Golden Rock: Historical Fiction Drama

By John F. Hyman

This book was written in 1957, but due to unfortunate circumstances never reached the publishers.

This book highlights a very interesting period of Caribbean and American history and important links between Europe and the Americas and the Caribbean.

Exciting .......realistic....

You will find yourself involved in the intrigues, treachery, piracy, greed and averice of that period; the romance trade and commerce and others. Nice and not so nice characters....
You be the judge......

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481782630

John F. Hyman

The author of this book has always been interested in writing and communicating with readers from everywhere. The author is also a great lover of history and has published a number of newsletters and two magazines.

Book preview

© 2013 by John F. Hyman. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/31/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8262-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8263-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Golden Rock

References

Foreword

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Endnotes

GOLDEN ROCK

Researched and written:             1957-1959

A historical novel on the Island of St. Eustatius during the years 1779-1781, Comprising facts and fictions of that period of Caribbean History and of its importance to the cause of the American Revolution.

The role of St. Eustatius in particular is highlighted in this book as well as the importance of the Caribbean Islands as a whole to the big powers of 18th century Europe. An attempt is also made to depict the life of the colonists in this swashbuckling era of our past… .

The Author J. F. Hyman

REFERENCES

These are some of the Books from which I have obtained data For my writing;

1.   Geschledenis van de Bovenwindse Eilanden (Knappert) (History of the Windward Island: by (Dr. L. Knappert)

2.   Oranje en de Zes Parellen; A combined Edition of the six Dutch Islands.

3.   Nederland Over de Zeeen; by A. J. De Graaff (Dutchmen Across the Seas)

4.   De West Indische Compagnie; by Prof. W.R. Menkman.

5.   De Bovenwindse Eilanden; by Father M. Latour.

(The Neth. W. I’s.)

6.   Sea Kings of BRITAIN; By Calender

7.   The Caribbean… .

FOREWORD

Twenty-Two years ago I had been an ardent student of West Indian History, and in particular Antillian History.

Geography and History being two of my favorite subject during my school years, I eventually became quite an expert on history. This curiosity was nourished by the fact that so little was ever taught about West Indian history at school. Not much more than that they wee a number of islands belonging to one nation or other of the nations of Europe and America.

The history of these islands and their peoples were not considered an important subject in schools. Somehow self-awareness feeds ones curiosity to know more about the past.

It was feelings such as these that caused me to stumble upon the immensely fascinating history of the island of St. Eustatia, one of the three Dutch former colonies, and now a member of the State of the Netherlands Antilles.*

It has now become quite evident that there are much more available information then I was able to get my hands on in the Nineteen Fifties and early sixties. Nonetheless that which I was able to obtain, and which was by no means inconsiderable, convinced me of the necessity to do a good story on the island.

A story that would be widely read. A story that would do justice to the island’s past, and probably help to improve its present economic (stagnation) insolubility.

By a number of remarkable twists of fate this book was not published before now. My first typescript was completed in 1959.

A re-edited copy was loaned to a certain gentleman in 1965 for a review and was never returned. The original copy which was misplaced for a number of years, was found in 1979. Editing of this copy commenced 6 months ago after making a final attempt to repossess the missing typescript.

As a lover of history, the fascination aroused by the scattered bits and pieces of information I was able to read, drove me in search of every bit of the limited resources then available to me.

I had read approximately 10 books in Dutch and English which dealt in one way or other with the Island’s past. I also discovered that many of our people, including Statians, knew little or nothing, save for a wide variety of misplaced information of Statia’s past history.

I realized that there was much more to these bits and pieces, which should be given a proper perspective and placed into one book.

I also felt that the story should be widely read, and that the best way to achieve this would be to make it into a living narrative, combining facts with fiction, thereby re-creating a living example of life in the hey day of the Golden Rock. Inexperienced and untutored in the art of writing. I set about this enormous task, which I completed in two years. My first efforts to have the book edited and published, failed because I could not pay the subsidy cost of the printing and publication in the United States. I also failed to obtain assistance from government sources whom I approached here.

During this time I re-edited the first copy and made some changes.

After this and the disappearance of the re-edited copy, I found myself too busy trying to establish myself here on St. Maarten and found little time to contribute to the craft of writing. A desire which has always been foremost in my heart.

