May 1668, Lisbon—The Management Room of Horizon Brazil
The long mahogany table, usually reserved for dry ledgers and hushed calculations, was crowded. João de Carrasca, Rui, Diogo, Luís, Vasco, Afonso, Gil, Nuno, Pedro, Miguel, and Gonçalo – the eleven owners of Horizon Brazil, some of them their faces still etched with the sun and salt of distant oceans – filled one side.
Across from them sat Mestre Gaspar, Horizon Brazil's chief financial manager and intendant, his spectacles seeming to hold more trepidation than knowledge.
Flanking him were Sr. Duarte and Sr. Costa, two grave-faced accountants from powerful Lisbon trading houses, present to deliver their assessments to the company's principals.
The air hummed with anticipation and an underlying tension.
Mestre Gaspar, adjusting his spectacles, cleared his throat.
" Senhores. Welcome home, for some of you. Your safe return is a cause for immense gratitude and celebration, a triumph that will resonate through Lisbon's docks." He offered a deferential bow. "However, before we delve into your incredible successes, a necessary debrief on the state of affairs in eruope and protugal. Much has transpired since your departure in March '65. The world, as we have managed it, has turned several times over."
João, settling into his chair at the table, his presence commanding, simply nodded.
"Then let us have it, Mestre Gaspar. We are eager to learn what storms have brewed in our absence."
"Indeed, Senhor." Gaspar began, his voice calm, but with an underlying tremor.
"Let us begin in '65, a crucial year for Portugal itself. In September of that year, our King, Afonso VI, facing... challenges to his rule and authority, saw his brother, Prince Pedro, step forward. Dom Pedro II now holds the Regency, guiding the kingdom. A stable hand, we trust, for the challenges ahead."
" Ho.. Another change in regency ? In less than a year ?"
" Ha it seems the diamonds were at fault there"
" Sure accuse the stones, it's probably a stone who seduced them "
" Hoy,interrupted Joao, at least : it's dom pedro now"
" Yeah, and you moreor less got fond og that guy"
" It 's more reliable and stable since he took the regency"
" Ha... the flair of the captian is never wrong"
" As far asi know, you did''nt vote as me the crew's captain at the last election"
" There was an election "
" There wasn't, Joao, what are you talking about"
" Ha .. some of you want more adventures, some want to have complacency day's, so you didn't vote me as your captain, even if you didn't realize "
" We're rich enough to oversee something like this ?"
" It seems so " said Diogo mischievously
While mestre gapsar listened intently to what those nobles were saying, he cleared his throat to get their attention.
They stopped their almost quarrel and continued to listen
"Beyond our borders," Gaspar continued, turning a page on his ledger, "the fires of war consumed England and the Netherlands. You left after their first major engagement in '64.
" Yeah it was reported asquite the overlhming won a battle for england" said Rui
" Ho... wait for the follow up report, the tides can turn in unpredictable ways" said pietro( pedro )
" .... " the few tanned from winds and salt watched intently at him
A secondtime mestre gaspar cleared again his throat – thinking: they have that common trait that is typical of .. pirates -
" In '65, the situation in London became apocalyptic. The Black Death swept through the city. Tens of thousands dead, the streets emptied. Parliament, paralyzed by fear and lacking funds, delayed approving any new credits for their fleet. Senohres, a capital paralyzed. An entire navy, starved of coin while pestilence raged."
Rui slammed a fist lightly on the table. "A God-given opportunity for the Dutch!"
"Precisely, FomRui. It bought them valuable recoveryefforts. It wasn't until the summer of '66 that the English Parliament finally voted money for a new campaign. That led straight to the epic Four Days' Battle in June '66. The Dutch, under led by Admiral de Ruyter, won a stunning victory. The English lost around twenty ships, thousands of men. Their naval prestige, and the confidence of their treasury, got shattered."
Diogo shook his head. "Twenty ships... an entire squadron."
"And as if that weren't enough," Sr. Duarte chimed in, his voice dry as parchment,
"in September '66, the Great Fire of London devastated the city. A true inferno. Compounded the misery of plague and war beyond measure."
Luís gasped. "The entire city, truly?"
"Much of it, Dom Luis. A catastrophe," Mestre Gaspar affirmed.
"The English fleet, battered but not broken, did manage a victory at the St. James's Day Battle in July '66, a few weeks after their major loss. But it wasn't enough to turn the tide. Their coffers were empty, their populace in despair."
"And the war concluded?" João pressed, his voice tight.
