“How can people be so dumb?” asked Hadah, shaking his head.
“Aitsi-!uma said the same thing to them, but they did not listen. Once the lust for war was in a man he listens only to his anger. That was the downfall of our people. Some of our people saw what was happening but they were too few. People were too quick to admire the men who spoke of war. Those who thought differently were told that they talk like women. It did not help that Aitsi-!uma was a woman.”
“If you are a man you are a warrior,” said Hadah with conviction.
“That is the way you protect your cattle and your family,” said the master. “But we should have been wiser. Do you know the story of Kro!toa?”
“No,” said Hadah.
“Aitsi-!uma told me this story since she knew this young girl quite well. The girl knew this mountain and she often wandered around on her own up here. Her people, the Gorachouqua, came here in summer, to the cool side where there is always water and grazing. The other place which is like this in summer is all the way over at Sea Mountain. She knew that place too. It is strange how the tribes could agree to use the same water and grazing sometimes when they had no other option.”
“Well, what happened?” asked Hadah, since the old man had stopped talking.
“This girl was the daughter of the king of the Gorachouqua. Now the king of the Goringhaiqua fell in love with her, since she was beautiful. But - instead of doing the right thing and asking her father and pay the price in cattle, he abducted the young woman to his home and married her.”
“Why did he not ask the father?”
“Because he was too proud. The two tribes were fighting on and off and he could not get himself to go and ask for anything from the father, who was his enemy. Anyway, so there was another war because of what he had done. While they were fighting, the woman ran away from her husband. Instead of going back to her father, however, she ran to a cave high up on the side of Sea Mountain, where there is a strong fountain. There she grieved for her people until she died. While dying she called on the power of the spirit who lives in our mountain. As I said, she wandered around alone on this mountain and somehow she had learnt some of its secrets. Maybe, if she was not abducted, she was going to become Aitsi-!uma’s successor instead of me.”
“What had she done?” asked Hadah.
“She cursed all men who love to make war. The way Aitsi-!uma told the story, her tears fell into the stream that flows into the lake at the foot of the mountain. Now, every man who drinks of that lake is in danger. If he has a warlike attitude, he will fall into it and drown.”
“Have there been drownings indeed?”
“Yes, many of our nation have fallen in and drowned. It happens all the time.”
“But not Dutch?”
“Oh yes, some Dutch men have also mysteriously been drawn to the lake, where they fell in and drowned as well.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“You want to know about my castle?” asked Grant.
“Yes, I grew up in a castle, so naturally I am interested in yours.”
“OK, well maybe what you call a castle is not what I call a castle. How many rooms do you have?”
“About sixty.”
“All right, that’s a lot,” said Garth, surprised. “How old is it?”
“The foundations were laid three centuries ago but every generation after that has added something.”
“Very interesting!” said Grant. “I wonder what kind of business your family was in three centuries ago.”
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Piracy for sure,” he said.
“And if I told you that you are right, what are you going to think of me?”
“I’ll respect you,” he said, not meaning to start a conflict.
“Good,” she said, “Because our very large house is full of things that my family had taken from Spanish, French and American ships that they had captured. Actually, my first forefather who came here was trading in salt. His children started building ships and they became privateers.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Indeed. It was once an honourable profession and nobody on Bermuda is ashamed if his forefathers were privateers.”
“And what does your family do now?”
“Now they are bankers.”
“I see.”
“Which is why you are heading for Bermuda.”
“How would you know?”
“I know. You have money and everybody with money heads for Bermuda, sooner or later.”
“Why would that apply in my case?”
“I don’t know as much about banking as my brothers but I take an interest in jewellery, since we own so many historic pieces. In fact, I’m training to be a designer. Your golden taps interest me a lot. I’ve listened to the sound they make when you tick them. They don’t sound or look like gold plated taps at all. They are solid except for the moving parts. It shows a certain attitude. I don’t think they are meant to stay in your boat for ever.”
“Shall I throw you overboard now or later?”
“Why would you do that? I’ve met many of your type and none of them wanted to throw me overboard.”
“What type is that?”
“People who prefer not have their hard earned money go to others who do not work so hard.”
“I thought you said you are not a banker?”
“My brothers bring them home to us. Of course, you can use anybody else.”
“I’ll think about it. I’ve already made some contacts.”
“But you’ve not made any permanent arrangements yet?”
“Nothing finalised.”
Grant studied the bubbles in his glass. He had not considered getting to second base with this woman yet and it was probably a good thing. He had a feeling his good luck favoured him once again. Then his eye fell on the radar screen.
“Nice talking business with you,” he said, “but look-e-e here!” He pointed at a spot on the screen.
“What does it mean?” Madeleine asked.
“Do you see these solid bands? It means we need to do some work right now. All along these clouds ahead of us there is activity and it is growing as we speak. We are bunched in by rain storms. And there is one getting close.”
“Where is it?”
