The covenant, p.16
The Covenant, page 16
Only twelve days later, at the end of April when the finest days of autumn came, Willem surprised the fort commanders by announcing, 'I'd like to be the first to climb Table Mountain,' and when permission was granted he enlisted two friends. They marched briskly toward the glowing mountain, some dozen miles to the south, and when they stood at its foot Willem cried, 'We don't stop till we reach up there.'
It was a punishing climb, and often the young men came to precipices which they had to circumvent, but at last they reached that broad, gracious plateau which forms the crest of this mountain, and from it they could survey their empire.
To the south lay nothing but the icebound pole. To the west were the empty Atlantic and the New World territories owned by Spain. To the north they saw nothing but wind-swept dunes stretching beyond the power of the eye. But to the east they saw inviting meadows, and the rise of hills, and then the reach of mountains, and then more and more and more, on to a horizon they could only imagine. In silence the three sailors studied the land as it basked in the autumn sun, and often they wheeled about to see the lonely seas across which winds could howl for a thousand miles. But always their eyes returned to those tempting green valleys in the east, those beckoning mountains.
But looking eastward, they ignored the clouds which had formed almost instantaneously over the ocean to the west, and when they turned to descend the mountain, the devil threw his tablecloth and any movement became perilous.
'What can we do?' his companions asked Willem, and he replied with common sense, 'Shiver till dawn.' They knew that this would result in anxiety at the fort, but they had no alternative, and when the sun finally rose, dispelling the fog, they marveled anew at the paradise which awaited in the east.
From the first days of isolation the sailors had been aware of little brown men who occupied the Cape. They were a pitiful lot, 'barely human,' one scribe wrote, 'dirty, thieving and existing miserably on such shell fish as they could trap.' They were given the name Strandloopers (beach rangers), and to the sailors' dismay, they had nothing of value to trade but wanted everything they saw. It was a poor relationship, marked by many scuffles and some deaths.
But on June 1, when the marooned men concluded that they had seen everything worth seeing in their temporary homerhinos feeding in the swales, hippos in the streams, lions prowling at night, and antelope untold an incident occurred, so bizarre that everyone who later wrote his report of the wreck commented upon it:
On this day at about two in the afternoon we were approached from the east by a group of some twenty little brown men much different from the pathetic ones we called Strandloopers. They were taller. Their loincloths were cleaner. They moved without fear, and what joyed us most, they led before them a herd of sheep with the most enormous tails we have ever seen. We called them Huttentuts from their manner of stuttering with strange click sounds and got quickly to work trying to trade with them. They were quite willing to give us their sheep for bits of brass, which they cherish.
And then the most amazing thing happened. From their ranks stepped a man about thirty years old, quick and intelligent of manner, and God's word, he was dressed in the full uniform of an English sailor, shoes included. What was most remarkable, he spoke good English without any click sounds. Since none of us knew this language, I went running for Willem van Doorn, who had learned it at Java, and when he left the fort, knowing that a Huttentut had come who spoke English, he asked me, 'Could it be?' and when he saw the little man in the sailor's uniform he broke into a run, shouting, 'Jack! Jack!' and they embraced many times and fingered the ivory bracelet that we had seen on Van Doorn's chain. Then they danced a jig of happiness and stood apart talking in a language we did not know of things we had not seen.
Actually, among the Hottentots with whom the Dutch did business during their year as castaways, there were three who had sailed in English ships: Jack, who had been to Java; a man named Herry, who had sailed to the Spice Islands; and Coree, who had actually lived in London for a while. But it was with Jack that these Dutchmen conducted their trade.
This meant that Willem was often with the Hottentots when there was bartering, and as before, he and Jack made a striking pair: Jack seemed even smaller when standing among big Dutchmen, and Willem, now full-grown at twenty-two, towered over his little friend, but they moved everywhere along the bay, hunting and fishing together. Toward mid-July, Jack proposed that Van Doorn accompany him to the village where the sheep-raising Hottentots lived. The fortress commander suspected a trick, but Willem, remembering the responsible manner in which the little fellow had conducted himself at Java, begged for permission. 'You could be killed,' the commander warned.
