On our way back home Pieter said, “Master Nathanael, there is much talk among the farmers and merchants about the likelihood of war with Great Britain. If that happens, it’s probable the market for Virginia tobacco will be beknot—in English I think that means curtailed—or—restricted—and the price for tobacco will likely be very low. Perhaps it would be wise to consider planting more wheat, oats, corn, or even orchard grass for forage instead of tobacco. What do you think?”

I already knew growing and harvesting tobacco is one of the most labor-intensive crops in the world. In the spring young plants had to be gently pulled from their seed-beds and set out in rows in a plowed field—a back-breaking, sunup-to-sundown task. Then, it had to be hoed, suckered, fertilized, and, if the parasites, worms, drought, or too much rain didn’t destroy the fragile plants, it would finally be ready for harvest in the autumn.

Harvesting, like everything else with tobacco, was arduous. The leaves had to be picked by hand at just the right moment, one at a time, strung on sticks, then hung in a barn—or on a fence—to be cured and finally “graded” by some arbitrary person who would decide what our entire crop should be worth, based on how he felt that day.

No one in London or the Colonies could honestly deny that tobacco was Virginia’s most profitable crop. Nor would anyone dare admit tobacco could not exist as a profitable commodity but for slaves and indentured servants.

It suddenly occurred to me, Pieter and Lotte were far more astute than I realized. Guessing the future price for tobacco before new plants were even in the ground was a challenge every tobacco planter faced. But forecasting the consequence of a possible war on the value of a crop was, to me, extraordinary.

As though he read my mind, Pieter smiled and said, “Master Nathanael, I can hear you thinking, How does this Dutchman know these things? Well, you may wonder. But I’m sure you are aware, Lotte and I were convicted by the King’s Revenue Officers because we were very good at predicting a profitable market price for smuggled Dutch East India tea from Java that would beat any price set by the not-so-honorable British East India Company?”

I nodded and said, “Yes.”

Smiling, he continued, “Well, we came by this skill from birth, our Dutch grandparents did the same with delft porcelain and coffee. You have some of both in your house. So, it seems to us—if there is to be a war—grains, corn, and forage are likely to be in greater need than tobacco, sell at a higher price, and require less labor to plant and harvest.”

I could only nod in agreement and reply, “That sounds like very good advice. I will write to Father and recommend it to him.”