Puerto Diablo 7 – The English Are Coming!
Jun. 8th, 2010 08:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janestarzThough at first I didn't feel like going to Puerto, I decided while I was on the terrain to come on Friday after all. I cycled home quickly to get my costume and some last minute things like weaving supplies, and dressed in my small house that is my IC property. It is barely as large as an elevator and this would be exaggerating. It does grant me a little bit of privacy because it is in the back of the field. Of course I could have used the upstairs bedrooms, but this worked out fine.
Friday
Antoinette Fermier was back and in action. Little enough had passed in New Amsterdam, though the wedding of Levi Goudsbloem was notable enough. Trading continued, but the threat of the English made people keep a tight fist on their cash.
Rumour had it that the English had four large warships standing by off the coast of New Amsterdam, and these rumours were acknowledged by Mme. Celeste, who is also French. I had a lot of contact with her in the hours that followed and I offered her a chance to escape the English.
Celeste, Jerome, and even Nina the courtesan I offered to arrange a place aboard French-favoured ships to escape New Amsterdam should the English start a war. But a price had to be paid, and the price was information.
Celeste was, at first, a little hesitant but soon enough told me she had information on who had ordered the failed attempt on mr. Van Helvoirt's life. Though I never did find out who she wanted to implicate, I passed on all the information I received to Henri d'Aramitz who was still hanging around New Amsterdam for reasons unknown to me.
Nina also had information, and we settled an older debt between us, which she had not yet forgotten. I had previously helped the Captain of the city guard obtain some black powder for his muskets when there had been a fire in the barracks. As a negotiator between us, Nina had earned her share, but as owner of the (French-marked and as such, illegal) black powder I still got most of the money.
The other matter at hand was Rosalie. The miller's daughter had disappeared from New Amsterdam, and for good reason. After she had allegedly displayed "powers, not of the Lord our God", mr. Van Helvoirt had accused her of witchcraft and she and her father had fled the city. That night she returned, crying and sobbing.
I wrapped an arm around her and hushed her. "My father is dead." she sobbed. "He was eaten by a bear."
I took her to the inn, het Wapen van Amsterdam and got her a glass of water. She calmed down a bit and I asked Maaike Eigenzorg, my neighbour and alchemist, to care for her for a while. Meanwhile, a Dutchman who had previously tried to sell me a shipment of linen told me the miller's daughter had been accused. I had not yet had a chance to catch up on gossip or read the newspaper (New Amsterdamse Tijden, bonus points if you know which newspaper that is...) so I had no idea what she had been accused of. I took the time to read the story, and then took care to avoid Rosalie.
Van Helvoirt had also noticed the girl had returned, and he and his assistant mr. Van Gent questioned the poor girl. She was later released, but Rosalie was adamant to find her fiancée. The corporal had been sent to Fort Orange, and I told her that it was very unwise to travel there, what with the English and Red Man in between the city and the fort.
"But it's alright." she said. "Governor Stuyvesant is sending some soldiers there as well and I can travel with them."
I didn't trust her, and promptly took her to Captain IJzerman, who denied sending soldiers and spoke quite sternly to Rosalie about leaving the city.
"Come sleep in my home tonight." I told the girl, but she refused. "I will sleep in the mill." she said, and I couldn't change her mind.
The next morning, she was gone...
Saturday
I slept late and told people I had been negotiating trade. Sleeping at home has its perks, but I could have gone without the Jehovah witnesses at our door that morning. *grin*
Once I opened up shop people came to me to ask if I had fabrics left. Cursing my lack of foresight and not buying the shipment of linen, I said I didn't. Rumours about the English were spreading rapidly, and people expected an attack. Bandages were scarce, but not as much as bullets and powder. The two casters had been busy casting bullets all morning, but we feared it might not be enough to keep the English off our backs.
I ripped up my old apron and donated the resulting bandages to ms. Eigenzorg, fearing it wouldn't be enough. Johanna, the Dutch barber-surgeon, came to me with fabric to make into bandages as well, but she was the last to come to me. We would have to resort to our shifts next.
The English didn't wait for this, of course. They first sent a delegation bearing the white flag, and I was surprised to see them being peddled by Indians in their canoes. They said to give up the city or they would attack in one hour.
