Paolo spots his confusion and laughs. ‘Don’t worry, Tula. You’ll pick it all up fast enough. Just stick with me. I’ll explain as we go along. Look! We can make a start.’
An agile boy climbs the schooner’s mast and attaches a long rope to the top. A team of horses on the quay pulls on the rope tilting the ship over. ‘Come,’ says Paolo when the ship is almost on its side. ‘I hope you’re not afraid of water.’ They jump into a small boat, the bottom of which is strewn with lengths of unravelled rope and an enormous barrel of black liquid sludge is perched on the bow. Paolo skilfully steers the sloop alongside the ship. ‘Look,’ he says. ‘Do you see all these cracks? The idea is that we fill them with lengths of rope soaked in pitch.’ He grabs a hammer and a flat chisel and demonstrates. ‘You see? Nothing to it. You’ll pick it up in no time.’
By the end of the day Tula is covered in black sludge from head to toe. ‘So,’ Paolo laughs as they make their way back to the house. ‘Your first day! Not that bad, eh? Didn’t I tell you?’
Tula has trouble getting to sleep that night. The day had left a powerful impression on him: the chaos of the harbour, a bomba who treated him as his equal, the new job and all the things he still had to learn; but above all he missed his familiar surroundings, Jorboe, Rosita, his little brother. He tries to swallow a lump in his throat. Speranza! The thought of her hits him like a sledgehammer. Will he ever see her again?
Days become weeks, almost unnoticed, and weeks become months. Tula slowly begins to feel more at home in his new surroundings. The work is varied, and Paolo teaches him all the tricks of the trade. The bomba calls himself a free negro, free to come and go as he pleases. After years at sea as a ship’s carpenter, he finally bought his own freedom. Tula could hardly believe his ears when Paolo told him about it. Freedom, bought and paid for. No one to tell you what to do or where to go. But Tula doesn’t have much time to think about it. Work in the city may be a lot less monotonous than on the plantation, but it’s still hard labour and when it’s time for bed in the evening he’s usually exhausted.
‘Hey Tula.’ Paolo is standing on the quay waving his arms, a wiry man with light brown skin at his side. ‘Come over here, there’s someone I want you to meet.’ Tula clambers ashore and joins the two men. ‘This is Nicolas from Haiti. We spent years together at sea. He was only a cabin boy back then, of course.’ He slaps the man on the shoulder and laughs. ‘But these days he’s the boatswain of the ship you’ve just been working on.’
Tula nods affably.
‘Tula is my apprentice,’ Paolo continues. ‘And a good one too, let me tell you. If there’s still work to be done on the ship, feel free to let him know.’ He walks away leaving Tula and Nicolas alone together. To Tula’s great surprise, the man speaks to him in Papiamento. ‘I’ve been coming to Curacao for quite some time now,’ he explains. ‘Actually, it’s the only place I come, except Haiti of course. To be honest, I’m happy to get away.’
‘Why’s that?’ Tula asks.
‘The revolt. Half the island’s in flames. The slaves are demanding freedom and equal treatment and they’re not afraid to use violence to get what they want. It’s a dangerous place. Toussaint L’Ouverture, their leader, has managed to involve the Spanish part of the island in the fight against the French. That means you have to be careful where you navigate your ship,’ he concludes with a smile. ‘Can we take a look onboard?’
‘Of course.’ Tula scurries across the gangplank ahead of Nicolas.
Nicolas carefully inspects the repairs. ‘Good work,’ he says. ‘How much longer do you need to finish?’
‘We’re almost ready,’ Tula answers. ‘As soon as the pulley maker gets back we can rig the ship and it’ll be ready to sail as far as we’re concerned.’
Nicolas nods approvingly. ‘Excellent. The captain wants to leave tomorrow.’
Towards the end of the afternoon, Tula and Paolo make their way back to the house. ‘Nicolas told me about a slave revolt on Haiti,’ says Tula. ‘Did you hear about it too?’
Paolo nods. ‘It’s been going on for quite a while. They say it’s a bloodbath. Thank God we’re safe and sound here on Curacao.’
‘Safe and sound? Why do you say that? At least they’re doing something on Haiti to fight oppression.’
