The Dukes of Fernau, for now.
IT'S HAPPENING! Also, this scene as a whole was so wholesome (hah!), got a genuine smile from reading it.
As i've previously said, it was my pleasure to nominate one of my favourite TLs running around in the forum, once i saw that the Turtledove nominations were out my first thought was to go put this timeline into the poll, somehow. :b
I actually think the dragged set-up for this story is one of its strengths, because my patience has been punished with the fact that i now kinda care a lot for the Kettler family in particular and Courland in general
, so the whole fight-flight sequence and the multiple (thankfully unexplorated!) possibilities of disaster during it hit so much harder than if it was just thrown at us that "that was the PoD, this is 20 years later".Even more, the cozy slow burning of this timeline until the actual dramatic event that kickstarts everything is very enjoyabe to read casually, i feel like i can read the Dukes of Fernau, for now. in any given situation if i have the time and access to the forum, there are other timelines that, even though you could argue should be considered better than yours, i have to actually stop to read it, you know? It's like there are timelines in which you're out there adventuring into the neverlands, and other timelines in which you're near home, and can just enjoy your sweet time however you want. And well, reading your stuff is always a (sometimes bitter-)sweet time! That was kinda poetic, i guess? It was not intentional.
You cut straight to the truly interesting matters here. For the first: that’s just one of the angles I’m interested in that this timeline has had zero occasion to play with in Europe. (I will add that the “moving” is surely not seen as indeterminate by Jakob, though he shares the journey with so many for whom it is.)
As for the return to cold weather…. I will try to remember your post when that might be written, months from now.
Thank you! I find my favourite timelines on the site (Of Rajahs and Hornbills: A timeline of Brooke Sarawak and Malê Rising as two shining examples) strike a balance between episodes that focus on advancing the alternate history and episodes that focus on the human experience of that history (the best moments in those two timelines had many moments where both happened at once). My least favourite, however historically inventive, are the plot-summary enumerations of historical events. With that bias firmly planted in me, there have to be moments that push the history to the background and focus on the characters.
In any case, it took me a while to arrive at a plausible reason for Jakob to accept leaving Europe. He has the logic of your colonies might not get rolled by their neighbours with you there, and he has the half-whimsical, half-shrewd you need to get away from this to feel better from Louise Charlotte.
I actually think the dragged set-up for this story is one of its strengths, because my patience has been punished with the fact that i now kinda care a lot for the Kettler family in particular and Courland in general
First, lol "punished."
Let's backtrack to last summer: when this timeline first occurred to me, I thought the PoD would be "in 1658, what if the Kettler family escape to their colonies instead of being captured by Sweden?" I played with it in my mind, got reading and researching, and two things happened at once: I found that wasn't a convincing thing for the Kettlers to do as they were, and I found myself wanting to tell a more convincing version of that story even more. So the PoD got kicked two decades earlier, to make this flight more viable and hopefully more plausible.
That is helpful feedback. The planner in me wants to read it as "don't let your story chase after its butterflies" so that the main thread of the narrative is always "pickuppable" with no effort. Also, perhaps there's a silver lining to not being a true historian there - I have less knowledge that could widen my scope and further slow the pace.
- - -
Next stop: Gambia.
How strong is the Curonian navy as it escaped? Would it be an effective deterrent against invasion of the colonies if it makes it there? And with the facilities there as barebones as they are, but with the craftsmen to make more there... Could they outrace the clock and find a way to not just maintain but expand it?
I've feared this question, as I hadn't fully thought through the precise answer.
So, let's do it now.
OTL, the Courland and Semigallia fleet had 40 warships and 80 merchant ships (three-masted Dutch-style fluytes pretty much like a warship in design, except losing guns and gun-peripherals for cargo, and not made to be easily converted back to warships) by sometime near the end of the 1650s.
Fluytes still very much fit Courland TTL, since Jakob still had the same focus, just more capacity. He probably bought some in addition to those he had Courland build.
How much more capacity? I've already written that Windau's shipyards were more focused on knocking out the smaller ships, while Libau ran more experiments and did the larger ships. And I've had Courland export a handful of ships to Charles I in Britain. Though it hasn't been much in my writing, smaller craft (but still ocean-worthy) were made upriver in the Goldingen shipyards OTL, too. Courland also rented ships out, including to Venice.
Pre-war, Courland is generally credited with a 1 big ship / 2 small ships pace of shipbuilding. Any others would have been bought to get to 40 warships and 80 merchant ships.
So let's go shipyard by shipyard to math this out:
Goldingen:
Because limited by river sailing (down the Windau river), I don't think this shipyard would have made any more ships than OTL. Of the baseline of 40/80 (warships/merchant ships) OTL, I'll credit Goldingen with 2 smaller merchant ships per year: 34 merchant ships of unexceptional design.
Windau:
Let's say Windau made started off making 2 warships and 1 fluyte per year on average, and picked up the pace over time. Perhaps 40/30.
Libau:
Libau has grown the most TTL versus OTL, and I'd expect the most investment, efficiency, and acceleration there, given the Maritime Academy and stronger economy. 2 warships per year and 2 merchant ships, starting off with just fluytes and getting varied later, and accelerating more than Windau... let's say 36/80.
Totalling up: 76 warships, 144 merchant ships made in Courland. Not a powerhouse, but not a pushover. I'll consider ships sold to other nations or rented out as over and above those tallies, to keep make those the numbers for Courland's navy and merchant marine.
Then we deduct 1 from the warships for the loss of the Crocodile. If the count of ships leaving the Baltic in late 1655 (versus being at sea elsewhere) would have been 30 warships and 70 merchant ones, that's capacity enough to transport perhaps 11,000 people, belongings, and whatever less-heavy, less-bulky industrial implements you have space for. The next chapter will cover a bit of that.
Parts of the fleet were already used to that end OTL. Mostly, you protect the merchant ships with your warships. Rivals put settlements on islands previously settled by others (the Dutch on Tobago, the French on Trinidad, etc.). I'll research this a bit more, it must become relevant.
Here you've got the basis for the next Economic Historian Blog entry in a nutshell. Courland reinvested in fleet and colonies after the war ended OTL. TTL, they have the fleet intact, and get to discover what triangle trade is like when your headquarters aren't in Europe.
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I stumbled on outrigger boats and it could be what the proliferation of the design might look like.
54. Lisbon, the Atlantic, the Gambia river, and Saint-Louis, December 1655 - January 1656.
A New Year
The fleet was a museum, preserving the past to inform the future. The fleet was a commonwealth, invisibly flattening social hierarchy. The fleet was a library, exploring its knowledge and ignorance. The fleet was a city, and the city was having a census.
Over ten thousand colonists were travelling at once, from Edinburgh to about Madeira, past which those bound for Tobago would peel off westward while the remainder went south. During that voyage, who was to go where needed sorting out. Masters or apprentices of trades needed everywhere were divided up, serfs and peasants were mostly assigned to Tobago or Fernau. Soldiers or those who could become soldiers were mostly invited to Bandschul or Tobago. Astronomers wanted to go where the weather was clear, and were lured by the southern stars of Saint Helena.
But lack also influenced decisions. A lack of contact: as far as anyone knew, Saint Helena was the village farthest from its neighbouring village, anywhere. A lack of sun: It was by now known that Fernau was a rainy place, and the rains on its southern shore in particular were the stuff of children's stories. A lack of a need to learn a new language would nudge people toward choosing Tobago. A lack of cool weather... well, one could always climb a mountain if cool air was truly important. Everything would be a mountain to Couralnders, though. Tiny Tobago rose to twice the height of Courland's highest hill. Saint Helena was less than half the size of Tobago, but rose higher than Courland's and Tobago's highest points combined again. Fernau had three peaks, the least of which dwarfed Saint Helena. A desire for land lacking such hills would send one to the Gambia.
Sorting happened in other ways, too. Families would migrate together. Jews disproportionately asked to go to Fernau, though some with real or imagined histories in mind thought to establish themselves on the Gambia, or inland of it. Those who had learned some Portuguese or French also might choose the Gambia, which lay near other countries' trading posts. Some people simply wanted to follow where someone they knew had gone before.
Martin, head swimming since Edinburgh from stories of a place further north in Scotland that had seen two eclipses hiding the sun within three years, thought he might want to be where the astronomers went. Louise Charlotte wanted to visit where her gardens were. Jakob wanted to be in his study, in Libau, looking out over the Baltic, at peace. So did his younger children, not understanding, except the room they wanted wasn't the study. Joachim was content when he was with Martin, or his mother. It was easier to get Martin's time than his mother's.
- - -
The entire fleet put in at Lisbon, for provisions and to mark Christmas. Lisbon nobles were surprised to find a European ruler leaving Europe, but were happy to play host to Kettlers or other Couronian nobles for a night or two for gossip and news. To the extent Courland's liberty of religious belief was known or understood, it played in Jakob's favour: he was the least-bad Protestant ruler out there.
