May 14 1657
Hawkins Estate, Swartland
Drakesland Colony
The chapel bells rang all throughout the estate. Hottentot bondservants were given a day off and some kegs of ale so they could join in the festivities. Beer and wine flowed like water and several hundred people seemed in very high spirits.
Thomas Drake leaned on his cane, sipping the strange drink his middle son, William, made for him: a decoction of the new Jesuit's Bark from America mixed with lemon juice and ale. The result was surprisingly pleasant and apparently effective against malaria to boot. He stood with John Hawkins, his distant relation by way of his father. John was the grandson of Francis Drake's second cousin. After some calculation long ago, Thomas had figured his friend to be his third cousin once removed.
The Hawkins family retained their sailing roots: John was a merchant in the increasingly profitable slave trade that gripped the colony. He bought the many natives the settlers dragged from the interior and eastern marches and sold them to the Americas. He had a good working relationship with Thomas's eldest son, Francis, who was a fearsome soldier and a keen slaver, venturing beyond the borders of Drakesland to collect tribute from savage tribes.
The festivities that day were to celebrate Francis's marriage to John's eldest daughter, Judith. It was small wonder that they had married; the two had grown up together as their parents were colleagues and friends.
"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, John," Thomas began. "I've news from England regarding His Highness."
"Oh? And what has befallen our illustrious monarch lately?" John Hawkins said, his voice thick with irony.
Thomas grinned. "That is just the thing, my friend. Cromwell has refused the offer of the Crown of England. He cited scripture and was ceremoniously re-installed as Lord Protector. The funny part is that he has now greater powers and the whole affair had echoes of a coronation. I hear he wore a purple ermine robe and held the royal sceptre."
John scoffed. "At least he has the decency to maintain this republican farce of his rather than establish a dynasty. The last thing our king needs when he returns is to be beset by a line of tyrants claiming legitimacy."
While his friend was ever the royalist, Thomas preferred a more practical approach to where to place his loyalties. Like the other colonies, Drakesland enjoying such self-governance as it never had before, practical independence even. He would not mind at all if the state of affairs in England continued indefinitely. Indeed, he happened to agree with the Lord Protector's Independent views and hoped that they would permanently rub off on English society.
But he was wise enough to not let John know he thoughts.
Thinking it prudent to change the subject before John went off on another rant against the usurper Cromwell, he said, "Quite true, old friend. Though I wonder if the Cavaliers who settled here will repatriate themselves to England if and when the Stuarts are restored.
"It is certainly possible. I imagine they will return to their lands when the crown places them back in their hands."
Thomas frowned. "They will retain the lands we gave them to settle in any case. I will not stand absentee landlords. I may have to get a land reform bill passed in the assembly."
"I never thought you of all people had Leveller sympathies," John said, smirking.
"As poor a jest as they come," Thomas tutted. "In any case, I want settlers here minding the land, warding off the savages and reaping the profits from their own work rather than our cavalier friends escaping to England and taking the wealth of the land with them."
"Perhaps you can grant the lands to your guttersnipe orphans."
Hawkins liked to needle Governor Drake over his semi-philanthropic venture of gathering the orphaned beggar children of London and bringing them to Africa to find work, education and, eventually, homes. There was land to spare and few objected to their being granted land when they came of age. More controversy arose over the New Model Army veterans given land than those orphan settlers. Exiled Cavaliers and the retired Roundheads often came to blows, politically and physically.
"Perhaps," Thomas muttered non-committally. "In any case, I've the ghost of an idea forming to present to the Assembly of Citizens that may remedy the situation."
The Assembly of Citizens had been an idea of his, echoing the House of Burgesses that started in the Virginia Colony of America. By his adulthood, Drakesland had grown to such an extent that governing it by oligarchy selected by himself[1] was difficult. Working with the growing population of settlers in governing the colony gave them confidence and made them content in their lot, helped by calling them Citizens: a vague term that nonetheless was growing in popularity within the tightly-knit colony.
John scoffed. "You say that as if it will be necessary to have their consent on the issue. As long as the Company backs you the Assembly is a farce. We all know where the power lies."
