Now the beach was not empty. When the ship arrived the owner of this farm was already there with an ox wagon and four slaves to help him. They off-loaded all the money that was meant to buy spices in India onto the ox wagon and all of them set off with the ox wagon. Then they did something very dangerous. They came down Eland’s Pass in the middle of the night and came to this cattle enclosure in front of us. They made the slaves dig a large hole in the ground and put the money in the hole. Then they killed the four slaves with swords and put their bodies in the hole as well. Afterward they filled it all up and made the cattle walk to and fro over the fresh mound. By morning you could not see the difference.”
“If they killed the slaves, how do you know all of this?”
“Some of our people who live by the Butter River thought that strange things were going on from the time the man crossed the Great Mountains. He refused to buy butter. Instead he threatened to shoot anyone who came near. It made everybody very curious. They thought that perhaps he was hunting. Since the hunters always take the skins and the horns and leave most of the meat lying, some of our men followed him at a distance and they saw it all. They saw them bring the bodies of the murdered seamen to the beach and watched while the slaves buried them in the sand. Then they followed the wagon all the way until they killed the slaves as well. They told the KhoiKhoi who live on the farm about all that they had seen and went back over the Great Mountains. It happened not long ago, just after this past winter. These are very dangerous people. It is therefore wise of you not to tell this story to anybody.”
“Did nobody miss the slaves?”
“The farmer sent a message to the fort that these four slaves had run off and nobody asked about it again.”
“What happened to the captain?”
“He is still here. He is one of the overseers you laughed at this morning. His people are the ones who look after their money in the kraal.”
Hadah spent a long time after that pondering the ways of the serpent. Serving it was full of danger and yet it made him feel special. He liked that feeling. He was still deep in thought when they arrived at the bottom of Eland’s Pass. It went straight up the mountain, heading for a hardly noticeable dimple in the walls of sheer rock. They hesitated, for a moment intimidated by the daunting climb that lay ahead. But only for a moment. The master’s face screwed up like a wild almond that had fallen on the ground a year ago. He had another story ready.
“Do you see this here?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Hadah. “It looks like parts of a wagon. And these bones there are from an ox.”
“Indeed it is. You see parts of many wagons here. The oxen had lost their footing up on the pass and came all the way down here.”
“What about the people?”
“Sometimes the driver too, if he was not quick enough to jump free.” The old man laughed gleefully and continued. “One day when I was travelling to visit the Chainouqua and the Hessequa, I came here just as a wagon started rolling down the pass. One moment you saw the oxen in front and the next moment you saw the wagon, rushing down the mountain. Everywhere you looked, this side and that side, barrels and jars of butter were coming down. I ran away because I did not want to be hit by a barrel of butter. When I looked back, everything was lying right here, oxen and wagon on top of one another. Some of the oxen could still get up. They ran away, crying like calves. Others were lying here, groaning and dying. I quickly got some butter from a broken barrel before the people arrived. There was a Dutchman, some slaves and some KhoiKhoi, each one blaming the next for what had happened.
That day there was a big slaughter as we had to put the dying oxen down. I left my things on the side, got out my knife and helped. Amazingly, most of the barrels and jars of butter were still in one piece. We gathered it together and then the Dutchman said that we could take as much of the meat as we wanted. We made a fire from the broken pieces of the wagon and had a big feast. I was eating so much that I had to lie down under the bushes over there. When I was feeling better I had some more. I was eating all I could for three days before I could continue on my way, walking up the pass very slowly.”
Hadah wished it was him. He looked up the steep incline but there was nothing coming down at that moment. All that he saw up there was hard work. It was much longer than the climb they made from the valley to their mountain hide-out. The sooner the better. They hitched their packs and engaged in the task of crossing the Great Mountains, step by step, foothold by foothold. The master followed the wagon spoor on the right and Hadah the one on the left.
The sun was already standing on top of Sea Mountain when they reached the crest of the relentless climb. This was where they allowed themselves a moment of rest. They turned back to view the way they came. Before them lay the flat lands that stretched all the way to Cape Town. To the left was the sea. To the right was their mountain.
“When you look at it from here,” said the master, “you can see why the Dutch call our mountain the ‘Kamberg’. Do you know why they do that?”
“I never thought about that,” said Hadah.
“I’ll tell you why,” said the master. “If you look at the mountain, does it not remind you of something?”
“Maybe the ridges on back of a lizard?”
“Very good. I can see the resemblance myself. Or something else.” He made crowing noises.
“Of course,” said Hadah. “It looks like the crown on the head of a rooster.”
“Very good,” said the master. “You are absolutely right.”
“It doesn’t look anything like the name we have for the mountain.”
“No, because they only look at the outside. Yes, they would never guess that there is a big snake living inside that mountain.” He chuckled with mirth.
