Tula

by Jeroen Leinders

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Paradis approaches the gate to Porto Marie and is welcomed by a couple of slaves, muskets at the ready. Thomas Paradis glares at them enraged. ‘How dare you stand in my way?’ He marches up to the armed men without fear, pushes aside the barrels of their weapons, and continues on his way. The armed slaves follow him in silence. When he reaches the manor house, he pushes his way through the crowd and stops in the middle of the garden.

  ‘Who’s in control here?’ he roars at the top of his voice.

  When Paradis catches sight of Tula’s lonely figure watching from the manor house balustrade he marches up to him and announces for everyone to hear: ‘I have orders to command you to return to your plantations. If you go now there will be no further consequences. Show obedience and no one will be punished.’ Paradis glares disparagingly at Tula: ‘How dare you assume possession of this house,’ he snorts.

  Tula stares back at him unruffled. ‘We go back to our plantations after we’ve spoken with the governor,’ he says. ‘We’re not looking for a fight. All we want is our freedom. The governor is sure to give us a hearing.’

  Paradis grunts in contempt. ‘We have orders from the governor to send you back without delay. And you can be grateful he’s willing to let you go home without further consequences. I’d take advantage of his kindness if I were you.’

  Tula smiles affably. ‘But we’re all equal in the eyes of God. Who gave the whites the right to order the blacks around and subject them to their will while the almighty God makes no distinctions?’

  Paradis is astonished at Tula’s words.

  ‘And the French, to whom the Dutch are now subject, also make no distinctions,’ Tula continues. ‘Their slaves are free, and that means we too are free.’

  ‘The governor doesn’t share your opinion,’ Paradis growls. ‘And he represents the law on this island. You’ll just have to do what you’re told. And if you don’t, alternative measures will have to be taken.’

  ‘Tell the governor he has our respect,’ Tula answers. ‘As a human being and as our equal. Tell him we want to live side by side as brothers, in peace and freedom.’

  Paradis can’t believe his ears. How dare this slave speak to him in such a tone. His hands are itching to teach him a lesson, but he has his orders and he manages to control himself. ‘Good, I’ll pass your message on to my superiors.’ He turns and walks away, then turns back to look at Tula. ‘You don’t know what you’re letting yourselves in for,’ he snaps. He tries to move on but five menacing slaves block his way.

  ‘Let him go,’ Tula orders.

  Paradis leaves the property in a fury.

  Moments later Tula summons Tossijn. ‘We have to move quickly,’ he says. ‘Bastiaan and Louis have to be told what happened here. Take a horse and hurry out to them. Tell them there’s a danger the army might attack and that I’ll send reinforcements. Go now.’

  Plegher flies into a rage when Paradis reports back on his conversation with Tula. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment and orders his men to ready themselves for attack. The soldiers then make their way through the mondi to the salt flats of Porto Marie. Louis and his group are dug in on the seaward side and catch sight of them first. Louis heads out alone onto the open salt flats.

  ‘There they are!’ Plegher’s battalion storms towards him, but when they come within firing range Louis races back into the mondi’s dense overgrowth. Plegher opens fire, and much to his surprise his shots are immediately answered by a salvo from the bushes.

  Bastiaan has been sticking close to Marcus Anthony and also hears the shots. On his signal his men open fire on the soldiers who are caught off guard by the invisible enemy’s sudden attack. The encounter is intense, but short. The soldiers are overpowered, forced to surrender their weapons, bound and led away to the manor house. Plegher’s men on the salt flats are also no match for Louis. The unexpected counterattack creates confusion among the soldiers, confronted as they are by a superior yet invisible force shooting at them from the bushes on every side. Tula and his men now approach the middle of the salt flats. The open terrain offers little cover and Plegher’s men have no other option than to withdraw. Tula’s men pick up the pace and storm the salt flats, screaming and shouting. The soldiers panic and run off into the mondi. But the densely overgrown mondi prevents them from regrouping, leaving them to face one-on-one combat with the frenzied slaves. Accustomed to the rough terrain, Louis and his men quickly gain the upper hand. A few soldiers are taken prisoner after a short fight and the rest run for their lives. Plegher sees that further resistance makes no sense and sounds the retreat.

