That was actually the most dangerous part of the whole escapade, Jeff realized later. But, at the time, he hadn’t been afraid at all. Not because of any mysterious quirk in his nervous system, but simply because he’d been too exasperated.
“And that’s another thing they don’t tell you in the books,” he grumbled, pitching another pail of seawater overboard. “It’s all a fucking spongy mess.”
Jimmy was more philosophical about it. “Beats what happened to the Hunley.”
Gretchen was still on the wharf when they returned, along with a small number of other women whose husbands and sons had participated in the mad affair. For obvious security reasons, Jeff had kept the enterprise as much of a secret as possible. He hadn’t even seen fit to notify Amsterdam’s authorities, and was now finding himself a bit apprehensive about how they were going to react.
Not too apprehensive, and certainly not for long. Gretchen’s body and lips pressed against his, her breath coming heavy, was enough to dispel almost anything except love and lust.
“I was so frightened,” she whispered into his ear. “I was certain you would be killed.”
“I was scared too,” he admitted, “until the very end. But don’t tell anybody about that part. It’d ruin my image as a geek.”
“Stupid,” she murmured, her lips back and eager. “You have never been a geek to me. Or the children. Who else matters?”
He found himself agreeing to that sentiment. Though not, of course, verbally. Gretchen’s kisses, when she was in the mood, made conversation impossible.
The next day, when the news spread through the city, Amsterdam erupted. The city’s populace had been mired in something of a gloomy depression since the siege closed in. Not despairing, to be sure. Dutchmen had been through many sieges since the Revolt began, decades earlier. Some of them lost, to be sure, but more of them won.
Still, they had no illusions as to the price they would pay, even in the event of victory. “Winning a siege,” to those experienced at the business, is a bit like hearing that your life will be saved and you’ll “only lose a leg.”
The announcement of the alliance with the United States had lifted their spirits a bit. But only a bit. It had aroused more in the way of curiosity than hope, really. The fables about the Americans had already spread through Europe—and now, for long enough that most people had concluded they were probably fables indeed. What was known was that the United States was, first, a small nation; and, second, nowhere close enough to render much in the way of immediate aid.
Overnight, that had changed. A Spanish warship lay on the bottom of the Zuider Zee. The force of the explosion, most of it channeled by the unforgiving near-incompressibility of water against the fragile wood, had ruptured the ship’s hull. Most of the crew had survived, but the Spaniards had not made more than a token attempt to prevent the ship from sinking. Not after experienced seamen came up onto the deck and described the size of the hole the mysterious explosion had created.
But the city’s glee and elation was not really a matter of military calculation. The Spanish had plenty of other warships, after all. True, the blockading fleet had withdrawn a bit farther from the city. Far enough, in fact, to make a few smuggling runs feasible. But only a few. The Spaniards had also doubled the number of launches they set out at night for a picket line.
No matter. The old enemy, now grown so huge and seemingly unstoppable, had finally been dealt a blow. And the fact that the blow itself had been delivered under the leadership of the very small delegation from the United States gave that new alliance a luster it had not possessed the day before.
Jeff Higgins did for that. By nightfall, he was the best-known public figure in Amsterdam except for the prince of Orange himself. And, in all likelihood, even more popular. By noon of the following day, the fledgling Committee of Correspondence in Amsterdam would have dozens of new members.
In mid-afternoon of that day in early October, Gretchen would give her first public speech in one of the city’s squares. Most of the hundreds of people who would show up to hear the speech did so because they were curious to see the wife of Higgins, the now-famous American ship-killer. But, by the end, they would be listening to Gretchen Richter.