The Coast

If the river is the lifeblood of the colony, the artery binding the interior to the seats of power and through them further on to Metropole, then the coast should perhaps be likened to the skin and fingertips, the first to be touched by the external world, for all good and ill that may come with it.

“Fishermen and their craft on the Rio Guarico”, by Fritz Melbye (ca. 1850).

The coast is shielded by many islands, of which most are too small to be discussed on their own. In some places, they obstruct the way towards the mainland, elsewhere they provide a measure of protection, against both the storms that strike the coast and the sea monsters, to whom open seas appear a preferred environment. These waters are sailed by fishermen, often from native villages plying their trade only slightly changed by the arrival of the colonists; trader ships and treasure fleets carrying away the colonial goods back to Metropole or bringing in luxuries, troops, and basic utilities not produced in the colonies for want of materials or legal permits, often with a local pilot at the helm anyway to best avoid the dangers; and finally, frequented by pirates.

For the islands at the coast merely herald those further out in the sea. Out there, a multitude of islands large and small rise from the waters. Colonial powers variously claim and fight for them in an eternal struggle for control of trade routes and national prestige alike, and amongst them swarms a multitude of pirates and freebooters, in nominal allegiance to either power or plying the seas independently of any, benefitting from and preying on the trade. They deserve to be spoken of separately.

“View of St. Thomas harbor in Charlotte Amalie”, again by Fritz Melbye (1851).

Once the mainland is reached, often the first sight will not be the beaches, but the mangroves obstructing the sight and complicating the passages; of inhabited polaces, one may encounter a stilt-mounted settlement of frogs, or a village of natives or colonials, who more likely than not diffuse among each other freely here, or a small colonial town or a minor plantation if the conditions are favorable. Pirates are an enduring threat here, perhaps more than seasonal storms which often do too destroy livelihoods and lives, for neither Vice-Regency nor Metropole does always have warships at hand to spare for patrols. Towns thus exist where they are easily defendable, or hard to reach, or when the wealth of the town has not yet raised the interests of the sea. Plantations, alike, have arisen where the good they produce takes too much bulk space to be a worthwhile plunder, or if their absentee lords can write off the losses as acceptable part of the enterprise. The latter is more common.

On the other hand however, proximity to the scum of the sea creates an opportunity for smuggling, for export fees are high and restrictions on import many. The authorities fight it, but patrols aren’t always frequent. For many though, this is by design, as a good few colonial fortunes have grown out of illegal trade. Woe to them, if a vessel of Metropole catches up and her captain is incorruptible; in any other case, the only trader in smuggled goods who needs to fear is the one who lacks contacts in the high city. Nevertheless, the middle city owes much to smuggling, as do all its alikes, but it imports where the high city exports. It is a rare printing shop, a library, or an industrial enterprise, which does not benefit from contraband wares. Almost all muskets in the colony which are not in high city’s hands came from smugglers’ holds.

“At the Orinoco”, by Ferdinand Konrad Bellermann (ca. 1860). Technically it’s yet another picture of riverside life, but it’s not obviously so. And as for the people, it’s not like these people must necessarily be mere fishermen, is it?

As a result of these tribulations, only one city in the colony is truly large, safe in its estuarial bay where star-forts ward off hostiles and pirate attacks, the river trade flows ever through, and the way is open to the bountiful plains.

And so, if there was one to rival it, it would be the western city. But, by the same virtue, it deserves a few paragraphs of its own.