1636: Seas of Fortune (16 page)

* * *

It didn’t work out that way. Blauveldt urged that if they couldn’t wait for the 1635 convoy to come to them, they could at least give the Granadans a few more months to accumulate treasure. Besides, if they waited, he could sail up to Bluefields, and Cabo Gracias a Dios, and recruit more Miskito allies, increasing their chance of success.

The Miskitos told the Dutch that there were several rapids upriver, and that it would be best to make the journey to and from Granada when the rains elevated the water level—July or August.

The captains finally agreed to launch the attack in July—virtually guaranteeing that David would be returning to Europe during the height of hurricane season. Not that David seemed especially worried. “There are only four or five hurricanes a year in the entire Atlantic, according to your up-time books.” Since, when they left Gustavus, David had been insistent on the importance of leaving before the hurricanes lay siege to the Caribbean, Philip had to assume that the siren song of Granadan treasure was to blame for David’s change of heart. It was . . . worrisome.

Nor could Philip conduct rubber-tapping business as usual while David was off freebooting. The nigh-universal Miskito reaction was, “You expect me to fuss around collecting sap from trees when I could be impaling a Spaniard or two on my cane lance? And when your Admiral David says that we can keep the Spanish guns and ammunition we capture? You are a funny boy.” It was also quite apparent that Philip would diminish in their esteem if he remained behind.

“Arggh,” said Philip to the jungle. “Now all I need are a parrot and an eyepatch.” The jungle didn’t answer.

July 1634

At last, Blauveldt’s ship glided back into the mouth of the San Juan. Some native canoes were carried on its deck, which was crowded with the new Indian recruits. The canoes and longboats were lowered into the water, and they all joined David’s group.

The assembled crews and their Indian allies milled about in excited confusion as they waited for David and his fellow captains and chiefs to give the order to begin the ascent. Philip watched as first one, then another alligator, disturbed by the activity, wriggled out of the water and onto a sandbank some yards away. Soon, a score of the big reptiles were sunning themselves. Most of them had their mouths agape.

A sailor from Blauveldt’s ship was sure of the reason for this behavior. “They hold their mouths open so as to catch flies,” he sagely remarked. “The saliva attracts the insects, and they swallow ’em when enough have landed.”

“That makes no sense,” said Philip. “Look how big they are! How many flies would an alligator have to catch in a day to keep himself alive?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Certainly not. I’m just pointing out that you are being illogical.”

“I think you’re calling me a liar.” He put his hand on the hilt of his cutlass.

There was a cough behind him. “Is there a problem?” asked Cornelis, his own meaty hand squeezing the man’s sword arm into immobility. He was heavily built for a sailor; the sort of fellow who, had he gone to high school up-time, would have acquired the nickname “Tank.” He had his share of knife scars and powder burns, too.

Mr. Fly Catcher turned and gave Cornelis a slow once-over. His face took on a more calculating look. The sailors nearest him edged away, ever so slightly, and he shrugged. “Just a friendly conversation.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. But we talk when there isn’t work to be done. Should I find some work for you to do?”

Fly Catcher shook his head, and, as soon as Cornelis released him, sidled away.

“Thanks,” said Philip. “That wasn’t looking good.”

“Captain told me to look out for you, you being so knowledgeable in some things, but mebbe not in others.”

“I was just explaining about alligators.”

“Captain also said that if you talked someone into blowing your head off, I was to make sure I retrieved your wristwatch. You want to show me which arm you keep it on, to save me some time?”

* * *

While Philip was still worried about whether hurricanes would interfere with their return to Europe, he was happy enough to be ascending the Rio San Juan during the height of the rainy season. The rapids were bad enough even at high water; he didn’t like to think about what they would have done to the canoes if the rocks were exposed.

Seeing the rapids reminded him of Maria. “She’ll be so freaking mad to find out that she missed out on the chance to run some whitewater,” he mused. “On the other hand, I am not sure she fancies playing Anne Bonney, so perhaps it’s just as well.”

