Now van Hoek ordered that the Dutch flag be run up on the mizzenmast, and had them fire a salute from the ship's cannons. The Dutch ship responded in kind, and so after exchanging various signals with flags and mirrors, the two vessels fell in alongside each other, and gradually drew close enough that words could be hollered back and forth through speaking-trumpets. Every man on board who knew how to write was busy writing letters for himself, or on behalf of those who couldn't, because it was obvious that this Dutch ship was headed for Batavia, and thence west-bound. Within a few months she would be dropping anchor in Rotterdam.
This was when they lost their Alchemist.
When it came clear that they were about to lose their Adult Supervision, Jack felt panic under his feet like a swell pressing up on the ship's hull. But he did not suppose that it would instill confidence, among the crew, for him to break down and blubber. So he acted as if this had been expected all along. Indeed, in a way it had. Enoch Root had shown inhuman patience during the last couple of years, as the transaction of the quicksilver had been slowly teased together, and there had been plenty of interesting diversions for him in the Chinese and Japanese barangays of Manila, the countless strange islands of the Philippines, and in helping to establish Mr. Foot as the White Sultan of Queena-Kootah. But it was long since time for him to move on.
He had taken up an interest in the vast territories limned on Dutch charts to the South and East of the Philippines: New Guinea; the supposed Australasian Continent; Van Diemen's Land; and a chain of islands sprawling off into the uncharted heart of the South Pacific, called the Islands of Solomon.
Enoch stood on the upperdeck, waiting for his chests and bags to be lowered into the longboat. As he often did in idle moments, he reached into the pocket of his traveling-cloak and took out a contraption that looked a bit like a spool. But a poorly made one, for the ends of the spool were bulky, and the slot in between them, where the cord was wound, was narrow. He unwound a couple of inches of cord and slipped his finger through a loop that had been tied in its end. Then he allowed the spool to fall from his hand. It dropped slowly at first, as the spool's inertia resisted its tendency to unwind, but then it picked up speed and plunged smoothly toward the deck. Just shy of hitting the planks it stopped abruptly, having unwound its meager supply of cord. At the same moment Enoch gave a little twitch of the hand, and the spool reversed its direction and began to climb up the string.
Jack glanced across several fathoms of open water toward the Dutch ship. A dozen or so sailors were watching this miracle with their mouths open.
"They cannot see the string at this distance," Jack commented, "and suppose you are doing some sort of magick."
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from a yo-yo," Enoch said.
"That could not hurt a sparrow," Jack said. "I prefer the original type with the rotating knives."
"All well and good for striking prey off tree-limbs in the Philippine jungle," Enoch said, "but it gets uncomfortable, carrying such weapons about in one's pocket."
"Where art thou and thy yo-yos bound?"
"It is rumored that the purple savages of Arnhem Land also make throwing-weapons that return to the thrower," Enoch said, "but without a string, or any other such physickal connexion."
"Impossible!"
"As I said—‘Any sufficiently advanced tech—' "
"I heard you the first time. So it's off to Arnhem Land. And then?"
Enoch paused to check the progress of the boat-loading, and seeing that he still had a minute or two, related the following: "You know that our entire Enterprise hinges on our being able to corrupt certain Spanish officials and sea-captains, which is not inherently difficult. But we have had to spend countless hours wining and dining them, and listening to their interminable yarns and sea-fables. Most of these are tedious and unremarkable. But I heard one that interested me. It was told me by one Alfonso, who was first mate aboard a galleon that left Manila for Acapulco some years ago. As usual they attempted to sail north to a higher latitude where they could get in front of the trade wind to California. Instead they were met by a tempest that drove them to the south for many days. The next time they were able to make solar observations, they discovered that they had actually crossed the Line and were several degrees south. Now the storm had washed away all of the earth that they had packed around their hearth in the galley, making it impossible for them to light a cook-fire without setting the whole galleon ablaze. So they dropped anchor near an island (for they'd come in sight of a whole chain of 'em, populated by people who looked like Africans) and gathered sand and fresh water. The water they used to replenish their drinking-jars. The sand they packed around their hearth. Then they continued their journey. When they arrived at Acapulco, the better part of a year later, they discovered nuggets of gold under the hearth—evidently that sand was auriferous and the heat of the fire had melted the gold and separated it from the sand. Needless to say, the Viceroy in Mexico City—"
"The same?"
Enoch nodded. "The very same from whom you stole the gold before Bonanza. He was informed of this prodigy, and did not delay in sending out a squadron, under an admiral named de Obregon, to sail along that line of latitude until they found those islands."
"Would those be the Solomon Islands?"
"As you know, Jack, it has long been supposed that Solomon—the builder of the Temple in Jerusalem, the first Alchemist, and the subject of Isaac Newton's obsessions for lo these many years, departed from the Land of Israel before he died, and journeyed far to the east, and founded a kingdom among certain islands. It is a part of this legend that this kingdom was fabulously wealthy."
"Funny how no one ever makes up legends concerning wretchedly poor kingdoms—"
"It matters not whether this legend is true, only that some people believe it," Enoch said patiently. He had begun to do tricks with the yo-yo now, making it fly around his hand like a comet whipping around the sun.
"Such as this Newton fellow? The one who reckoned the orbits of the planets?"
"Newton is convinced that Solomon's temple was a geometrickal model of the solar system—the fire on the central altar representing the sun, et cetera."
"So he would fain know about it, if the Islands of Solomon were discovered…"
"Indeed."
"…and no doubt he has already perused the chronicles of that expedition that was sent out by our friend in Bonanza."
Enoch shook his head. "There are no such chronicles."
"The expedition was shipwrecked?"
"Shipwrecked, killed by disease…the vectors of disaster were so plentiful that the accounts cannot be reconciled. Only one ship made it to Manila, half of her crew dead and the rest dying of some previously unheard-of pestilence. The only one who survived was one Elizabeth de Obregon, the wife of the Admiral who had commanded the squadron."
"And what does she have to say for herself?"
"She has said nothing. In a society where women cannot own property, Jack, secrets are to them what gold and silver are to men."