Meanwhile, I was not too surprised to observe the publication of a book under the same title as mine in 1971 by an American author.

It has also interested me immensely to see the attempts made by historians and experts to bring the history of these islands into the proper lime-light; even though twenty years after my unrewarding efforts.

Though I admire Dr. Hartog’s recent researches and accumulation of facts and probabilities, I could not quote him as one of my sources, since twenty years ago Dr. Hartog may have been vaguely aware of an Island in the Dutch Antilles called Statia.

Nonetheless, I cannot help but regard some of the Doctor’s assertions as being self contradictory and even misleading, A classic example of this is the asserted population of the island during its greatest boom period through the mid eighteenth century down to Rodney’s capture and plunder, deportations, burnings, etc.

Yet just under 10 years later when the Americans in particular hardly needed Statia any more, her population was at its highest level.

In contradiction—or rather, in an honest effort o unravel this statistical mystery, I offer the theory that an island as St. Eustatius, having the type of trade and the number of ships that continually sailed into her harbor, must have enjoyed a vast number of welcome as well as un-welcomed guests and temporary visitors. People who were never registered as citizens but who could spend from one day to a few months at a time, as they partook in one way or another in the trading activities of the island.

Population estimates based on travelers reports and others, vary from 30,000 to 21,000 down to 3,000. Inaccurate as they all seem they do tend to reflect the observations of the visitors at different times during the same period.

This fluctuation in estimates could well represent the fluctuating volume in trade from time to time.

One a day with a 30 or 40 ships in the roadstead would have certainly created busy and crowded day in the long narrow street of Orange Bay.

Likewise there would be an entirely different profile if there were only 10 ships in the bay. This would make the next visitor’s estimate accordingly, correct.

I hope you enjoy reading Golden Rock

CHAPTER ONE

It was a blustery afternoon in mid June of 1779. The northeasterly breeze that is synonymous with the eastern Caribbean bristled the dark grey canvas of the black and grey hall of the Brigantine as she sliced through the blue waters that cradle the islands of the Caribbean archipelago. The Brig the shops master and his motley crew of brigands which featured a mixed of nationalities identities and personalities now sailed with captain Ancelle under the banner of piracy. They have scoured the waters of the Americas from the Yucatan peninsula to the coast of Bermuda and the edge of the north Atlantic in search of British and Spanish merchant’s ship to prey on. Their prizes when Acquired would be traded to the highest bidders on the island known to most of the crew as Golden Rock".

The bounty on this voyage was netted along the coast of Mexico in the waters of the gulf when they overran a Spanish merchantman which had been lost tot he fleet and their escort man-of-war which always accompanied the merchant fleet for protection from pirates, brigands and enemy warships, in a storm. The haul netted bars of gold, teak and other precious cargo; it also netted a young slave boy, mousse on the ship.

The following booty was hauled off an English Brig which they surprised in a bay along the coast of Jamaica. The English Brig’s Captain armed with a privateer’s license from the British admiralty in Jamaica to plunder French Spanish and other European Nations that were not Neutral in the French English war and the North American Colonialist struggle for independence from Great Britain, had captured a French merchantman out of Quebec carrying grains, wood and Indian furs and skins for the tanneries of Paris. Armed with this awry of diverse cargo and wary of being spotted by any warship patrolling the Caribbean waters in pursuit of pirates, Captain Ancelle stood warily an the after deck of his ship, his reddish grey beard bristling against the after moon sun as he scanned The Horizon in search of sails to be identified.

The ship was armed with a number of flags of various nationalities which was hastily raised as reuse in the event of danger from an enemy warship, or to entrap an unsuspecting victim.

SKU-000560841_TEXT.pdf

The often harsh and sometimes cruel and weather beaten features of the 60 year old Frenchman reflecting determined anxiety and anticipation, contemplating his un-molested arrival at the Oranjestad Roadstead and a secured spot in that section of the Harbor referred to by locals and sailors alike as the Interloper.

This is the southern end of the Oranjestad roadstead where ships and schooners and sloops of questionable character and identity anchor, and from where they traded with the island merchants who chose to do business with them.

The Dutch West Indian Company under whose charter the island was administered, maintained a scant militia of no more than fifty men, and were more concerned about making lots of money in trading, rather than to become embroiled in a gun battle with the pirates.