* * *

The source of the Rio San Juan was the Lago de Nicaragua. Were it not for the maps, they would have thought that they had reached the Pacific Ocean. To their left, they could see nothing but water. Ahead, looking northwest, were several small islands, the Solentinames. Beyond them lay the cone of Ometepec, and farther still, as far as the eye could see, more water. On their right, the lake was hemmed in by a long chain of cloud-capped mountains, but of course you could say the same about the Pacific coast of Peru or Mexico.

The oceanic impression was reinforced when the Dutch-Miskito expedition spotted the telltale dorsal fins of sharks. Bull sharks did enter rivers, but they were now almost a hundred miles from the Atlantic.

The only sign that they were on a lake was that the water was fresh, not salty. No one expressed an interest in swimming.

“About a hundred miles to Granada,” David told the other leaders. “I don’t know how much lake traffic there is, so we’ll hide by day, and paddle by night.” They didn’t argue. The greatest weapon in warfare was surprise.

“Do your maps show good hiding places along the coast?” asked Blauveldt.

“They’re not that detailed. But we have three choices. We can hug the southwest shore. I’m afraid that might be populated, because the land is flat.”

“So that’s out.”

“Or we can go along the northeast coast. There’s just a narrow strip of land between it and the mountains.”

David swatted, ineffectually, at a mosquito that had dive-bombed him. “But the route I favor is almost directly across the lake.”

“Short, but won’t we be seen?”

“Besides these specks in front of us”—he pointed at the Solentinames—“there are two big islands along the way. Sneaking along behind the second gets us to perhaps twenty miles from Granada. Then we can edge a bit west, to put a little cape between us and the Granadans, and once we round it we’re only five miles out.”

“Sounds good to me. We could cut across the cape, if that would keep us out of sight longer.”

“We’ll have to see. It looked like there might be a mountain spur there. That could turn a short cut into a long cut.”

The sun set, and the canoes advanced. They fought to avoid a westward drift; the waves came mainly from the east, no doubt driven by the trade winds. That, too, was a sign they weren’t on the Pacific.

It took another week to cross the lake. Several times they encountered fishing boats, but none were allowed to escape and bring warning to unsuspecting Granada. Granada had been founded in 1524, and it had never been attacked by a European force. No mother of Granada warned children that if they didn’t go to sleep, the English or Dutch would eat them.

Granada, Nicaragua

David’s raiders made the final advance in the darkness and solitude of the wee hours. The city was unwalled, so they marched directly to the great plaza. The few soldiers in the barracks were forcibly awakened, and placed under guard. The powder magazine was emptied. The cannon in the vicinity were appropriated and set up to command the plaza and its approaches.

By the time the civilians knew that there were invaders in their midst, it was already morning. The rays of the rising sun gave the stone outer walls of the Granadan buildings a golden glow. David hoped that this was a portent that they would find gold inside, too.

Several detachments guarded the entrances to the city, to make it more difficult for the inhabitants to escape with their valuables. Others patrolled the main streets and, as the Granadans emerged from their homes, prodded them toward the plaza and into the cathedral. It was soon filled with hundreds of citizens. Some screamed imprecations at their captors, some wept, and others just sat in a state of shock.

The Miskitos had, by this point, taken possession of the weapons in the armory, and were happily firing their weapons at Spaniards so imprudent as to poke their heads out of a door or window, or, if not given the opportunity for such sport, into the air. David’s control over them was tenuous, and he thought it best to give them the chance to work off their excitement, as long as they didn’t resort to wholesale slaughter.

The Dutch, on the other hand, were more interested in collecting plunder. They did it systematically, starting at the cathedral and the city hall, and then checking out any building that looked well-appointed enough to warrant investigation.

Nor were the Dutch and the Miskitos the only ones taking advantage of the helplessness of the town. The native Indians and black slaves had clearly decided it was payback time. It was futile for a resident to protest that he or she was penniless, or that all his or her valuables had already been taken, for a slave or servant would happily deny the protest, and guide the invaders to the missing items. Perhaps collecting a finder’s fee in the process.

* * *

When the looting was complete, the invaders cheerfully recruited the townspeople to act as beasts of burden, making them tow the municipal cannon to the lake, and dump them in, much to the amusement of their former servants and slaves. The invaders also seized the boats at the waterfront, to prevent pursuit and also to transport more treasure.