As they left, Stuyvesant was already ordering barricades be drawn up.
The English and Indians came shortly after their term was up. Testing our defences on one side, then the other. One of the harbour's cannons roared and an Englishman fell, the houses shaking from the explosion.
The fighting continued. After they had tested our defences they decided to gain access to the city near the disreputable pub 't Dorstige Hert (ook bekend staande als het Hijgende Hert, het Bronstige Hert, etc...).
Sadly, my house was opposite this pub.
I cleared away my wares quickly, taking refuge inside until even Miss Lillian, an Englishwoman, advised me to take refuge in Het Wapen. I was afraid to go at first, but after nearly an hour of hostilities, I decided to make a run for it and went after closing up my shop.
When the firing ceased for a moment I returned only to find a musket lying on the table I use for market days. I picked it up, thinking it was unloaded, but imagine my shock when the black powder went off. My neighbour, whom I only know by her IC name (Maaike Eigenzorg) caught the explosion in her face, and had some trouble with her eyes. The black powder, unstable as it was, had grown even more unpredictable by the day's heat. Luckily she wasn't wounded, and after rinsing out her eyes and re-setting her lenses, the only thing that was still bothering her was the smell of her singed hair, but it was a terrible scare all around.
It only goes to show that one should never leave the black powder effects on a musket, and how easily accidents can happen with even these kinds of 'safe' special effects. I thought the thing wasn't loaded as the musket didn't carry an arrow, but clearly it was.
Later I saw how the man playing captain of the guard IJzerman caught another unstable effect exploding in his hand. He wiped it off and cooled his fingers, but it could have ended less fortunate for all involved. The effects aren't very dangerous per se (they don't blow your fingers off), but these incidents made me realise I should stay far, far away from any gun except the nerf-variety.
Hostilities seemed to cease and lunch was served, where I missed the herring and instead took care to eat extra fruit. The food on Puerto is always wonderful, and the cooks really deserve all praise (serving a simple spaghetti dish at 22.00 hours on Friday night! Broth on Saturday night at that hour! Eating a la carte on Saturday!)
After lunch, slowly people started to move about again, but for the non-combatants most of the play was gone. I had seen mr. Tell shot before my eyes. He was a very strong man, dealing in weapons and a respected Jewish member of the community (which doesn't go for most Jews in New Amsterdam!). One moment he dashed forward to strike the English from our barricades, the next he is shot dead and carried back so others can take his place.
He wasn't the only dead man, but at least he defended his city. Mr. Schenktuit, the shipwright was found murdered in the jungle, and mr. Boerhaave also. Less fortunate, perhaps, were Van Helvoirt and Van Gent.
They were by no means loved in the community. Van Helvoirt was notorious for his "Zeeuwse methode" - spooning out someone's eye. He was very harsh, looking for unchristian behaviour and telling people to wear their hats, to cover their ankles and to pray at every juncture.
After Rosalie was cleared of suspicion, rumours sprang up that he was looking for other women to accuse of witchcraft, or so Mme Celeste warned me. This was later confirmed by a notable Dutchwoman. Several women suggested to do something about mr. Van Helvoirt, and I suggested to Celeste that perhaps the good man should go swimming. (In a time when being able to swim is really scarce, a lot of people drowned.)
I was told that there was a codeword, and at this codeword "dress", the women of New Amsterdam should go demonstrate their repulsion at Van Helvoirts methods. I decided this was a foolish notion, that any kind of demonstration would be slapped down instantly, if not by Stuyvesant (though I wouldn't put it past him, as he is a harsh, harsh man) then by Van Helvoirt.
When aforementioned woman whispered to me that she had news, and that the dress was done, I only hummed and walked along. Not two minutes later one of the French nuns came running from the inn. "Mr. Van Helvoirt has been murdered!" she shouted.
People flocked to the well-to-do inn, and indeed there they were: Van Helvoirt and Van Gent, lying side by side with their throats cut.
Not a minute after I saw their bodies did Nina cry out that she had lost her purse and she dashed back towards the crime scene, so I have Views on the matter.
Because I was so tired of sitting, standing or walking I had a lie down in the shade (outside the game), surrounded by daisies.