The Courlanders learned of Portugal's surely imminent success in their pursuit or restored independence, how Catalunya was not far behind them, and how, unfortunately, things weren't going Portugal's way quite as much in Brazil against the Dutch.
Then they sailed onward, again. Courland's Ark was doing its best to be the Martin Maritime Academy, only at sea. Those who might learn or teach were brought on board between ports or freshwater stops.
At one stop, Safi (or Asfi) in Morocco, Jakob left behind an ambassador to travel inland and make friends in Marrakech. He might have gone himself had he planned to spend more time away from Europe, and he wouldn't have sent anyone were his people not moving en masse down the Moroccan coast.
Safi was also where the fleet split: about a quarter of the ships, holding about a third of the people, peeled off toward Madeira en route to Tobago. No ship carrying colonists with a minimum of discomfort would also carry slaves with any efficiency. The Tobago-bound captains were encouraged to exercise their best judgment in attempting to fill their holds for a return to Europe - even if they had to purchase from plantations of other colonies to do so. Past some point, that would no longer be profitable enough for some ships, which were then encouraged to do a scaled-up version of a routine, but marginal, Courland project: to gather a maximum of fruit trees, medicinal plants, and other botanical curios to bring to Fernau and Saint Helena.
Finally, three ships were asked to simply explore before eventually making port in Fernau or Saint Helena. They were asked to keep between Cape Horn and Île Bourbon, give or take, and again to return with every possible plant of potential commercial interest.
The majority of the fleet that did not head for Madeira and Tobago continued on to Bandschul.
The fleet was a museum, preserving the past to inform the future. The fleet was a commonwealth, invisibly flattening social hierarchy. The fleet was a library, exploring its knowledge and ignorance. The fleet was a city, and the city was having a census.
Over ten thousand colonists were travelling at once, from Edinburgh to about Madeira, past which those bound for Tobago would peel off westward while the remainder went south. During that voyage, who was to go where needed sorting out. Masters or apprentices of trades needed everywhere were divided up, serfs and peasants were mostly assigned to Tobago or Fernau. Soldiers or those who could become soldiers were mostly invited to Bandschul or Tobago. Astronomers wanted to go where the weather was clear, and were lured by the southern stars of Saint Helena.
But lack also influenced decisions. A lack of contact: as far as anyone knew, Saint Helena was the village farthest from its neighbouring village, anywhere. A lack of sun: It was by now known that Fernau was a rainy place, and the rains on its southern shore in particular were the stuff of children's stories. A lack of a need to learn a new language would nudge people toward choosing Tobago. A lack of cool weather... well, one could always climb a mountain if cool air was truly important. Everything would be a mountain to Couralnders, though. Tiny Tobago rose to twice the height of Courland's highest hill. Saint Helena was less than half the size of Tobago, but rose higher than Courland's and Tobago's highest points combined again. Fernau had three peaks, the least of which dwarfed Saint Helena. A desire for land lacking such hills would send one to the Gambia.
Sorting happened in other ways, too. Families would migrate together. Jews disproportionately asked to go to Fernau, though some with real or imagined histories in mind thought to establish themselves on the Gambia, or inland of it. Those who had learned some Portuguese or French also might choose the Gambia, which lay near other countries' trading posts. Some people simply wanted to follow where someone they knew had gone before.
Martin, head swimming since Edinburgh from stories of a place further north in Scotland that had seen two eclipses hiding the sun within three years, thought he might want to be where the astronomers went. Louise Charlotte wanted to visit where her gardens were. Jakob wanted to be in his study, in Libau, looking out over the Baltic, at peace. So did his younger children, not understanding, except the room they wanted wasn't the study. Joachim was content when he was with Martin, or his mother. It was easier to get Martin's time than his mother's.
- - -
The entire fleet put in at Lisbon, for provisions and to mark Christmas. Lisbon nobles were surprised to find a European ruler leaving Europe, but were happy to play host to Kettlers or other Couronian nobles for a night or two for gossip and news. To the extent Courland's liberty of religious belief was known or understood, it played in Jakob's favour: he was the least-bad Protestant ruler out there.
The Courlanders learned of Portugal's surely imminent success in their pursuit or restored independence, how Catalunya was not far behind them, and how, unfortunately, things weren't going Portugal's way quite as much in Brazil against the Dutch.
Then they sailed onward, again. Courland's Ark was doing its best to be the Martin Maritime Academy, only at sea. Those who might learn or teach were brought on board between ports or freshwater stops.
At one stop, Safi (or Asfi) in Morocco, Jakob left behind an ambassador to travel inland and make friends in Marrakech. He might have gone himself had he planned to spend more time away from Europe, and he wouldn't have sent anyone were his people not moving en masse down the Moroccan coast.
Safi was also where the fleet split: about a quarter of the ships, holding about a third of the people, peeled off toward Madeira en route to Tobago. No ship carrying colonists with a minimum of discomfort would also carry slaves with any efficiency. The Tobago-bound captains were encouraged to exercise their best judgment in attempting to fill their holds for a return to Europe - even if they had to purchase from plantations of other colonies to do so. Past some point, that would no longer be profitable enough for some ships, which were then encouraged to do a scaled-up version of a routine, but marginal, Courland project: to gather a maximum of fruit trees, medicinal plants, and other botanical curios to bring to Fernau and Saint Helena.
Finally, three ships were asked to simply explore before eventually making port in Fernau or Saint Helena. They were asked to keep between Cape Horn and Île Bourbon, give or take, and again to return with every possible plant of potential commercial interest.
The majority of the fleet that did not head for Madeira and Tobago continued on to Bandschul.
Outriggers could very well be a future river-use version of our ZKs. The Gambia could certainly use those, as could river exploration on continental coasts around Fernau. The main purpose of the ZKs, story-wise, was to help the exodus across the Baltic. I wasn't suddenly going to become a convincing large-scale naval-battle writer, so I stuck with the simpler tale of one ship (or possibly two, RIP Crocodile) spoiling a hoped-for pincer manoeuvre. It could have been been done other ways, but this way was possibly better for Courland's future cultural identity. It also leaves Sweden with a slightly stronger Baltic navy than a bigger battle might have allowed, which should help mess up any homecoming plans for longer. Both aspects were day 1 goals for this timeline.
I have a little more research to expend on possible ZK futures all the same - there is one minor story arc that might have room for them.
55. Bandschul, Barra and Kombo, January 1656.
Fernau, for now - part one
The docks at Banschul did not have enough berths for the fleet. Accordingly, and to a lesser extent as a flex, some ships put in at the French port of Saint-Louis at the mouth of the Senegal River, some at the presently-Dutch, often-Portuguese island-port of Gorée (Goeree) sheltered just beyond the Cape Verde (Kap Weert). Others passed both and went directly for the mouth of the Gambia, the same distance south of the Cape as the Saint-Louis was north of it.
Martin noted that the farther south they went, the more everyone looked differently at the darker-skinned people sailing amongst them, and Njikobiya in particular.
"Njikobiya, do you feel close to home now?"
"No. Your boat men say home is still half a moon away."
"But now when we stop for water, there are people with skin like yours."
"Skin is not home."
"True. We stopped at Copenhagen and Flekkerøy and Edinburgh and they had skin like me. But they were not home. I see Courland people see more black people and feel far from home."
"Your boats have people with both black and white grandfathers. Skin is not home."
At each port, more people asked to come aboard Courland's Ark for Njikobiya's language teaching. Others asked mulattos on board to teach them, and didn't at first understand why they spoke different languages from Njikobiya (many spoke a Portuguese creole, and that was worth learning, too). Couronian naïveté was being stripped away, day by day, as the fleet continued south.
- - -
"My lord Duke, I... I..." Möller was in a polite state of shock to see Jakob in the Gambia. He had never seen so many ships flying the black crayfish on raspberry red.
"Herr Möller, you've done well here. You'll have so many countrymen and women glad to be able to sleep under a roof rather than a ship's deck tonight."
"Not to be impolite, my lord... but why are you here?"
"War. Sweden came at us from Riga, and later sought to end my rule with an opportune sea battle. I can't tell you whether we still hold any of our homeland. But these ships hold enough people with enough knowledge and enough skills to keep our enterprise going."
"Bandschul won't fit you all for long."
"Bandschul won't have to. We sent a good many people and ships to Tobago. Most of us are heading to Fernau do Po. I mean to leave explorers with you to find that great river we brought those Danes to look for so long ago. And you'll have more men here for trade, diplomacy, and for making whatever it makes sense to make here instead of getting from Europe. Think about what makes sense, and what you need. I'll stay a few days, even as other ships continue on to not be a drain on your stores."
"Ja. Ja.... If you're here for days, I suppose we'll have to introduce you to your landlords, my lord."