With the sun slowly inching toward the horizon the captain hoped to be within reach of St. Eastatius coastline by nightfall.

Pierre Loraine, first mate on the Poisson Noir had joined the pirates four years before when he headed a small contingent of soldiers on a French Canadian armed merchantman. Pierre lay in his bunk reminiscing over his experiences for the past four years. He shook his head slowly, recalling his first encounter with his infamous companion. He recalled, his ship was four days out of the bay of St. Lauraence and headed southward to catch the north Atlantic trade winds at would push them across the ocean to Western Europe and the port of Marceille in Southern France. At the breaking of dawn on the fifth day, a three masted Brigantine materialized in the distance. She seemed to be flying a Dutch flag—Holland being a neutral country in the ongoing wars—did not seemingly pose a threat to the Frenchman. However, the Brig. altered course and by increasing sails, bore down rapidly on the merchantman. Suddenly the Dutch flag was lowered from the masthead and was replaced by the black flag and skull of the pirate. Pierre and his men scrambled to man their four canons to try and ward off the attack. But the pirates had already gained the advantage and pulled abreast of the Frenchman opening a volley of cannon fodder into the riggings cutting down topsails and pieces of the main mast. A volley of musket balls sprayed the deck of the merchantman killing and maiming a number of Pierre’s men before they managed to fire a volley into the pirate’s deck. The fight was short and furious, Pierre and his small garrison put up a valiant struggle, but were no match for the wily pirates.

During the same battle the first mate of the Poisson Noir was killed by a cannon ball.

The pirates contemplated taking the ship in tow, but abandon the idea when the silhouette of a man-of-war appeared in the distance. A few of the crew were taken as replacements for those that were killed in the encounter.

Pierre was forced to join the pirates, and because he was a naval officer, was elected to replace the slain first mate. The most valuable of the cargo was taken from the ship’s hold and transferred to the brig. The ship was abandoned and the pirates resumed their prowling of the Caribbean waters.

SKU-000560841_TEXT.pdf

The Union Frigate Andrew Doria which first reived a 21 gun salute off St. Eustatius as a sovereign nation in 1776, being pursued by His Majesty’s Race Horse in 1777 as it ran the arms blockade out of St. Eustatius.

Like most of the crew, Pierre kept a safe distance from the wily pirate as much as he could, and over the past four years developed a method of interacting with the sometimes cruel Frenchman.

Captain Ancelle did not hesitate to use the Cat-o-Nine Tails when he felt the need to do so, nor did he flinch from having a sailor walk-the-Plank once in a while.

More vividly then anything else he recalled, his first meeting with the pretty young girl in Oranjestad. Like everything else that happened to him in the past Marie’s first meeting with him, though not very unusual in those days, it was nevertheless not the usual ?? by which two people would meet and fall in love. ;and for Pierre it had a much deeper significance. It convinced him that there was more reason in his staying in the west and that he could not leave the buccaneers at this time and reason for his staying a longer period away from his relatives in France, who might well be thinking that he was dead.

Pierre’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by sudden tramping of running feet on the deck. and loud noises of men shouting in the waist of the ship. Something unusual was going on down there he thought. He climbed out of his bunk and went to look out the cabin door. The cool afternoon breeze struck him full in the face, he blinked from the sharp glare of the afternoon sun as it reflected against the western skyline. He rubbed his eyes and went out through the cabin door. The entire ship’s crew were gathered around the main mast, looking up into the shrouds and shouting and waving to someone up there. Pierre tilted his gaze up into the riggings. He saw nothing, the sails obstructed his vision of the mast or the lookout stand. Then he noticed the sailor climbing up the bobstay. Pierre did not think he recognized the sailor. The sailor stopped for a moment and stood looking up above him. Pierre saw then that it was the boatswain. He wondered what in the world would cause an old man like Jacques to climb the riggings when there were a score of surefooted young lads standing below. Pierre wondered where the captain was, simple reasoning told him that a man with the boatswain’s character wouldn’t be going up there to handle any routine while they stood below gaping. There was something wrong. Pierre stepped back into the cabin. Putting on his shirt and hurrying out he went forward to see what the trouble was.

