Far From Botany Bay

by Rosa Jordan

  Will flopped onto his bed with an exasperated sigh. “You’d think Bados would be more dependable than that, after we went and brought him with us. And Pip, too, the pipsqueak. I asked him where he got to and he told me the governor’s put him to work here in the house. I can’t hardly put up a fuss, saying as how Pip’s part of my crew and I’m needing him on the boat, not if the governor’s taken a mind to put him into service here. Though why he’d want the boy hanging around here I can’t imagine, when the old fart’s got natives all over the place hopping to his beck and call.”

  Mary said nothing to that, although she knew full well the use to which Pip had been put. When she had mentioned to the governor over tea that Pip had assisted in looking after the children during their long and difficult voyage as castaways, the governor had set him the task of minding the children as well as preparing their afternoon tea.

  Mary assumed that the governor had done this because Mira, although she continued to provide personal services for Mary according to her own sense of what was required, was also relied upon by Wanjon for a variety of other services. He probably did not want her tied up with childcare all day long. It wasn’t that the children were difficult, for they were generally quiet and easily satisfied. But as Mira had made clear at the very beginning, they, or more accurately the area in which they played, must be watched carefully, for Kupang was home to many poisonous snakes. Given that warning, Mary welcomed Pip’s help with the children, and they, of course, were happy to have him inventing and sharing in their games.

  “You don’t really need Pip and Bados, do you?” Mary inquired of Will. “Naturally it’s easier to have a man for each oar, but you and the three you’ve got, you’re the best of the lot.”

  She knew as she spoke that this was not strictly true; plausible only in the case of Pip, who was small for his seventeen years, and not as strong as the men. Bados, though, was as strong as any two, and had rowing skills to match his strength. Will had guessed as much at the beginning, which was why Bados was selected for his fishing crew in the first place. But Mary was fairly certain that Will would never admit to the black man being a better sailor than himself, Luke, Matey, and Scrapper.

  “‘Course I don’t need them,” Will huffed. “I just expected some loyalty, I surely did, after all I done for them.”

  “Maybe the governor gave Bados some other assignment, the same as he did with Pip,” Mary suggested, “and he had no choice in the matter.”

  “Aye,” Will replied, sounding somewhat mollified. “That could be what happened. It’s not like I can go questioning old Sour Puss. Even Bruger acts like I’m speaking out of turn when I remark this or that to him. Capt’n Phillip, when he got to be governor of the colony, never acted so high and mighty as that Bruger does when he’s out and about the docks.”

  “Well, with a little luck we shan’t be here much longer,” Mary said, and blew out the candle.

  “Prayin’ to God that’s our luck!” Will echoed the sentiment. Then added, as an afterthought, “I bet Bados turns up quick enough when an English ship puts into port.”

  “Very likely,” Mary said, although she did not think it likely at all. But it seemed even less likely that Bados would have left Kupang without the navigational tools promised him.

  The next day, as her hair was being braided, it occurred to Mary that Mira was often sent to town on errands; so she might have seen Bados or would know where he was staying.

  “You remember the black man who arrived with us?” Mary asked

  “Yes, Mevrouw.”

  “Have you seen him about?”

  The hands stopped, and for a moment held taut the braid without moving. Then, “No, Mevrouw.”

  “Have you heard anyone speak of him? Someone who might know where he is?”

  This time Mira let go of the braid entirely, picked up the hand-held looking glass, and said, “Maybe today we make the braids go a different way, loops by ears, and not over the top?”

  Mary took the looking glass from the girl’s hand and laid it back on the dressing table. “Mira,” she said. “I have something that belongs to Bados. It is very important. If you know where he is, you must take me there.”

  “Maybe I find him, I take things,” Mira suggested brightly.

  “No, you take me to him,” Mary insisted. Then added, “Don’t worry, Mira. If Bados doesn’t want anyone to know where he is, I won’t tell. But he is my friend. I must see him.”

