Special Mission
Large puffs of white moving casually with the trade winds
highlighted the bright blue November sky over Oranje Bay. Isaiah Robinson,
captain of the 14-gun brig Andrea Doria, put his spyglass to his eye.
Ahead were the twin peaks with verdant sides that rose rapidly from the sandy
shore, on which stood the Dutch trading port city of Oranjestad. He shifted his
glass to the large stone fort that sat astride the bluffs overlooking the fort
and anchorage that was his destination.
“How will they receive us, sir?” asked a young midshipman
standing at his side. The United States declared independence from Britain
earlier that summer but had not received diplomatic recognition.
“We shall know soon enough, Mister Sewall,” replied
Robinson.
The First Salute
The Andrea Doria sailed briskly and then lazily
toward the harbor, cluttered with trading ships throughout the New World and
Europe. Sint Eustatius, part of the Dutch Antilles, was a duty-free port that,
since its occupation by the Dutch West Indies Trading Company in the early 17th
century, was a hub for maritime trade—both legal and illicit. Tobacco, rice,
cotton, and rum passed through her, as she was the hub of a global supply chain
that served two hemispheres. But the port was sadly the transit point for the
worst kind of trade, human chattel.
Robinson snapped his glass shut and nodded to the Gunners
Mate. “Fire the salute!”
Thirteen of the fourteen barrels flashed and belched
smoke—one for each state. Andrea Doria had formally announced her arrival.
Robinson wondered, What will be their reply?
From his perch at the fort, the governor of the island,
Johannes de Graaf, watched the salvo fired by the brig below. He turned to the
battery commander and doffed his plumed hat. A salvo of eleven guns erupted,
belching a cloud of gun smoke above the harbor.
Captain Robinson smiled in satisfaction. “The signal of a returned
salute is two guns less than the saluted.”
“What does it mean, sir?” asked Sewall.
Robinson did not reply to the young officer but turned to
the entire crew. “The United Netherlands recognizes us as a sovereign nation!”
The crew erupted in a long round of “Huzzahs” as the Andrea
Doria made its way to safe harbor.
Island in the Sun
I slightly changed my promise to dedicate the next few
editions of the Yankee Doodle Spies blog to characters in the series’ next
novel, The Reluctant Spy. Instead, we will profile a place that
plays a significant role in the unfolding of this adventure tale. This unique
place is an island set in the West Indies. An island that played an essential
part throughout the American Revolution and an important part in the fifth book
in the Yankee Doodle Spies series, The Cavalier Spy. And as those who
read it are aware—this island is Sint (Saint) Eustatius, sometimes
called Statia.
Revolutionary Role
Sint Eustatius’s role in the American struggle for
independence did not end with that “first salute.” In fact, Governor de Graaf
welcomed the crew, and Robinson provided him a copy of the Declaration of
Independence and a letter written in Hebrew, destined for the Jewish merchants
in the Netherlands. Sint Eustatius had many Jewish settlers who helped make the
island the trading and banking hub that connected the Old World with the New.
Lively and Prosperous
When Robinson and his crew took to shore, they found a
thriving port town with hundreds of storehouses, shops, inns, taverns, and bordellos.
The storehouses were jammed with goods from the region’s islands – coffee,
cocoa, and rice plus rice, tobacco, and wood from North America and finished
products from Europe. The bay was jammed with ships from every corner of the
world, waiting to unload or take cargo on board. The little island, a “duty-free”
port, was as busy as Amsterdam’s, taking in 3,000 ships a year.
The Jewish Community
The large Jewish population was the lifeblood of the island’s prosperity. In the early 18th century, Sephardic Jews immigrated to Sint Eustatius from the Netherlands, bringing entrepreneurial skills and talent and establishing financial relations with their brethren in Europe and elsewhere. The population eventually comprised one-tenth of the island. These tradesmen became prosperous enough to build the largest synagogue in the New World, Honen Dalim. Stone bricks were brought in from Europe to build the massive structure.
Duty-Free Port
Though short on natural resources, the little island in the
sun boasted a global web of traders and maritime concerns. The Jewish settlers
on St. Eustatius made up a large proportion of those merchants who were also
“illegal” sellers of war materials and supplies to the Americans. Couple that
with the banking interests in Amsterdam, and you had the makings of a system
that had some refer to the island as the “Armory of the American Revolution.”