- - -
Permission to settle on and use Bandschul, Dog Island, Fire Point, and Saint Jakob's Island had been granted by two different kings, who were being paid annually in gratitude if not explicitly as a lease. There were many small kingdoms; none straddled the wide Gambia River. Courland's colony was somewhat the exception, with Bandschul on the left bank while Dog Island and Fire Point were on the right.
Bandschul was on a long, low island rimmed with beaches facing the river's main channel to its north and east sides, and a slowly-evolving stalemate between water and land to the southwest, a miniature river delta. The colony was at the southeasternmost corner of the island, though the occasional building appeared all along the north shore, watching the wide river mouth.
It was January, and January in Bandschul was warmer at night than Libau was by day in July. It was bone-dry, though, so shade was an instant reprieve for anyone finding the sun too hot. Those without responsibilities enjoyed a beach day, in water saltier than the Baltic, amidst landscapes completely unfamiliar to them. So much dryness. Palm trees. This river mouth, wider than any back home, save Prussia's lagoon south of Memel.
They would cross it to the right bank, where the small port of Barra occupied the spot nearest Bandschul on the left bank. Barra had given its name to the kingdom on that side of the river mouth, which had also been called Niumi before.
"The king will either be at Barra or Berending, less than two miles' walk from Barra."
- - -
They found him at Barra. Möller accompanied the Duke, Duchess, and their two oldest children, with five aides to translate, advise, and help bring gifts. The king of Barra served them a meal of rice and millet dishes, with spicy red peppers the likes of which the Baltic had never tasted. Dessert included banana and pineapple, which came to Barra from elsewhere before Courlanders did, though Courland had brought them rather more diversity of bananas from elsewhere around the Atlantic in the last decade.
Only at the King's table were there chairs. Jakob's knees were grateful he was welcome there. Möller had told him not to look directly at the King's face unless the King was first looking directly at Jakob's, which took some getting used to. No one at other tables looked the King in the face at all, and most seemed to avoid Jakob's face in the same way. Jakob felt a world away from diplomatic letters written in Latin.
At the King's table, gifts were exchanged, favours requested, promises made. Courland gave orange trees from Morocco, purchased earlier in their voyage, and promised more diversity of fruits, peppers, and nuts in the future. Barra guides would help Couronian adventurers seek the great river deep inland, and Barra would introduce these adventurers to the peoples further up the Gambia, until they left the river behind.
- - -
Kneeling at a lower table, though with a small cushion, Martin and Louise Elisabeth sat with relatives of the King, mostly near their own age. The conversation was led by a girl who seemed younger than Martin, but older than Louise Elisabeth. Faces were so different here. It was hard to tell ages. Her clothing was made of light cloth that might have been Portuguese or local, had they known enough about what came from either Portugal or here. Either way, with her dark skin, nothing about her could truly look European.
"Vous comprenez le français?" The Kettler children nodded. And so conversation proceeded mostly in French, interspersed with Mandinka or a Portuguese creole on the one side, and German on the other. (Nothing Martin had learned from Njikobiya was of any use.)
"I am a daughter of the Mansa - le roi - of Barra. You are a son and daughter of the Mansa of Kurla, yes?"
"Yes. Our father is Herzog - le duc - of Courlande et Semigalle. We do not know the word "Mansa" where we come from. But there is war in Courland and Semigallia. Our line may only be dukes of Fernau, for now. Je m'appelle Martin, ma soeur s'appelle Louise Élisabeth."
"Vous pouvez m'appeler La Bélinguère."
"Is that a name?"
"It is a way to call me and have no one else answer."
"Can we also get names like that?"
La Belinguere smiled. "I am also called Marie. But you can also find others called Marie."
Marie's mother was half-Portuguese, married to the Mansa of Barra to solidify a trading relationship, the way the strongest trading relationships were solidified. Martin thought for a span of seconds what further twists to his future might see him or Joachim marry Marie La Belinguere, and what trade it would need to secure to be worth it.
- - -
Goodbyes were said at Bandschul to those staying with Möller in the Gambia, and to those adventuring inland. The ships that had carried these people set to returning to Barra or points upriver to purchase slaves from Barra or other friendly kingdoms, and then to sail them to eager markets across the Atlantic. The northern winter was a slow season for the slave trade, as so many rivers became too dry to bring slaves from further up the river valleys of this part of the continent. They would get good prices if they could fill their hull.
Jakob stopped to visit his other "landlord" - the Mansa of Kombo, who lived nearer the Casamance river than the Gambia. As with Barra, there were gifts, favours, and promises. There were lessons in local diplomacy. There were first-hand experiences of things mentioned in dispatches to Libau. There was hospitality and heat.
What there wasn't was another Belinguere.
The docks at Banschul did not have enough berths for the fleet. Accordingly, and to a lesser extent as a flex, some ships put in at the French port of Saint-Louis at the mouth of the Senegal River, some at the presently-Dutch, often-Portuguese island-port of Gorée (Goeree) sheltered just beyond the Cape Verde (Kap Weert). Others passed both and went directly for the mouth of the Gambia, the same distance south of the Cape as the Saint-Louis was north of it.
Martin noted that the farther south they went, the more everyone looked differently at the darker-skinned people sailing amongst them, and Njikobiya in particular.
"Njikobiya, do you feel close to home now?"
"No. Your boat men say home is still half a moon away."
"But now when we stop for water, there are people with skin like yours."
"Skin is not home."
"True. We stopped at Copenhagen and Flekkerøy and Edinburgh and they had skin like me. But they were not home. I see Courland people see more black people and feel far from home."
"Your boats have people with both black and white grandfathers. Skin is not home."
At each port, more people asked to come aboard Courland's Ark for Njikobiya's language teaching. Others asked mulattos on board to teach them, and didn't at first understand why they spoke different languages from Njikobiya (many spoke a Portuguese creole, and that was worth learning, too). Couronian naïveté was being stripped away, day by day, as the fleet continued south.
- - -
"My lord Duke, I... I..." Möller was in a polite state of shock to see Jakob in the Gambia. He had never seen so many ships flying the black crayfish on raspberry red.
"Herr Möller, you've done well here. You'll have so many countrymen and women glad to be able to sleep under a roof rather than a ship's deck tonight."
"Not to be impolite, my lord... but why are you here?"
"War. Sweden came at us from Riga, and later sought to end my rule with an opportune sea battle. I can't tell you whether we still hold any of our homeland. But these ships hold enough people with enough knowledge and enough skills to keep our enterprise going."
"Bandschul won't fit you all for long."
"Bandschul won't have to. We sent a good many people and ships to Tobago. Most of us are heading to Fernau do Po. I mean to leave explorers with you to find that great river we brought those Danes to look for so long ago. And you'll have more men here for trade, diplomacy, and for making whatever it makes sense to make here instead of getting from Europe. Think about what makes sense, and what you need. I'll stay a few days, even as other ships continue on to not be a drain on your stores."
"Ja. Ja.... If you're here for days, I suppose we'll have to introduce you to your landlords, my lord."
- - -
Permission to settle on and use Bandschul, Dog Island, Fire Point, and Saint Jakob's Island had been granted by two different kings, who were being paid annually in gratitude if not explicitly as a lease. There were many small kingdoms; none straddled the wide Gambia River. Courland's colony was somewhat the exception, with Bandschul on the left bank while Dog Island and Fire Point were on the right.
Bandschul was on a long, low island rimmed with beaches facing the river's main channel to its north and east sides, and a slowly-evolving stalemate between water and land to the southwest, a miniature river delta. The colony was at the southeasternmost corner of the island, though the occasional building appeared all along the north shore, watching the wide river mouth.
It was January, and January in Bandschul was warmer at night than Libau was by day in July. It was bone-dry, though, so shade was an instant reprieve for anyone finding the sun too hot. Those without responsibilities enjoyed a beach day, in water saltier than the Baltic, amidst landscapes completely unfamiliar to them. So much dryness. Palm trees. This river mouth, wider than any back home, save Prussia's lagoon south of Memel.
They would cross it to the right bank, where the small port of Barra occupied the spot nearest Bandschul on the left bank. Barra had given its name to the kingdom on that side of the river mouth, which had also been called Niumi before.
"The king will either be at Barra or Berending, less than two miles' walk from Barra."
- - -
They found him at Barra. Möller accompanied the Duke, Duchess, and their two oldest children, with five aides to translate, advise, and help bring gifts. The king of Barra served them a meal of rice and millet dishes, with spicy red peppers the likes of which the Baltic had never tasted. Dessert included banana and pineapple, which came to Barra from elsewhere before Courlanders did, though Courland had brought them rather more diversity of bananas from elsewhere around the Atlantic in the last decade.
Only at the King's table were there chairs. Jakob's knees were grateful he was welcome there. Möller had told him not to look directly at the King's face unless the King was first looking directly at Jakob's, which took some getting used to. No one at other tables looked the King in the face at all, and most seemed to avoid Jakob's face in the same way. Jakob felt a world away from diplomatic letters written in Latin.