  Tula’s men are beside themselves when they see the army beat a retreat and they flock together on the salt flats in an ecstatic dance of joy. Tula tries to share their joy as he makes his way back to the manor house, but he can’t conceal his worries and his laughter is sour. He gestures to Bastiaan and Louis who follow him into the manor house.

  ‘Did you see those makambas run?’ Bastiaan jests, ‘I’ve never seen a white man run so fast!’

  ‘They were like kabritu being chased by a dog,’ Louis laughs. ‘We should have done this long ago. They’re no match for us.’

  Tula smiles. ‘They gave us no choice. Now they know we can’t just be chased away, but you can be sure the whites won’t accept this. We have to think good and hard about what we do next.’

  ‘What we do next…? We have to keep moving!’ says Bastiaan. ‘Continue to the city. And if the whites won’t give us our freedom we’ll just have to take it.’

  Tula shakes his head. ‘Too dangerous. The whites aren’t stupid. They’re used to defending the city and they’ll use all their manpower to fight us back. If we attack them there we’ll lose. And don’t forget we’re at a disadvantage in the city. We don’t know the lay of the land.’

  ‘You’re right,’ says Louis, ‘their army is too strong and well-trained. It’s not safe to attack.’

  ‘Too strong?’ Bastiaan sneers, ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘We managed to surprise them today,’ says Tula. ‘It’ll be different the next time, you can be sure of that. They now know who they’re up against. But we’re not looking for a fight. If they leave us in peace we’ll leave them in peace. Today we had to show them what we’re made of and that’s what we did. But I’m sorry it was necessary. The whites will never accept defeat. They’ll come after us. We have to let them know we’re not looking for a fight.’

  ‘The whites aren’t ready to talk. You saw that for yourself. They’ll never give in to our demands.’ Bastiaan paces the room restlessly.

  ‘Our brothers on Haiti are also free, don’t forget,’ Tula snaps.

  ‘But not without a serious fight, Tula,’ Louis snaps back.

  ‘That,’ says Tula, ‘is precisely why the whites know that it might be better not to pick a fight with us. We have to talk to them, but we have to ready ourselves in the meantime for whatever comes. If the army attacks again they’ll send more soldiers than the last time. We have to make sure we can defend ourselves.’

  XVIII

  Back in the city, Plegher anchors his boat in Sint Anna Bay. His men are tired and clearly bear the traces of having lost a fight. Governor De Veer has returned from his plantation and is standing on the balcony of the fort. He sees the men approach, hurries inside and gives the lieutenant orders to assemble the council without delay. Plegher is summoned to attend and give his report of what happened on Porto Marie. The council is shocked. ‘It should be clear by now that we are no longer dealing with a few blacks refusing to work,’ says Romer opening the discussion. ‘The slaves have organised themselves and have evidently reached Porto Marie. It’s only a question of time before they reach the city. We must ready ourselves to strike back with whatever force we can muster.’

  ‘And risk ruining our properties?’ a councilman responds. ‘Isn’t it already bad enough that our plantations are being looted? And now we’re talking about attacking our own workers? Where’s the
sense in that? And who’s going to pay for all the damage? We obviously can’t expect the authorities to foot the bill, that’s for sure.’

  ‘If the gentlemen plantation owners had upheld the law in the proper manner we would not be facing this situation,’ Romer states calmly.

  ‘And if the army had intervened with more vigour, the situation would have been settled once and for all,’ the man sneers. ‘What kind of army is it that a few slaves can drive into retreat?’

  ‘There were more than a few, and, if I understand correctly, they were armed to the teeth,’ Romer responds. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, this very assembly wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about freeing up the necessary troops in the first place.’