Pierre found Captain Ancelle in the midst of the crowd standing at the foot of the mast, this was why it had been impossible for him to be seen from aft. He too was looking up into the shroud, there was an angry—a hideous scowl on his face. Pierre suddenly understood what it was all about. The captain was about to whip one of the men for some reason or other, or maybe no reason at all the wretched fellow must have taken to the riggings and Le Chatte as the men had decided upon calling the boatswain because of his habits, had dared to pursue the fellow up there. Probably after all the other sailors refused; Pierre reflected.

Approaching the quartermaster, Pierre asked him what the nature of the trouble was.

Le Capitaine claims he caught the Englishman ransacking his cabin, Ms. Loraine: The Italian told him. M. Ancelle wants to use the cat-of-nine tails, but Howard took off for the riggings, saying he wasn’t ransacking’; says he wanted to talk to the capitaine, but didn’t find him there. So he waited… . And Jacques has gone after him?" Pierre asked.

The quartermaster nodded: Tried to send one o’ the sailors, everybody refused—The Englishman is carrying his knife, and the bostin’s gone after’m with one also. Humm looks as if there is going to be trouble, Razzanni! He told the quartermaster. He moved away and hurried over to t he mast. He had buckled on his short saber when he left his cabin and it rangled continually against his leg as he walked with long strides: The sailors gathered around moved back as he approached Captain Ancelle. Looks as if you have trouble, monsieur! He pointed aloft. Ancelle’s forehead screwed up in a series of yellowish furrows on rough weather-beaten skin. His long curling moustache twitched like coiled springs: ye put it but mildly, monsieur Loraine! He fairly snarled. I caught that sacre’Englaise snooping around in my cabin a while ago, Searching for my money, I guess… .

He talks as if it was nothing? I tell ye, if M. Jacques ever brings that tonnerre down her alive, I’ll teach him and every bastard a lesson—I’ll give them a sight they shall never forget.

Pierre cringed; he wondered what the Englishman could have been doing in the captain’s cabin.

Pierre knew the Englishman all too well. He was a product of the seaport harbor of Bristal England. A petty thief and brigand who was caught and banished to the islands of the Caribbean as an indentured servant. He managed to escape from a plantation in Barbados, smuggled aboard a ship and reached St. Eustatius. There he roamed the waterfront doing odd jobs until he was able to join the Poisson Noir on her last trip to Statia. He was a dangerous fellow and quite handy with a knife. Pierre thought it was time to intervene. He asked the captain to talk to the sailor. He convinced Captain Ancelle that Howard Gibbons was a dangerous man with a weapon, and very agile in the riggings.

Get the bastard down here at all cost! sneered the captain. Pierre ordered the bos’n to come down and to let him deal with the culprit. When the latter descended, Pierre climbed halfway up the riggings he called to the Englishman and asked him what he was doing in the captain’s quarters.

Still holding on to his blade and glaring at the mate, Howard said he had been looking for the captain to enquire about monies that was still owed to him. He did not find the captain, but some sailor must have seen him enter and told the captain.

Pierre was in the process of explaining to the captain when Howard shouted from the yard arm; holding on while standing on the bobstay. Ships ahoy ships ahoy! He signaled a ship-of-the-Line and a frigate. They were both coming in from the Southeast.

The captain ordered his binoculars, and climbing to the bridge scanned the horizon in the direction indicated by the sailor. Two white sails just barely visible in the distance.

Captain Ancelle calculated that at such a distance they did not present an immediate threat, that with the fast approaching shadows of night he had nothing to fear, had he been spotted. He figured that as long as the sturdy breeze persisted, he would be safely anchored in his preferred spot in the Oranjestad roadstead by morning.

For the time being the man in the riggings was forgotten. He stayed quietly until nightfall when he climbed warily down from the mast and headed for his bunk. For now he had managed to avoid the cat-o-nine tails.

CHAPTER TWO

The tiny island of St. Eustatius, Statia or Golden Rock as it was called by the sea farers in the latter part of the 18th century was the most important port of call of the three island territory chartered and leased to the Dutch West Indian company in the North Eastern Caribbean, St. Maarten and Saba being the other two.

Holland’s neutrality during the 30 years war in Europe served the island well as a trading post and provided the perfect backdrop as a port of call for ships from all parts of the world, particularly Europe, Great Britain and the Spanish, French, Portuguese and the Americans colonies.