  Mira hesitated, then shrugged, and said, “Tomorrow we walk to town. Maybe we see somebody who know him. Maybe not.”

  Although Mary repeatedly suggested that they walk to town to look for Bados, Mira kept finding excuses until Mary hinted that she might ask Governor Wanjon to find someone else to accompany her. Mira immediately agreed to go with her, confirming Mary’s suspicion that the governor had told Mira from the start to accompany her to town whenever she wished to go.

  Pip was left in charge of the children and they set off. They were about halfway along the crowded main shopping area when, far up ahead, something caught Mira’s eye. At first Mary did not know who or what it was, but after a quarter hour of being sometimes hurried along and sometimes slowed down as Mira appeared to dawdle, she realised that they were following someone. The person was a statuesque Indonesian woman. Her height, added to by a basket on her head, made her easy to see at a distance. She soon left the main street and followed a narrow side street which, at the edge of town, became a mere trail.

  Mira and Mary continued to follow at a distance, often losing sight of the woman. But as they were now on the trail, which wound through dense vegetation, the direction she had taken seemed fairly definite. Mary, like Mira, hiked up the skirt of her sarong in order to walk faster, for keeping up with the athletic stride of the taller woman was no easy matter.

  At one point Mary, drenched in perspiration and totally out of breath, begged Mira to stop and let her rest. Mira complied, saying only, “I see now. We go to the lagoon.”

  Mary took that to mean that Mira had figured out where the woman was going and no longer needed to keep her in sight. “Who is this woman we’re following?” she asked.

  “Inah. She fisher woman.”

  After resting a moment, Mary walked on. Now ahead of Mira, she kept her eyes on the narrow trail, for the vegetation was thick and she was mindful of the venomous serpents said to inhabit this region. She looked up only when a brightness indicated a clearing ahead. As the last low branches parted to give her a view of the open area, she stopped so suddenly that Mira stepped on her heel. The girl murmured an apology which Mary scarcely heard.

  A turquoise lagoon glittered in the late morning sun. On the near side was a crescent of white sand, and on the far side, a small hill topped by two or three native huts. The same sort of forested, vine-trailing tropical vegetation through which they had been walking surrounded the area. However, all of those details escaped Mary’s notice. Her eyes were riveted on the woman, standing with her back to them, about twenty yards away. Basket, sandals, and sarong now lay on the sand. For a few seconds the woman stood there, every curve and muscle of back and buttocks highlighted in the sun. Then she flung herself forward in a shallow dive and began to swim toward a dugout canoe floating in the lagoon.

  A man in the dugout stood, untied a loincloth wrap from around his hips, and likewise dove into the water. In the second he stood there with his naked, muscular body exposed to Mary’s view, she registered his colour—not copper like the woman, but ebony. Bados, of course. The two swimmers came together in the water and, taking hold of each other, began to play, bringing their faces together, sinking below the surface, rising, caressing, and kissing. After a few minutes of intimate frolic, they swam alongside the dugout, one on either side, and began drawing it toward the shore.

  Mira whispered, “We go now. Come another day!”

 
“Yes!” Mary exclaimed, and turned to follow her back down the trail.

  But their movement must have caught Inah’s eye, for she called out sharply, in Indonesian. Mira stopped in her tracks and stood for a moment, trembling. Then she turned around, walked out into the clearing, and called to the woman. Mary heard her name in the conversation that followed, and so came forward to stand next to Mira.

  “Bados!” she called. “I’ve come to visit. Do you want us to come back another time?”

  Bados’s rich deep laughter rolled across the water toward her. “No, you stay, Mary. But maybe you turn round for a minute, give me time to cover my middle parts.”

  Blushing, Mary did as he suggested, and waited till he called her name before turning back to face him. By then, Bados stood on the beach, wearing a wrap-around cloth which covered him from waist to thigh. Inah came out of the water quite naked and, hand on one hip, let loose a torrent of Indonesian at Mira.