The hostilities with the English did not continue, as a delegation was sent to negotiate with Governor Stuyvesant. They brought several of the barbaric Indians with them, and shared a table with the Governor. I couldn't overhear their conversation but kept a close eye on them. I was seated with the Comtesse, a dubious French nobleman, Johanna, the nuns, a cobbler and a notable Dutchwoman. As it turned out, the company was more than capable to gross out their table guests. Especially Johanna the barber-surgeon had her share of gross stories to tell, and although the Comtesse, the nobleman, the nuns and myself tried to steer the subject away from lively descriptions of amputations and the haemorrhoids of mr. Stuyvesant, it appeared that gardening was a less than popular table topic.
It seems that after dark is the most popular time for spies to be about. I was approached by a woman who was badly-dressed, wearing patched pants and a tricorn, who knew my name and 'other' profession. She asked me for information and said she worked for Hein. I was unsure who she meant exactly, as the newspaper had written a report on Grijnzende Hein, a pirate, but one of the city's notables was called Hein de Groot. Luckily, this Maaike set me right. I gave her some information but was very wary of how much exactly.
It was a quiet night, and though I had set my mind to find myself a husband (a very acceptable task for a woman no less than three years a widow!) my intended subject kept avoiding me. The man I had my eye on was French, charming and very much unaware of my eyes on him. His name was Michel and he was studying under Johanna to become a surgeon himself. I was a little afraid that Celeste and Nina would try and force him against his will, but they had not spoken to him about me during their dinner. Celeste said she might try at a later time.
It wasn't long after my talk with the pirate's spy that I was approached by four handsome gentlemen, one of them a Jew. They greeted me in dulcet French tones rhyming of Home, and asked me for a moment of my time. I sat down on one of the benches in the harbour, often used for these kinds of clandestine conversations, and they stood around me. I gazed up at their handsome faces, their long curling locks waving a halo in the moonlight, and my heart beat faster. Ah! How it fluttered!
One by one they introduced themselves: Michel d'Or, Philippe, and Laurent (sharing a name with my late husband). I didn't remember the name of the Jew, but he left soon after I confirmed there were Jews in the city and told him where to find them.
They told me what I had already suspected: they were sent to find me as a contact. Michel and Philippe spoke the most, telling me they were looking for information on a certain artefact, a skull. I didn't know anything myself, as the newer arrivals to New Amsterdam hardly shared their information freely. Even Celeste and Nina were a little hesitant to share everything they knew with me, choosing to wait with their precious information to await the certainty of a way out of New Amsterdam.
I told the gentlemen what I knew. That there was a Dutch woman who was a spy for Grijnzende Hein in the city, who was also looking for information about a skull, and that there was a Dutch painter who might have some leads as well. I pointed out Appolonius to them, and Michel went off to have a beer with the notorious painter, while I hooked Philippe and Laurent up with Celeste. This turned out to be a golden move. As we sat down in Het Wapen with a glass of wine (the last in the city!) Celeste talked and talked. She had a lot of information about a certain golden skull, and I think perhaps the gentlemen might have been impressed with me.
I pointed out the spy for Grijnzende Hein to Laurent, carefully wording it in French though I had no idea if she spoke the language. Laurent nodded curtly, but Maaike looked at me and I told them that she was the new Market overseer, which she had indeed just become.
My plans with Michel came to nothing. The man sat opposite me in the inn, but I saw him holding Johanna's hand. Celeste, seated between Laurent and me, didn't notice this, but I realised gaining a husband would be a lot harder than it looked.
Sunday
I knew there would be a service for the dead, combined for all the faiths, instead of the usual Catholic mass. We arrived at the terrain in time for breakfast (though we'd had some at home) and I shuffled into a seat next to my neighbour Maaike Eigenzorg in the second row. Peter Stuyvesant said some kind words, and invited a Dutch minister to read from their protestant bible. He was followed by Hein, who spoke kind words about Van Helvoirt and Van Gent. I heard later that Nina left for a bit, as she couldn't bear hearing all these kind words about this terrible man.
The Catholic priest read from our bible and prayed with us, and then there was a Jewish psalm recited by Levi and the rabbi. (and people think Dutch is a harsh language...)
Finally, Maaike Eigenzorg spoke kind words about mr. Schenktuit and the people dispersed. I went into my home to grab the last things I needed.
