Chapter 4
The North Atlantic, aboard the Stormwing
September 1, 1636
Adam Olearius watched as Barend de Haan crawled under the steam engine. It was made in Amsterdam from parts made in Magdeburg and Essen as well as in Amsterdam. And it was finicky. Most of the trip they would be traveling by sail, but this engine and the tons of coal in the hold meant that they wouldn’t be becalmed. They didn’t have enough coal to make the whole trip under steam, but they had enough to travel several hundred miles at an average speed of three miles per hour.
In spite of which, they would be taking the southern loop to the Canary Islands, then the trade winds to the Caribbean, the engine to get to the Gulf Stream, and the Gulf Stream to New Amsterdam. Most of the trip by sail, at an average speed of around ten knots, and only a bit at the slower but more constant speed provided by the engine. And some by a combination of sail and steam.
Adam was watching and chatting with Barend because steam power was, he knew from that other history, eventually going to replace sail for transport, if for no other reason because steam power— adequate steam power, which this wasn’t—allowed a ship to travel in a straight line from point to point, rather than being a slave to the winds.
“Got it,” Barend said then. “Ow, that’s hot. Turn it on, would you, Governor?”
Adam pulled the long handle and the steam engine began to turn. Then slowed, as Barend was climbing out from under the engine.
“That’s all right, Governor, you can close it again. We need to build steam for a bit. I just wanted to make sure that the gasket didn’t leak, and the engine would turn. You can close the valve again.”
Adam pushed the long handle back to the upright position. “If you’re done, let’s go above deck and join Anne and Bastien.”
“No, I have to wait till the steam is up, then inform the skipper, and handle the engine till we’re out of the harbor.” He pointed first at a gauge, then to the Bakelite phone, and finally back to the long handle that Adam had pushed and pulled at his direction.
Barend was the chief engineer of the Stormwing and already Adam wished that he could steal the young man to put him on his staff. But Captain Lange would have threatened his life if he tried.
* * *
Anne, Lady Maria Amilia Alaveres and Bastien Dauvet were in the medic’s quarters inventorying supplies to make sure that they had everything. They did. This was the third inventory and the first two had caught few errors.
“Hello, Your Royal Governorship,” Anne said as Adam came to the door. “How is the greasy old steam engine? Does it need a tonic?”
“No. Apparently Barend’s latex band-aid worked,” Adam said. “If you two can tear yourselves away from the papers and the counting of vials and beakers, I suggest we adjourn to the deck and get our last look at Amsterdam for some time to come.”
* * *
On deck, they stood together at the railing as the lines were cast off and the ship backed out of the quays and turned under steam power, then the sails were raised and they got underway.
They stood there, holding hands and watching Amsterdam slowly recede for almost half an hour.
September 7, 1636
The storm came out of the southeast. It was a hurricane making its way across the Atlantic and would fetch up somewhere in Mexico as a Category 3 storm a couple of weeks later. At the moment, it was a Cat 1 and they were just on the edge of it, but that was enough so that most of the sails were reefed, and the steam engine was in use to try and get them out of its path. A job made more difficult by the fact that they didn’t know what its path was. There was no Doppler weather radar in the seventeenth century, at least not yet. And in this day and age, you didn’t chase storms. Storms chased you.
Or at least it seemed that way to Adam Olearius and Anne Jefferson, neither of whom were particularly good sailors, at least not in what Anne described as a ship the size of a bathtub toy. In fact, the Stormwing was two hundred feet long and forty-two feet wide at the beam.
But the waves they were facing were thirty feet deep, and the rain was traveling horizontally, with a fine disregard for gravity. So was anyone or anything on the ship that wasn’t tied down.
Adam threw up into the commode again. The commode wasn’t what Anne would think of as a commode. It was a modified chamber pot in a closet with a catchall under it. The catchall was replaced and emptied daily by a crewman. Except at times like these, when the crewman in question was on deck, tied down with lines and trying to keep the various items of ship’s equipment functioning and not flying away.
“Move!” Anne croaked with passion. Adam moved just in time, as Anne took her turn bowing to the porcelain god.
The floor moved. A moment before the commode was uphill, now it was downhill, and Adam grabbed Anne’s hips to keep her from doing a header into the full pot.
* * *
Three hours later, they weren’t out of the storm, but they were out of the worst of it. No longer likely to erupt, partly because they were both quite empty by now, but also because the ship was rolling fairly gently, not trying to imitate the vomit comet from up-time.
Anne looked over at her husband. “Once we get to New Amsterdam we’re staying there. I am never doing this again.”
“I fear we’re going to face storms even more severe once we get there, love,” Adam said, sounding concerned. “And I’m not sure I’m what’s needed to batten the hatches down.”
“Why not?” Anne asked, though she thought she knew the answer. They’d talked about this before. “I’m a diplomat, not a governor. I provide those who govern with the information they need. I take the proposals of one lord to the next, and take his response back. I carry messages. I don’t make the sort of final decisions that lead to war or peace, pardons or executions.”
“Bull! I’ve seen you operate. You’re a lot more than some glorified messenger boy. You know your stuff, and you’re ready for this. But you’re not going to believe me or anyone. Not until we get there and you start handing down directives and passing laws. Just don’t let the power go to your head.” Anne didn’t mention that within a week of their arrival in New Amsterdam, they were going to be in contact with Brussels. Because while the new tubes were still in short supply, they had three of the things, and four aqualators. They were going to be able to signal bounce, Maunder Minimum or not. So, in spite of what he was afraid of, he wasn’t going to be completely on his own.
Anne wasn’t sure that she liked that, because Adam could be a royal governor completely on his own. He had the knowledge and ability, and he had the will. It was just that he was used to subordinating that will to the will of another.
She hoped that Fernando would send back messages saying, “You’re the man on the spot. Do what you think best.”