The waters at the foot of Hoerikwagga did not stir. Not a single cloud in the pale blue sky had gathered to spread a white cloth over the table-topped mountain. Commander van Riebeeck hurried across the beams of the newly constructed jetty to welcome the Malacca. Receiving and reviving captains and crews of Dutch vessels on their voyages to and from Batavia rested on his shoulders. Those were moments to behold. It reminded him why he traded the comforts of his fatherland for the godless piece of earth that had bewitched him. He had a lot of hope that a man on board the Malacca would bring news. Important news about his personal circumstances raised in the most diplomatic manner with the Lords Seventeen.
The motley crew ranged from old and middle aged to very young. Many were sick and undernourished. A sailor in shackles caught his attention. He walked across the deck to the figure that stood separate from the rest of the passengers. Before he could take closer look at the sailor he was stopped in his tracks. His gloved hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. 'What is that smell?' He cursed and pressed the embroidered handkerchief over his nose.
The captain doubled his pace to catch up with the Commander and positioned himself next to him, hands behind his back. 'With compliments from Batavia,' he said. 'Delivered to you in perfect condition.'
Susanna was flanked by two sailors on both sides, a red rag tied around the unevenly shaved head. "I present to you the One Ear convict." His introduction concluded with a sweeping hand gesture and a curtsy executed with a mocking smile. The veiled sarcasm did not elicit the intended reaction from the high-ranking Dutch Commander. Instead, it was met with a cold stare.
" Papers?" He asked, eyes on the unresponsive slave.
"With the Commissioner. Cunaes."
The Commander could not hide the irritation in his voice. "Batavia informed me of a female convict from Bengal. This is not a female-"
"It is," the captain responded. "Susanna van Bengal. That is her name, if my memory serves me well."
"The clothing?"
"Illness demanded we dispose of it. Disease is a ship's demise. You will understand. You were once a surgeon on one of these, uh. Unsavoury voyages? Yes?"
"Of course. Of course."
"She was half dead when she boarded." He stroked his grey beard. 'They did not expect her to make the voyage, but luck was on her side and here she stands. Lucky one. She escaped the shark menu and made it to your colony. Alive.' He laughed with his bearded mouth wide open, exposing all the gaping holes and tobacco-stained teeth. His crew looked at one another and then at their captain, not quite sure what was the cause of the joviality of their captain. They did not call him sour puss behind his back for nothing. But, when the captain laughed, they laugh. One-by-one they joined in the windfall of gaiety. Their nervous, low-keyed chuckles picked up, spread like a wave across the deck and petered out. When he stopped, they stopped and returned to their activities on the deck.
Susanna followed the flight of a flock of birds, arranged in a perfect v-formation across the sky, until they disappeared from sight.
"One ear missing? What for?" Enquired van Riebeeck.
"Not certain which crime claimed it," replied the captain while wiping his eyes with his hand, exposing his dirty nails. "Thievery. That would be my guess."
"Hm. Of which there are plenty in the colony." He grimaced. "Age?"
The captain made a gesture with his two fingers that imitated a cutting motion to one of the sailors. He returned with a rusty tool that resembled a pair of pliers or scissors of some kind. The captain shoved it under her chin and tried to lift her head but she resisted and clenched her lips.
He ordered the two men beside her to hold up her head. "Open," he demanded, thrusting the speculum oris between her lips and forcing her mouth open. A steady stream of blood trickled from her lower lip onto the tattered shirt. "Twenty plus."
The Commander nodded. "Did you lose any men?"
"Enough. Good men I had to bury at sea...but how these heathens survive." He shook his head and spat on the floor. "Beyond me."
"Disease you said. Then we must isolate her. I cannot afford to lose one single slave. Not through a convict."
"This one might also carry the disease of the brain."
The Commander's eyes pored over Susanna from top to bottom for a few seconds. "Healthy and strong. Brain disease? Too early to tell. Some are cursed with madness."
Susanna diverted her gaze from the two men as they exchanged information about the cargo which had just landed from Batavia. She formed a fist and wiped the blood from her chin with the back of it and licked it until it was clean.
Her feet sunk into the soft wet sand on the shore. Her eyes searched the landscape that stretched out ahead of her. There were sand dunes everywhere around her. Finally they came to a road. It was sandy, full of holes and puddles of dung. There were a few shops on both sides. The shops had no windows. She looked up. In the distance, right at the end of the road she could see trees and slaves toiling in the hot sun. Above them she could see the mountain. She knew it was Nommoa's Hoerikwaggo which he spoke about on the boat. Then turned left and came to a stop in front of a wooden fortress guarded by soldiers with muskets who escorted her to an outbuilding inside the grounds of the Fort.
***
Nommoa took the Bible from his sack and clutched it under his arm. Van Riebeeck paused, not sure how to interpret the Hottentot's priest-like appearance. He was eager to talk to the Dutch official standing next to Nommoa and dismissed him with his hand. "Go. Wait for me at the fort."
The black eyes slitted, and disappeared into the lines of Nommoa's cheekbones set in the round, leathery face which turned from the Commander to Commissioner Cunaeus.
"Take care of my luggage," instructed Cunaeus. Nommoa gathered the suitcases.
He threw the two men a lingering glance before he left with the sun baking down on him.