A neutral port of call strategically situated in the Caribbean proved ideal for the colonist as well as the Europeans seafarers who were mostly interested in trade and commerce rather than ware. The shrewd Dutch saw in St. Eustatius the ideal port to provide an international port of call for anyone who wanted to trade with an enemy of his country without being called a traitor. The British traded with the French, The Dutch traded with the Portuguese, The Spanish traded with the English, The Germans, The Swedens, The Italians they all came to the Golden Rock to buy and sell, Dry goods, Grain dried Fish, Cotton Yarn, Gold, Silver, Salt, Wood, Furniture Anything that could be traded or bought could be found in Oranjestad’s lower town. The Dutch drawing from their experience in dealing with the dykes of the North Sea built a breakwater dam to prevent the erosion of the loose volcanic soil from which the island was formed.

There was a single street from one end of the bay to the other, running from East to West. There were warehouses and shops on both sides of the street and warehouses right up to the waterfront. There were single and two story houses along this mile and a half long stretch of bay front. There was a tavern and at least one hotel, The Gin House Hotel.

There was also a small fort at the Western end of the lower town Fort Hollandia and Fort Oranje. The main Fort overlooking the Harbor. The residential section of Oranjestad was the upper town situated on the plateau overlooking the lower town and the Harbor. The offices of the West India company and the residence of the commander of the Fort was also situated here. There was a slave market on the waterfront where Slavers brought their unfortunate chattles to be sold throughout the Caribbean Islands and North America. There were well to do residents in St. Eustatius sugar cane and cotton farmers, A number of sugar mills and horse traders. Sea Captain Heyliger, Jenkins, Rich merchant like Herman Gossling who minted his own coins owned ships that traded as far as North Africa Mediterinian. Conflicting statistics about the true population of the island may well lie between the statistical figures of the local population and that of the hundreds of sailors and merchants that sail on the ships that lay anchored in the bay at any given time but they could well have been stationery on the island for days or weeks as they trade from ships to port, and would provide a highly visible presence which a widely dispersed local population would not present.

3%20copy.jpg

Oranjestad circa 1772

Painting by an unknown Italian artist.

Courtesy of the Hellebrand collection.

A half moon dimly illuminated the night sky as the greyish sails of a brig silhouetted against the grey waters of Oranjestad. A myriad of masts, and here and there a main sail flapped in the wind as a ship’s crew prepared to sail into the night, The approaching vessels lowered her top and mizzen sails as she gingerly edge her way toward her favorite spot not to close to Fort Hollandia, but safe enough hot to be surprised from outside the bay.

Captain Ancelle stood at the helm of his ship and listened for guidance instruction from his mate. The order from the bow Trim your Sails the crew reacted, the ship came into the wind Drop Anchor. The crew reacted once more and the anchor which hung below the Bowsprit was released from the wench and the aroma rattled across the bow making a thunderous noise as the anchor splashed into the water. The heavy water-soaked, moss-ridden ship edged forward a couple of yards propelled by the momentum provided by the now neutral sails as they flapped in the wind, and the heavy anchor dug into the mud of the bay, and halted the forward motion of the ship.

Captain Ancelle secured the compass and sextant of his ship and went unto the rolling deck and savored the island’s night air. The ever present aroma of sugar cane syrup and molasses bombarded his nostrils. He made a feeble attempt to synchronize his activities in the morning considered his first clients to be his two, rather young, up and coming merchants and traders, Allen Johnson and Balthazar Ben Ali a thriving partnership between a Jew and a Gentile. They were both sons of an older generation of Statians who settled on the island more than three generations ago.

They had grown up to see the ebb and flow of the island’s maritime trade and opted to become an active part of it.

Captain Ancelle thought he would first send word to these two men that he was in port and had merchandise for trade… . He ordered his mate to place a night guard against prowlers and went to bed.

That same night when Captain Ancelle dropped anchor in the roadstead of St. Eustaius, about six hours earlier a privateer frigate hailing from the port of Boston al so anchored in the busy harbor. She did not anchor at the Interloper but sailed into the bay and dropped her anchor under the cannons of Fort Oranje Nassau.

The Captain was a Quaker from Boston Massachusetts. Captain Whitaker and his ship the Mohawk had been trading with the islands for more than three years. He first visited Greatbay, St. Martin in 1776 to pick up Salt and Indigo, and soon after established a contact in St. Eustatius to trade in lumber, furs and skins and in turn ran the Blockade established by the British to smuggle arms and ammunition to his countrymen, Determine to free themselves from the colonial yoke of imperial Britain.