At the King's table, gifts were exchanged, favours requested, promises made. Courland gave orange trees from Morocco, purchased earlier in their voyage, and promised more diversity of fruits, peppers, and nuts in the future. Barra guides would help Couronian adventurers seek the great river deep inland, and Barra would introduce these adventurers to the peoples further up the Gambia, until they left the river behind.
- - -
Kneeling at a lower table, though with a small cushion, Martin and Louise Elisabeth sat with relatives of the King, mostly near their own age. The conversation was led by a girl who seemed younger than Martin, but older than Louise Elisabeth. Faces were so different here. It was hard to tell ages. Her clothing was made of light cloth that might have been Portuguese or local, had they known enough about what came from either Portugal or here. Either way, with her dark skin, nothing about her could truly look European.
"Vous comprenez le français?" The Kettler children nodded. And so conversation proceeded mostly in French, interspersed with Mandinka or a Portuguese creole on the one side, and German on the other. (Nothing Martin had learned from Njikobiya was of any use.)
"I am a daughter of the Mansa - le roi - of Barra. You are a son and daughter of the Mansa of Kurla, yes?"
"Yes. Our father is Herzog - le duc - of Courlande et Semigalle. We do not know the word "Mansa" where we come from. But there is war in Courland and Semigallia. Our line may only be dukes of Fernau, for now. Je m'appelle Martin, ma soeur s'appelle Louise Élisabeth."
"Vous pouvez m'appeler La Bélinguère."
"Is that a name?"
"It is a way to call me and have no one else answer."
"Can we also get names like that?"
La Belinguere smiled. "I am also called Marie. But you can also find others called Marie."
Marie's mother was half-Portuguese, married to the Mansa of Barra to solidify a trading relationship, the way the strongest trading relationships were solidified. Martin thought for a span of seconds what further twists to his future might see him or Joachim marry Marie La Belinguere, and what trade it would need to secure to be worth it.
- - -
Goodbyes were said at Bandschul to those staying with Möller in the Gambia, and to those adventuring inland. The ships that had carried these people set to returning to Barra or points upriver to purchase slaves from Barra or other friendly kingdoms, and then to sail them to eager markets across the Atlantic. The northern winter was a slow season for the slave trade, as so many rivers became too dry to bring slaves from further up the river valleys of this part of the continent. They would get good prices if they could fill their hull.
Jakob stopped to visit his other "landlord" - the Mansa of Kombo, who lived nearer the Casamance river than the Gambia. As with Barra, there were gifts, favours, and promises. There were lessons in local diplomacy. There were first-hand experiences of things mentioned in dispatches to Libau. There was hospitality and heat.
What there wasn't was another Belinguere.
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Really liked this update. I love this kind of cross-cultural discovery and interaction — it’s my favourite thing in historical fiction and, by extension, AH — and it was a delight seeing the royal children meet.
Shame that in this instance, that cross-cultural relationship is built on the slave trade.
Shame that in this instance, that cross-cultural relationship is built on the slave trade.
If there was anything more value-dense available there and in demand elsewhere, it wouldn't be. E.g. if the Kettlers build up their domains for production, to such an extent that it makes sense to import raw materials and export finished products. But that will take time.Shame that in this instance, that cross-cultural relationship is built on the slave trade.
Loved this update! I think i was the first to read it, but yesterday night my neighbourhood's eletricity went out due to heavy rain, so i wasn't able to comment without spending valuable battery off my phone The lights are back now, so i want to comment a few things that are in my mind ever since!
, i actually thought that would happen. Also, HE SAID! HE SAID THE THING! Although it was in french, so more like "Notre lignée peut être seulement ducs de Fernau, pour l'instant." It doesn't rhyme, but it does sound sophisticated.
The lights are back now, so i want to comment a few things that are in my mind ever since!This entire passage is very telling, and also an exercise in ethnic consciousness. The phrase "Skin is not home." goes very hard, Njikobiya, and i think Martin is leaply progressing towards being the european "royal" (i think "sovereignly ducal" is included in such definition) most understanding of the world's diversity in a long time, further comments on that later. I just had to highlight this one.
I imagine how shocking it may be for your average colonial officer to just suddenly see an entire fleet off your post and then the fleet is carrying your direct ruler, from what's kind of the other side of the world, and you have no clue to why. That's also a funny line.
That's also a funny line, don't know how many european rulers ever heard the sequence of words "your landlords" in their lives. After all, aren't they supposed to be the landlords?
This passes very dissonantic vibes, in a good way, it just seems like a scene out of a book! Like, i can't wrap my head around how imaginative my mind goes once i have to figure "duke of courland meets gambian king for dinner" out image-wise, maybe i'll try some AI generator to see what comes off it, curiosity peaks besides, can you explain the tradition?
I remember being quite shellshocked by the term "Mansa of Kurla", it's just too comical! Although i think you missed the opportunity for a funny interaction where Belinguere tries to figure out how to address the title Duc in Mandinka
, i actually thought that would happen. Also, HE SAID! HE SAID THE THING! Although it was in french, so more like "Notre lignée peut être seulement ducs de Fernau, pour l'instant." It doesn't rhyme, but it does sound sophisticated.Martin's question not being answered drove me mad! I want a Martin-only name! Although, if Marie's mother was half-Portuguese, i find it amusing that she translated her name to french, since i assume Martin would be more acquainted with the traditional portuguese Maria. Also, the way Martin self-rationalizes his own sudden fantasies made me laugh very hard.
We'll see her again...won't we?
Same! I mean, technically i was hyped up for this specific chapter since the moment i saw what the timeline was about
Some next-day thoughts, and answering readers' comments above.
First, this was a really, really hard one to write, and it showed me that the road only gets harder for me as a writer and researcher from here.
At first, all of the above was dispensed with in a five-line paragraph outlining events, so that the fleet and story could move on toward Fernau (perhaps better living up to the chapter title). As a reader, I looked at that and found it completely unsatisfying, realizing the encounter required more show and less tell to live alongside the better episodes of this timeline. But then came the challenges: if you want to know what etiquette was for a noble or royal encounter in Europe in pretty much any of the last 20 centuries, you can find sources for it. If you want to know what etiquette would have been in this or that corner of Africa, you needed to find it on the margins of one of the more narratively-oriented sources about European-African relations you could find - looking for something by looking up something else.
The silver linings of this are that it turns up all kinds of interesting rabbit holes to distract myself with, and also that I discovered la Belinguere. She is written of as a senhora trader of significance 20-30 years from here OTL, noted for her hospitality, multilingualism, and wealth earned through the slave trade. The meal of this encounter was modelled after one she is recorded as serving European guests, in the OTL future.
My multi-quote is failing for me while editing this post. So, for @Tirion ’s point above: how many times have I said lately that we are due for an “Economic Historian Blog” post now? Let’s say it again now.
Oversimplifying, we are looking at flattening the triangle trade. Have colonies make for themselves some<—>much of what they would otherwise buy/receive from Europe. Whatever Africans might find “exotic” from Europe still comes from Europe. But utilitarian things: food (especially storable food), iron, gunpowder, guns, boats… what happens when a colony becomes self-sufficient or better on these things?
Next stop, Fernau (perhaps obviously). After that, I honestly haven’t much ordered things I mean to write about. Loango, Tobago, Saint Helena, the search for the Niger, and news from Bauske and Mitau finally reaching the colonies.
Plus, that overdue blog. I guess I just need to end a narrative entry on a note that segues into it.
First, this was a really, really hard one to write, and it showed me that the road only gets harder for me as a writer and researcher from here.
At first, all of the above was dispensed with in a five-line paragraph outlining events, so that the fleet and story could move on toward Fernau (perhaps better living up to the chapter title). As a reader, I looked at that and found it completely unsatisfying, realizing the encounter required more show and less tell to live alongside the better episodes of this timeline. But then came the challenges: if you want to know what etiquette was for a noble or royal encounter in Europe in pretty much any of the last 20 centuries, you can find sources for it. If you want to know what etiquette would have been in this or that corner of Africa, you needed to find it on the margins of one of the more narratively-oriented sources about European-African relations you could find - looking for something by looking up something else.
The silver linings of this are that it turns up all kinds of interesting rabbit holes to distract myself with, and also that I discovered la Belinguere. She is written of as a senhora trader of significance 20-30 years from here OTL, noted for her hospitality, multilingualism, and wealth earned through the slave trade. The meal of this encounter was modelled after one she is recorded as serving European guests, in the OTL future.
I found no reference with the accents inserted, I did that myself only because the discussion was happening in French (this is probably also an anachronism on my part). I would personally expect the name is derived more from Portuguese (or Portuguese Creole, at least) than French, owing to Portugal's huge head-start in mixed-race marriages (or ~marriages). One of these days I'll end up spending a whole day in a university library to find some of the books that have a smidgen more detail than what I can get online. I don't know when Marie was born, or when she died. Making her nearly Martin's age looked like a good contrast with the encounters with European princesses in preceding episodes. I do see her given name only as "Marie", though she is "Luso-African".
