“I regret that all my books and my herbs are out there on the reef. Have you spoken to Maistre Arentson?”
She shook her head. From what she had seen on the Utrecht, she doubted that his remedies would help very much.
“I am sorry, vrouwe.”
She turned to go, hesitated. “There is something else I need to discuss with you. Something happened before you were saved from the wreck. Perhaps the provost has already told you of it.”
He frowned. “You should tell me yourself.”
“You remember the master gunner, Ryckert?”
“Not really.”
“One night, just after the commandeur left us, he was talking very loudly. I heard him say that there was a plan to murder the Sinjeur Secor on the Utrecht, he said that the skipper was behind it. The next day he disappeared.”
“A drunken fool. He most probably drowned.”
“Or perhaps what he said was true and that is why he disappeared.”
“You think there may be mutineers here on the island?”
“Of course.”
“I see.” He turned away, looked out to sea, thinking this over. “Did he mention any names?”
“David Krueger.”
“Krueger? The clerk? Why would a clerk get involved in a mutiny? Did he intend to stab the commandeur with his quill?”
“I am only telling you what I heard. Ryckert also seemed convinced that we would not see the skipper again.”
“Oh, I am sure he will be back.”
“How can you be sure? How can any of us?”
“I shall look into this, Cornelia. Trust me, while I live, no harm will come to you.”
“That is not why I came here, Heer Undermerchant. If there are muyters, there could be danger to you.”
“To me?” He seemed surprised, but then he gave her a broad smile. “Thank you for telling me all this. I shall take precautions.”
She left, but she was not reassured. She wondered why he had not seemed more shocked by the allegations she had made, and for the moment she had no answer.
Chapter 45
THE bosun fingered the knife in the belt at his waist. Come on, you lily white pansy. Just over that sandhill. Move just a little way from the others, I'll stick you with my knife, throw some sand over you and we'll be done with it. The skipper won't spend more than a few hours looking for you, they'll think you've wandered off looking for water and got lost, nothing to be done about it.
If I stick him in the boat, someone's bound to squeal, don't trust the skipper's brother in law for a start, can't even trust the skipper anymore. Putting a knife in the commandeur, they'll break you on the wheel for that. Have to do it quiet, and this is my best chance. Just wait for him to go off alone, take him with his breeches down, yes I'd like that, perfect end for him.
Here he was coming down the beach. Just a few minutes off alone, and we can have this done, we can forget about Vrouwe High and Mighty then.
Just one moment out of sight...
Chapter 46
LITTLE Maria Groot was running among the bushes, picking the tiny white flowers that blossomed in this strange southern winter. They were strange blooms, for instead of petals they had long white threads like a tassel.
The only pretty thing that grows here, Cornelia thought.
Children were so accepting of everything, she thought. Even here, stranded at the end of the earth, they could still find a game to play, or something to interest them, like hunting for little crabs under the rocks or chasing the gulls on the clinker beach.
She saw two of the women, Elisabeth Post and Neeltje Groot, walking along the scrap of beach. A group of the jonkers were watching them; the van der Beeck brothers, David Krueger, Joost van der Linde.
The women quickened their steps. Neeltje called to Maria, gripped her hand tightly. The jonkers were slow to stand back and let them pass.
As they went by Joost snatched the flowers out of the little girl’s hand. She turned around to get them back but he hid them behind his back, grinning at her. Neeltje pulled her away.
Krueger called after them: “How are these cold nights, little Elisabeth Post? Shall I come and keep you warm tonight?”
Cornelia thought about Michiel Van Texel. She was glad the corn-haired soldier was here on the island to look after her. It was all very well for these other women to talk about what had happened on the Utrecht, call her whore behind her back, say that she had asked for it.
Now they knew what it was like.
***
Excellent weather for plotters, the wind would carry away every word. The Beardman jug was passed around, hand to hand, as they sat around the little fire of crackling brushwood. “There are too many of the soldiers who stand against us,” Christiaan murmured. “We have to get them off the island to change the odds back in our favour.”
Eyes glittered in the firelight; David Krueger, Joost van der Linde, the van der Beeck boys, Steenhower.
“How do we do it?” Joost said.
Christiaan turned to Oliver van der Beeck. “You went over to the long island today?”
He nodded. They had caught and skinned another seal. “They're as trusting as lambs. It’s as easy as clubbing your grandmother as she sits in her rocker.”
“What is it like over there?”
“A piece of rock, man, with nothing on it but birds and bushes, just like here. You cut your feet to ribbons on the coral, and there's not a drop of moisture to be had but your own sweat and piss.”
“So what I propose is that you take some of Joost's fine boys and go back over there, we will tell everyone you are looking for water. When you return you announce that you found a soak with plenty for everyone. Steenhower will give us the names of all those soldiers not of our mind and I will send them over to the island with all our empty barrels and give them the task of filling them. Then we will leave them there and let nature do our culling for us.”