Maaike the market overseer/spy came up to me to ask me if I had told Celeste she could arrange a ship, but I feigned innocence, telling her I didn't know Celeste wanted to leave New Amsterdam. As it so happened, I had been unsure of who would be able to arrange the ship for the willing French, thinking first it would be D'Aramitz, then this Maaike, and finally settling on the lovely Frenchmen who had infiltrated the city the night previous.
Philippe, Michel and Laurent had indeed offered Celeste and me a place aboard their ship, and after giving it some thought I had accepted. I was unsure if I wanted to go, but Henri d'Aramitz had said there would be new opportunities for me in Port Royal, now in the hands of Grijnzende Hein and the French after driving the English out.
We would meet at the docks at eleven o'clock.
I tried to pawn my house to Levi, but he was leaving himself and there was nothing left for me to do than to leave the key with Maaike Eigenzorg, my good neighbour for all these years. I told her I would be going away for a little while to take care of some business, and that I would write to her.
I stepped into the wobbly boat, where Michel and Laurent would row and Philippe would navigate us to the French ship that had been hidden somewhere along the Hudson. We boarded La Canard Bleu soon after, Celeste and myself climbing the rickety rope ladder hoping the men would not be looking up our shifts.
The three men returned to New Amsterdam several times. First bringing a Dutchwoman who had been looking for a husband (D'Aramitz had previously stated she might be an interesting connection) followed by Nina and the Comtesse. Celeste looked shocked at their appearance, for she doesn't trust the Comtesse and knows that she's a Dutchwoman who only married into her French title, before making sure she held all the valuables at her husband's death, but I knew D'Aramitz' standpoint on the two. The last three to arrive (in two loads) were the French nuns, who had briefly been locked up and then beaten for singing catholic songs in city hall and (later) in jail, and Henri D'Aramitz himself.
During our wait, Celeste told me more about herself, how she had come from La France to the New World, and about her husband whom she had been forced to leave behind in New Amsterdam. We continued our English lessons, but I fear she will always have a strong accent, like in her Dutch.
("Ai am a long-lie lay-die. Ai am French and 'armless. Please don't 'urt me")
A lovely event which, even though it had its dull moments, topped the previous Puerto easily. Lots of political intrigue, chauvinist rabble and fun! Celeste and Antoinette will be working together, and we'll shock Port Royal, no doubt.
Friday
Antoinette Fermier was back and in action. Little enough had passed in New Amsterdam, though the wedding of Levi Goudsbloem was notable enough. Trading continued, but the threat of the English made people keep a tight fist on their cash.
Rumour had it that the English had four large warships standing by off the coast of New Amsterdam, and these rumours were acknowledged by Mme. Celeste, who is also French. I had a lot of contact with her in the hours that followed and I offered her a chance to escape the English.
Celeste, Jerome, and even Nina the courtesan I offered to arrange a place aboard French-favoured ships to escape New Amsterdam should the English start a war. But a price had to be paid, and the price was information.
Celeste was, at first, a little hesitant but soon enough told me she had information on who had ordered the failed attempt on mr. Van Helvoirt's life. Though I never did find out who she wanted to implicate, I passed on all the information I received to Henri d'Aramitz who was still hanging around New Amsterdam for reasons unknown to me.
Nina also had information, and we settled an older debt between us, which she had not yet forgotten. I had previously helped the Captain of the city guard obtain some black powder for his muskets when there had been a fire in the barracks. As a negotiator between us, Nina had earned her share, but as owner of the (French-marked and as such, illegal) black powder I still got most of the money.
The other matter at hand was Rosalie. The miller's daughter had disappeared from New Amsterdam, and for good reason. After she had allegedly displayed "powers, not of the Lord our God", mr. Van Helvoirt had accused her of witchcraft and she and her father had fled the city. That night she returned, crying and sobbing.
I wrapped an arm around her and hushed her. "My father is dead." she sobbed. "He was eaten by a bear."
I took her to the inn, het Wapen van Amsterdam and got her a glass of water. She calmed down a bit and I asked Maaike Eigenzorg, my neighbour and alchemist, to care for her for a while. Meanwhile, a Dutchman who had previously tried to sell me a shipment of linen told me the miller's daughter had been accused. I had not yet had a chance to catch up on gossip or read the newspaper (New Amsterdamse Tijden, bonus points if you know which newspaper that is...) so I had no idea what she had been accused of. I took the time to read the story, and then took care to avoid Rosalie.