Thanks for that. You say in one line what makes AH so appealing to me as well, though I'd probably have taken a paragraph dense with commas to say it my way. Focusing on the royal children let me pull attention away from the aspects of the meeting for which I had too little information to draw upon. A helpful hedge I'll have to rely a little less on as the story continues.
I'm conscious that I'm writing this just after the conclusion of "Black History Month", as a person who has seen one quarter of his family tree going back 12 generations of caucasians (another quarter of it is hidden by the mystery of adoption). As the idea for this story unfolded in my mind, I knew it would intersect with the slave trade. I can only say I hope to write of things that horrify me, and I can only hope I do so well enough to feel horrified by the events of a horrifying story well-told. Hints of a scene or two in the future of this timeline have danced, incomplete, through my thoughts. I want to avoid imposing today's morals on the telling of this story. Still...there must be tragedy. Gut-punch, sick-to-the-stomach inhumanity. The writer in me relishes the challenge. The rest of me cowers, for now.Shame that in this instance, that cross-cultural relationship is built on the slave trade.
Landlords is an old-enough concept that it surely fits here. In Europe, Courland already had Denmark as its landlord in Flekkerøy. Here, Jakob's Gambian colonies (and they are, strictly speaking, Jakob's more than Courland's) exist at the permission of the local kings. Tobago and Fernau are different - his possessions. I thank you for drawing my attention to this, though - a reckoning of the colonies' status will be due soon.
Amidst the extremely few references I could find for etiquette in African diplomacy of this era, I found two entries that I thought were usable here: don't look the king in the face in certain situations (lightly adapted or corrupted here), and only the king gets to sit, while others kneel (again, adapted/corrupted here). As noted above, the meal itself was a menu served by la Belinguere OTL, a few decades away.
I think I enjoyed writing her enough to bring her back. But here's the thing: OTL, she ends up being the significant and wealthy trader, while OTL Courland would be drifting back to the bottom tier of European countries. The linked trope could end up being reversed, or they could end up as equals, in trade, at least.
My multi-quote is failing for me while editing this post. So, for @Tirion ’s point above: how many times have I said lately that we are due for an “Economic Historian Blog” post now? Let’s say it again now.
Oversimplifying, we are looking at flattening the triangle trade. Have colonies make for themselves some<—>much of what they would otherwise buy/receive from Europe. Whatever Africans might find “exotic” from Europe still comes from Europe. But utilitarian things: food (especially storable food), iron, gunpowder, guns, boats… what happens when a colony becomes self-sufficient or better on these things?
Next stop, Fernau (perhaps obviously). After that, I honestly haven’t much ordered things I mean to write about. Loango, Tobago, Saint Helena, the search for the Niger, and news from Bauske and Mitau finally reaching the colonies.
Plus, that overdue blog. I guess I just need to end a narrative entry on a note that segues into it.
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56. Fernau, January 1656.
Fernau, for now - part two
The fleet, minus those starting new lives or adventures from Bandschul, continued south from Kombo and the Casamance. Möller insisted, before returning to Bandschul, that Jakob attempt to conduct one last bit of local diplomacy. So at the Cacheu, the next major river mouth after the Casamance, a handful of smaller ships went upriver about 5 miles to reach the town of Cacheu, there to meet the senhora trader Crispina Peres. She was five years younger than Jakob, the daughter of a Portuguese sailor from Terceira Island and a Banhun woman. Together with her husband, Francisco Nunes Dandrade, she was the most powerful intermediary in the slave trade between Europeans and the local African kingdoms.
- - -
"I have so rarely seen a white woman. And you come to me with so many of them. All the white or pink people in my life are men."
"And I have never before this week met anyone who had not met a white woman. Or a pink one. Lately more and more of us are turning pink."
"I give my white men olive oil for their skin to turn pink more slowly. You do not need the good olive oil. You are friends with Portugal, yes?"
"Yes. Lately, we are friends with everyone but Sweden."
"I have only once met people from this Sweden. They were pink men, too. When you white and pink people do not need to look good, a paste of bran is better, only harder to come by. Your pink women can thank Crispina Peres."
"I look forward to having my pink women thank Crispina Peres personally, when next I return to Bandschul."
"Banjul. I tell your man Meller he must better say the name of his little port. Or yours, I suppose. Duke Yakobb."
- - -
The next two river mouths had low islands nearby. Jakob, like Portugal before him, was clearly fond of islands for colonies, but these offered too little value to sustain a colony. They sailed wide of these, past the Mansoa and Geba, and did not stop again, save for water, until they were a little beyond Cape Palmas, at which the tired travellers were told they now had only to sail almost due east to reach Fernau. All along this coast, prevailing winds disagreed gently with prevailing currents as to where they wanted ships to go.
From that point, the few headed to Saint Helena peeled off southward. They brought plants that seemed tolerant of poor soil in the Gambia, and twenty uncommonly beautiful young female slaves purchased from Crispina Peres in Cacheu.
As he had with captains headed to Tobago, Jakob gave some captains who might otherwise not fill their hulls with profitable cargo a mandate to simply explore, others to purchase whatever seeds or live plants they could from Dutch, Scottish, Portuguese and English ships returning from Asia and bring them to Tobago, Fernau, or Bandschul - wherever these plants seemed likeliest to thrive.
The remainder - the plurality of the ships that had left Courland, with half the colonists, sailed on east, stopping only for water, skipping even Elmina. Not far up or down the coast from there, they knew Sweden was establishing its own trading forts. It may have been fatigue from weeks of travel, but one thread of conversation arose independently on the decks of many ships... right here, right now, Courland was clearly the dominant sea power on the Guinea coast. Perhaps, after the colonists settled in at Fernau, Jakob's surplus ships and soldiers might go raiding Swedish targets rather than exploring miscellaneously?
The thought was enough to keep the ships out of sight of land as they sailed. After so long watching the changing coastline from Morocco to Cape Palmas, now they watched only the ocean.
And only the ocean again.
And then, almost suddenly, mountains rose from the sea. It looked at first like twins; as they approached, it was clear one was nearer and lower, the other further and immensely high. Having come from a low and flat country, the only comparisons they could make were to the peaks of the Canary Islands they had passed between Morocco and Bandschul. And then it was three mountains instead of two - another lower one was hidden from their view by the first low one.
Morocco had been dry compared to home. Everywhere from Morocco to Cacheu had been, too. They were learning that seasons were less "summer" and "winter" here, but rather "dry" and "wet". They circled Fernau, giving the colonists a look at their new island home. On its south face, deluge. Rain falling in mockery of anyone thinking the Gambia River's dry season could reach here. It lasted less than an hour as they passed slowly, but in that hour, the upper slopes of the two green mountains - the hips - were soaked. The colonists all keenly remembered Martin speaking of Noah's Ark to begin this journey; perhaps this was where God was pouring the extra water with which to drown the Earth.
Then they turned to see the eastern side of the island, the clouds that had rained on the south were largely absent. Still, Everywhere was green. When they reached the northern side, the sky was nearly cloudless, and it looked as though the north hadn't seen rain at all. It was clear enough to see another monstrously tall mountain off in the distance, across the water.
Captains leaned in to their first mates' ears to whisper "the cleavage" as they looked from the nearer mountain - Bisila - to the farther one. The first mates would nod or smirk. Then they had their crews head near the shore and drop anchor.
They were home.
The fleet, minus those starting new lives or adventures from Bandschul, continued south from Kombo and the Casamance. Möller insisted, before returning to Bandschul, that Jakob attempt to conduct one last bit of local diplomacy. So at the Cacheu, the next major river mouth after the Casamance, a handful of smaller ships went upriver about 5 miles to reach the town of Cacheu, there to meet the senhora trader Crispina Peres. She was five years younger than Jakob, the daughter of a Portuguese sailor from Terceira Island and a Banhun woman. Together with her husband, Francisco Nunes Dandrade, she was the most powerful intermediary in the slave trade between Europeans and the local African kingdoms.
- - -
"I have so rarely seen a white woman. And you come to me with so many of them. All the white or pink people in my life are men."
"And I have never before this week met anyone who had not met a white woman. Or a pink one. Lately more and more of us are turning pink."
"I give my white men olive oil for their skin to turn pink more slowly. You do not need the good olive oil. You are friends with Portugal, yes?"
"Yes. Lately, we are friends with everyone but Sweden."
"I have only once met people from this Sweden. They were pink men, too. When you white and pink people do not need to look good, a paste of bran is better, only harder to come by. Your pink women can thank Crispina Peres."
"I look forward to having my pink women thank Crispina Peres personally, when next I return to Bandschul."