"Indeed. Abruptly, and disastrously for England. The Medway disaster in '67 sealed their fate. De Ruyter, with an audacity that still chills the admiralty, sailed right up the Thames, burned and captured English ships at anchor at Chatham. A humiliation of King Charles beyond imagining. It forced them to the negociation's table. The Treaty of Breda was signed shortly thereafter. The Dutch are now undisputed masters of the North Sea. Battered and dimnishrf, but their prestige resonant."
A stunned silence fell over the table. The scale of England's defeat, Portugal allies, was hard to accept as a reality.
"Amidst all this chaos," Gaspar continued, trying to inject a positive note, "there was one small beacon for England. A Prince of Wales was born—Henry, they named him. A Protestant child, they say, which helped steady their turbulent court and reassure their Parliament, ensuring a clear succession."
João nodded slowly. " I wonder if what I, my wife and Dom pedro concocted for his sister had any effect."
" What did you "concocted" ? "asked Luis
"Not much: only playing a narrative about the " tranquility during pregnancy with the help of a renown portuguese healer"
" Who knows then ?"
" Well whatever, they have a prince of wales ! ho poor prince Joao de carrasca " said diogo amusingly"
" What the .."
" consider a marquis 's manner"
'' I have letters of marques too" roared Joao
"hahahahahahahahahahah"
After the laughing tale began to fade, Nuno, turned to mestre gaspar:
"Mestre Gaspar, we've also heard whispers of another conflict. The Devolution War? What is its nature? Why is it called that?"
Gaspar nodded gravely. "An excellent question, Senhor. Even as the Anglo-Dutch war concluded, another fire ignited. The Devolution War refers to King Louis XIV's claim on the Spanish Netherlands. He asserts a 'right of devolution,' arguing that under certain old Brabant law—a local custom, mind you, not recognized internationally—his wife, Maria Theresa, as the daughter of the late King Philip IV of Spain's first marriage, should inherit certain territories, rather than Philip's son from his second marriage. It's a legalistic pretext for a land grab, in truth. French armies marched in '67, seizing territory with alarming speed."
" Wait ! Filip 4th died ? "
" ha yeah, at the same moment Fom Pedro seized the regency of portugal..."
João exchanged a grim look with Rui. "So, when they want something they always find a casus belli...."
"Now, to our own affairs," Mestre Gaspar said, turning a new page, his tone shifting to one of direct financial stewardship.
"Here in Portugal, Dom Pedro's regency has brought about significant reforms. Our finance minister, a shrewd mind indeed, introduced the 'espada' as a new major currency. It caused some confusion at first, yes, the merchants grumbled about exchanging the old coinage, but I can report to you, as owners, that it has stabilized trade and government finances remarkably. Our own accounts reflect this." He nodded towards Sr. Duarte and Sr. Costa, who gave brief, tight nods in agreement.
" Who ? "
" Count de ereicia"
" Ha dom meneses ..." said Joao faintly
" You know him? "
" A little, he told me about reforms, and he was part of the commanders during the ameirical battle... which led to the end of the ovation war"
" It 's called the restoration war now ..."
" Well whatever it's called now, it's ended"
Vasco interrupting the unending chattings, rubbing his chin. "A new currency? That's a bold stroke indeed, Mestre Gaspar. And our ledgers support this 'stabilization'?"
"They do, Commander," Sr. Duarte confirmed. "The espada has brought a predictable value to transactions."
"And in specialized works, we have seized a unique opportunity," Gaspar continued, regaining some confidence. "The 'mice loom,' or as the common folk call it, the 'Cat and mice loom,' was a revolutionary invention. The minister, acting with foresight, secured a monopoly on it for the Crown. He didn't seize the textile companies themselves, no, but he secured all the machines for royal control. It gives Portugal a distinct technological edge in cloth production over all Europe. Our looms now weave faster, better, than any."
"We got stolen ?"
" No they established a monopoly on the "new looms"
" Well not like we have direct interests in that"
" I secured 10 % for the caprenters"
" Ha they broke their engament, and sold some to england, dutch and france"
" What ????" Joao, almost as a pirate king gearing his war canons
" Calm down Senhor, as you stipulated, they got deprived of their shares, and push to the weavers and tailors "
Rui's eyes gleamed. " Wasn't it your Goal Joao ?. A long-term investment, well played."
" Yes, but a monopoly, i didn't imagine it would be considered that important"
Gaspar let that slide, and continued: "Now, to your own direct endeavors, Senhores. Your agronomic experiment in Alentejo."