Van Helvoirt had also noticed the girl had returned, and he and his assistant mr. Van Gent questioned the poor girl. She was later released, but Rosalie was adamant to find her fiancée. The corporal had been sent to Fort Orange, and I told her that it was very unwise to travel there, what with the English and Red Man in between the city and the fort.
"But it's alright." she said. "Governor Stuyvesant is sending some soldiers there as well and I can travel with them."
I didn't trust her, and promptly took her to Captain IJzerman, who denied sending soldiers and spoke quite sternly to Rosalie about leaving the city.
"Come sleep in my home tonight." I told the girl, but she refused. "I will sleep in the mill." she said, and I couldn't change her mind.
The next morning, she was gone...
Saturday
I slept late and told people I had been negotiating trade. Sleeping at home has its perks, but I could have gone without the Jehovah witnesses at our door that morning. *grin*
Once I opened up shop people came to me to ask if I had fabrics left. Cursing my lack of foresight and not buying the shipment of linen, I said I didn't. Rumours about the English were spreading rapidly, and people expected an attack. Bandages were scarce, but not as much as bullets and powder. The two casters had been busy casting bullets all morning, but we feared it might not be enough to keep the English off our backs.
I ripped up my old apron and donated the resulting bandages to ms. Eigenzorg, fearing it wouldn't be enough. Johanna, the Dutch barber-surgeon, came to me with fabric to make into bandages as well, but she was the last to come to me. We would have to resort to our shifts next.
The English didn't wait for this, of course. They first sent a delegation bearing the white flag, and I was surprised to see them being peddled by Indians in their canoes. They said to give up the city or they would attack in one hour.
As they left, Stuyvesant was already ordering barricades be drawn up.
The English and Indians came shortly after their term was up. Testing our defences on one side, then the other. One of the harbour's cannons roared and an Englishman fell, the houses shaking from the explosion.
The fighting continued. After they had tested our defences they decided to gain access to the city near the disreputable pub 't Dorstige Hert (ook bekend staande als het Hijgende Hert, het Bronstige Hert, etc...).
Sadly, my house was opposite this pub.
I cleared away my wares quickly, taking refuge inside until even Miss Lillian, an Englishwoman, advised me to take refuge in Het Wapen. I was afraid to go at first, but after nearly an hour of hostilities, I decided to make a run for it and went after closing up my shop.
When the firing ceased for a moment I returned only to find a musket lying on the table I use for market days. I picked it up, thinking it was unloaded, but imagine my shock when the black powder went off. My neighbour, whom I only know by her IC name (Maaike Eigenzorg) caught the explosion in her face, and had some trouble with her eyes. The black powder, unstable as it was, had grown even more unpredictable by the day's heat. Luckily she wasn't wounded, and after rinsing out her eyes and re-setting her lenses, the only thing that was still bothering her was the smell of her singed hair, but it was a terrible scare all around.
It only goes to show that one should never leave the black powder effects on a musket, and how easily accidents can happen with even these kinds of 'safe' special effects. I thought the thing wasn't loaded as the musket didn't carry an arrow, but clearly it was.
Later I saw how the man playing captain of the guard IJzerman caught another unstable effect exploding in his hand. He wiped it off and cooled his fingers, but it could have ended less fortunate for all involved. The effects aren't very dangerous per se (they don't blow your fingers off), but these incidents made me realise I should stay far, far away from any gun except the nerf-variety.
Hostilities seemed to cease and lunch was served, where I missed the herring and instead took care to eat extra fruit. The food on Puerto is always wonderful, and the cooks really deserve all praise (serving a simple spaghetti dish at 22.00 hours on Friday night! Broth on Saturday night at that hour! Eating a la carte on Saturday!)
After lunch, slowly people started to move about again, but for the non-combatants most of the play was gone. I had seen mr. Tell shot before my eyes. He was a very strong man, dealing in weapons and a respected Jewish member of the community (which doesn't go for most Jews in New Amsterdam!). One moment he dashed forward to strike the English from our barricades, the next he is shot dead and carried back so others can take his place.