Joost nodded, impressed. The apothecary knew what he was about, to be certain.
“What if we do find water over there?” van der Beeck asked.
Christiaan made a face that set them all laughing. “You mean our good commandeur ran off and left us for no reason?”
“So once we are rid of those soldiers we cannot trust,” Joost said, ‘no one can stand against us. We shall have the rule of law and the arms to enforce it.”
“And then we will set about ordering affairs more to our liking. Food for our bellies, water enough for everyone and women as you please.”
This last thought sent a thrill through all of them. They could finally stand as real men, do what they wished, do what they had always dreamed.
Ja, they would be kings!
Chapter 47
A PRISON without walls this island. The weather had turned foul again, they were back to grey skies and thunder. Big surf was running out on the reef, and the high island to the west had disappeared behind a veil of mist.
She sat alone staring at the march of wavelets on the clinker shore, at the gulls with their heads turned towards the wind.
She was past being scared; now she just felt angry. How could a civilized man like the commandeur abandon them to this? And what about their new commandeur? He now had the most elaborate of all the shelters on the island, a lean-to he had the carpenters build him from one of the spars and an acre of sail. He had even requisitioned, for his own use, the great carpet that had once graced the floor of the Council Room, and had somehow been salvaged from the wreck.
Meanwhile the sick and wounded lay in sparse shelters, open to the wind and the rain. And still he had done nothing about David Krueger.
She had been an obedient daughter and a dutiful wife all her life, but what was taking place on the island was beyond all Christian behaviour. She decided it was time for someone to remind their new commandeur of his duties and responsibilities.
***
Christiaan was not alone. When she walked in the pastor was toadying up to the Undermerch
ant, pontificating on how the godless behaviour on the ship had brought this catastrophe upon them. Joost van der Linde was there too, looking bored.
“I warned the commandeur,” he said, ‘but he refused to listen to me. Now the Lord has shown his displeasure for the unholy ways some people lived their lives on the Utrecht.”
Christiaan looked up and saw her. “Vrouwe,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise. What can we do for you?”
“Heer Undermerchant, may I speak with you in private?”
He gave her a winning smile. “You are among friends, vrouwe. I am sure these gentlemen should like to be privy to everything you say.”
Joost undressed her with his eyes.
“It is about the sick.”
“What about them?”
“They need better care. Look at this shelter you have built yourself here. Do you not see the conditions they are left in, right there next to the beach?”
“I shall pray for them,” he said, and smiled at the pastor.
“You would do better to bring them in here.”
“I am sure Heer Undermerchant knows best how to manage our limited resources,” the pastor said.
She stared at him in utter astonishment. “They need proper shelter. Surely it behooves us to minister to them? Does not the Good Book say-”
“Do not lecture me on the Book!’
“And you should live it instead of just quote it to everyone for your own ends!’
There was silence.
“The lady has spirit,” Joost said.
“The sick need more water,” she insisted.
Joost shook his head. “You might as well pour water in the sand as give it to a dying man.”
“I shall speak to the provost about it,” Christiaan snapped at her. “Now leave us. I have other business to attend to.”
“I insist you take proper care of them!’
“I insist you leave us now!’
He advanced on her, spittle in his beard. She stood her ground to show him she was not afraid of him, but when she walked out she was shaking. She marched to the provost’s tent, got her water ration from Salomon du Chesne, who marked her name off in his ledger, and carried it down the beach. She found Richard Merrell lying untended under a sheet of torn canvas, a grubby bandage around his left arm. His face was hot with fever; he had been injured the night of the wreck, had broken his arm fending off the yawl as he tried to board her, and the open wound had become infected.
She held her water jug to his lips. His eyes opened briefly and he smiled.
***
Michiel found the provost on the beach supervising the loading of wine barrels on one of the rafts. “What's going on?” Michiel asked him.
“Heer van Sant wants you to go over to the long island to collect water. Van der Beeck and his boys have scouted over there and they say there's plenty there for everyone. You're to take all the empty barrels and bring back all you can.” The provost forced a tight smile. “See if you can find some more wine while you're at it. I could do with a proper drink.”
“You're not coming with us?”
He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Heer van Sant wants me here to help him keep an eye on things.”
Michiel grunted. It sounded like hard work but it was better than sitting around staring at the sea and the gulls.
“You can take your knives and some axes to chop wood but you're to leave all your muskets and swords here.”
Michiel let out his breath between his teeth. He didn't like the sound of that. What good was a soldier without his weapons? “I don't see why we have to leave our weapons behind,” he grunted. “We're soldiers, man.”
“The Undermerchant's orders. He doesn't trust you and the Frenchies not to start fighting the minute you're out of his sight.”
“We got on well enough before he arrived.”