Captain John Whitaker had been trading with the islands since 1776 and had had many a close calls with his Majesty’s Navy, but he did not flinch from the task that he’d set out to accomplish to help his countrymen gain there independence from Great Britain. He, like a number of other continentals traded with the islands of the Caribbean that were not British colonies or that were neutral such as St. Eustatius, St. Martin and St. Thomas.

The French were at war with England and The British admirality stationed on the island of St. Lucia to the east.They maintained a constan vigil on the part of Guadaloupe and Martinique, both jewels of the French Caribbean. St. Eutatius was therefore the ideal alternative for John Whitaker and the Ships of a dozen other nations that kept the roadstead congested with Ships of all sizes and inclinations, seven days a week.

Having arrived much earlier than Captain Ancelle the Quarter captain was able to send two of his men ashore that evening to get word to his trading partners on the Island that he would be looking forward to seeing them the following morning. He had arrived with his Ship Well Fortified with cargo that would find easy buyers on the Statia market and he wanted in exchange a considerable amount of arms and ammunition for the Beleagured union army. He wanted to trade and depart as quickly and as silently as he possibly could. Captain Whitaker was only to well aware of the constant danger that lurked in and around the waters of St. Eutatius. He would ask his friends and trading partners to expedite his order as quickly as they can so that he could be out of the bay before Cats flicks it’s tail. The Entrepreneurship of the two young Statians, Allen Johnson grandson of one of the older settlers of the Island, who’s father owned a Sugar Plantation, but whose appetite became whetted by the excitement of trade and barter, and his business associate Balthazaar Ben Ali, whose father, a Sephardic Jew who settled here from Cuba, and who was trader from whom Ben Ali learned his trade. The two young men attended private schools together and became fast friends. They grew up watching the ships ploughed in and out of the Harbor bringing and taking goods of all kinds. They have seen attack outside the Harbor and along the coast. They learned to know the different characters that manned the vessels that came to trade and developed their individual approach to each character with whom they traded.

This morning the young men would trade with two entirely different characters. Allen had received word last night from Captain Thomas Whitaker of the frigate Mohawk. A privateer working for the continental navy, and Captain Ancelle, Buccaneer, pirate of the Poison Noire both men dedicated to their own values and desires. Captain Whitaker willing to risk life and limb for the freedom of his country, and the others to satisfy his personal greed and avarice.

It was Sunday morning, people were on the way to church. The church bell from the Dutch reform, Church echoed across the high plateau of Oranjestad and resounded on the bay front. Allen and Ben Ali opened their office and waited for the first of the two customers to arrive, They did not have long to wait, the young African errand boy that stood outside the front door, knocked to tell his master that the Captain was coming.

Ben Ali stood up and went to the door to received the American. Captain Whitaker dressed in a Quaker outfit of his day and wearing a broad bowler hat with a blue feather in it’s crest bowed and greeted the young Jew warmly, removing an flourishing his large hat. Greetings Mr. Ali, I am happy to be here once more on your charming Island. I trust that I have not prevented you serving your God this Sunday morning?

Ben Ali smiled, he was Jew by religion, but not pious or religious man. He visits the Jewish synagogue in Oranjestad once or twice a year but he did not waste much time contemplating the merits of religion. He was an avid reader when opportunity permits, but was more interested in the works of voltaire and Spinozathe two leading philosophers of the time.

He grinned broadly and held out his hand to the American There is nothing I would not miss to serve a friend like yourself, Sir, and the cause you represent: Mr. Johnson and I have been contemplating your arrival at this time and we are gratefully at your disposal. Please enter our humble office and make yourself comfortable he shouted at the young African boy Boy hurry and prepare some tea for Captain Whitaker". The boy hurried to the rear of the building where there was a small outhouse and a kitchen where he set about preparing tea for the three men inside as the two men entered the building Allen Johnson stood up.

