Tula

by Jeroen Leinders

  XXIV

  The sloop arrives at the fort in Punda in the early morning light. Romer is waiting on the quay flanked by a couple of soldiers from the mulatto corps. ‘Is this all you managed to net, lieutenant?’ Romer sneers.

  ‘These are just the first of the prisoners, sir. There wasn’t room in the sloop for more,’ the lieutenant responds with, uncomfortably. ‘And Mr Van Uytrecht, of course. But I’m afraid he didn’t survive the journey. The sea was quite rough.’

  ‘Van Uytrecht?’ Romer seems surprised. Willem’s lifeless body is lying at the back of the sloop. ‘What was Van Uytrecht doing with the army?’

  ‘He wanted to help, sir, to make amends for his mistakes I imagine. But to no avail, as you can see.’

  The prisoners are taken to the fort, chained together hand and foot. The lieutenant takes Romer to one side and asks when the ships can be expected to transport provisions.

  ‘There won’t be any ships,’ says Romer. ‘The council decided to reject the captain’s request. The plantation owners didn’t think it was necessary to risk damaging their property. But I presume you have the situation under control? Perhaps you could provide the council with a report this afternoon? I’m sure they’ll be most interested to hear what you have to say.’

  ‘And what do we do with Van Uytrecht?’

  ‘Leave him where he is, lieutenant. I’ll make sure his body is delivered to his family.’

  ‘Fled to the west?’ De Veer glares at the lieutenant in a rage. ‘So you still haven’t managed to bring the rebels under control?’

  ‘We offered clemency several times, sir, but they stubbornly refused. We had no other choice than to attack. We drove them out of Porto Marie and again at Fontein, where we were able to take many of them prisoner. The remainder fled to the west, but it’s only a question of time before we round them up. The captain’s main concern is how long they might manage to hold out in the mondi. That’s why he wants to cut off potential supplies.’

  ‘This rebellion has to end and end now,’ says De Veer slamming the table with his fist. ‘If it continues, the blacks on Bandariba might end up getting similar ideas. It would take days if not weeks to assemble the region’s provisions in the city. You’ll have to come up with a faster solution.’

  The sound of a falling trapdoor followed by shrieks of agitation can be heard outside. De Veer peers through the window. ‘The first of your prisoners has just met his maker, lieutenant,’ he says.

  A gallows has been constructed on the square outside. The prisoners are standing in a row in front of the scaffold and are called up one by one.

  ‘What a waste,’ says De Veer. ‘You really have to do a lot better than this, lieutenant.’

  Miss Lesire wakes with a start to the sound of someone pounding on her front door. She runs downstairs and peers through a chink in the curtains. The same patrol as the day before is assembled outside and the men are glaring shamelessly into the house. The pounding resumes, only this time with more urgency. Pieter appears beside her, takes a quick look outside, puts his finger on his lips and races upstairs.

  ‘I’ll be right there,’ Miss Lesire shouts. She runs to the front door and unlocks it.

  ‘Miss Lesire?’ Peter Cornelius is standing at the door, discretely trying to look over her shoulder into the corridor. ‘We received reports about screaming coming from your house in the night. We just wanted to check that everything is alright.’

  ‘Everything’s fine thanks,’ says Miss Lesire.

  ‘Then I imagine you’ll have no objection to us coming inside for a look round.’ Cornelius tries to look over her shoulder again, this time making no effort to disguise his curiosity.

  ‘I can’t think why that would be necessary,’ says Miss Lesire, staring at the man in surprise. ‘Because of your frightening stories, I decided to invite my two nephews from Brakkeput to stay with me for awhile. I believe they had an argument last night. There’s nothing more to it.’

  ‘Who’s there, Elizabeth?’ a gruff voice demands from the corridor.

  ‘It’s nothing, just the neighbourhood patrol,’ says Miss Lesire.

  ‘The neighbourhood patrol? What are they doing here? Is there a problem?’ Pieter appears at Miss Lesire’s side, half dressed.

  ‘Is there a problem, officer?’

  ‘Er, no, not a problem as such,’ says Cornelius. ‘We received reports about noise from this house in the middle of the night and decided to take a look.’