‘Haiti isn’t Curacao,’ Paolo responds matter-of-factly. ‘Anyway, you’re not obliged to be a slave here. I’m a free man, aren’t I? Besides, revolt is bad for business. Haven’t you noticed the dramatic fall in the number of ships of late?’
Tula’s impression of the bomba suddenly changes. How can he be so uninterested? Life as a free negro is a lot easier, of course, but surely this is about his own people. He decides not to pursue the conversation.
The following morning, Tula is awakened by the sound of agitated voices in the garden. He recognises Paolo’s among them. ‘That may well be, but you can’t expect me to cope on my own.’
‘If you’re not up to it then perhaps the master should be on the lookout for another bomba,’ a second voice responds calmly.
‘No, no. I’ll take care of it.’
‘That’s what I thought. Make sure they’re ready by tomorrow.’ Fading footsteps betray the man’s departure and Tula makes his way outside. Paolo isn’t sure where to look.
‘This is your last day, Tula. The master’s sending you back to Kenepa.’
What? Back to the plantation? Tula is unable to suppress a smile. Back to his family, his friends. Speranza! It’s been a long time. How will they be?
‘I’m sorry, Tula,’ says Paolo. ‘I had hoped to keep you here, but the master doesn’t think there’s enough work for you. I already told you that fewer and fewer ships have been putting into the harbour. He can use you better back on the plantation.’
There’s little time to say goodbye. A cart is waiting the following morning when Tula emerges from the barracks. Paolo is there too, feeling a little awkward. Tula walks up to him ‘Thanks for everything you taught me,’ He holds out his hand and the bomba grasps it with both his own. ‘The best of luck, Tula. I’ll miss having you around.’
The manor house at Kenepa is bathed in the red glow of the evening sun as the cart approaches the drive. Smoke spirals upwards from the fire in the middle of the slave village. The cart stops by the barn. Tula immediately jumps to the ground and starts to run, negotiating the narrow paths back to the village. ‘Tula!’ As soon as Jorboe catches sight of him he bounces to his feet. ‘Rosita. Come quickly. Look who’s here!’
X
Tula is waiting in front of the manor house at sunrise when Willem comes out to ring the bell. A group of twenty men are gathered behind him.
‘Not you again. What’s all this about, boy?’ Willem grunts. ‘Wasn’t I clear enough the last time?’
‘We don’t have to work, master,’ says Tula. ‘We are equal, you and me. We refuse to go to work. We want to live in freedom, like our French brothers. It’s our right. You can’t stand in our way.’ Willem blushes with rage and bends to pick up his rifle. At that instant a hand grabs his arm. ‘Take it easy, boy. There’s too many of them.’
Caspar van Uytrecht approaches the group of slaves and insists on being told what’s going on. Unashamed, Tula steps to the fore and repeats that the slaves are no longer willing to work because the French are now in charge and all the slaves have to be set free.
‘The French are in charge, you say?’ Caspar glares at him in semi-amazement. ‘That sounds like government business to me. You should present your case to the governor. If you’re right, he’ll certainly be willing to hear you out. You have my permission to speak with him. Take your men and go to the city. Plead your cause. I won’t stand in your way.’
Tula nods, turns and walks back towards the slave village, the men in his wake. Willem and his father head inside the house. ‘The governor has to be informed about this without delay, Willem. Have a horse saddled. I have to leave immediately. You stay here and keep a close eye on things while I’m away. If it
gets dangerous follow me to the city and bring the family.’ A horse is saddled and brought to the front of the manor house. Caspar doesn’t even take the trouble to say goodbye to his family. He rushes outside, jumps onto the horse and gallops off towards the city.
An excited crowd has assembled in the place of gathering, but the hubbub is replaced by silence when they see Tula approach. Everyone’s gaze is fixed on him and he knows what they expect from him.
‘The master has given us permission to go to the city and speak with the big Shon,’ he says loud and clear. The people are clearly surprised. ‘We have new masters now,’ Tula continues. ‘The French are now in control on our island. The French say we’re free and we’re equal to the whites.’ The crowd stares at Tula in disbelief. Some begin to applaud, others stand in silence with tears in their eyes, lost for words. Stunned silence gives way to shrieks of joy. In a matter of moments the crowd becomes loud and almost hysterical. To make himself heard, Tula climbs onto a cart and lifts his hands in the air to call for quiet. ‘This is the moment we have all been waiting for so long. Free our prisoners from their shackles. Let them also taste the freedom that is our due. Celebrate this freedom in peace so that we can continue to live together in peace.’