  As Mira responded, Inah picked up her sarong from the sand, shook it off, and proceeded to dress. Mira rushed forward to help her tie the sarong, but Inah brushed her hands away as if they were bothersome insects.

  “So this is where you’ve been keeping yourself, Bados!” Mary exclaimed.

  “You not be giving me away to the others, will you, Mary?”

  “Of course not!” Mary assured him. She glanced toward Inah, whose conversation with Mira seemed somewhat unfriendly. “What is she saying?”

  “Can’t tell,” Bados replied. “I don’t know Timor talk, just a few words. And Inah speak no English. But she my woman now.”

  “Is that so?” Mary laughed. “If you don’t speak the same language, how do you know she’s your woman?”

  “Is true,” Mira confirmed. “Inah say me she keep this big man.”

  “Inah be coming with me to that island, Mary. I need the chart and compass.”

  “Do you remember how to use them?” Mary asked.

  “I remember everything James showed me. I take them, I take the boat, and Inah and me, we go back to that island.”

  “Are you sure she understands what you have in mind?” Mary asked doubtfully. She looked at Mira. “Ask Inah. Does she understand Bados wants to take her to a distant island?”

  There was another rapid-fire exchange in Indonesian, then Mira translated to Mary. “She say if he has a big boat, she go with him wherever he wants to go.”

  “You know Will’s using the boat for fishing,” Mary reminded Bados. “And just the two of you, when there are six oars to manage—are you sure you can handle it?”

  “I take that boat.” Bados repeated stubbornly.

  “Inah has many brothers,” Mira explained. “Brothers have wives. Some tired of these Dutch, make life in Kupang so hard. Their boats small, like that.” She motioned to the dugout in the lagoon. “Can’t go far. But in a big one . . .” Mira shrugged.

  “I see. All right, Bados. I’ll bring the compass and chart as soon as I can. But you be careful when you take that boat. It’s well-guarded at night, and if they catch you—,”Mary’s voice and eyes reflected her concern.

  “Don’t you worry for me, Mary,” Bados interrupted kindly. “I already know what they do to a black man when he go stealing cucumbers from a kitchen garden. Nobody have to speak about how short my life be if I get caught stealing that boat you already stole. But they’ll not catch me this time. I be getting back to that island or death take me in the act.”

  Inah spoke sharply to Mira again in Indonesian, and again Mary requested translation. Mira, looking more frightened than before, said, “She said we must not tell that Bados is here. If we do, she will put a spell on us and we will die.”

  Bados laughed and wagged a finger at Inah. She caught it and bit it playfully, but with enough force to let him know that she was not intimidated.

  Mary was not bothered by Inah’s threat, since she had no intention of telling anyone. What concerned her was the realisation that perhaps too much had been said already in Mira’s presence. She gave the girl a worried look. “You will not speak of this to anyone, will you, Mira?”

  Mira shook her head. “No, Mary. I want no spell on me. But this talk,” she drew a circle with her finger to include all of them, “very dangerous!”

  Bados nodded, then did a surprising thing. He took Mira’s hand and Mary’s, and laid one on top of the other. Then he reached for Inah’s hand, which he put on top of Mira’s and Mary’s, and finally he placed his own hands, top and bottom. Mary knew no custom such as this and, by the puzzled looks on the faces of the other women, surmised that they did not either. Still, the message was clear: that they were together in this conspiracy, and must trust one another.

  Given that some in this little circle were virtual strangers to others, she did not know how much trust there could be. But it did not seem that they had any choice.

  Mary and Mira walked back to town more slowly than they had come. Despite shade cast by the dense forest, the heat was stifling. Although Mary tried to banish images of Bados’s and Inah’s nudity from her mind, they lingered and thrilled her. She had once seen a picture that depicted Adam and Eve in the nude, eyes downcast, hands covering their private parts. The painting conveyed neither Eden’s paradisiacal qualities nor the couple’s pleasure at being there. Yet the unashamed nudity of Bados and Inah had conveyed both paradise and pleasure, along with a sense of freedom. And all of it as far removed from her own life as a return to the Garden of Eden.