"Banjul. I tell your man Meller he must better say the name of his little port. Or yours, I suppose. Duke Yakobb."
- - -
The next two river mouths had low islands nearby. Jakob, like Portugal before him, was clearly fond of islands for colonies, but these offered too little value to sustain a colony. They sailed wide of these, past the Mansoa and Geba, and did not stop again, save for water, until they were a little beyond Cape Palmas, at which the tired travellers were told they now had only to sail almost due east to reach Fernau. All along this coast, prevailing winds disagreed gently with prevailing currents as to where they wanted ships to go.
From that point, the few headed to Saint Helena peeled off southward. They brought plants that seemed tolerant of poor soil in the Gambia, and twenty uncommonly beautiful young female slaves purchased from Crispina Peres in Cacheu.
As he had with captains headed to Tobago, Jakob gave some captains who might otherwise not fill their hulls with profitable cargo a mandate to simply explore, others to purchase whatever seeds or live plants they could from Dutch, Scottish, Portuguese and English ships returning from Asia and bring them to Tobago, Fernau, or Bandschul - wherever these plants seemed likeliest to thrive.
The remainder - the plurality of the ships that had left Courland, with half the colonists, sailed on east, stopping only for water, skipping even Elmina. Not far up or down the coast from there, they knew Sweden was establishing its own trading forts. It may have been fatigue from weeks of travel, but one thread of conversation arose independently on the decks of many ships... right here, right now, Courland was clearly the dominant sea power on the Guinea coast. Perhaps, after the colonists settled in at Fernau, Jakob's surplus ships and soldiers might go raiding Swedish targets rather than exploring miscellaneously?
The thought was enough to keep the ships out of sight of land as they sailed. After so long watching the changing coastline from Morocco to Cape Palmas, now they watched only the ocean.
And only the ocean again.
And then, almost suddenly, mountains rose from the sea. It looked at first like twins; as they approached, it was clear one was nearer and lower, the other further and immensely high. Having come from a low and flat country, the only comparisons they could make were to the peaks of the Canary Islands they had passed between Morocco and Bandschul. And then it was three mountains instead of two - another lower one was hidden from their view by the first low one.
Morocco had been dry compared to home. Everywhere from Morocco to Cacheu had been, too. They were learning that seasons were less "summer" and "winter" here, but rather "dry" and "wet". They circled Fernau, giving the colonists a look at their new island home. On its south face, deluge. Rain falling in mockery of anyone thinking the Gambia River's dry season could reach here. It lasted less than an hour as they passed slowly, but in that hour, the upper slopes of the two green mountains - the hips - were soaked. The colonists all keenly remembered Martin speaking of Noah's Ark to begin this journey; perhaps this was where God was pouring the extra water with which to drown the Earth.
Then they turned to see the eastern side of the island, the clouds that had rained on the south were largely absent. Still, Everywhere was green. When they reached the northern side, the sky was nearly cloudless, and it looked as though the north hadn't seen rain at all. It was clear enough to see another monstrously tall mountain off in the distance, across the water.
Captains leaned in to their first mates' ears to whisper "the cleavage" as they looked from the nearer mountain - Bisila - to the farther one. The first mates would nod or smirk. Then they had their crews head near the shore and drop anchor.
They were home.
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57. Fernau, February 1656.
Fernau, for now - part three
Aboard the ships, there had been a census, the better to triage which people should go where. No such census of Fernau's population had ever been done, but the arrival of five and a half thousand people (a figure excluding the sailors) was assumed to be a doubling of the island's population, and a quintupling of its non-native population.
Those on the island never saw the influx coming.
"My lord Duke! Why? Here! What has happened?" quickly yielded to "Yes, my lord. I will arrange it."
But the best minds aboard the ships had not been idle during their voyage - they knew both what promise and what strain they brought to the colony. They planned. Fernau's purpose as a colony had always had three parts:
Jakob automatically assumed command of everything, and delegated what he could to those he trusted. Ships, agents, trade goods and translators were sent to nearby coasts in every direction, in pursuit of grain, especially, but in particular, grain and foodstuffs that could be stored for longer. Yams were already growing well on Fernau, an abundance of yam cultivation was in Fernau's future. Requests were to be made to farming villages to increase their crops as much as possible - the strange pale people from the big boats would promise to buy the surplus. Master farmers were to be invited to Fernau to guide the colonists. And anyone who wanted to learn what the strange pale people knew would be welcome to learn in Fernau.
Another pivotal ship voyage was to collect Fernau's governor from his second community: Tevel ben Elisha was visiting the Jewish communities in Loango when the fleet arrived. Most of Jakob's closest advisors had remained in Europe to oversee the diplomatic efforts to restore his rule, so it was Martin charged with retrieving Fernau's governor. Privately unconfident that he would recognize Tevel after so long, Martin brought one of the Courlanders who had known him longest: Motke. For his part, Motke was tasked with sourcing more foodstuffs from Loango, to store, to grow, and to collect in the future. The logistics of trade came naturally to him.
Jakob set others to building: more people meant more shelter. Surplus sails were repurposed into tents while roofs were assembled. More lumber milling was needed. To aid that, more ironworking would be helpful. More sails would be needed for the ships... perhaps those would still be bought from Europe for now. Fernau could have no native wool for sails. The few cattle and pigs they'd brought seemed to drift a little further from the shore every day. Goats would be easily bought from the continent. They could get a surplus of those and let them roam. Locals introduced them to bushmeat - the native animals that could be eaten, even if they weren't obvious delicacies.
Fishing would be their main protein for a while. The Portuguese had named the river to west for its plentiful shrimp, and the earlier colonists already knew the best places for fishing.
They'd brought the expertise to make a foundry, to make tar, gunpowder, guns, and ships. All of these were wasted luxurious brilliance until basics were in hand.
For her part, as she had in Courland, Duchess Louise Charlotte immersed herself in organizing agricultural matters. Where on Fernau did it rain less, or more? Where was it flatter? How much corn, brought by the Portuguese from the Americas, was being deliberately cultivated? Where on the island were corn, potatoes, millet, wheat, or other staple crops apparently doing better, or worse? Where were the fruit? If we have brought so much fruit from overseas, are there enough bees? If there aren't enough bees, where are they concentrated?
All this led to a thought, the very thought that had brought her to this island, but one that had been pushed aside by so much needful planning.
Where is my garden?
Aboard the ships, there had been a census, the better to triage which people should go where. No such census of Fernau's population had ever been done, but the arrival of five and a half thousand people (a figure excluding the sailors) was assumed to be a doubling of the island's population, and a quintupling of its non-native population.
Those on the island never saw the influx coming.
"My lord Duke! Why? Here! What has happened?" quickly yielded to "Yes, my lord. I will arrange it."
But the best minds aboard the ships had not been idle during their voyage - they knew both what promise and what strain they brought to the colony. They planned. Fernau's purpose as a colony had always had three parts:
- to produce a food surplus and manage to share it with ships or Saint Helena, or else just store it.
- to source slaves where there was less competition from other European powers.
- to find trading opportunities larger European powers ignored.
Jakob automatically assumed command of everything, and delegated what he could to those he trusted. Ships, agents, trade goods and translators were sent to nearby coasts in every direction, in pursuit of grain, especially, but in particular, grain and foodstuffs that could be stored for longer. Yams were already growing well on Fernau, an abundance of yam cultivation was in Fernau's future. Requests were to be made to farming villages to increase their crops as much as possible - the strange pale people from the big boats would promise to buy the surplus. Master farmers were to be invited to Fernau to guide the colonists. And anyone who wanted to learn what the strange pale people knew would be welcome to learn in Fernau.
Another pivotal ship voyage was to collect Fernau's governor from his second community: Tevel ben Elisha was visiting the Jewish communities in Loango when the fleet arrived. Most of Jakob's closest advisors had remained in Europe to oversee the diplomatic efforts to restore his rule, so it was Martin charged with retrieving Fernau's governor. Privately unconfident that he would recognize Tevel after so long, Martin brought one of the Courlanders who had known him longest: Motke. For his part, Motke was tasked with sourcing more foodstuffs from Loango, to store, to grow, and to collect in the future. The logistics of trade came naturally to him.
Jakob set others to building: more people meant more shelter. Surplus sails were repurposed into tents while roofs were assembled. More lumber milling was needed. To aid that, more ironworking would be helpful. More sails would be needed for the ships... perhaps those would still be bought from Europe for now. Fernau could have no native wool for sails. The few cattle and pigs they'd brought seemed to drift a little further from the shore every day. Goats would be easily bought from the continent. They could get a surplus of those and let them roam. Locals introduced them to bushmeat - the native animals that could be eaten, even if they weren't obvious delicacies.
Fishing would be their main protein for a while. The Portuguese had named the river to west for its plentiful shrimp, and the earlier colonists already knew the best places for fishing.