“Sneaking up on us from the east. See there, that was lightning. We have maybe twenty minutes before it strikes us. All hands, prepare the sails for a squall!”
“How do I do that?”
“You just do what I tell you. We reef the mainsail first. Let’s go!”
They were still busy when the sun disappeared behind the clouds that now closed in on them from all sides. Vertical shafts of rain poured from dark bases in several directions. Thunder rumbled across the waves. The lightning in the east moved closer. When the squall hit, they were safely back inside the doghouse. It was a weather tight and hopefully water tight canopy that sat on top of the companionway stairs. It duplicated some of the instruments from the cockpit and had its own wheel for steering, much smaller but easy to use through a system of assisted hydraulics.
Grant decided on it during the design phase. “I don’t see why one should get fatigued from exposure,” he said, imagining himself steering in a regulation sixty knot Cape storm from the open cockpit.
“You may want to feel the wind on your face so you can anticipate better,” was a contrary opinion, but he insisted on the doghouse, as well as that it should fit gracefully into the overall design. He had nothing against the rough stuff, as long it was according to his own choosing.
Grant took no chances with the storm. It was the first time that the boat met with a squall under his command and he decided to err on the conservative side. They were under heavily furled headsail and mizzen only. The onslaught of wind and rain came with a force so powerful, however, that he immediately felt he should have taken in more sail. In the stronger gusts the boat heeled heavily to port despite its size and he turned to take the weat
her bow-on. They were deluged by a true tropical downpour. Huge drops of rain beat an angry staccato against the Acrylic. Visibility reduced in seconds to no further than twenty metres beyond the bow. The rain flattened the crests of the wavelets but he could feel the seas bulging up underneath. Over the drumming against coach and doghouse roof they could hear the rigging start up with a song of its own.
“Aha,” he shouted, surprised. “Force nine, without a doubt.” He checked the anemometer to see if he was right. It was not quite what he had thought, but close. The instrument indicated forty knots in the gusts, which was force eight. Still, there was surprising venom in the storm.
“There’s definitely more spunk to the Atlantic here in the north,” he said to Madeleine, who worried him a bit. Don’t puke on me now, lady, he said under his breath. He prepared himself mentally for a leap back into the open cockpit to get the bucket. At the same time he consciously tried to relax his rather white-knuckled grasp on the wheel.
Half an hour later there was no sign of a let-up. The orderly deep ocean swells were no longer recognisable. Instead, they were ploughing through a maelstrom of confused waves. Steep seas piled higher and higher. Grant decided not to be intimidated. He started aiming for the seas.
“This is how you do it,” he called out to Madeleine, who opted not to go below but appeared to watch the storm in wide-eyed wonder, although she winced when a thunder clap exploded like a gunshot over the yacht. “When you see a big sea head your way, take it on the bow. You don’t want it to roll over the deck and destroy things.”
Up they went and then down they raced on the back of each big wave. Madeleine must have sensed Grant’s concern about sea-sickness because once when he looked over she ticked the band on her wrist. It was rather miraculous compared to yesterday. He wondered about it and then remembered. Those piratical forefathers! She probably had it in the blood.
It became an exhilarating chase over the heaving seas. “Hee-yah!” he yelled as he pointed the boat up a steep one. “Whoopee!” he called on the way down until they smashed into the bottom of a deep trough. He was enjoying himself. This was his kind of stuff. Man against nature. He felt good and his boat felt good as they took on waves that now sported thick froth on the tops. A quick look confirmed that Madeleine was watching his antics with a little smile. She seemed impressed.
And then, after another hour, it was all over, bar for the seas. They sat on a lumpy ocean which had lost all shape or rhythm. The yacht bounced on hillocks that seemed to come from all directions. A weak afternoon sun broke through the clouds. He studied the radar overlay on the Garmin for a follow-up squall but the way forward seemed to be clear. They could shake out the reefs. Madeleine led the way.
“Watch…”
“For the boom,” she continued.
There was no need. In stark contrast to the violence they had just experienced, only the weakest of breezes was blowing. The conditions required the set of light sails that he kept under the front hatch. Grant decided, however, that it was too much trouble for the two of them and instead rolled out all existing sails to their maximum, including the massive number one Genoa and the oversized mizzen fore staysail.
“What happened to our wind from that side?” asked Madeleine and pointed to the starboard side.
“You mean the trade winds,” said Grant. “No idea. The sea gods blow the way they decide to blow and we just go along with it. Even the Caribbean Weather Station did not know about the squall that we’ve just encountered, mean as it was. Could you belay this halyard to that electric winch behind you and give it a few turns?”
“Like this?”
“No, like this.”
Madeleine was a talker, so she continued where they had left off earlier. “When you come to our house remind me that I show you around. There are some things that might interest you as a South African.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, I think so. We had Boer prisoners of war from South Africa on Bermuda a century or so ago. Some of them carved the most beautiful things from wood. We have an ox wagon with a full span of oxen, as well as a little grouping of Boers with their guns amongst the rocks, all it from cedar. I know it very well because as a little girl I sometimes helped to polish it.”