Some of the local helpers decided that the invasion offered an excellent opportunity to permanently leave Spanish service. A few decided to see what Miskito or Dutch life had to offer; the rest fled to the hills.

David and the other leaders then had to decide whether to continue on another sixty or so miles, to Leon. Like Granada, Leon had never been attacked, and it lay even closer to the great silver mines of Nicaragua. It was tempting, and, curiously, even the Granadan merchants urged them to do this—apparently there was a serious rivalry between the two cities.

But David knew that some of the Granadans had fled the town. An unwalled place was easier to capture, but harder to then bottle up. David had to assume that word of the sack of Granada would reach Leon ahead of his force, even if they commandeered every nag in Granada. And as a practical matter, they were going to be hard-pressed to get all the Granadan treasure safely across the lake, and over or around the three rapids of the Rio San Juan.

Regretfully, they decided to save Leon for another day.

* * *

The Miskitos hadn’t gotten much of the treasure but were happy enough with all the ironmongery they had collected. In general, the Miskitos had an extraordinary desire for European goods. David had told Philip that most Indians would work to earn a handful of beads, or a knife, and that accomplished, would disappear into the forest, never to be seen again.

The Miskitos, in contrast, had an insatiable demand for everything European. Weapons, clothes, tools. But the holy of holies, so far as they were concerned, was a firearm. Philip could just imagine them back home in Grantville, discussing the relative merits of a bolt-action Remington Model 700 versus a lever-action Marlin Model 336. For hours.

A few were so fascinated by the really big guns—the cannon—that they joined the crew of the
Walvis
. Considering their skills as small-boat handlers and fishermen, David was happy to have them aboard. He promised that they would have passage when the
Walvis
went back to Suriname, to bring the colonists more European manufactures.

* * *

“The Puritans aren’t going to be happy, you know,” said Blauveldt.

David raised his eyebrows. “Why not? They don’t like the Spanish any more than we do.”

“While they befriend the Miskitos in almost any way they can, there is one important exception—they never, ever, give them firearms. As a matter of policy.”

“Well, then, maybe the Miskitos will decide that we are better friends than the English. Isn’t that just too bad?”

Mouth of the Rio San Juan

David was sorry when Blauveldt sailed off, but Rishworth and his charges were delighted. Rishworth had kept them hidden on the
Walvis
when the sailors and Miskitos were assembling for the ascent of the Rio San Juan, fearing that Blauveldt might recognize them as fugitive slaves and insist on returning them to Providence Island. Life had been a bit more relaxed for them while Blauveldt was off on the expedition to Granada, but they had to keep looking over their shoulder, so to speak, so that they wouldn’t be surprised by his return. Of course, there were some Miskitos that hadn’t gone off a-plundering, and they were recruited to serve as Rishworth’s early warning system.

When the Indians came in with the news that the returning warriors and sailors were only a day’s journey away, Rishworth hurried his people back onto the
Walvis
.

Once Blauveldt’s ship had disappeared over the horizon, the ex-slaves broke into an impromptu dance, much to the bemusement of the
Walvis
’ crew. David let it go on for a few minutes, then had a quiet word with Rishworth. Rishworth told them that their choices were to disembark and stay with the Miskitos, or join the crew of the
Walvis
. About half decided on the latter.

Rishworth was pleased. He would have more time to teach them the Gospel.

August 1634,

At Sea

David led his little squadron through the Yucatan channel. The wind freshened, and David ordered the sails reefed. That is, part of the sail gathered up, and tied to the yard by a small cord attached to the sail. Reefing was, for lack of a better term, a “new-old” idea. It was something his great-grandfather had done, but in David’s time it was out of favor. Instead, early-seventeenth-century ships normally carried small courses of sail, and added additional pieces if the air was light. The nautically minded up-timers thought it was crazy to fool around with adding these “bonnets” and “drabblers.” The more “progressive” down-timers, like David, had switched over to large courses with “reef points.” But David predicted that in his own great-grandchild’s generation, there would still be old salts who insisted on “bonneting.”