they were related.
Even though Captain Friesen had been paid well for his services, I felt obliged to invite him to dinner.
Hanna seemed fascinated with the Captain, so much so that I feared something unsuitable had occurred while on the voyage. When I later quizzed Catharina on the subject, she swore there was nothing to it. She accused me of having too active an imagination and maybe being a little bit jealous.
Captain Friesen’s schooner, the Rode Tulp II, stayed a full week at the quay where its cargo of salt was unloaded on the dock and then carried to the warehouse. He said it was his turn, and invited us to dine with him on his boat. As it was customary, I accepted his invitation.
The Captain’s cabin, located in the stern, wasn’t very roomy, but we were able to sit comfortably around his table. Our first course was an excellent soup made with all kinds of vegetables followed by the main course of slow simmered veal pot roast. I complimented the Captain on his excellent cook.
I guessed again that Hanna showed a marked interest in the Captain. I’m not jealous, but I do feel responsible for her and need to protect her reputation.
I don’t blame Hanna, she is, after all, twenty years old. Woman of her age, harbor romantic dreams and fall in and out of love all the time. On the other hand, they also fear the thought of ending up alone.
Simon Friesen, 1576
Wet life in Fürstenwerder
Dietrich and I were careful not to show ourselves too often at the von Loytzen brother’s bank. It was hard not to though, we were restless and ready to get settled.
We were growing tired of living aboard the Geest, and were perhaps, visiting the local inn owned by a Mennonite brother, a bit too often.
When we once again returned to the bank, Michael von Loytzen had a proposition for us to consider.
“There is an empty house in the village of Fürstenwerder where a childless couple, Dirk and Anne Klassen, once lived. They died a while back of marsh fever,” he said. “The farm’s buildings are average, but there is 125-acres of land. You could have it, but with some exceptions”.
“Normally, as you know, the first ten years of occupancy would be rent-free,” von Loytzen said. “But, the Klassen’s began working and living on the property four years ago when the village was founded; you should expect to begin paying rent after six years”.
“Something more,” von Loytzen said. “The Klassen’s came here from Flanders, and they may still have family living there. You should sign an ‘affirmation of compensation’ if the relatives of the Klassen’s come expecting to claim their plot”.
The thought of moving into the home of the dead couple was a bit unsettling. But, we had waited so long and were so tired of making due that we decided to agree with those terms.
The banker assured us the paperwork would be ready for our signatures the next day. After that, a clerk from the bank, would give us a tour of the house and show us the boundaries of the homestead.
We returned to the boat to begin preparing to take possession of our new home. The first step, stock the pantry: Salt, smoked meat, cheese, dry bread, flour, and some preserved foods topped the list. Hopefully, vegetables, fruits, butter, and meat would be available from the villagers.
Luckily, our farm was bounded by the Scharpau, a channel between the Vistula and Nogat Rivers. That meant we could sail the Geest into Fürstenwerder without a problem.
The Scharpau, however, was a very shallow waterway with a muddy, but rock free bottom. The going was slow, but we were finally able to drop anchor and wade ashore. This was no problem for Dietrich and me, but the bank clerk felt different and was not happy.
We were met at our homestead by a miserable site: Waterlogged fields, an overabundance of bushes, and even more weeds.
Fürstenwerder, ‘The Prince’s Holm’ – there was nothing princely in that bog. The Klassen’s had started to drain, but there was a lot more to do. The house stood on a three feet high mound. It would be the only dry spot when the Vistula River flooded.
The tool shed, horse stable and cattle shed all stood under the same roof. The Klassen’s had been poor people. It was evident by the tools and equipment they had left behind.
The bank clerk furnished us with a map of our property and another that covered the extent of the Grosse-Werder. To our southeast lay the village of Loytzenhof and 20-miles beyond that the town of Elbing. We would more than likely return to Danzig for most of our purchases as it was only 12-miles away.
We needed to unload our provisions, so in the bank of the Scharpau, we drove a stake we could use to tie up and pulled the boat as near to shore as possible. In the shed, we found a couple of boards we could use as a gangplank and began carrying everything up to the house.
That night we were exhausted. We dined on warmed up bean soup from the kettle and went to bed. I slept well into the morning, but Dietrich was up early. He found a piece of canvas in the shed and nailed it to the wall. On it, using a hunk of coal, he had written a suitable passage from the Bible:
Thou visitest the earth and waterest it: thou greatly enrichest it with the river of God, which is full of water. Psalms 65:9.
The verse was written in German from Martin Luther’s translation. Neither a Dutch nor Frisian translation of the Bible exists as yet. “It will do,” Dietrich said, “but on the next trip to a town, I plan to look for an artist who can print it out better and frame it, too”.
We sat down to make a list of the essentials we would need to make our new home livable. Cows were a necessity. They would furnish us with milk, cream, and butter. And, their manure could be used to fertilize the fields. Cows were a must. Pigs would be available in springtime. We also needed a horse and wagon as soon as possible.
But, animals needed to be feed. Unfortunately, signs of autumn were already evident, and we had no oats or dry hay for animals. And, what about the upcoming winter? Perhaps it would be possible to purchase feed at the same time as the animals. There was so much to consider.
A rowboat would be good as well, for short trips on the Scharpau to the market or out for some fishing. That could be easily built – we had learned that skill while still in Friesland.
A woman is always useful in the house. I would leave that problem for Dietrich to solve. I was not yet ready to take on a wife.
Our nearest neighbor was a big, horse-faced man named Peter Goerz. His interest was more in getting news from home in the Low Countries than of us.
“Is the Governor still that bloody, murdering Duke of Alba? And, do you know what’s happening with my relatives in Flanders”? he asked. We had no idea. Truth be told, we didn’t even know his relatives.
Goerz’s first homestead, he told us, was only 50 acres and too small to feed the large family. “Luckily,” he said, “I was successful in swapping my smaller parcel for this 125-acre plot here in Fürstenwerder”.
When he said his family was large, he wasn’t exaggerating. He currently had thirty-five people living in his house. Goerz told us he had three wives, two who had died, and all who had been prolific breeders.
“My oldest son,” he said, “is married and has a sizable family of his
