Free A Flower for the Queen: A Historical Novel by Caroline Vermalle, Ryan von Ruben Page B

waters. Beyond it lay a small town consisting of an orderly collection of mostly single-storey buildings arranged in a neat grid pattern, a church’s spire punctuating its centre.
    But even if the size of the town had been ten times larger, the church transformed from a provincial kirk into a monumental cathedral and the walls of the fort constructed so as to rival those of Europe’s largest castles, it would all still have seemed puny by comparison to the magnificence of the mountain that lay beyond.
    Masson marvelled at the neat orderliness of the buildings, so far from their European origins. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he had not thought of a town so at ease with its surroundings that, apart from the modest fort on the foreshore, felt no need for enormous walls, battlements or other defences.
    Masson was ripped from his wonder as men mustered around the cannons and fired off the traditional twelve-gun salute in greeting. Moments later, he looked back and saw the smoke rise from the fort’s guns before hearing their reply.
    Soon after dropping anchor, the surrounding waters were busy with a multitude of yawls, skiffs and rowboats, ready to receive cargo and passengers for transfer to the wharf. There were also boatloads of traders and their wares, eager to plunder the sailors’ purses before they were emptied in the brothels and ale houses ashore.
    The noise was almost deafening as sailors shouted to one another from the rigging and the merchants jockeyed for position in order to be first alongside. As Masson began to fear that they would be overrun, a solemn hush descended on the crowd and almost as one the boats pulled back from the Resolution and allowed a corridor to open up so that a single longboat could make its way to them.
    The longboat was pristine in comparison to the ragged crowd through which it passed. It was rowed by Indonesian slaves, each of whom wore white trousers and a pointed, woven hat. A red, white and orange standard, supported from its stern, flapped in the breeze with the VOC emblem of the Dutch East India Company stamped in black on its centre.
    Once the boat had been tied up alongside the Resolution , a rope ladder was thrown down to receive the Port Captain and the Company Surgeon, who were there to check for contraband and to make sure that there was no sickness on board that could be spread to the colony. Masson was surprised to see a third man joining the officials, contravening the VOC’s own rules that no one board or leave a newly arrived ship before the inspections were completed.
    The man was around Masson’s age, of average height and build, but with an unsightly yellowing scar that passed from his left ear to his chin. Where his companions were both dressed in uniforms of white trousers and dark-blue jackets with gold braiding, he was robed in civilian dress of a quality and style that Masson would have expected to find in one of the wealthier districts of London rather than a colonial backwater. Unlike his two companions, who had the heavy countenances of men about serious work, he gave the appearance of someone on an early morning jaunt.
    Captain Cook met him with a stiff formality that contrasted sharply with the other man’s jovial familiarity. When he pulled from his coat a bottle of something and offered it as a gift, Cook seemed to soften slightly, and the two men walked towards the Captain’s quarters, leaving the Port Captain and Company Doctor to complete their inspections.
    When the Company officials departed a few minutes later, a signal that all was clear was relayed to the small flotilla, which descended on the ship like a flock of hungry gulls, yelling and shouting their way into the sailors’ pockets.
    Directly below Masson was a small rowboat that seemed to have defied all odds to make it out to the ship at all and which Masson doubted very much would be able to make it back, especially given the ragged appearance of the oarsman, who was now looking