They'd brought the expertise to make a foundry, to make tar, gunpowder, guns, and ships. All of these were wasted luxurious brilliance until basics were in hand.
For her part, as she had in Courland, Duchess Louise Charlotte immersed herself in organizing agricultural matters. Where on Fernau did it rain less, or more? Where was it flatter? How much corn, brought by the Portuguese from the Americas, was being deliberately cultivated? Where on the island were corn, potatoes, millet, wheat, or other staple crops apparently doing better, or worse? Where were the fruit? If we have brought so much fruit from overseas, are there enough bees? If there aren't enough bees, where are they concentrated?
All this led to a thought, the very thought that had brought her to this island, but one that had been pushed aside by so much needful planning.
Where is my garden?
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Finally some space to comment -- things are moving so quickly, still, and like the Courlanders themselves, I feel like I'm only barely holding on to some perspective here.
I wonder whether Ferdinand will ever return to Courland -- it seemed very appropriate that there should be this other new beginning as the Courland's Ark sets out for a new kind of life. (and of course having Louise Charlotte out of commission for a little while gives Marting further room to shine.)
I have really enjoyed seeing Martin grow during this crisis -- he hasn't entirely lost his playfulness but it is leavened by the sense of responsibility he has toward his people. And I like the sense that Jakob can only get them so far along whatever process they are undergoing: it will be Martin who can really start fresh.
Yes! I will come back to this somewhat later in this comment, but yes! The Courlanders are going to have to rewrite their whole sense of identity (or rewrite it firther, because from a European perspective the multi-religious nature of Courland has already started that process). And the peoples they interact with and settle among are going to have to do the same. As Crispina Peres notices, this is a different kind of pink people.
I laughed out loud when Martin actually said the line! Huzzah!
But again, as Martin grows up, we can see him envisioning different kinds of futures for himself. Certainly futures which the son of the Duke of Courland might not have expected. I wouldn't mind seeing La Belinguere again, even if not in a romantic way.
Both of these passages kind of highlight the way in which this is a somewhat different colonial enterprise than what the coast here has seen previously, and it must necessarily shape things up both locally and back in Europe. I mean, right now to the European powers the idea of Courland in exile is hardly relevant, but what happens when, say, Portugal wants to expand their trading relationships and finds that the Courlanders have already cut them off? How does this affect the balance of power in the region? (These are idle questions: either the story will answer them, or it won't.)
Hey, Motke! How delightful to see him again!
So the rest of these quotations are to do with the transatlantic slave trade, and its role in this story:
I think as the story progresses it becomes more and more imperative for you to address this issue. Sorry, because of course it is a difficult one. I don't think your characters need to have some kind of anachronistic revelation of the evils of slavery -- although I think that a more nuanced understanding of the larger effects of the slave trade on West Africa in general, and of the problems with European ideas about "natural slavery" are both plausible outcomes. But I think that when we are writing about these societies it is important to look at things not just form the perspective of those buying and selling slaves, but also from the perspective of those being bought and sold (this is something I have been thinking about a lot in a different context, which is introductory Latin textbooks -- in my experience they tend to assume that the student is looking at the world from the perspective of the slaveowner, not the enslaved person, and even the most earnest attempts to unpick that, as in Lingua Latina per se Illustrata, run into problems... but anyway, I digress.) My point is: make your readers see this from the other point of view, as well. Maybe tell us about St Helena not from the perspective of the new arrivals from Courland, but from that of one of the twenty young women Peres sold the Courlanders to take there? I don't know. It's your story, and I don't want to step on your toes because I think it's great, but I also think that it is missing this important piece. You've created something very humane here, but I think it can't really succeed in that until you add in the perspective of the enslaved people as well -- after all, they are also part of the project of Courland in exile, and the world that Martin will (I hope) build there.
Please don't take this as criticism! I think this is a great timeline, and you're doing amazing work and I'll keep reading no matter what.
I wonder whether Ferdinand will ever return to Courland -- it seemed very appropriate that there should be this other new beginning as the Courland's Ark sets out for a new kind of life. (and of course having Louise Charlotte out of commission for a little while gives Marting further room to shine.)
I have really enjoyed seeing Martin grow during this crisis -- he hasn't entirely lost his playfulness but it is leavened by the sense of responsibility he has toward his people. And I like the sense that Jakob can only get them so far along whatever process they are undergoing: it will be Martin who can really start fresh.
Yes! I will come back to this somewhat later in this comment, but yes! The Courlanders are going to have to rewrite their whole sense of identity (or rewrite it firther, because from a European perspective the multi-religious nature of Courland has already started that process). And the peoples they interact with and settle among are going to have to do the same. As Crispina Peres notices, this is a different kind of pink people.
I laughed out loud when Martin actually said the line! Huzzah!
But again, as Martin grows up, we can see him envisioning different kinds of futures for himself. Certainly futures which the son of the Duke of Courland might not have expected. I wouldn't mind seeing La Belinguere again, even if not in a romantic way.
Both of these passages kind of highlight the way in which this is a somewhat different colonial enterprise than what the coast here has seen previously, and it must necessarily shape things up both locally and back in Europe. I mean, right now to the European powers the idea of Courland in exile is hardly relevant, but what happens when, say, Portugal wants to expand their trading relationships and finds that the Courlanders have already cut them off? How does this affect the balance of power in the region? (These are idle questions: either the story will answer them, or it won't.)
Hey, Motke! How delightful to see him again!
So the rest of these quotations are to do with the transatlantic slave trade, and its role in this story:
I think as the story progresses it becomes more and more imperative for you to address this issue. Sorry, because of course it is a difficult one. I don't think your characters need to have some kind of anachronistic revelation of the evils of slavery -- although I think that a more nuanced understanding of the larger effects of the slave trade on West Africa in general, and of the problems with European ideas about "natural slavery" are both plausible outcomes. But I think that when we are writing about these societies it is important to look at things not just form the perspective of those buying and selling slaves, but also from the perspective of those being bought and sold (this is something I have been thinking about a lot in a different context, which is introductory Latin textbooks -- in my experience they tend to assume that the student is looking at the world from the perspective of the slaveowner, not the enslaved person, and even the most earnest attempts to unpick that, as in Lingua Latina per se Illustrata, run into problems... but anyway, I digress.) My point is: make your readers see this from the other point of view, as well. Maybe tell us about St Helena not from the perspective of the new arrivals from Courland, but from that of one of the twenty young women Peres sold the Courlanders to take there? I don't know. It's your story, and I don't want to step on your toes because I think it's great, but I also think that it is missing this important piece. You've created something very humane here, but I think it can't really succeed in that until you add in the perspective of the enslaved people as well -- after all, they are also part of the project of Courland in exile, and the world that Martin will (I hope) build there.
Please don't take this as criticism! I think this is a great timeline, and you're doing amazing work and I'll keep reading no matter what.
Today wasn't going to have a "next-day thoughts" post, because I felt most of the themes were pretty transparently in play over this whole arc, and were coming up for discussion between chapters anyway.
And then @not livius came by, and some responding is very much in order. =)
For some reason, this comment caused me to go remind myself of when OTL Jakob died: 1682. I'll admit I've given no particular thought as to when TTL Jakob will. One source in particular demands to be read in full first, and since I move through that one slowly, I suppose Jakob's got at least another half decade in him, though 1682 could still happen too.
I'm only quoting a tiny slice of the great second-to-last paragraph:
You're entirely right that slavery has to become focal, and has to come from multiple perspectives. Maybe three or four episodes have danced incompletely through my thoughts, with perspectives such as those you're looking for. Suffice to say, you've hit the nail on the head with what you've written here.
Except for the single word "Sorry" in that second line: you have absolutely nothing to apologize for here. If I neglect to go where you're suggesting, I'm telling the wrong damn story.
For the moment, Courland is distracted by needful things. So the mentions of the slave trade have been marginal - but still present. Distraction will lessen. Fernau will need (more) slaves of its own. Those stories will take centre stage in due course.
And then @not livius came by, and some responding is very much in order. =)
Thank you for the confirmation I'm adequately conveying to the reader (one, at least!) the personality and attitude traits I see in Martin. I'd personally say childish playfulness is becoming adolescent devilishness.
For some reason, this comment caused me to go remind myself of when OTL Jakob died: 1682. I'll admit I've given no particular thought as to when TTL Jakob will. One source in particular demands to be read in full first, and since I move through that one slowly, I suppose Jakob's got at least another half decade in him, though 1682 could still happen too.
I'm not so sure, and reading back over what I've written, I wonder whether you're gazing a little into the future with that. Pragmatic, trade-first Jakob prioritizes vital trade relationships. Wealthy, somewhat mercenary trader Crispina surely spots that in seconds. But otherwise, her nearest point of comparison would be the occasional European royal cousin privateering down the coast, focusing on other ships more than locals. Jakob is something new, from her perspective, but not all new things end up significant.