  ‘That’s terribly kind of you, but there’s nothing at all to worry about,’ says Pieter, putting on his most innocent face.

  Cornelius looks him up and down, still suspicious, hesitating momentarily at the sight of a bloodstain on Pieter’s trousers. He stares at him questioningly. ‘A minor altercation with my brother,’ says Pieter, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. ‘He can be short-tempered at times.’

  ‘I see,’ says Cornelius. ‘Excellent, then I’ll be on my way. Good day.’ He taps his hat, turns on his heels and disappears down the garden path. Miss Lesire shuts the door in haste.

  Louis and five men are huddled behind a stone fence near manor house Savonet in the early hours of the morning. They peer cautiously over the top and on Louis’ signal they jump the wall, run to the house and press themselves flat against its facade. Louis looks warily inside through one of the windows. There’s no sign of life and even the garden appears deserted. The men relax visibly. ‘We need jugs and buckets,’ says Louis. ‘Take a look in the kitchen.’ He heads towards the garden and the well, where a rope is hanging loosely from the pulley. He grabs the handle and winches the rope upwards. His companions emerge from the house with empty jugs and join him at the well. But when Louis reaches the end of the rope and a dead goat appears at the lip of the well instead of a bucket, the men jump back in horror. Louis shrieks and lets go of the handle, which squeaks and creaks as the dead goat disappears into the well, hitting the water below with a splash.

  A short distance away on plantation Zorgvlied, a group of soldiers are watching the flames lick through the roof of one of the barns. ‘Make sure it doesn’t spread to the manor house with this strong wind,’ the sergeant shouts from the porch as he watches his men carry out their orders. ‘We don’t want to set the whole island on fire.’ A couple of soldiers tie a rope around the neck of a goat which is standing by the well. The creature puts up a serious fight as they try without success to hoist it into the well. ‘Cut the bugger’s throat,’ the sergeant snorts. ‘And get a move on. We haven’t got all day.’ The soldiers pull the animal towards them with the rope and do what the sergeant ordered. They then hoist the convulsing creature over the well and let it fall into the water.

  At the rear of manor house Savonet, Louis and his men stare at the burning embers of a provisions barn. ‘The bastards,’ Louis roars as he kicks the ashes into the air. ‘They’re trying to starve us into submission.’

  Van Westerholt inspects the prisoners. They are chained together in a long row in readiness for the drive to Santa Cruz, after which they will be forced to endure a long march to Boca Sami without any breaks for rest. At Boca Sami they are to be transferred by sloop to the waiting ships which will take them to the city.

  The procession begins to move, flanked on either side by a few soldiers on horseback. Van Westerholt makes his way to the camp set up in the fields adjacent to the plantation, hoping that his people will be rested enough to comb the foothills of Christoffelberg the following morning in an effort to locate the fleeing slaves. It won’t be an easy task, he’s sure of that. The slaves have already demonstrated that they’re capable of lying in ambush, and the wooded area at the foot of the mountain offers opportunity enough for them to surprise his troops with an unexpected attack.

  He decides not to take any risks and orders his men to arrest whoever offers resistance and execute on the spot those carrying arms. The slaves who surrender are to be given a letter of safe-conduct and sent back to their plantations.

  Th
e territory to the east of Christoffelberg is considered safe enough for the plantation owners to resume their everyday lives. A courier is on his way to Punda with a message inviting the plantation owners to return to their plantations and informing them that they have the army’s protection for the time being.

  Van Westerholt has stationed a small contingent of troops on each plantation to guarantee their safety. He wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s still early in the morning, but the temperature is already on the rise. This accursed heat isn’t going to make his job any easier. The leaders of the rebellion still have to be traced, and he knows well and good that if he wants to take the sting out of the situation he’s going to have to hand them over alive. A public execution is the best way to put an end to the insurrection once and for all, but there’s still a great deal to be done before they reach that point. He decides to spare his energy and seek refuge in the more agreeable temperatures within the manor house’s sturdy walls.

  ‘We’ve got to get them out of here,’ says Pieter, panic in his voice. ‘If they stay we’ll all be at risk.’