The crowd explodes and a deafening cheer of jubilation fills the air. Some start to sing, and when Tula gets down from the cart he’s almost buried under a throng of sobbing people trying to touch him, kiss him, embrace him.
XI
In the course of the afternoon Tula, Louis and fifty other men leave for the city. After two hours walking they arrive at plantation Santa Cruz. From a distance, the manor house looks like an anthill. People are scurrying back and forth and there’s little trace of the place’s usual well-ordered tranquillity.
‘Tula!!!!’ someone shouts. A group of men catch sight of Tula and his companions and run to meet them, Bastiaan panting at their head. ‘Kon ta, kon kos ta?’ Louis greets Bastiaan warmly and then points to Tula. ‘You were right.’
Bastiaan nods excitedly. ‘Tula, my brother. I thought this would happen. Finally! The master of your plantation stopped here this morning. He ran straight inside the house without even taking the time to tie up his horse. He left moments later at full gallop and in just the same hurry as he had arrived. Our master appeared at the door within minutes and started to harness his own carriage. When he was done, he and his entire family jumped in and they rode off at speed. We had no idea what was going on.’
The men walk together to the group of people assembled in front of the house. Tula, Bastiaan and Louis climb the steps and Bastiaan tries to calm the commotion. It takes a while before Tula is finally able to speak: ‘My brothers, this is an extraordinary day for all of us. The French are now in charge on our island and they’ve told us that we are free.’
A passionate cheer ascends from the crowd. ‘Libertat’, some shout. Tula can no longer make himself heard and Bastiaan gestures that the people should be quiet to let him speak. When that doesn’t work he fetches a huge pot from the kitchen and hits it with a stick. The tumult subsides.
Tula continues, explaining to the gathering that his master had told them to speak with the big Shon in the city. ‘We’re going to the city to speak with the Shon himself and hear from his own lips that we are free and that blacks and whites can live together as brothers. We’re leaving early in the morning. Get some rest, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us,’ he concludes.
At that moment Speranza nudges her way to the front. Her usually spotless clothing is filthy and ragged after working in the sugarcane fields. When Tula catches sight of her he’s nailed to the spot. But there’s no stopping Speranza. Without hesitation and without paying the least attention to the people around her she throws herself into Tula’s arms. ‘Oh Tula, my darling Tula. I’ve been so worried about you. I thought they would punish you, lash you, lock you up. I thought I would never see you again.’
Thrown for a moment by her warm embrace, Tula quickly recovers and says in a loud voice for all to hear: ‘No, my love. We are free. Free to live our lives together as we please.’ He lifts her in his arms and embraces her.
Tula, Bastiaan and Louis are sitting on a bench under a tree, talking in the late evening sun. ‘If your master fled that means he was afraid,’ says Tula, clearly worried. ‘He’s not likely to bring good news with him to the city and that’s bad for us. If the whites think we’re on the rampage they’ll try to hold us back, I’m certain of it.’
Louis suggests they go armed. ‘If they try to prevent us entering the city we’ll fight our way through.’ He sounds pretty determined.
‘Look around you, Louis,’ says Tula. ‘Do you really want to expose our women and children to a fight? Fighting isn’t the solution. We have to convince the whites that we’re in the right. There’s no other way.’
‘And risk being led like lambs to the slaughter?’ Bastiaan interrupts. ‘I’m with Louis on this one. We should carry weapons. If we’re attacked we have to be able to defend ourselves.’ Tula stares at the ground, thinking, in silence. They’re right of course. Nobody can predict what the whites will do. Everything’s been fine so far, but they still have a long way to go. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘We’ll carry weapons. To defend ourselves if we have to, but not for attack.’ Louis is clearly relieved and Bastiaan slaps Tula on the shoulder. ‘We’re going to need all the strength we can muster, brother,’ he smiles. ‘The city’s still a long way off. I know someone who can cook up a special drink that will give us courage and energy. Tonight we’ll organise a ceremony.’ Tula looks at him in surprise. ‘A ceremony?’ His thoughts go back to a time when they also asked for God’s blessing for the beginning of a new life. And Bastiaan is right, they will most certainly need His approval for this one.