  De Veer takes the stand: ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. This isn’t the time to bicker. The situation is extremely serious. We have to do whatever is necessary to deal with these rebels. If the rebellion infects the entire island, our very lives will be in danger. The army has to be deployed in full force to suppress this revolt. I have just discussed the appropriate military strategy with Baron Van Westerholt, captain of the garrison. We will also have to take measures to ensure that the rebellion does not spread and we must continue to guarantee the safety of the city’s population.’

  Romer gets to his feet. ‘How many soldiers are we able to despatch, sir?’

  ‘We plan to send both the infantry and the artillery to Bándabou,’ De Veer reports. ‘Sixty men under the leadership of Van Westerholt, with two additional officers, five sergeants, bombardiers and five corporals. I’ve also asked Marine Captain Wierts to keep as many marines and seamen as possible in reserve. Have I correctly reported our conversation, Captain Van Westerholt?’

  Van Westerholt, who has been sitting inconspicuously at the back of the chamber until that point, stands up, looks around and nods to those present. ‘I’m sure that will be sufficient, sir,’ he answers. ‘We plan to close all the escape routes, so that the city cannot be reached under any circumstances once we’ve cornered the rebels. For the same reason we’ve decided to locate a regiment on plantation Daniel.’

  ‘Indeed,’ De Veer interrupts, pleased with the additional information. ‘Plantation Daniel will be occupied by a regiment under the leadership of Major Van Starckenborg and will be ready to provide necessary backup should it be required.’ Van Westerholt salutes those present once again and leaves the meeting. De Veer also announces that vigilante patrols are to be deployed to ensure safety in the city and that – with immediate effect – blacks are forbidden to take to the streets at night, are to be refused access to alcohol and are not permitted to carry weapons. Every violation of this measure will be punished severely. In addition, every black who makes it from Bándabou to the city is to be arrested and interrogated as a potential spy.’

  At that moment, the meeting is interrupted by a messenger who whispers something in Romer’s ear. ‘Father Schinck is seeking permission to address the assembly. Does anyone have any objection?’

  ‘Father Schinck?’ someone shouts. ‘What does a papist have to say to us? The Catholics are all in league with the blacks. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘Let’s hear what he has to say. Perhaps he has news.’ De Veer nods to the messenger who then leaves to fetch the priest.

  ‘Father Schinck, to what do we owe the honour?’

  ‘Forgive me, sir,’ the priest responds, nodding affably to the governor. ‘But news has reached me that you are planning to send the negroes in Bándabou back to their plantations by force. I would like to make a suggestion.’

  ‘A suggestion?’ Romer laughs. ‘And what kind of suggestion might that be?’

  ‘Well…,’ the priest continues. ‘As you are aware, I spend much of my time among the black population of this island and I think it would be fair to say that I know them quite well. I am completely astonished by the fact that these peace-loving people have taken up arms. I would like to be given the opportunity to speak with them and see if I can bring them round, change their minds.’

  Romer sneers at the priest: ‘We already tried, father. I’m sure you have heard what the consequences were.’

  ‘Let me put it another way,’ Schinck responds knowingly. ‘There are no winners in a battle. People get wounded and even die. A battle will only deplete the army’s resources and cause damage to the gentleman plantation owners’ property. If we can avoid a fight, everyone will benefit.’ An approving murmur runs through the room.

  ‘Mmm… and why are you so sure the blacks will listen to you?’ Now it’s De Veer’s turn to sneer at the priest.

  ‘They are people of faith, sir,’ says Schinck. ‘I know many of them personally because I was their teacher. They have respect for God and for those who represent Him here on earth.’

  ‘Good,’ De Veer answers, ‘you can join Captain Van Westerholt and negotiate on his behalf. You can tell the slaves that if they go back to their plantations without further resistance nothing will happen to them and they will not be punished. If they refuse, then we have no other option.’

  Deep in thought, Father Schinck passes under the fort’s archway on his way outside. A small carriage is waiting at the quay. ‘Father Schinck?’ A house slave approaches the priest. ‘Excuse me, Father. If you have a little time, my mistress would like to exchange some thoughts with you.’