Robinson would meet with some of the local Jewish businessmen and purchase munitions. This was the beginning of a covert (or not so covert) trade that exchanged American cash crops, such as tobacco, for the necessities of war. This was a crucial pipeline during the early years of the struggle for independence.
Smugglers Hub
But the pesky island that flaunted the rules of maritime trade
was in the crosshairs of the empire that policed maritime trade—at least
wherever the navy sailed. However, political and diplomatic niceties prevented
the British government from doing much to stop the clandestine trade that
provided the American rebels their lifeblood. As long as the Netherlands and
France were not open allies of America, the better policy was to send
occasional squadrons to police the waters. But stamping out the nest of smugglers
and (to the British) illicit traders) would have to wait.
A Vital Threat
A few years into the war, London realized that the threat
posed by the little island needed addressing. By 1780, the Admiralty felt the
time was ripening for action. France and Spain were in the war, and following
the revelations captured along with American emissary Henry Laurens, the focus
had turned to the West Indies, where the British felt their greater economic interest
lay. With the Southern strategy in play, everything lined up for a reckoning.
Send Rodney
British Admiral George Rodney, a competent and well-thought naval
veteran, was given the task. In late 1780, he sailed with a fleet of fifteen
ships of the line, numerous support ships and transports, and some 3,000 men to
deal with the “nest of vipers” once and for all. Arriving at the harbor entrance on 3 February
1781, the arrayed ships posed an impressive site. With some 1,000 naval guns, Governor
de Graaf could only look down in dismay as he had only a dozen cannons and
fifty men. He accepted Rodney’s offer of surrender.
Worse Than Thought
The British admiral was stunned by the cornucopia of
supplies and munitions on the island and the number of vessels laden with goods
in the American trade. Beaches were lined with warehouses brimming with goods,
primarily sugar and tobacco. Others were crammed with naval stores—the timber, resin,
tar, and hemp rope needed for ships. The magnitude of the island's contribution
to the American war was further evinced by the number of munitions taken that belonged
to the Royal Navy—sold by British merchants on nearby St. Kitts!
Months of Rapine
Rodney set to work confiscating whatever had value. With
large gambling debts, the more he could seize for Britain, the larger his share
of the spoils. The admiral torched, dumped, or looted what he could. The island
was sacked like a medieval city. His disdain for the Jews was manifest—he
believed many prosperous merchants were mainly responsible for the support of
the Americans. In an act reminiscent of later Boer war tactics, Rodney had many
of the island’s prominent Jewish leaders rounded up and packed them off to St.
Kitts. While now destitute families watched in horror, he had all their possessions
seized.
Not Following Orders
Meanwhile, Rodney took his eye off the ball. He violated his
orders to destroy the supplies meant for the American forces and shadow a
French fleet bound for North America under Rear Admiral Francois Joseph Paul de
Grasse. As he tarried on Sint Eustatius to continue his plundering, the French
arrived in American waters and set sail for the Chesapeake. Rodney sent part of
his fleet to join Admiral Hood while he, now ailing, sailed for England. De
Grasse and Hood squared off at the Battle of the Chesapeake, where the French
drove off the British. They then bottled British General Charles Cornwallis’s
army at Yorktown, sealing the fate of Britain in North America.
After Rodney
The British occupation of Sint Eustatius did not last long. Months
later, a French fleet recaptured it and was returned to Dutch control in 1784.
But the island in the sun was a shell of its former self. Months of destruction
and plundering by Hood bankrupted the locals, and the population of around
8,000 began to dwindle. With the war over and the former British colonies now
free to trade at will, its importance dwindled.
During the Napoleonic Wars, the French and British clashed
over it (the Netherlands was made a client and then absorbed by France). The
Congress of Vienna returned Sint Eustatius to the Netherlands in 1816. But the
“Golden Island” would never be the same as it was during its halcyon days of
the late 18th century.
Statius Speculation
The tale of the island in the sun has two “what ifs.”
The first is obvious. What if Rodney had not bent to his avaricious
side and followed his orders instead of spending months looting and
expropriating but pivoted toward the French threat after taking the island?
Would America’s fate, and that of the world, have gone differently?
The second is more obtuse. But what if the Jewish population
had been left untouched and not gone into a diaspora? Would their trade and
finance know-how have grown Eustatius an even greater regional magnet for trade
and finance, leading the entire West Indies to prosperity?
Visitors to the island today could scarcely imagine its brief
but essential role in events that shaped the course of history. But the island in
the sun did have its role—and it is one we should never forget.