  ‘But what can we do?’ asks Miss Lesire, ‘We can’t just put them out onto the streets.’

  ‘We have to find a solution.’ Wouter paces back and forth, his hands behind his back. ‘They would be safe in Bandariba, for a while at least, but how do we get them there?’

  ‘That’s it!’ says Miss Lesire. ‘We can take them to Brakkeput in the coach. There’s room enough in it for them to hide. I’ll send Acuba to the city for supplies and have her tell people we’re leaving because we don’t feel safe. You can go ahead on horseback and I’ll follow with the coach later this evening. I’ll use the country road, outside the city.’

  ‘You can’t head out in the dark all alone,’ says Pieter, ‘it’s much too dangerous.’

  ‘And what should I be afraid of?’ Miss Lesire smiles. ‘The rebels? I already have a couple in my coach. Anyway, I’ll have Acuba and Jantji with me so I won’t be alone. No need to be concerned about me,’ she continues, ‘I’ll be just fine.’ She summons Acuba to her side and explains her plans. Acuba nods and hurries outside to tell Jantji. A short while later they both make their way to the city.

  It is early afternoon when Bastiaan comes out to meet Tula as he returns to the camp accompanied by a small group of men carrying hefty sacks and jugs of water. A couple of goats follow up behind them tethered by a rope.

  ‘Bastiaan,’ says Tula with a grin. ‘Where have you been all this time? Do I have to find food for us all on my own?’ Tula places the heavy sack he’s carrying on the ground and walks up to Bastiaan laughing heartily. The men embrace.

  ‘Is everyone safe?’

  ‘We still don’t know,’ says Tula. ‘We’re waiting to see how many return. What happened? Where were you?’

  Bastiaan reports that he and his men fled from the hill next to Fontein and ran for hours to make sure the army didn’t follow them. They finally decided to spend the night at San Juan. ‘In hindsight it turned out to be a stupid decision. We had barely arrived when the entire army marched on the place. Fortunately, we managed to hide in the attic of the barn, although we had to wait until deep in the night before we were able to sneak away unnoticed.’

  ‘So the army’s at San Juan,’ says Tula, a worried expression on his face. ‘Anyway, it’s good that you’re here. We’ll plan our next move later, but for the moment we’re safe.’

  Bastiaan nods. ‘Where’s Louis?’

  ‘Off looking for food and water,’ says Tula. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

  When they reach the camp, Tula sees to his delight that more people have joined the group. He greets each of them in person warmly. The women take the provisions the men have brought with them and set about preparing a meal. At that moment Louis gallops into the camp. ‘Tula,’ he wheezes, ‘The army is poisoning the water and burning the food!’

  Later that day, Tula, Bastiaan and Louis plan their next move.

  ‘The army’s encamped not far from here at San Juan,’ says Tula. ‘Bastiaan saw them with his own eyes. They’ll use the place as a base and send out scouts to find us. Without food, hunger will drive us right into their arms.’

  ‘We should split up into small groups,’ Luis suggests. ‘We’ll be faster that way and we’ll be able to launch surprise attacks from different directions. It’ll also allow us to comb much more ground in search of food.’

  ‘You’re right,’ says Tula. ‘If they find us here they’ll slaughter us. The army is still strong and we’re too weak to hold them off. Splitting up sounds like a good idea. What do you think, Bastiaan?’

  ‘Sounds good to me too. We’ll be stronger in small groups. But how do we stay in contact with one another?’

  ‘We’ll work something out,’ says Tula. ‘Let’s hope we can persuade the others to follow our plan after the horrors they’ve had to face these last few days.’

  Late in the afternoon, Wouter and Pieter take their leave of Miss Lesire. ‘Please be careful, Elizabeth,’ says Pieter. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?’

  ‘Don’t worry your head about me,’ says Lesire. ‘There’s no reason. Everything will be just fine.’ The men jump onto their horses and gallop off. Miss Lesire goes straight into the house and back upstairs without delay.