'I think not,' and with that simple affirmation, young Van Doorn became the first Dutchman to venture eastward toward those beckoning mountains.
It was a journey of about thirty miles through land that gave signs of promising fertility. He passed areas where villages had once stood and learned from Jack that here the land had been grazed flat by cattle. 'You have cattle?' the Dutchman asked, indicating with his hands that he meant something bigger than sheep.
'Yes.' Jack laughed, using his forefingers to form horns at his temples, then bellowing like a bull.
'You must bring them to the fort!' Willem cried in excitement.
'No, no!' Jack said firmly. 'We don't trade . . .' He explained that this was winter, when the cows were carrying their young, and that it was forbidden to trade or eat cattle before summer. But when they reached his village, and Willem saw the sleek animals, his mouth watered; he intended reporting this miracle to the fort as soon as he returned.
His stay at the village was a revelation. The Hottentots were infinitely lower in the scale of civilization than the Javanese, or the wealthy merchants of the Spice Islands, and to compare them with the organized Chinese was ridiculous. But they were equally far removed from the primitive Strandloopers who foraged at the beach, for they had orderly systems for raising sheep and cows and they lived in substantial kraals. True, they were mostly naked, but their food was of high quality.
Living among the little people for five days encouraged Willem to think that perhaps a permanent settlement might be practical, with Dutch farmers growing the vegetables required by the passing fleets of the Compagnie and subsisting on the sheep and cattle raised by the Hottentots; this possibility he discussed with Jack.
'You grow more cattle, maybe?'
'No. We have plenty.'
'But if we wanted to trade? You give us many cattle?'
'No. We have just enough.'
'But if we needed them? You saw the English ship. Poor food. No meat.'
'Then English grow sheep. English grow cattle.'
He got nowhere with the Hottentots, but when he returned to the fort and told the officers of the wealth lying inland, they grew hungry for beef and organized an expedition to capture some of the cattle. Van Doorn argued that to do this might embitter relations with the brown people, but the other sailors agreed with the officers: if cattle existed out there toward the hills, they should be eaten.
The argument was resolved in early August when Jack led some fifty Hottentots to the fort, bringing not only sheep but also three fine bullocks which they found they could spare. 'See,' Van Doorn said when the deal was completed, 'we've won our point without warfare,' but when the officers commanded Jack to deliver cattle on a regular basis, he demurred.
'Not enough.'
The officers thought he meant that the goods they had offered were not enough and tried to explain that with the wreck of the Haerlem they had lost their normal trade goods and had only spices and precious fabrics at the fort. Jack looked at them askance, as if he could not decipher what they were saying, so one of the officers procured a boat, and with six Hottentots and Van Doorn, went out to the disintegrating hulk to let the little men see for themselves, and to pick up any stray bits of material they might want in trade for their cattle.
It was a futile trip. All that remained aboard the creaking wreck were the heavy guns and anchors and the broken woodwork, and these had no appeal to the Hottentots, who had been taught by Coree after his return from London, 'Wood nothing, brass everything.' The brass had long since vanished.
But as the others climbed back into the boat, Willem chanced to find a hidden drawer containing an item of inestimable value. Hearing the officer coming down the gangway to hail him, he slammed the drawer shut and followed the Hottentots ashore.
That night when others were asleep he told the watch, 'I want to inspect the Haerlem again,' and silently he rowed out to the ship, which had now settled nine feet into the sand. Fastening his line to a stud, he climbed aboard, going quickly to the captain's quarters, where he opened the drawer. And there it was, with thick brass corner fittings and center clasps.