He looked directly at João. "It wasn't a failure, no. Yields are up modestly, livestock are healthier due to the new pastures. The innovations are taking root, but the revolution you hoped for, Dom João, hasn't yet arrived. Progress, but it is slow. It doesn't cost much with the help of the order of santiago, and they decided to expand a little of that "new turn over of the fields", at least they have more cattle than usual ."
João merely nodded. "Such things take time. Generations, perhaps. We invest in the foundations and the fruits come later. The long walk, Gaspar, the long walk."
"And then," Mestre Gaspar's voice took on a heavier tone, "there is your flagship project, the Odelouca dam." He looked directly at João, then at Rui. "It suffered a major setback. More than a year has passed since addition failed during a massive flood in early '67, during the height of the rainy season. A section collapsed, a considerable expenditure, requiring immediate action, but the foundations are steady."
João's knuckles whitened against the tabletop. "Failed? How could it...? The designs were sound!"
"The engineers are learning from the disaster, Dom João," Gaspar interjected quickly, sensing the rising frustration.
"More stone, better drainage, phased building are now the order of the day. But I have excellent news on that front for the company: most of the 5 million cruzados you allocated for it are still in reserve. The funds were largely untouched by the collapse itself. So, repairs and a new, more cautious construction strategy are already well underway. It will be stronger, far more resilient, though the timeline for completion has, regrettably, extended."
João sighed, a long, weary breath. "A setback, but not an end. The funds are secure, that is the crucial point for us. We will need to assess the revised projections, Mestre Gaspar. This project remains vital."
"It does, Commanders," Gaspar affirmed. He glanced at Sr. Duarte and Sr. Costa, who were meticulously noting details.
"And speaking of vitality, I must convey a truly remarkable development regarding your primary cargo." He allowed himself a small, rare smile. "The rubber. The supply from Brazil, as you established, is still flowing as consistently as always, the convoys making it through the Atlantic. And, perhaps unexpectedly, the prices for export are not merely stable, but are rising steadily. The demand, especially, from what we hear, even from the Indian markets and their European traders, seems insatiable. It is a commodity truly taking hold across the globe, driving up its value on all fronts."
João exchanged a triumphant glance with Diogo. "Then our calculated risks, was vindicated exactly as we hoped."
"Indeed, Senohres " Gaspar concluded, his voice now imbued with clear optimism.
"So, gentlemen, here we stand. England is licking its wounds, their prestige diminished. The Dutch are triumphant, puffed with victory. France, ever watchful, eyes its chance to expand in the Devolution War. And here, in Portugal, with a new Regent, new money flowing, new machines turning, and ambitious projects slowly rebuilding, we stand at a crossroads."
He met João's gaze.
"Your return. And the colossal fortune you bring from Cathay – the silver from that miraculous rubber, the silks, the porcelains, the spices... It arrives at a pivotal moment. This wealth could tip the balance. It could give Horizon Brazil, and through us, Portugal, the means to achieve new,goals in this new Europe, this new world. We have managed affairs to the best of our abilities, and now, your success gives us unprecedented leverage."
________
Amsterdam, may 1668
Heer Willem van der Meer's Private Study
The room was hushed, lit by the soft glow of a single whale-oil lamp.
Papers, maps, and ledgers lay neatly stacked on the large oak desk. Heer Willem van der Meer, a man whose stern countenance and piercing blue eyes commanded respect within the WIC Directorate, gestured for his agent to approach. Pieter van Rijn, his face weathered by the sun of distant lands, bowed low.
"Pieter. Come in. Close the door. This must remain between us. Your latest dispatch to Salvador de Bahia and Lisbon… it speaks of matters of grave importance."
"As you command, My Lord," Pieter replied, his voice a low, steady murmur. He remained standing, accustomed to the formality.
"You have investigated the Portuguese rubber operations near Salvador, as instructed. Give me the summary. Directly. No embellishment."
"Indeed, My Lord. My investigation focused on a 20 to 50-kilometer radius around Salvador. Firstly, regarding rubber tree cultivation."
Pieter produced a small, rolled map from his coat. "The Portuguese have, with considerable effort, established small but productive groves of hévéa trees close to the coast. Particularly within 20 to 50 kilometers of Salvador. These humid, rain-rich lowlands appear suitable. The trees there are healthy."
Willem nodded, a slight frown forming. "And further inland? Our previous reports suggested difficulties."
"Confirmed, My Lord. Attempts to push plantations beyond 50 kilometers inland have largely failed. Drought, poor soils, and insidious blights have claimed entire plantings. Local laborers describe the trees as 'exigeant' – highly demanding. They require constant moisture and consistent shade.