  ‘How is he?’ she asks Acuba. To her great surprise the man answers by himself. ‘A lot better,’ he says with a grin. ‘And I owe it all to you, I’ve been given to understand.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose…,’ says Miss Lesire, clearly feeling awkward. ‘Anyone else would have done the same in my place.’ The man stares at her in astonishment, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Well, perhaps not everyone,’ Elizabeth hurries to add, ‘but anyone with an ounce of common sense. That’s the point, isn’t it? It’ll be dark in an hour and I’d like to be on my way. Can you tidy yourself up a little and make yourself presentable? We don’t want to attract any attention and it’s important that you look is if you belong in our company. Acuba will find you some clean clothes.’ The man gets to his feet and hops on one leg. ‘As long as I don’t have to walk too far,’ he laughs. Miss Lesire makes her way to the barn at the back of the house where Jantji is harnessing the horses in readiness for the trip to Brakkeput. ‘Give them some extra feed,’ she says. ‘They’re not used to going out after nightfall. We leave in an hour.’

  Under cover of darkness, the two men climb into the back of the coach next to Miss Lesire. Acuba and Jantji are up front on the perch. The coach isn’t designed to carry five passengers and it’s a bit of a squeeze. Jantji clicks with his tongue and the horses take the strain.

  The atmosphere in the camp at the foot of Christoffelberg is downcast and sad. A large number of the men are still missing and the people fear for their fate. The defeat at Fontein and the uncertain future ahead of them only make things worse. Speranza and Tula are sitting side by side on a fallen tree trunk. Tula stares into the distance, his expression gloomy. ‘Are you alright?’ asks Speranza, cautiously.

  Tula turns to her, clearly irritated. ‘Am I alright? No, of course I’m not alright. Look at all these people. I gave them hope and see where it brought us. Many paid the price with their lives, others are locked up in prison, and the rest are on the run from an army that will never rest until it catches and arrests us. Of course I’m not alright.’

  Speranza is taken aback at the intensity of Tula’s reaction. She covers her face with her hands and bursts into tears. ‘What are we going to do now, Tula? I can’t keep this up. It’s been such a hard day. First all the walking, then searching for a place to spend the night. I thought that I’d lost you and would never see you again. And for you it can only have been so much worse. All that fighting, the wounded, friends you had to leave behind forever.’ Speranza rests her hand on Tula’s shoulder in tears. Tula stares ahead blankly and tries to suppress his emotions. Then he quickly gets a grip on himself, blinks, and swallows his tears. ‘We’re doing what we have t
o do,’ he says impassively and gets to his feet.

  ‘Oh, so you’re doing what have to do, are you?’ says Speranza, clearly angry. ‘And what does that feel like? What does it feel like when you can’t reassure me that one time I need you to? I’m always there for you…’ She pounds Tula’s chest with her fists and collapses sobbing to her knees. Tula lifts her to her feet and pulls her close. ‘Speranza, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, sweetheart. That’s not what I meant to say.’ Tula can no longer hold back the tears as he and Speranza seek support in each other’s arms.

  The coach trundles along the dirt road leading to the city, the headlamps unlit to avoid attracting attention. Jantji has a hard time sticking to the road in the dark and the heavily laden carriage lurches alarmingly from side to side as it progresses.

  ‘Not too fast, Jantji,’ Miss Lesire warns. ‘There’s a fork in the road up ahead and we need to go right.’ Jantji tugs on the reins and slows down, veering to the right at the fork and continuing downhill. The road bends sharply to the left a little further ahead and as they come out of the bend they’re confronted by four lanterns that appear to be floating above the ground. Jantji stops the coach as the lanterns move towards them.

  ‘So, Miss Lesire, out and about at this late hour?’ Cornelius glares unashamedly at Miss Lesire. ‘Did you buy new slaves?’

  The vigilante patrol surrounds the coach and Cornelius offers Miss Lesire a hand, suggesting she step out. He signals to his men with a gesture of the head, ordering them to remove the other passengers. The men do what they’re told, pulling the passengers aggressively from the coach and forcing them to the ground. They tie their hands behind their back. ‘I wonder what the governor will have to say about this,’ says Cornelius sarcastically.

  XXV