Carefully opening the brass locks, he turned back the cover and saw the extraordinary words: 'Biblia: The Holy Scripture translated into Dutch. Henrick Laurentsz, Bookseller, Amsterdam, 1630.' This was a printing of the very Bible his mother had cherished and he knew it would be most improper to allow a book so sacred to sink at sea, so covering it with his shirt, he carried it back to the fort, where he hid it among his few possessions. Occasionally in the days ahead, when no one was watching, he gingerly opened his Bible, reading here and there from the sacred Word. It was his book, and at the New Year he borrowed a pen and wrote on the first line of the page reserved for family records: 'Willem van Doorn, his book, 1 January, 1648.'
The Dutch sailors at Table Bay were not forgotten. During the twelve months they stayed, nearly a hundred Dutch ships engaged in the Java trade passed back and forth between Amsterdam and Batavia, standing far out to sea as they rounded the Cape. Some English ships actually sailed into the bay, offering help as needed, and in August three Compagnie ships anchored near the fort, providing mail, information and tools.
The captain of the Tiger, leader of the flotilla, caused Willem serious trouble, because on the evening prior to his departure for Java, he announced at the fort that any sailors who wished to return to that island for an additional tour of duty were welcome, and three volunteered. 'We sail at noon tomorrow,' the captain said, and all that night Willem wrestled with the problem. Intuitively, with a force he would always remember in later years, he shied away from going on to Holland, a land he did not know and to which he felt no attachment. But if he failed to join the Tiger, right now, the next fleet would be Europe bound, and he might never see Java again.
Toward midnight he woke the fort commander and said, 'Sir, my whole heart pulls me toward Java.'
'And mine,' the officer responded, and with swift phrases he explained how any man of character who had once seen the Spice Islands would never want to work elsewhere: 'It's a man's world. It's a world of blazing sunsets. Java, Formosa! My God, I'll die if I don't get back.'
'My mother argued'
'Son, if I weren't commander of this fort, I'd ship aboard the Tiger like that!' And he snapped his fingers.
'My mother says that no Dutchman has a chance with Jan Compagnie if he's born in Javaunless he gets back home for education and proper church training.'
'Well, now!' the commander said in the dim candlelight. 'Well, now, Mevrouw van Doorn is the smartest woman in the islands, and if she says...' In some irritation he banged his fist on the table, causing the candle to flicker. 'She's right, goddamnit, she's right. Jan Compagnie has no respect but for Amsterdam trading gentlemen. I'm from Groningen and might just as well be cattle.' Mention of this word diverted him, and he gave Willem no more guidance, for in the darkness he intended to send a troop of gunners out to fetch those Hottentot cattle.
When dawn illuminated Table Mountain, young Willem van Doorn made his decision: the Tiger would sail without him; he would obey his mother's orders and sail on to Holland with the March fleetbut as the Tiger was about to hoist anchor he set up a great shouting, 'Captain! Captain!' until the commander thought he had changed his mind and now wished passage to Java.
Not at all. He was running to the post-office stone under which he had buried the six letters addressed to Java. Puffing, he ran to the Tiger's, longboat, and the documents were on their way.
When the ship pulled away he felt little regret, for as it went he had the curious sensation that he was intended for neither Amsterdam nor Batavia: What I'd like is to stay here. To see what's behind those mountains. That night he read long in his Bible, the sweet Dutch phrases burning themselves into his memory:
And Moses sent them to spy out the land of Canaan, and said unto them ... go up into the mountain and see the land ... and the people that dwelleth therein, whether they be strong or weak, few or many; and what the land is that they dwell in, whether it be good or bad . . .
And as he studied other texts dealing with the reactions of the Israelites to the new land into which they had been ordered to move, he felt himself to be of that exploring group; he had gone up into the mountain to spy out the land; he had journeyed inland to see how the people lived and whether the land was good or barren. It was ordained that he should be part of that majestic land beyond the mountains; and when three days later the swift little flute Noordmunster left to overtake the two slower vessels bound for Java, he saw it go with no regret. But how he might manage to stay at the Cape he did not know, for the Dutch were determined to abandon it as soon as a homeward fleet arrived.