He wasn't the only dead man, but at least he defended his city. Mr. Schenktuit, the shipwright was found murdered in the jungle, and mr. Boerhaave also. Less fortunate, perhaps, were Van Helvoirt and Van Gent.
They were by no means loved in the community. Van Helvoirt was notorious for his "Zeeuwse methode" - spooning out someone's eye. He was very harsh, looking for unchristian behaviour and telling people to wear their hats, to cover their ankles and to pray at every juncture.
After Rosalie was cleared of suspicion, rumours sprang up that he was looking for other women to accuse of witchcraft, or so Mme Celeste warned me. This was later confirmed by a notable Dutchwoman. Several women suggested to do something about mr. Van Helvoirt, and I suggested to Celeste that perhaps the good man should go swimming. (In a time when being able to swim is really scarce, a lot of people drowned.)
I was told that there was a codeword, and at this codeword "dress", the women of New Amsterdam should go demonstrate their repulsion at Van Helvoirts methods. I decided this was a foolish notion, that any kind of demonstration would be slapped down instantly, if not by Stuyvesant (though I wouldn't put it past him, as he is a harsh, harsh man) then by Van Helvoirt.
When aforementioned woman whispered to me that she had news, and that the dress was done, I only hummed and walked along. Not two minutes later one of the French nuns came running from the inn. "Mr. Van Helvoirt has been murdered!" she shouted.
People flocked to the well-to-do inn, and indeed there they were: Van Helvoirt and Van Gent, lying side by side with their throats cut.
Not a minute after I saw their bodies did Nina cry out that she had lost her purse and she dashed back towards the crime scene, so I have Views on the matter.
Because I was so tired of sitting, standing or walking I had a lie down in the shade (outside the game), surrounded by daisies.
The hostilities with the English did not continue, as a delegation was sent to negotiate with Governor Stuyvesant. They brought several of the barbaric Indians with them, and shared a table with the Governor. I couldn't overhear their conversation but kept a close eye on them. I was seated with the Comtesse, a dubious French nobleman, Johanna, the nuns, a cobbler and a notable Dutchwoman. As it turned out, the company was more than capable to gross out their table guests. Especially Johanna the barber-surgeon had her share of gross stories to tell, and although the Comtesse, the nobleman, the nuns and myself tried to steer the subject away from lively descriptions of amputations and the haemorrhoids of mr. Stuyvesant, it appeared that gardening was a less than popular table topic.
It seems that after dark is the most popular time for spies to be about. I was approached by a woman who was badly-dressed, wearing patched pants and a tricorn, who knew my name and 'other' profession. She asked me for information and said she worked for Hein. I was unsure who she meant exactly, as the newspaper had written a report on Grijnzende Hein, a pirate, but one of the city's notables was called Hein de Groot. Luckily, this Maaike set me right. I gave her some information but was very wary of how much exactly.
It was a quiet night, and though I had set my mind to find myself a husband (a very acceptable task for a woman no less than three years a widow!) my intended subject kept avoiding me. The man I had my eye on was French, charming and very much unaware of my eyes on him. His name was Michel and he was studying under Johanna to become a surgeon himself. I was a little afraid that Celeste and Nina would try and force him against his will, but they had not spoken to him about me during their dinner. Celeste said she might try at a later time.
It wasn't long after my talk with the pirate's spy that I was approached by four handsome gentlemen, one of them a Jew. They greeted me in dulcet French tones rhyming of Home, and asked me for a moment of my time. I sat down on one of the benches in the harbour, often used for these kinds of clandestine conversations, and they stood around me. I gazed up at their handsome faces, their long curling locks waving a halo in the moonlight, and my heart beat faster. Ah! How it fluttered!
One by one they introduced themselves: Michel d'Or, Philippe, and Laurent (sharing a name with my late husband). I didn't remember the name of the Jew, but he left soon after I confirmed there were Jews in the city and told him where to find them.
They told me what I had already suspected: they were sent to find me as a contact. Michel and Philippe spoke the most, telling me they were looking for information on a certain artefact, a skull. I didn't know anything myself, as the newer arrivals to New Amsterdam hardly shared their information freely. Even Celeste and Nina were a little hesitant to share everything they knew with me, choosing to wait with their precious information to await the certainty of a way out of New Amsterdam.