Only the most favored plots, those truly blessed by nature, yield reliable harvests. They've lost significant investment to sudden dry spells and disease. It's notoriously hard to transplant the trees, My Lord. Most seeds become useless after two or three weeks if not given very special care. This is a considerable hurdle for any external cultivation efforts."
"So, their agricultural base is precarious, despite their claims of abundance," Willem mused, tapping a finger on his desk.
"Good. Now, the rumors. This 'sugar mixture' for preservation?"
"Yes, My Lord. On the sugar mixture and rubber processing. There are persistent rumors, which most of my sources now consider realiable, however," Pieter emphasized, "the quantities of sugar involved are small. Enough to create a mild solution, certainly not enough toimpact those "chymicals" ( ogten a wordprecursorog the cehemics one ) processes, considering our specialists in that domain, nor raise general suspicion among their own common workers. It's a subtle application."
Willem raised an eyebrow. "So, a minor additive?"
"On the surface, My Lord, yes. It may inhibit spoilage or aid in softening the rubber upon its arrival in Lisbon. But my assessment, after prolonged observation, is that its primary purpose is more devious. I suspect this 'sugar solution' is a deliberate scheme to protect the true chemical transformation. It offers a plausible, innocuous explanation for some alteration to the rubber, drawing attention away from the actual, more complex process. A red herring, as it were. The cost of sugar, while not negligible, is a small price to pay for such misdirection. This sugar, I believe, is merely a veil to mislead people into believing it's important, when it's not the critical factor."
Willem's expression hardened. "Clever devils. So, what is the true secret, then? The core of the porcess, if not this sugar trickery?"
"Precisely, My Lord. The real advance, their undeniable innovation, appears to involve the heating of the rubber with sulfur and some other agents. This is the process not widely understood, even by many Portuguese involved in the general handling of the rubber. They call it 'vulcanization,' a reference, I believe, to the use of sulfur from Sicily, invoking the ancient Roman god Vulcan. It is the key."
"And the result?"
"The resulting material, My Lord. More resilient,thanthe unprocessed one,is as you know. Less prone to melting in the heat or hardening and cracking in the cold, a constant problem with raw rubber. It holds its form, retains its elasticity. This is what truly differentiates their product in Europe and beyond."
Willem rose, pacing slowly before his desk. "This 'vulcanization'... a true innovation. And the craftsmen involved?"
"They are few, My Lord, and exceptionally skilled," Pieter confirmed.
"Stationed primarily in Lisbon, not Brazil. They are under extremely close supervision. Attempts to bribe or even kidnap these craftsmen have, so far, unfortunately failed. They are guarded as if they were royal jewels. The Portuguese understand the immense value of their expertise."
"Damn them," Willem muttered, a flash of frustration crossing his face. "So, the economic and strategic implications?"
"The plantations near Salvador, while modest in size, are undoubtedly growing, My Lord,"
Pieter stated, returning to his measured tone. "If the Portuguese truly ameliorate these chemical methods and maintain their secrecy, they can continue with their uniqueness on the European market for rubber goods. The implications for our own interests in the Far East, and indeed for our naval superiority should they apply this to ship components, are significant. The WIC and VOC directorate are already trying to transplant trees and gain access to this transformation process, but the challenges are immense."
Willem stopped pacing. "What do you propose, Pieter?"
"I recommend, My Lord, that the VOC consider discreetly acquiring samples. Both the rubber bricks themselves, particularly the treated ones, —our chemists should not focus on the sugar and more on what it might be masking. For thorough analysis. Batavia has skilled chemists; Amsterdam certainly does. Furthermore, we must maintain stringent monitoring of any Portuguese attempts to expand these plantations outside their current limited scope, or, more importantly, to export their processing methods to other colonies. We must track every shipload, every movement of these specialists."
"So, in conclusion, Pieter?"
"In conclusion, My Lord, the Portuguese have achieved a remarkable success, yes. But their raw material operations in Brazil remain inherently vulnerable—to climate, to disease, to the high cost of inputs. Their true, decisive advantage lies in this sophisticated chemical innovation in Lisbon, cleverly protected by misdirection. We must remain vigilant. And we must be ready to exploit any weakness, or any opportunity, to uncover their methods or to undermine their de facto monopoly, which, I must emphasize, stems as much from the inherent difficulty of cultivating these trees elsewhere as from their chemical genius."
Willem nodded slowly, his gaze distant, already calculating.
"Vigilance. And opportunity. Excellent, Pieter. You have done well. Now, for your next assignment..."