In the empty days that followed, Van Doorn occupied himself with routine life at the fort. On a field nearby he shot a rhinoceros. In a stream inland he shot a hippo. He went aboard the English ship Sun to deliver mail, which the captain would forward from London, then helped two sick Dutch sailors aboard for the long trip home. Of great interest, he headed a hunting party to nearby Robben Island, where the men shot some two hundred penguins; he himself found the flesh of these birds much too fishy, but the others averred that it tasted better than the bacon of Holland. And twice he led parties that climbed Table Mountain.
Only one unusual event occurred during these quiet days. One afternoon, at about dusk, a small group of Hottentots approached the fort from the east, leading cattle, and when the sailors saw the fresh meat coming their wayanimals much larger than those at homethey cheered, but the trading was not going to be easy, because Jack was in charge, and in broken English, said, 'Not sell. We live in fort. With you.'
The officers could not believe that these savages were actually proposing that they move into the fort, and when Willem insisted that this was precisely what Jack was suggesting, they broke into laughter. 'We can't have wild men living with us. You tell them to leave the cattle and go.'
But Jack had a broader vision, which he tried to explain to the Dutchmen: 'You need us. We work. We grow cattle for you. We make vegetables. You give us cloth . . . brass ... all we need. We work together.'
It was the first proposal, seriously made, that natives and whites work together to develop this marvelous tip of the continent; Jack knew how this might be accomplished, but was brusquely repelled: 'Tell him to leave those damned cattle and begone!'
Van Doorn alone, among the white men, understood what was being suggested, and he had the courage to argue with his officers: 'He says we could work together.'
'Together?' the officers exploded, as if with one voice they spoke for all of Holland. 'What could they do to help us?' And one of them pointed grandiloquently to the Dutch guns, the ladders, the wooden boxes and other accouterments of a superior culture.
Van Doorn suggested, 'Sir, they could help us raise cattle.'
'Tell them we wish only to deal with them for the beasts.'
But when the officers proposed to start the bartering, they found that Jack and his little people refused to trade: 'We come. Live with you. Help you. We give you these cattle. Many more. But no more trade.'
This was incomprehensible, that a band of primitives should be laying down terms, and the officers would tolerate no such nonsense. At Banda Island east of Java when the sultan opposed them over the matter of cloves, the entire population of fifteen thousand had been slaughtered. When the Lords XVII heard of this they demurred, but old Jan Pieterszoon Coen had explained firmly, in letters which reached Amsterdam four years after the event: 'In Holland you suggest what we should do. In Java we do what's necessary.' When the sultan on another island refused to cooperate, he and ten thousand of his people were forcibly resettled on Amboyna. If the Compagnie did not tolerate opposition from Spice Islanders, who, after all, were semi-civilized even if they did follow Muhammad, it was certainly not going to allow these primitives to dictate trading terms.
'Take the cattle,' the officers said, but at this, young Van Doorn had to protest: 'In the villages beyond the hills are many Hottentots. If we start trouble . . .'
'He's starting the trouble. Tell him to take his damned cattle, and if he ever comes back here, he'll be shot. Get out!'
The officers would permit no further negotiation, and the Hottentots were dismissed. Slowly, sadly, they herded their fat cattle and started back across the flats, unable to comprehend why their sensible proposal had been rejected.
Willem saw Jack again under pitiful conditions. A group of six sailors applied for permission to hunt the area well north of the fort for eight or nine days, and since barter with the Hottentots was no longer possible and meat was needed, they were encouraged to see if they could find a hippopotamus or a rhinoceros, both of which provided excellent eating. Because the land they were exploring was more arid than that to the south and east, they had to go far, so that they were absent much longer than intended, and when they returned, there were only five.
'We were attacked by Hottentots, and Van Loon was killed by a poisoned arrow.' They had the arrow, a remarkable thing made in three sections bound together by tight collars of sinew, and so made that when the poisoned tip entered the body, the rest broke away, making it impossible to pull out the projectile.