The provost shrugged. “I don't like it either, but it's what he says. You can't go against the Company, man.”
“How many of us?”
“Twenty men. Your corporal, Steenhower, is staying here with the rest.”
“Steenhower! I wouldn’t trust that bastard with the family cow! I need him with me where I can keep an eye on him.”
“I agree with you, but that's the Undermerchant’s orders. Now do your job, soldier.”
Michiel turned and walked away. But he didn’t go straight to the boats. He went to see the Undermerchant.
Christiaan did not look pleased at being interrupted. He and Joost looked at him like he was a stray dog wandered into their tent. “Sergeant Van Texel,” Christiaan said. “What can we do for you?”
“The provost says you have ordered me to the long island.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Send Steenhower in my place. I need to stay here and make sure there is order.”
“You seem to forget. That is my job.”
“Steenhower is unreliable. He and Gerrit van Hoeck are troublemakers. You shouldn’t leave them here together, it’s not a good idea.”
“Are you questioning my orders?”
“I’m trying to save you trouble.”
“You have your orders, sergeant. Carry them out.”
“It’s not wise, Heer Undermerchant.”
“Sergeant Van Texel, you are in the employ of the Dutch East India Company and I am its most senior representative here on the island, in the absence of Commandeur Secor. Are you disobeying me?”
“I’m just trying to make you see sense, man.”
“Because if you disobey me, that would make you guilty of mutiny, and you know what Heer Zeventien thinks of muyters, don’t you? We may be far from Holland here, but Dutch law still applies.”
Christiaan and Joost were implacable. Michiel looked into their faces and knew there was nothing he could do. He stormed out.
***
Cornelia saw Michiel striding towards her along the beach. Such a brute of a man, she wondered why she wasn't frightened of him, the way she was frightened of Steenhower and Joost van der Linde. After all, Joost was just a boy; this one was the size of a windmill with scars on his arms.
She had never seen him looking so angry. “Is something wrong, sergeant?”
“It is nothing, vrouwe. How are you feeling?”
She held out her arm. “Look, I can see the bones. Soon there will be nothing left of me.”
“Yes, we are all starving.”
She hung her head between her knees. “I know, forgive me.”
“No, it is harder for you. You are not accustomed to privation.”
“And you are?”
“It is a soldier’s lot. Also, I came from a poor family. I never expect to eat--a hot dinner always comes as a welcome surprise, even these days.”
“You have been our strength here.”
“I am just a soldier doing his job.”
“So why is it that I wish you were our commandeur?”
He stared at her, caught off balance by this declaration. “That is kind of you to say so. I am sure I do not deserve such confidence.”
“Michiel. May I call you that? I am tired and hungry and cold and afraid, so I shall speak more freely than I ought. But I trusted our former commandeur and he betrayed us. And this new commandeur scares me. I do not trust him either. If it were not for you and the Provost, I should throw myself into the ocean.”
“You must not give in to such thoughts. Besides, there is good news. The expedition to the long island has found water. Me and my men are on our way with the water barrels to bring back fresh supplies. Everything is going to be all right. You will see your husband again, I promise you.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I shall return this evening.”
She didn't like the thought of him being gone for more than a few hours. Things had changed somehow, since Christiaan had taken over the council she was afraid in a way she couldn't quite explain. “Who's going with you?” she said.
“Some of th
e boys, plus a few Frenchies. Well, they need some strong backs for the work and the carpenters are all busy with the boats. We've done nothing much to help out so far.”
She stared at him. Perhaps not the handsomest man she had ever seen, not like the commandeur, you could put him in a fine coat, with a ruff and good shoes and he would still look like he had just stepped off the farm or the battlefield. Yet if she could choose a husband for herself she thought that she should want a man like this; gruff, uncomplicated, God-fearing without shouting about the Lord all the time. She could feel safe inside those arms. She had never felt safe before.
“What are you looking at, vrouwe?”
“It’s nothing. I was just wondering what it’s like...to be free.”
“You think I am free?”
“You are a man.”
“But hardly free. I am free to die at the company’s command. I am free to go wherever they send me. What kind of freedom is that?”
“But you can marry if you want. But you don’t need a wife. It is still a choice for you. You can make your way in life without one. You can go where you want, on your own.”
“You think that is freedom?”
“It is to me.”
“Then if that is freedom what can I tell you? Sometimes for a man like me freedom is very lonely. May I ask you a question then, vrouwe? What is it like to have money?
“What can I tell you? Sometimes it is very lonely. I think I should rather be a farmer’s wife if the farmer was a good man who loved me.”
“So then money and freedom are not everything?”
“It would seem not.” He turned away, hesitated, scuffing the rocks with his shoe. “I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“You know the Englander, Merrell? He's a friend of mine. He told me you brought him your water ration. That was kind.”
“It was nothing.”
“No, doing nothing is nothing. What you did was something.”
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