and the USE," drawled David. "And there has been no attack by England upon either. So while there is no doubt that this alliance is aimed, ultimately, at Sweden, and the USE, I am not required to take hostile action against any English ships or settlers I may encounter."

  Marshall raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

  "Still, your colony is something of a dagger at the back of mine. As the English fleet was to the Dutch at the Battle of Ostend. And my colonists, many of whom are Dutch, will not be happy to have English neighbors.

  "That said, the Governor of Virginia, Sir John Harvey, is a friend of mine. He came to my aid in the days when we were both in the East Indies. So, I would do you a good turn, if I could. If you surrender, and give me your parole, I will transport your people to Tobago, or Saint Kitts, or Providence Island, all of which have English colonies, and land you there under flag of truce." David waited for them to respond.

  Scott and Marshall exchanged looks; Marshall gave Scott a slight nod. "You certainly have control of the mouth of the Suriname River," said Scott. "I saw that you have emplaced cannon at your town, and of course you have ships of war, too. You can keep reinforcements and supplies from reaching us, and prevent us from selling our tobacco. And you are too strong for us to conquer.

  "On the other hand, you wouldn't find it easy to scour us out. Your colony isn't much larger than ours. We know the terrain better than you do. Your fluyts can't go up our creek, and your yachts don't throw enough weight of metal to successfully assault our fort. We don't need supplies from the outside; we are self-sufficient. The Indians are friendly to us and would come to our aid if you attacked. So it looks like a stalemate to me," Scott concluded.

  "Only in the short-term," said David. "Given time, we could bring in troops, land them and march up the creek. And if you huddled in the fort, we could burn your crops. That would be the end of your self-sufficiency. And I wouldn't be too sure of your Indian alliance. The Indians will switch sides if they think you're likely to lose anyway."

  Marshall took a sip of wine. "Have you been to Saint Kitts, Captain De Vries?" That was one of the Lesser Antilles, a crescent-shaped chain of the small Caribbean islands, stretching from Puerto Rico to Trinidad.

  "Yes, I put in for water there on my last trip."

  "Are you familiar with the peculiar relationship there?"

  "Indeed." The island was settled by the English in 1623. But a few years later, they had allowed the French, under the command of the ex-privateer captain Pierre d'Esnambuc, to claim the ends of the island, while the English remained in control of the middle. They held the salt pans in the south in common, and they had agreed that they would not fight each other even if England and France were at war.

  "Perhaps . . . perhaps we can do the same? Agree to neutrality between our colonies, regardless of what is happening in Europe?"

  "It might not be in my power to conclude an absolute neutrality," David warned. "We didn't know you were here, so we don't have specific instructions from Gustav Adolf."

  "But we could at least agree to remain neutral in the absence of a direct order from our Sovereign, and, in the event of such an order, give notice of intent to dissolve our pact."

  David looked thoughtful. "It wouldn't be easy for you to receive such an order, considering that we control your line of communication."

  "No, it wouldn't. So the agreement wi
ll be more to your benefit than ours, but at least would save our honor."

  "I will think on it. While it is a tempting prospect—trade, and exchange of information, would be mutually beneficial, I think—the feelings of the Dutch of the colony run high. And we won't always have warships in the river; there would be a fear that you would try to take advantage if they were absent."

  Maria moved her chair. The screech drew all eyes to her. "But gentlemen, there is another factor to consider. As a Dutch woman, I was of course appalled by the treacherous attack on our fleet. But I understand that the English in turn are still fired by the incident at Amboyna."

  "The massacre—" began Scott, but he desisted when Marshall gripped his shoulder.

  "Still, in the long-term, they have a common enemy: the Spanish. The French, too. I think that upon more mature reflection, you will realize that your long-term interests lie with us. Us, meaning, Sweden, and its American and Dutch allies."