"That may be so, but it comforts people to have at least the illusion of power." He shrugged. "Not to mention it would be difficult to run the colony if the colonists are uncooperative, do you not think?"
"You are the politician. I am simply a humble trader."
"How goes the business?" Thomas asked. "I hope the cargo my son provides continues to be to your liking."
His friend waved his hand in a blasé fashion. "The Hottentots are fewer every year. Though they submit more easily, they die in droves on the crossing. I have enough to keep our buyers somewhat satisfied, but there are more native souls closer to the colonies further up the coast. It is difficult to compete with the Portuguese in these things. I almost wish the Dutch held onto Luanda."
"We need more men from England," Thomas said, resolutely. "Veterans who can help us quell the raids and revolts and capture more natives to sell to the Americas."
"Not more of Cromwell's curs, surely?" John sneered.
"Possibly. Mayhap we can attract a balance of both Royalists and Parlimentarians."
"Too many and enemies would stand shoulder to shoulder," he warned. "We would have war amongst ourselves, or do you think that men would leave bad blood behind in England?"
"Then I would give them a new enemy. Organise more incursions east. The land these natives have is rich and fertile, and we must take it from them if we are to prosper." Thomas gazed out at the fields and orchards of his friend's estate. It was not enough. Their borders were too small; settlers would come only for good land and good land was in short supply. They needed settlers to protect themselves from the savage hordes at their gates, lest they be overrun. "I will have white men and women to bolster our numbers. Not just from England, but from Wales, Scotland and Ireland too. People from the continent must be drawn here too."
"Surely not?" John winced. Though a Royalist, he was hard pressed to accept anyone who didn't speak English with a proper accent.
"We are outnumbered by godless savages on all sides, who have proven unreceptive to civilisation and unquenchable in their thirst for our blood. We must either push against them or be driven into the sea, and to push we need strength that can only come from numbers. You need more slaves? Then we must have an army large enough to grind the barbarian tribes under our heels and bind them in chains. We cannot afford to be choosy on which white man comes to this land."
John nodded slowly, a grudging acceptance of his friend's logic. "I trust your advertisements in Europe are proving to not be a waste of coin?"
"They have been moderately successful so far. When I next meet a representative of the Committee, I will allocate them more funds and instruct them to expand their scope. We will see all kinds of settlers next year, I think."
"And what if their scope includes scum of the Earth dredged up from the slums and back-hills?" John asked with more than a little bite.
"Then we will have scum of the earth." Thomas clenched his fists. "Better a shield of the poorest and meanest civilised folk than letting these naked savages overwhelm us and rape and butcher our women."
John saw the fire in his friend's eyes. His first wife had been killed in a raid by the natives. He would do anything to prevent that sort of thing happening again, even if it meant taking the dregs of Europe, giving them land and swords and muskets and marching them on the barbarians.
"I will have a new army. Disciplined and fierce and united in purpose; the New Model Army reborn in Africa. We will have slaves aplenty once we crush all the savage tribes in the land, more than you can sell John." There was an iron cast to his voice now. Thomas raked his flaming eyes across the black-skinned bondservants and slaves on the Hawkins Estate. "Mark my words well, the time will come when these savages learn to fear the name Drake."
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[1]: For a time, the Drakes ran the colony like a personal fiefdom. They were prestigious and rich and so held vast influence in both English and Drakian society. Unlike most proprietary colonies, Drakesland was not converted into a crown colony with a governor appointed by the king. The East India Company held sway there, and the Drake Dynasty maintained a large enough stake over the generations for the shareholders and board of the Company to leave them to their business in Drakesland. It was through voluntary cession of power from the colonial proprietors to the colonists (or at least cession of the appearance of power) that Drakesland evolved into a colony more akin to the American colonies whilst still retaining a pseudo-feudal social structure.
[2]: The Committee for the Settlement of Southern Africa was the first iteration of an organisation that would prove vital to demographic and economic growth in Drakesland. Regarded as another eccentricity of Thomas Drake, it would employ innovatively early forms of marketing to attract colonists, though it often made use the indebted and the poor; it signed on indentured servants by the boatload, bribing or press-ganging "volunteers" to live a new life in Africa.