  ‘Then she’ll have to walk with me to the rectory,’ the priest responds curtly. ‘I have very little time.’ The slave points to the carriage: ‘You are welcome to ride with us. My mistress would be happy to drop you off at the rectory.’ The priest looks at the man in amazement. He finds his directness irritating, but he doesn’t have time to let it bother him. The man walks ahead of him and holds open the carriage door. As he looks inside his expression relaxes and makes way for a polite smile: ‘Miss Lesire,’ he says cordially. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Better than the rest of your parishioners I imagine. But please, get in.’ The door is closed behind him. The coachman climbs up to the perch and clicks with his tongue, setting the carriage in motion. ‘Please excuse the diminutive mode of transport,’ says Miss Lesire as the carriage judders forth, ‘but I simply had to speak to you for a moment. Let me come straight to the point if I may. I’m led to understand that you intend to talk with the slaves?’

  ‘How do you know that?’ The priest reacts with surprise.

  ‘Ach, the Catholic parish is very small here on the island. Or should I say the white Catholic parish. It’s hard to keep secrets. But if you intend to talk with the rebelling slaves, you might want to know that I have already had a meeting with them.’

  ‘You? A meeting?’

  ‘Yes, at my country house on Porto Marie,’ says Miss Lesire, clearly unruffled. ‘With their leader, Tula. Do you know him?’

  Tula, of course. He should have known. Jorboe’s son from Kenepa. Always interested when it came to the Bible, but completely unable to comprehend the limitations he had to accept as a slave. Explaining it all to him hadn’t been easy, far from it, but he still can’t imagine Tula taking up arms against the whites.

  ‘Tula? Are you sure?’

  ‘As sure as the nose on my face,’ Miss Lesire nodded. ‘I sat with him at table in my own house.’

  ‘And what did he have to say for himself?’

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid. I only managed to have a very short conversation. But I saw him and his men nonetheless and offered them my house to rest in.’

  ‘You offered your house to a bunch of rebellious slaves? If the governor ever gets to hear about this, I fear…’

  ‘We’re talking about your parishioners,’ Miss Lesire cuts him short. ‘And if you ask me they didn’t look particularly rebellious. But let me tell you what I know. Jantji informs me that the slaves are not intent on a revolt and that their intentions are peaceable. They have absolutely no desire to fight, but they believe they should be set free because Holland is now under French authority. Quelle surprise, non?’ she concludes with a wink. ‘And they’re completely
right, of course.’

  ‘But I was led to believe that they attacked the army,’ Father Schinck reacts.

  ‘Attack the army? Really, Father. I suspect it was the other way round. Mais alors, that’s not the point. What do you hope to achieve?’

  ‘I want to talk with them,’ says the priest. ‘They don’t stand the slightest chance against the army that’s about to be let loose on them. I have to change their minds. None of them will survive if it comes to a fight.’

  ‘You’re putting your life on the line, Father.’

  ‘If I have to give my life to save the lives of two thousand believers then it’s my duty to God,’ the priest concludes with a pious expression on his face.

  ‘I see. Well in that case I wish you every success. Aha, we’ve arrived.’ The carriage comes to a standstill and the door is opened from the outside. ‘I would have been happier if you had returned to the council and tried to persuade them of the genuineness of your parishioners’ demands instead of siding with the army. But there we are. Go with God, reverend Schinck.’

  At five in the afternoon, Van Westerholt’s troops are lined up on the quay in Punda harbour. Van Westerholt gives orders to the officer in charge who repeats them in a loud voice. The sergeants in turn give orders to their men and the soldiers clamber one by one into a variety of sloops and cutters ready to sail to Boca Sami. Van Westerholt and Father Schinck step together into one of the boats.

  ‘So many soldiers,’ says Father Schinck. ‘So many lives at stake. I pray our encounter will never come to blows.’