To greet the Captain and they gave each other a quick embrace. Then he inquired about the war on the mainland. Difficult, very difficult, sir! Our men are having a rough time against the red coats. Ammunition is scarce and the English has torched most of the crops upon which we depend to feed our men. That is why your help is so important to us. And that is why I am so grateful that you have given up your Sunday morning to attend to our needs, however I am a very religious man and before I left my ship I prayed with my men that the good lord would understand and foregone our trespasses on his Sabbath. We are more than happy to serve you Captain, We to have in the past and even now are under threat from that bully Great Britain. The young African rapped on the wooden door and entered with each a cup of tea on a tray. He bowed politely and served each cup of hot India tea. The Captain savored his tea and smiled I could not forget every time I drink a cup of tea I recall the Boston Tea Party" and the aftermath that led to this war!

Yes, indeed, the extravagant taxes imposed upon our people, and the intolerance of King George the 3rd was more than we could tolerate. The Boston tea riots was the crowning point of our grievances. We are now locked in a vicious battle for survival, but we are determined not to return to the yoke of colonial rule. Our men are enduring great hardships and biting cold but we vow to fight to the bitter end. Most of our men in the fields are almost naked, and I needn’t tell you how cold it is in some parts of the continent.

Allen nodded his head sympathetically, he took a note pad and a quill , then asked the privateer, What are your most urgent needs, captain? We shall see what we can do as quickly we can. He looked at his partner Ben Ali, who nodded affirmatively.

Captain Whitaker listed muskets, pistols powder and balls. He also wanted a few light canons and flint, blues for the troops and boots.

Meanwhile, I had better hurry, I have some other business of my own to fix before dark.

I must be on my way, captain, you’ll have your cargo by midnight and I’ll meet you on the wharf about then!

Wait a minute, Whitaker cut him short, I imagine that you be too busy to go home for dinner today, and since you’re doing business for me I shall ask you to dine with me later this afternoon, I’ll ask the innkeeper to prepare a suite for us. How late can ye be back?

I’m a very busy man, but since you insist I’ll try my best to be back by six.

Whitaker followed Allen to the door; Ye’ve got all the luck that I can spare with ye.

Thanks, I’ll need more than you can spare today, captain! He walked back to the front of the room towards the bar, most of the gentlemen and customers had gone, except for a few officers and one or two isnaders. He waved to the innkeeper as he left the home. The tavern in the lower section of the building was still crowded with sailors and soldiers and islanders drinking and rowing noisily. He hurried out into the street and hurried eastward, he would first go to Izaak van Dam about the powder and then to Van Blijden & Son to see about the cloth. They are both situated in the same locality, and they might be harder to get at this time of the day. He also hoped to meet Nevile’s charming young daughter, Gertrude van Blijden, towards whom he felt very sentimental, one might consider it even more than that.

CHAPTER THREE

Good-morning Keesch, is Mr. van Dam in?

The clerk spun around, astonished at the sudden sound of a voice behind him. Oh, good-morning Mr. Johnson, you scared me a bit then, Sir, was so busy I didn’t even hear you come in!

That I see, plenty of orders these days?

Can’t complain, Sir, except from too much work!

Well there’s nothing I like to hear more than that, Keesch, too much is better than none at all. Is Izaak in his office?

Yes sir, you can go right in, Sir. He walked around to the door, and rapped before opening, then called into the office.

M’nheer Johnson om uw te spreeken, M’nheer van Dam! he said, holding back the door for Allen to enter.

Good-day, Izaak, how fair you this day, my friend? Allen said holding out his hand to Van Dam.

I never dreamed that I would see you this day, Allen, how are you fairing nowadays? He asked shaking Allen’s hand briskly.

I should say quite well, Izaak, there’s hardly need to complain. I can see that you are very busy, sign of good business.

Very observant my friend, very observant. Tell you the truth, sometimes I can’t even meet the demands, never thought this war would be so kind to us, Allen. I’ve shipped hundreds of barrels of powder and explosives in the last part of this year, and I expect to sell much more.

Are you trying to belittle my prosperous business in arms and ships supplies? I can assure you that Broeckveld & Co. is doing a very fine business herself!

Oh, don’t be shortsighted, Allen, I don’t se how that is possible since we both depend on each other. Do you think those fellows would buy my powder and balls if they couldn’t get your muskets and cannons?

That’s why I dislike this business of yours Izaak, to sell my guns I have to secure your powder and balls for my customers first, while you sit here on your fat back-sides and wait for me to come, and I might as well tell you that’s what I came after this time again. I want twenty barrels of good powder to be shipped at 10 o’clock tonight.