Hadah was polite and therefore laughed as hard as the master. When the moment had passed, they turned away from the view of Snake Mountain, their mountain and continued along the ruts in the surface ahead of them. The master initiated an easy jog and Hadah followed his example. Their practiced eyes scoured the ground in front of them for sharp objects or biting reptiles. Fortunately the wagon wheels had pressed all hard substances into the ground and even began to grind down some of the sandstone rocks that they crossed. At one point the master stooped down and picked up a small tortoise. It went straight into his leather bag. At another point a flock of guinea fowl took the air just a few metres away. Without thinking a millisecond about it both of them sent their throwing sticks whirring above the cackling birds. Both scored. One bird each. They had another feast coming. Hadah took the birds into his leather bag.
They jogged until they came to a stream. Hadah looked dubiously at the brownish water, which was otherwise quite nice and cool.
“It’s OK,” said the master. “The water is coloured like that by the roots of the plants on this mountain. You can drink it.”
Since the sun was now really dipping low, they decided to make camp right there by the stream. First, they gutted the birds. The master knew which plants imparted a nice flavour to the meat and they filled the cavities of the birds with their leaves. They then proceeded to cover both in clay from the stream, feathers and all. They put them, as well as the tortoise, on a spot where the soil was loose and built a fire on top. Next, they scoured the banks of the stream for edible bulbs. In summer it was always harder to find the right bulbs but they managed to dig a few handfuls out of the moist bank with their spears. They mixed the bulbs into the hot sand on the side of the fire and raked some coals over it. When they were satisfied with their efforts they went in search for sleeping material. Both of them liked to have something between themselves and bare soil and they found the same soft-leafed bushes on which they slept in their own cave. Once their beds were made they were set for a good meal. The journey was going fine so far.
The next morning they drank their fill from the stream. They found a nest of fresh partridge eggs and fortified by these they jogged on. Halfway through the day Hadah pul
led up. He was feeling faint. The master relented and they slowed down. They walked until they reached a kraal inhabited by their own people. It was an outlying dwelling of the Chainouqua. The people knew the master but not Hadah. They studied him carefully and treated him with respect, just in case, even though he was still a young man. The sorcerers shared the rabbit and tortoise that they had bagged earlier and had as much curdled milk as they could drink. Full and content, they stretched out in the guest hut on sleeping mats and were unaware of the world until the birds woke them up the next morning. It was a day fit to meet a king.
They walked at an easy pace. The king’s kraal was still more than half a day away but they were made aware that they were in the territory of the Chainouqua. Along the way they came across a few herds of cattle, goats and sheep in the presence of young boys. Most of the animals appeared to be in good condition. The sorcerers commented on the shining hides and the fact that the ribs were not showing, although it was already far into the dry season. It was the mark of a good herdsman, they agreed. At one point they passed a group of women who were moving about with their digging sticks and leather bags, hunting for bulbs and rhizomes. This was truly women’s work, which they often performed with amazing instincts, finding big bags full of food where no man would suspect any. Each woman had her own special digging stick, which she weighted with a ring shaped rock. Hadah knew that the one thing you did not touch was a woman’s digging stick, lest it lost its magic. Between himself and the master, of course, they had no woman. He was the one who grudgingly performed the task, in competition with the baboons on their mountain. He had an ongoing feud with the animals. Every time he discovered a new field of fat, edible bulbs a troop of baboons would be there just the next day to decimate it all. He had a feeling that every step he took outside their cave home was observed. And also, he refused to employ a digging stick. He much preferred to do his digging with his spear.
Closer to the king’s homestead they passed more kraals. The master commented on the quality of the mat work on the houses and on the sturdiness of the fences that bound the houses in a ring. At midday they felt hungry again and stepped through the common gate of a kraal. The place seemed deserted at first. The animals were obviously gone and most of the womenfolk were out filling their bags. Under a lean-to, however, they noticed some men. Respectfully they greeted the establishment and approached when the greeting was reciprocated. The men were doing what they usually do, which was to hone their weapons. One was working on a throwing stick with a knife and some others were tinkering with their spears.
“Ah!man,” greeted the elder of the kraal, recognising the master at once. They had some curdled milk again, thickened with a mix of finely ground roasted bulbs. The men appeared relaxed but Hadah was aware that both he and the master were under constant scrutiny by all, albeit mostly from the sharp corners of the eye, never face to face.
Another hour’s walk down a valley took them at last to the king’s kraal. It was bigger than any other. Outside the kraal Hadah saw for the first time how butter was made, exactly as the master had explained it. From low hanging branches several goatskin bags were suspended by thongs. A few woman sat flat on the earth and rocked them to and fro. The master greeted in a friendly manner. One of the woman understood what he was after and offered a clay jar. It was buttermilk. After walking in the hot sun for most of the day it was simply the best. Master and apprentice agreed on this and told the women so. The ladies appeared pleased.
They approached the entrance to the big kraal that stretched into the distance. Hadah was intimidated by its sheer size. Like the smaller ones it was in a circular shape with fences connecting the homes. It differed in one thing, however. The cattle herds and smaller livestock had their own enclosures and did not share the central space with the people. There was activity everywhere. Children and dogs were running around, chasing each other. Women were at work outside their dwellings grinding away on their flat stones. A rhythmic thumping noise drew their attention to a house where a young woman was beating something in a hollowed-out rock with a wooden post. They knew it was maize. Smoke rose from various corners. They caught the smell of a pottery furnace and saw the potter stoking it.