I told the gentlemen what I knew. That there was a Dutch woman who was a spy for Grijnzende Hein in the city, who was also looking for information about a skull, and that there was a Dutch painter who might have some leads as well. I pointed out Appolonius to them, and Michel went off to have a beer with the notorious painter, while I hooked Philippe and Laurent up with Celeste. This turned out to be a golden move. As we sat down in Het Wapen with a glass of wine (the last in the city!) Celeste talked and talked. She had a lot of information about a certain golden skull, and I think perhaps the gentlemen might have been impressed with me.
I pointed out the spy for Grijnzende Hein to Laurent, carefully wording it in French though I had no idea if she spoke the language. Laurent nodded curtly, but Maaike looked at me and I told them that she was the new Market overseer, which she had indeed just become.
My plans with Michel came to nothing. The man sat opposite me in the inn, but I saw him holding Johanna's hand. Celeste, seated between Laurent and me, didn't notice this, but I realised gaining a husband would be a lot harder than it looked.
Sunday
I knew there would be a service for the dead, combined for all the faiths, instead of the usual Catholic mass. We arrived at the terrain in time for breakfast (though we'd had some at home) and I shuffled into a seat next to my neighbour Maaike Eigenzorg in the second row. Peter Stuyvesant said some kind words, and invited a Dutch minister to read from their protestant bible. He was followed by Hein, who spoke kind words about Van Helvoirt and Van Gent. I heard later that Nina left for a bit, as she couldn't bear hearing all these kind words about this terrible man.
The Catholic priest read from our bible and prayed with us, and then there was a Jewish psalm recited by Levi and the rabbi. (and people think Dutch is a harsh language...)
Finally, Maaike Eigenzorg spoke kind words about mr. Schenktuit and the people dispersed. I went into my home to grab the last things I needed.
Maaike the market overseer/spy came up to me to ask me if I had told Celeste she could arrange a ship, but I feigned innocence, telling her I didn't know Celeste wanted to leave New Amsterdam. As it so happened, I had been unsure of who would be able to arrange the ship for the willing French, thinking first it would be D'Aramitz, then this Maaike, and finally settling on the lovely Frenchmen who had infiltrated the city the night previous.
Philippe, Michel and Laurent had indeed offered Celeste and me a place aboard their ship, and after giving it some thought I had accepted. I was unsure if I wanted to go, but Henri d'Aramitz had said there would be new opportunities for me in Port Royal, now in the hands of Grijnzende Hein and the French after driving the English out.
We would meet at the docks at eleven o'clock.
I tried to pawn my house to Levi, but he was leaving himself and there was nothing left for me to do than to leave the key with Maaike Eigenzorg, my good neighbour for all these years. I told her I would be going away for a little while to take care of some business, and that I would write to her.
I stepped into the wobbly boat, where Michel and Laurent would row and Philippe would navigate us to the French ship that had been hidden somewhere along the Hudson. We boarded La Canard Bleu soon after, Celeste and myself climbing the rickety rope ladder hoping the men would not be looking up our shifts.
The three men returned to New Amsterdam several times. First bringing a Dutchwoman who had been looking for a husband (D'Aramitz had previously stated she might be an interesting connection) followed by Nina and the Comtesse. Celeste looked shocked at their appearance, for she doesn't trust the Comtesse and knows that she's a Dutchwoman who only married into her French title, before making sure she held all the valuables at her husband's death, but I knew D'Aramitz' standpoint on the two. The last three to arrive (in two loads) were the French nuns, who had briefly been locked up and then beaten for singing catholic songs in city hall and (later) in jail, and Henri D'Aramitz himself.
During our wait, Celeste told me more about herself, how she had come from La France to the New World, and about her husband whom she had been forced to leave behind in New Amsterdam. We continued our English lessons, but I fear she will always have a strong accent, like in her Dutch.
("Ai am a long-lie lay-die. Ai am French and 'armless. Please don't 'urt me")
A lovely event which, even though it had its dull moments, topped the previous Puerto easily. Lots of political intrigue, chauvinist rabble and fun! Celeste and Antoinette will be working together, and we'll shock Port Royal, no doubt.
