The covenant - James A. Michener [106]
They fled into the desert lands northeast of the fort, Jango the black from Angola, Deborah the brown from Malaya, Adam and Crisme, half-brown, half-white, and the baby girl Ateh, half-black, half-brown. When they were well away from the hedge of bitter almond, Jango struck off his wife's chains, then discarded his own, but she picked them up, thinking that they would be useful in trading with the Hottentots or Bushmen.
This time they escaped. As they entered into a wilderness unknown, uncharted, they exemplified that reverberating report of Karel van Doorn:
Neither hunger nor thirst, neither the murderous arrow of the Bushman nor the spear of the Hottentot, neither the waterless desert nor the impassable mountain deters the slave from seeking his freedom.
They survived, and in time the descendants of Adam and Crisme and thousands like them would not have to flee to freedom bound in chains. They would be able to live in places like Cape Town, where they would come to know a greater bondage, for they would be stigmatized as Coloured. They would be preached against by predikants, because they would be living testimony to the fact that in the beginning days whites had cohabited with brown and black and yellow: 'They are God's curse upon us for the evils we have done.' The land of their birth would be the home of their sorrow, and they would be entitled to no place in society, to no future that all agreed upon, but they would forever be a testimony.
The German commander was not really sorry about the disappearance of Jango and the Malayan girl. Had they been apprehended, he would have had to hang them, and there would be the ugly question of the three children, two with those heavy scars upon their foreheads.
Nor was he especially concerned when spies informed him that Willem van Doorn was showing signs that he might be preparing to quit the colony to head eastward for a farm of his own: 'He's building a wagon. He's putting aside any objects that fall his way. And he's collected more grape rootings than he needs for his fields.'
'When the time comes, we'll let him go. He's a troublemaker and he belongs out there with the Hottentots.'
In 1664, when one of the homeward fleets brought to the Cape an unexpected visitor, the German commander was pleased that he had not overreacted in Willem's case, because the visitor was Karel van Doorn, bringing the exciting news that he had been summoned home to become one of the Lords XVII. 'My father-in-law had something to do with it,' he said modestly. 'He's Claes Danckaerts, you know, the wealthy merchant.' He moved into the fort with considerable pomp, followed by Kornelia and her two children dressed in lace and satin. Celebrations were held for five nights, during which the commander confided that he was exhausted by this damned Cape, and that he hoped Karel would do everything possible to get him transferred to Java.
'I know how you feel,' Karel said. 'Van Riebeeck told me the same when I was last here. This is certainly no place for a man with ambitions.'
'What's Van Riebeeck doing?'
'Like everyone else, he wanted the supreme job.' Here Karel smiled weakly at the commander. 'But no one from the Cape would ever be given that.'
'What's he doing?'
'Governor of Malacca. And there he'll stay.'
'But at least he's near Java.'
'And you shall be, too. Not near it. In it.'
The commander sighed and started dreaming of that fortunate day when he would again be back in civilization. But he was interrupted when Karel asked, 'What's this I hear about my brother?'
The commander supposed that Karel was referring to the incident of the horse, and said, 'As you know, out of compassion I had him taken down'
'I mean, his making himself a free burgher.'
'We'd never permit anyone to make such a decision on his own,' the commander said quickly.
'But might it not be a good idea to get him out of here?'
The commander, having served in foreign capitals, recognized a devious suggestion when he heard it: Good God, he's trying to get