I deliberately put it in with the least possible drama, shoved into a conversation happening in another language. Killjoy Traminer 1, Drama Queen Traminer 0.
I'm only quoting a tiny slice of the great second-to-last paragraph:
I agree wholeheartedly with the first sentence, and disagree vehemently with the second.
You're entirely right that slavery has to become focal, and has to come from multiple perspectives. Maybe three or four episodes have danced incompletely through my thoughts, with perspectives such as those you're looking for. Suffice to say, you've hit the nail on the head with what you've written here.
Except for the single word "Sorry" in that second line: you have absolutely nothing to apologize for here. If I neglect to go where you're suggesting, I'm telling the wrong damn story.
For the moment, Courland is distracted by needful things. So the mentions of the slave trade have been marginal - but still present. Distraction will lessen. Fernau will need (more) slaves of its own. Those stories will take centre stage in due course.
I hope you see I don't - but also: I will take it as a promise of future criticism if I miss the mark .=)
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58. Economic Historian Blog: "Triangles"
Economic history feels like it's all about triangles. It's an anachronism we impose, looking from our future perspective. But this little sliver of a country (yes, it was its own country back then) seems to walk through all the triangles.
Let's start with triangle trade:
So. Baltic Baddies yeeted Courland clean out of Europe and into the armpit of Africa (meaning no disrespect to Fernau or the Gulf of Guinea - it's just the shape of the map, dude!). The first of their noteworthy dukes, Jakob Kettler, had by this point been scaling up the triangle trade for about twenty years. Euro-trinkets to Gambia, slaves to Tobago, sugarcane to Europe, repeat.
But then Sweden and Russia kinda sorta blew the European corner right off that triangle. You're a German overlord of a non-German people in an overwhelmingly non-German land. You say "fuck it" and go be a German overlord of a non-German people in an overwhelmingly non-German land somewhere else. I mean, books have been written about Courland's economic miracle, because economic miracles help distract people from the fact that economics is boring. The fun stuff, if any, comes when someone dares to go against the established models. They succeed? Economic miracle. They fail? Eh... someone else kicks sand in their face, steals their toys, overlords it over their former populace, and maybe the new overlords get a less-exciting book written about how a little extra serfs 'n' turfs helped their economy along. To the winner goes the spoils.
I guess I gave away the punchline there, not that you don't already know it. Kettler, by coincidence or cojones, looked for a new trade geometry. He was helped a little by demographics: any given European country, let's face it, can be counted upon to be assholes to Jews every generation or two, especially as a new ruler takes over or as a time of increasing prosperity gives way to a time of fuck these foreign freaks and their ill-gotten money (FTFFATIGM for short). I'm generalizing, of course. Kettler happily let Jewish (and other) refugees in when Poland-Lithuania were swinging hard into FTFFATIGM, happily absorbing his suzerain's unwanted bankers, merchants, middle management, etc into his already-surging economy. When Kettler was booted out, though, Courland's religious refugees didn't have a compelling neighbouring country to head to, the way Courland had seemed compelling. Skipping to the punchline, many who'd come to Courland chose to sail away with Courland, too.
The history of bringing surplus brainpower south is known: the first permanent observatories in the tropics, with their famous discoveries. The first university in Africa. Or, for the non-nerds, the oldest restaurant still operating in the Southern Hemisphere. All products of this seafaring subset of a nation choosing to relocate drastically rather than dissipate into neighbouring European locales.
Now marooned in Africa with their brilliance, they set to cutting the need for Europe out of the triangle trade. Guns? Make 'em here. Don't want to sell guns to too many neighbours? Make guns for yourself, and make swords for your local friends. Gunpowder, boats, shackles, glassworks, telescopes, moveable type, an alphabet for your language and non-missionaries to teach it? Yeah. That could work.
Cloth, wool, mutton, products from any plants that have evolved to like having reliable winters? Well, no. You still needed Europe for some things. And the Republic of Letters, that was more a European thing, however far ships carried letters.
The average census of a mid 17th-century colony looks like another triangle: a population pyramid. The base is a fuck-ton of slaves. They form a huge majority of the workforce. At first they were overseen by white Europeans, though over time senior slaves became the lower tiers of management. For our triangle, at this time period, assume you can cut a triangle in four parts, and the bottom three will all be slaves. Then cut the top one into four parts. The bottom three parts of that triangle will also almost invariably be slaves. Any diversity in slave colony demographics was in the next sectioning of the top triangle of the top bigger triangle of the whole shebang. How few third-order mini-triangles could be European masters?
The European masters tended to be hard men with just-sufficient literacy and derring-do in abundance. Couronian Tobago followed that model. Fernau and Saint Helena were something else, though. If you squint hard enough, you see little service economies, plopped down in the ocean, out-of-place.
Well, that's three triangles, a triangle of triangles. Enough to fuel your illuminati conspiracy theories. Time for me to drink some good Baltimore Aquavit in a triangular shot glass while the point eludes me. Or three points.
Let's start with triangle trade:
- sell contents of ships profitably in Europe. take stuff from Europe to Africa they don't have so much of in Africa.
- sell contents of ships profitably in Africa. take Africans across the Atlantic.
- sell or use Africans profitably in the Americas. take stuff they grow that Europe has less of to Europe.
So. Baltic Baddies yeeted Courland clean out of Europe and into the armpit of Africa (meaning no disrespect to Fernau or the Gulf of Guinea - it's just the shape of the map, dude!). The first of their noteworthy dukes, Jakob Kettler, had by this point been scaling up the triangle trade for about twenty years. Euro-trinkets to Gambia, slaves to Tobago, sugarcane to Europe, repeat.
But then Sweden and Russia kinda sorta blew the European corner right off that triangle. You're a German overlord of a non-German people in an overwhelmingly non-German land. You say "fuck it" and go be a German overlord of a non-German people in an overwhelmingly non-German land somewhere else. I mean, books have been written about Courland's economic miracle, because economic miracles help distract people from the fact that economics is boring. The fun stuff, if any, comes when someone dares to go against the established models. They succeed? Economic miracle. They fail? Eh... someone else kicks sand in their face, steals their toys, overlords it over their former populace, and maybe the new overlords get a less-exciting book written about how a little extra serfs 'n' turfs helped their economy along. To the winner goes the spoils.
I guess I gave away the punchline there, not that you don't already know it. Kettler, by coincidence or cojones, looked for a new trade geometry. He was helped a little by demographics: any given European country, let's face it, can be counted upon to be assholes to Jews every generation or two, especially as a new ruler takes over or as a time of increasing prosperity gives way to a time of fuck these foreign freaks and their ill-gotten money (FTFFATIGM for short). I'm generalizing, of course. Kettler happily let Jewish (and other) refugees in when Poland-Lithuania were swinging hard into FTFFATIGM, happily absorbing his suzerain's unwanted bankers, merchants, middle management, etc into his already-surging economy. When Kettler was booted out, though, Courland's religious refugees didn't have a compelling neighbouring country to head to, the way Courland had seemed compelling. Skipping to the punchline, many who'd come to Courland chose to sail away with Courland, too.
The history of bringing surplus brainpower south is known: the first permanent observatories in the tropics, with their famous discoveries. The first university in Africa. Or, for the non-nerds, the oldest restaurant still operating in the Southern Hemisphere. All products of this seafaring subset of a nation choosing to relocate drastically rather than dissipate into neighbouring European locales.
Now marooned in Africa with their brilliance, they set to cutting the need for Europe out of the triangle trade. Guns? Make 'em here. Don't want to sell guns to too many neighbours? Make guns for yourself, and make swords for your local friends. Gunpowder, boats, shackles, glassworks, telescopes, moveable type, an alphabet for your language and non-missionaries to teach it? Yeah. That could work.
Cloth, wool, mutton, products from any plants that have evolved to like having reliable winters? Well, no. You still needed Europe for some things. And the Republic of Letters, that was more a European thing, however far ships carried letters.
The average census of a mid 17th-century colony looks like another triangle: a population pyramid. The base is a fuck-ton of slaves. They form a huge majority of the workforce. At first they were overseen by white Europeans, though over time senior slaves became the lower tiers of management. For our triangle, at this time period, assume you can cut a triangle in four parts, and the bottom three will all be slaves. Then cut the top one into four parts. The bottom three parts of that triangle will also almost invariably be slaves. Any diversity in slave colony demographics was in the next sectioning of the top triangle of the top bigger triangle of the whole shebang. How few third-order mini-triangles could be European masters?
The European masters tended to be hard men with just-sufficient literacy and derring-do in abundance. Couronian Tobago followed that model. Fernau and Saint Helena were something else, though. If you squint hard enough, you see little service economies, plopped down in the ocean, out-of-place.
Well, that's three triangles, a triangle of triangles. Enough to fuel your illuminati conspiracy theories. Time for me to drink some good Baltimore Aquavit in a triangular shot glass while the point eludes me. Or three points.
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