Didn’t you just hear me say that I can’t meet my demands? I sent many vessels away to come back within the next week or two for supplies, and you come into my office and demand twenty barrels at this time of the day for 10 o’clock tonight. I don’t see how you can get them.

I didn’t expect you’d inquire that of me Izaak, that was supposed to be your problem, it is now my turn to sit back and wait!

Johnson you always turn these arguments to please yourself, I don’t see how one could expect to win, I could strangle you, but then I be losing a very agreeable business colleague.

He leaned over and pulled open a small compartment built into his desk and took out a bottle of Dutch gin. We might as well drink to good business. He said, his pock-marked face breaking cut into a wide grin. He was not a very big man, but one could see that he worked both long and hard in his earlier years, although tone wouldn’t guess him to be more than forty. There was a large red spot on the back of his right hand that grew no hair.

He’d once told Allen that he had received it from a small powder explosion twenty years ago when he worked in a powder factory. He had sailed for a few years, raised to captain of a privateer before he settled down in Oranjestad 8 years ago.

What about halls, don’t you want any this time? No, I think we can supply this customer’s needs this time.

What are you waiting for to fill your glass, Allen? Van Dam said pointing to the small glass he’d placed before Allen. You must forgive me this time, Izaak, but I’d rather not drink gin today. I’ve already taken a coupla glasses of wine and ale. Well then I had better begin by telling you what I need most, but wait, I secured a bottle of good wine and we might as well wet our thirst while we do business."

He opened the door of a small buffet built into the wall beside the bed and came out with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

You had better pull your chair over here, he said pulling the small table close to the bed, these innkeepers are always mean with chairs, they seem to think that one is obliged to have visitors in the diner or in the bar.

I don’t care very much about that, Allen said pulling his chair up to the table. I’d sit on the floor if I have to when I’m ready to talk business. Now what sort of arms do you want this time?

You know the kind I want, Johnson, we need good arms to compete against the British’s or we ain’t worth a damn. I want nine hundred to a thousand muskets if I can get them and two hundred pistols, five hundred good blades and I would be very grateful to ye if ye could intercede at Van Dan’s for twenty barrels of good powder for me. And I would be very grateful if I can get these things aboard by midnight so that I might sail at the setting of the moon.

That’s quite an order, old boy, will cost you some ?? money too! There won’t remain much of what you made on that cargo you brought, when you’re through paying for these, but I can get them I think. He took a pencil and notebook from his pocket and started counting and writing. Is that all you want?

No, but I want to know how much those things cost first. We haven’t got much money left, most of these things are being paid for by a small party in Boston of which I happen to be a member. If this war goes on much longer, we’ll all end up a bunch of beggars. If ye folks don’t go too high with your prices, I’d like to purchase about two bales of blues for our troops, most of them. I am going to treat myself to a small one, you know, I just couldn’t last very long without this un-smelling foul tasting liquor!"

Yes, I know, I prefer the wines or a glass of ale though, I just can’t learn to appreciate the flavor. He frowned as he watched Van Dam pour the strong liquor down his throat.

There’s no use in taking up any more of your time, Izaak, I’ve completed my business here so I had better be on my way.

Now, Allen, there’s no hurry at all, my affairs can wait, I always got time for a good friend, there is still time for a little chat.

Why sure, I know you have time, but I don’t. I still have a great deal of walking to do. I’ll be expecting that cargo by ten tonight. He said rising from his chair and holding out his hand. Izaak followed him to the door. You’ll get your cargo this time, Johnson, he said holding the door open, but next time you’ll wait your turn, I swear by St. Peter!

I never considered you to be a fussy man, Izaak, seems to me as if that gin is beginning to take effect. Good-day Sir!

Goeden dag, M’nheer Johnson. Good-bye Keesch!

After leaving Van Dam’s Allen headed continued up the street towards Blyden’s large store. He began hastening his steps as he noted the rapidity with which the sun was moving towards the west. He had just crossed William the Silent’s Square when he perceived the sharp thuds of a galloping horse behind him. He barely had time to scamper inside the first doorway when horse and rider raced by. He wasn’t as astonished when he saw who the horse and rider was. It was no other than the beautiful and daring Miss van Blyden. It seemed obvious to him that of late the young lady was making a habit of trying to