Then he remembered. Six years before, he’d presented the king of England with a curiosity he’d designed: a closed boat, capable of navigating beneath the surface of the Thames. He’d even taken James with him on one of those rides. But that boat had been forgotten in the end.
Sophie seemed to guess his thoughts. “In fact, we know you’ve been having difficulty finding an employer wealthy enough to support your children. Those times are over, Cornelis. We’re going to give your invention a glorious use.”
Cornelis couldn’t resist feeling relief, mixed with apprehension. If now the king of Denmark was interested in his idea, an assignment to build an entire merchant fleet could buy him a lavish old age. There was, however, one issue he needed to stress first. “You didn’t need to go into these theatrics. You didn’t need to hold my wife hostage. I would’ve gladly taken this job. If we’re going to work together, we need to be clear on one thing: you will not keep my family as leverage.”
“The theatrics, I’m afraid, were necessary,” said Christian. “People like you tend to share information. People who make their living by building things depend on exchanging ideas and methods and designs; and you, Mr. Drebbel, are too well known. We couldn’t risk having you simply take a ship to Denmark; everyone who knows a thing about the tinkering profession would see you change employers and would immediately know what we wanted. Soon every kingdom would know too. No, we couldn’t have that. That’s why I orchestrated all this, and you can’t begin to fathom how hard it was. I went behind Parliament’s back and negotiated a deal with the Scottish lords to have their troops help me take over England in exchange for their autonomy. That way my true reasons remain hidden. With hundreds of Londoners dead today, no one will pause to ask what happened to you.”
That arrangement struck Cornelis as excessive to the point of absurdity. “All this just for a trade route that no one else can use anyway?”
“No, not just for that,” said Christian. “That would be a criminal underutilization of your skills. You’ll learn quickly that I’m nothing like the kings you’ve worked for until now. I have what this world so shamefully lacks: a vision.”
“Don’t say one more word until I’ve seen my wife and my children.” He felt so impatient that he almost headed for the door, but he was more terrified than his tone revealed.
Sophie whispered to her son, “Maybe this much coercion was improper.”
Christian stood up and addressed the soldiers. “Take him to see his wife. Bring him back when he’s satisfied that we’re not enemies.”
The king’s men led Cornelis to a room in the same deck, furnished to resemble the interior of a house. He saw his wife sitting on a couch and ran to embrace her. He heard her reassurances that she had not been treated badly before he noticed there was someone else in the room.
It was a middle-aged man, so thin he barely existed, from whose face hung the weight of an old exhaustion that preceded his gait. The way he leaned on his cane as he approached Cornelis betrayed that he suffered with every step; and his reluctant, gloved handshake trembled at the slightest stroke on its fingertips. Years of living in a city of sailors had taught Cornelis to recognize those signs. They meant nails lost to scurvy.
“It is an honor to meet someone of your stature,” said the stranger in a difficult English. The scurvy had also taken all his teeth.
Cornelis gave his wife a questioning look, and she said in Dutch, “Sit down with me.”
“Who are you?” he asked the man instead.
“My name is Jens Munk. I have been telling Mrs. Drebbel how much your work has impressed me.”
Cornelis sat down.
“I have a soft spot,” continued Munk, “for people of commoner rank who make something of themselves by their own effort.”
The implication that Jens Munk, a navigator whom Europe held in an esteem reserved for the likes of Da Gama and Columbus, thought of him as deserving of comparable praise made him want to burst with joy. But he remembered where he was, and remarked, “From the way we’ve been treated today, no one would suspect a whiff of admiration.”
Munk nodded sadly. “Such are the ways of nobles. Life has to move with intensity.”
“So I’ve seen. Is Christian trustworthy?”
Munk’s eyes moved in the direction of the soldiers, and Cornelis felt embarrassed. “He… means what he says,” he answered, stressing the words in a deliberate way. “Your ship designs play a crucial role in his expansion project.” He noticed the surprise that that piece of information had caused, and added, “This doesn’t stop at England. You’ll see.”
Cornelis turned to his wife. “What else have you heard about this?”
She shook her head. “About King Christian, nothing. I was asking him to tell me the tale of his year among the whale hunters.”
Cornelis had graver concerns on his mind, but he had to sympathize with her curiosity. Now that he knew her life was in no danger, they might as well take a minute to listen to the world’s greatest living sailor. His journey had become legend. After spending a deadly winter in the frozen shore of Hudson Bay, Munk had bravely taken his ship back toward Denmark, with only two surviving crewmen, but in the last leg of the way home, he’d famously headed north, beyond the end of Norway, to open around the old continent the Arctic passage he’d failed to find in the new.
“How much of the tale did I miss?”
“There isn’t much more to it,” said Munk. “I wouldn’t have survived Greenland without the help of the Tunumiit. I’d lost my men, my ship, and all my remaining food. The Tunumiit kept me warm and fed until I was able to build and steer my own kayak.”
“Did they teach you the route?” asked Mrs. Drebbel.
“The first part of it. They don’t need to go too far from their homes; the sea provides them with everything. I had to find the rest of the route on my own; when you’re that far north, compasses are useless. I didn’t reach the opening to the Pacific until the second summer since my detour.”
“Mr. Munk,” said Cornelis, “if my submersible ships are meant to cover the same spots you passed through in that heroic journey of yours, I don’t think anyone can hope for a higher privilege. It excites me to think of us working together for years to come. But at this exact moment I need to speak with the king and clarify the nature of my employment.”
Munk seemed worried by that idea. “Be prudent,” he said, mindful of the soldiers’ presence, and whispered in his ear, “I’ve had my disagreements with nobility before. As long as it remains commonly accepted that kings get what they want, the rest of us have to watch our tongues—and our backs.”
Holding onto his wife’s hand, Cornelis walked toward Christian’s chamber, but stumbled upon Sophie before getting there. She barely acknowledged him as she said, “My son is busy at the moment.”
“He bought my services with the lives of his men. I don’t think I’ll ever not be welcome.”
He attempted to walk past her, but she glared at the soldier who came with him, and he grabbed Cornelis. She drew closer to him until he could smell her perfume and warned, “Don’t let the fact that you’re indispensable get to your head. We’re only giving you the favored guest treatment until we no longer have to.” She savored the extinguishing of the fire in his eyes, and said, in a more neutral tone, “Let’s not be rude to each other. I’d rather continue to be your admirer without you giving me reason to regret it. So behave.”