“You’re kidding me about the Boer prisoners, don’t you?”
“I’m not kidding you at all. Look it up on the internet if you don’t believe me,” she said. “At some point in the past there was a war between my country and your country and that was where the prisoners came from.”
“Between us and Bermuda? You’re not serious.”
“Bermuda is part of the UK, remember.”
“Of course, yes. OK, it’s clear to me now,” he said. “They called it the Anglo-Boer War.”
“Talking about your country where you want to build your castle,” she asked, “Do you really own a farm with a whole mountain on it?”
“Not a whole mountain,” he said. “The farm is on the side of the mountain but quite high up.”
“Does it have a nice view?”
“It’s got the most fantastic view in the world.”
“Really? What do you see?”
“If you stand up there you see two oceans at the same time. There is Table Bay on the one side and False Bay on the other side. Waters from the Atlantic and the Indian oceans mix right there before your eyes in False Bay. What is amazing,” he said, “is the clarity of the air, which makes the colours stand out so vividly. You have the bright blue of the sea, the pale blue of Table Mountain on the horizon and around you, by contrast, the green of the Cape Fynbos, which is what they call the vegetation.”
“Really? Is it all jungle?”
“No, not jungle and not savannah either. It is a kind of brush, I suppose, not very high but very green. And down in the valleys you have the vineyards, which is a different green. Everybody around there is in wine farming. It is stunning. You have to see it to believe it.”
“It sounds impressive.”
“It is. And you know, it is quiet. You don’t hear a sound from traffic or anything like that. You just see things move far away down there on the highways. Where I want to build my castle you even look down on the aeroplanes as they fly past.”
“You’re not serious! Your farm must be as high up as Everest.”
“I’m serious, actually. What happens is that you have Cape Town International about forty kilometres away. You look down on the jumbos as they come in to land. When it comes to small planes it is high enough for them to fly by below the place at their normal altitude.”
“It sounds worthwhile seeing,” said Madeleine. “Did you pay a lot for it?”
“Actually, I have not paid anything for it. It’s a gift.”
“How nice! What have you done to deserve that?”
“Not much. I just paid some attention to two very old people.”
“Are they your parents?”
“No, we are not related. The thing is that they feel abandoned by their children and other members of their family. Which is why they’ve decided to give the farm to me.”
“So it is sort of an inheritance. You don’t get it immediately, only when they die?”
“No, I can get started immediately. Nobody is using this farm, because it is too far up on the mountain and protected by more sets of nature conservation legislation than my lawyers can cut through. Basically the only thing you are allowed to do up there is to build a house.”
“A castle.”
“Yes, in my case a castle.”
“And are these two old people going to live there with you?”
“No, they have their own farm down in the valley. They are still farming.”
“Oh, then they are not so old?”
“Actually they are very old. The gentleman is a hundred and ten and the old lady will be a hundred and five in a few days’ time.
“That’s amazing! How can they still be farming?”
“It’s fantastic, but they d
o. If you look at them you would not say that the old guy is older than seventy and his wife older than sixty five. But the fact is that they have already outlived two of their children who died of old age.”
“It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. But I still find it strange that you are close to old people like that who are not related to you.”
“It’s just the way it happened,” he said. “I am friends with some of their great grandchildren who live in Johannesburg like me. They took me to meet them once when we were together on a surfing holiday in Cape Town. The thing is that I liked that mountain so much. There is just something there that draws me, which means that every now and then I went back there on my own, just to walk the trails and do a bit of para-gliding. Of course I always called in on the old people to say hi. Then one day the old lady told me that I should start playing the stock market. That is how I discovered that I have a talent for it.”
“What a nice story,” said Madeleine. “I guess that is why you remember her birthday. Are we having another celebration when the day comes?”
“I reckon we should,” said Grant.
Several metres above them empty sails slatted audibly. They were trapped in a pocket of calm. It was as if the sudden, violent storm had sucked all the energy from the elements.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hadah and his master broke camp on the second morning after the visit by the king’s envoy. At a steady jog they could cover the distance in a day and a half. Hadah, however, was not as fit as the master yet. They were therefore going to travel at walking pace for much of the journey and sleep twice. They had no worries regarding provisions. Their own people were to be found just on the other side of Elands Pass. Also, every farm on the way had its contingent of KhoiKhoi herders. Most of them did not have a problem sharing food with a traveller of their own kind. Nobody who knew the Custodians of the Mountain for what they were ever denied them either a resting place or food, albeit at times with a shaking hand and a sigh of relief when they continued on their journey. For those occasions when they did not want to see anybody, not even their own people, they lived off the veld.
The Triangle and The Mountain: A Bermuda Triangle Adventure Page 6