Cunaeus returned his attention to the Commander who had been waiting for him to conclude his affairs on the ship. He extended his hand. "What a relief to feel land beneath my feet," he said. "That jetty is, indeed, a welcome addition." The two men watched the growing swells in the bay.
"I could not agree more, Commissioner. Very soon it will yield valuable taxes for the Company."
Cunaeus' attention was glued to a huge wave crashing over the wooden beams secured horizontally across the jetty. It whipped up a foam, broke over the walkway and disintegrated into a brilliant white carpet of bubbles that sparkled, fleetingly, before its effervescence dissipated. He was oblivious to the Commander's presence. "Such beautiful ferocity," he said.
Van Riebeeck cleared his throat. "I thought we could walk to the fort. To stretch your legs and--"
"The journey was long--"
"The walk is very short. And the weather is exceptional today, do you not agree?"
The Commissioner looked up at the sun. It was clear he had his doubts about walking but van Riebeeck had already started walking. He waited for Cunaeus to catch up. "Any decision on my letter to the Heeren Seventeen about a tax for English ships? This jetty will give them protection. Allow them to throw anchor in the safety of the bay."
"No instructions on that matter. Not to me."
"And the request for my reassignment?"
"You know I am not privileged to such information. I am sorry. I know it has been six difficult years for you and your Maria."
"Sometimes I get the impression the Company wants to bury us here."
"No, no. They have a plan for you. Be patient. The school for slave children was well received. That and the tavern." They walked in the direction of the Fort. "You were informed of the reason for my visit?"
The Commander wore a shirt of flowing collars with dainty lace-edged sleeves which rested on his wandelstok in one hand. It drew the eye to the rapier sheathed on his side. His face was expressionless beneath the shoulder-length curls peeping from the broad-brimmed hat. He held down his hat. "Hold on to yours, Commissioner. The weather is not to be trusted in this place."
"You have mastered it, I see."
His eyes were on Nommoa struggling ahead of them with the suitcases. "Their wind is unpleasant. Most unpleasant. Like my problems with the cattle thieves. If I could tame that, well-" They laughed. "If I may enquire, why is Doman back so soon?"
"His training went well. He speaks the language. I wanted him to stay longer but Domineer insisted on coming home. He is here for the interpreting."
"What's with the Bible?" He did not take his eyes off Nommoa.
"Domineer is a Christian now, and his name is Anthony. He will spread the Word among the heathens."
"I must admit, Johan. His return is a surprise." He chuckled. "Forgive my cynicism but I cannot imagine such a thing. That fox strutting around here preaching to heathens?" He shook his head. "I'm not so sure about him."
Cunaeus pulled his face expressing his disapproval. "The Company sees value. Stating with interpreting. He had sufficient exposure to the language and the culture in Batavia."
"I do not trust him. We must put him to a test."
"It is indeed true what they say."
"What are they saying?"
"That you are a suspicious man. Let me be blunt. There are murmurs that your interpreter is...how do I put this to avoid grievous offence-"
"Having difficulties," interrupted van Riebeeck. "That is the situation with Eva. She is young but wise. And intelligent. More intelligent than that Domineer."
"Sly beyond her years. Is that not what you proclaimed on previous occasions?"
"Eva knows how to draw the low bow."
"Not much difference, Commander." He stopped to catch his breath. After wiping the sweat from his face he continued. "Word is that she deliberately misleads you when it comes to trading directly with the clans further north. Especially the Chochoqua."
"That is Herrie. Not her."
He studied the Commander's face. "Your interpreter is the sister's of one of chiefs of the Chochoqua in the interior."
The Commander, not used to such directness was caught off guard. "That is true, yes. From what I gather her sister is the wife of one of the chiefs. Odasoa." Realising he is under scrutiny, he composed himself. "You are well informed about matters here at the Cape."
"Not enough." He removed his hat and fanned his face with it. "Is she capable of deceit?"
"As I said. Eva is capable of a little flattery... but such deceit? No."
"Is it possible that she is the agent of your Herry?"
"There is no evidence to that effect. Or that Eva has betrayed me."
"Not yet. Anthony must replace Eva. Batavia is convinced that your interpreter cannot be trusted."
"She is invaluable for my present plans. Besides, her command of our language. The understanding of our customs. The language. And her sister's connection with the Chochoqua...she is an invaluable asset."
"Anthony can do the same, and more-"
"He is not Eva. I need Eva. Not him."
"What is so special about this Eva of yours?"
"She is my best connection to the cattle kings of the interior, which Domineer is not. When the time is right I will use her family ties with them to my advantage. It is no secret that it is my intention to trade with the Chochoqua. Directly. and cut out the--"
Cunaeus cut him short. "The Hottentoo. We know."
"That is my goal. To cut out that shrewd and double-dealing Herry."
"Anthony says they keep you away from the interior for a reason. Are you aware of their strategy?"
"Which is?"
"To stop Dutch advance further north. You are contained at the coast. But there are evidence of far greater wealth further north."
"What does Doman want?"
The two men continued the rest of their journey without any further reference to Krotoa or Nommoa. The conversation drifted towards matters that affected the colony. Exhausted they reached the Fort where Maria waited for them with her usual smile and upbeat invitation to wash up and dress for supper.