‘… just as all who have been buried with Christ through baptism, shall rise with Him from the grave to new life in Christ our Lord. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.’ Father Schinck holds up the screaming baby with a smile and hands him back to Afiba. Tula and Louis are standing at a distance watching the ritual unfold. ‘So, a splash of water and it’s all good.’ Louis shakes his head in disdain. ‘Complete and utter nonsense.’ Tula stares at him in surprise. ‘You shouldn’t say such things, Louis. You insult God when you do.’
‘How can I insult God? He’s never heard a word I’ve said.’
‘What do you mean? Weren’t you baptised?’
‘No idea,’ says Louis. ‘But if I was, I haven’t noticed the difference.’
‘Shshsh.’ Afiba glares at the boys. Speranza is standing behind her with her new little brother in her arms. She winks at Tula who suddenly feels the blood rushing to his cheeks and quickly looks away. ‘Let us pray.’ The priest’s voice echoes loud and clear across the place of gathering.
‘Nos Tata, ku ta na shelu, bo nòmber sea santifiká. Laga bo reino bini…’ His hands folded and his head bowed, Tula peers out of the corner of his eye at Louis. His friend is apparently indifferent to what is going on and is making no effort even to pretend to participate in the prayers. Tula nudges him gently with his elbow.
‘… meskos ku nos ta pordoná esnan ku a falta ku nos.’ The priest’s voice is moving closer. Tula looks up to see him standing in front of Louis with a stern look in his eyes. As Louis bows coyly and folds his hands, Tula can hardly suppress a smile. ‘Amen.’ The word is barely out of the priest’s mouth when the crowd explodes into a joyous uproar. Quaku tugs at Tula’s sleeve. ‘Cccan I have a llllook? Come Tula, come with me.’ He pulls Tula by the arm towards Afiba and her newborn son, leaving Tula with no choice but to go along with him. ‘He wants to have a closer look,’ he says shyly to Speranza, doing his level best to avoid her gaze. ‘Oh, so you want a closer look? Come then.’ Speranza crouches and holds the baby out to Quaku. ‘Beautiful, eh?’ she says. Quaku doesn’t say a word; he just stares wide-eyed at the little baby. He places his finger on the palm of the baby’s hand and the tiny fist closes
around it. Quaku looks up at Speranza in a state of bliss. ‘He likes me.’ Afiba bends down, takes the child from Speranza and walks away. Quaku saunters after them leaving Tula behind with Speranza.
‘Not for you, eh? A little baby like that?’ says Speranza, turning to Tula with a provocative glint in her eye. Tula is completely dumbfounded. ‘Me, I… eh…’ he stutters. At moments like this Tula hates himself. He usually knows immediately what to say and is rarely at a loss for words, but for one reason or another things are different when he’s around Speranza. ‘Well you know… babies,’ is as much as he finally manages to say.
‘Congratulations, Speranza. What a handsome little brother.’ Rosita walks towards her, arms outstretched, and Speranza welcomes her embrace. Even Jorboe does his best, tugging Speranza to his side. ‘What did you think of the service? Beautiful, eh?’
Tula and Speranza laugh shyly. Neither says a word.
‘I think we should leave these two alone, Jorboe.’ Rosita tugs at her husband’s arm with a knowing glint in her eye. Tula catches sight of Louis out of the corner of his eye. Louis is still here, thank goodness. ‘Hey, Louis,’ he shouts. ‘Come join us?’ Louis looks up and makes his way towards them in no apparent hurry.
‘Hey Speranza, congratulations,’ he says while looking the other way, seemingly moody and indifferent. ‘What’s the matter, Louis, didn’t you enjoy the ceremony?’
‘Enjoy? What is there to enjoy about splashing some water on someone’s head?’
‘Louis is in a bad mood.’ Tula apologises for his friend.
‘Nothing of the sort,’ says Louis. ‘I just don’t understand why you have to have water splashed on your head before God finally lets himself be heard. And to be honest, I also don’t believe he has anything to say with or without a splash of water. Perhaps he talks to the priest, that’s possible. But the Priest will be off back to his house in the city later to do whatever he pleases. He should join us here for a day’s work, then he’ll know what it’s like.’
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