The master had already filled his lungs in order to shout their greeting when they saw a strapping warrior head for them. It was the king’s envoy that they had seen a few days ago.
“I see you,” he said. “The king knew of your coming since yesterday. He will see you tomorrow. Meanwhile you can stay here. He took them to a clean house with fresh mats on top and two sleeping mats already rolled out. On one side they saw several clay pots with their pointed bottoms wedged into the soil. They inspected them and saw that they were full of the best foods in the land. Being sated from their previous stops they left it for later and stretched out their travel weary bones on the sleeping mats.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The little dust devil, born in the red sands on the border between Mauritania and Mali reached verdant Senegal within hours. Here the air was filled with moisture expelled by the rain forests below. The dust devil sucked up the forest air in the centre of its swirling vortex. As the moist air soared up, it started to condensate. With the extra heat thus provided the Senegalese air went straight to the top, transforming the erstwhile humble dust devil, because now it carried a crown of cloud on its head. Left and right of it similar thunderheads popped up. Since they were all carried in the fold of the eddy that originated in Ethiopia, they formed a neat line abreast. But they were also part of much, much more. A great mass of air was moving from Africa over the Atlantic in the direction of the Americas. All around the line of thunderheads massive clouds of dry dust particles, interspersed with the odd whiff of camel dung, headed due west as well. On the other side of the expanse of water the Amazon forests were eagerly awaiting their arrival. These dry clouds, invisible to the human eye but very real, provide essential nutrients for plants and trees that otherwise could not grow on their washed-out soils. In addition, on their way across the expanse of ocean the dry air drops some of its load. Plankton was waiting below. Small fishes feed on the plankton and become food for bigger fishes which for the most part end up on dinner plates all over America.
The first sailors of the post-hurricane season have reached the west coast of Africa. Having travelled down the Bay of Biscay or exited through the Strait of Gibraltar, they were now aiming to catch the trade winds towards the Caribbean. They looked up and saw the thunderheads approaching at a speed they could only dream of.
“Line squall,” they said and shortened sail.
***
Madeleine did not feel tired at all. Once she had updated her status she checked the Facebook pages of most of her friends. It’s been two days after all since she had the time. Midnight came before she realised that she had to call Grant for his watch. She looked at the compass and around the boat. There was really nothing to tell.
Grant was a little groggy when she woke him.
“I slept like a log. How are things outside?”
“Nothing has changed,” she said. “We are still going east, according to the compass. It hasn’t rained but there is lightning somewhere. You can see it light up the horizon.”
“And the wind? What’s the wind doing?”
“It’s just blowing, now a little softer and then a little harder.”
“What’s this?” he asked as the boat pitched and rolled. From somewhere inside came the sound of water pouring, which immediately got his attention.
“Oh, yes, it’s been doing that as well.”
When he got out of the cabin he realised that everything that could roll or move, was doing so or had done so. The inside of the yacht was a mess consisting of office items, Madeleine’s magazines and kitchen utensils. Clearly they had too many loose things below the deck. A thumping noise caught his attention. He opened a bulkhead door and jumped out of the way as a pair of five kilogram dumbbells rolled out and threatened to crush his feet. Quickly h
e secured them in their places. Everything else in the gym seemed to be holding in their positions. His precious carpets were wet in parts. They were made to take some seawater, but still. Sea salt caused problems. It made for permanently damp patches and he did not like it below. Quickly, he made a round of all six hatches and closed off the three that were open. It would be a bit more moggy inside with only the dorades providing fresh air but that was the better than seawater and he could always switch on the air conditioning later on.
On arrival in the cockpit he was not surprised when he saw that the waves had doubled in size since he went off watch. He could make out the big swells coming from the east but over these swells came a different set of waves, criss-crossing from the north east, running before the twenty five knot wind that still came from that direction. In the patchy moonlight the white crests rolled on in orderly rows, causing the boat to pitch violently as they passed through. He estimated twelve feet with breaking tops of three feet high. Every now and then a wave managed to lap over the weather side and sluiced the deck with water. No wonder it was wet below. A shudder ran through the heavy yacht each time they slammed into a bottom. The automatic steering had quite a task on its hands as it fought to bring the yacht back on course. He watched the lee rail go under time after time and shook his head in wonder. How could Madeleine have said that nothing had changed? She had the guileless ignorance of the truly innocent. On the other hand, this was how accidents happened. He remembered his coaching efforts of the day before and wondered how teachable she really was.
The energy of the opposing waves as well as the twisting motion cost them speed. He checked how far they had come and was disappointed. He had allowed for the Atlantic drift to take off one and a half knots but they were slower than he anticipated. He calculated that they were barely managing three knots over the ground. One day of easting was going to stretch into two.
The Triangle and The Mountain: A Bermuda Triangle Adventure Page 9