  They had reached town and were passing through Kupang’s commercial centre when James leaned out the window of his office, and called, “Mrs. Bryant, a moment if you please, that I might have a word with you.”

  Mary stood in a slim strip of shade cast by the building, and waited with apprehension, for she had caught something of anxiety in James’ voice, and knew it must be serious for him to hail her in public.

  When James reached her side, he glanced at Mira in a way which indicated a desire to speak to Mary in private. The girl tactfully wandered a few yards away to gaze into a shop window, although, Mary suspected, not so far that she couldn’t overhear what was being said.

  “I am sorry to convey bad news,” James said hurriedly. “But Will has been brawling down at the docks, in plain view of everyone.”

  “When was this?” Mary asked in dismay.

  “Yesterday. As I heard the story, they came in with a good catch and were unloading it when Matey started drinking from a bottle of rum he had stashed on the boat. Will ordered him to wait until the fish was delivered, and they got into a fist fight in front of a crowd there on the dock.” James drew a breath. “That’s not the worst of it, Mary. Apparently they screamed obscenities at each other which included references to Botany Bay!”

  “Oh no!” Mary gasped. “And word of this has spread already?”

  “I don’t know how much was understood by the bystanders,” James admitted. “Bruger, of course, speaks English but he wasn’t there, and got the story second hand. I heard him later, in the hall outside my office, reporting the incident to Wanjon.”

  “What did he say?” Mary asked, her chest tight with apprehension.

  “Only that the fight was broken up by Luke before the gendarmes arrived. Bruger asked Wanjon if he should take further action, but the governor said that would be awkward, given that you and Will are guests in his house. Then—and here is the part that alarmed me, Mary—Bruger said that Bryant and his men have more knowledge of lowlife than seafaring. So their rough ways have been noticed! Wanjon brushed that off, saying, ‘All Englishmen are lowlife. Such as Bryant would never be an officer in the Dutch navy.’”

  James paused, and added, “There was one more thing, Mary, and you can take pride in this. Wanjon said that the wife—meaning you—‘is very gracious.’”

  Mary was silent for a minute, mulling over what he h
ad told her. “I suppose I haven’t made any serious missteps in his presence. But what about Matey? What shall we do?”

  “I don’t know. Will could put a stop to it, but he won’t. Once the day’s catch is in, he matches Matey drink for drink.” James took a deep breath. “It is a certainty that from now on all our men will be watched. When Bruger asked if he should take any action, Wanjon said, ‘We will wait. A fool is never a fool only once.’ I shudder to think what might happen if they get rowdy again, or loose-lipped.”

  “I will speak to him,” Mary promised. “But I doubt it will do any good.” She hesitated, and added, “We are, in a sense, estranged from one another. Will leaves before I wake in the morning, and rarely returns before the wee hours.”

  “I understand,” James nodded. “But do try. I will talk to Matey, for in drink it is he who sets the pace. Will, and Scrapper, of course, follow his lead, and Cox is a hard drinker as well. Then Luke is not to be left out, so he goes along with them. Bados and Pip are the only ones I’ve not seen around, drinking to the point of foolishness.”

  Mary glanced toward Mira with a slight smile. “Pip has been otherwise occupied. Bados as well.”

  “Ah yes.” James’ eyes slanted with humour. “I saw Bados following a magnificent Indonesian woman a few weeks back. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since.”

  Mira wandered back toward them, and Mary guessed, from the overly-innocent look on the girl’s face, that she had overheard at least some of their conversation. “Mira,” she asked directly, “Did you know about my husband’s fight on the boat yesterday?”

  “Yes, Mevrouw.”

  “Did the governor speak of it to you?”

  “No, Mevrouw. He does not speak of such things to me.” Mira hesitated, then added, “I think he does not want trouble for your husband.”

  “The governor is a kind man,” Mary acknowledged. “I’m sure he would not make trouble for us. What I am afraid of is that my husband will make trouble for himself.”