The covenant - James A. Michener [230]
He landed at Table Bay one morning in the spring of 1810, expecting to be greeted by representatives of the LMS who would probably spend some weeks indoctrinating him in his duties and perhaps even accompanying him to his place of assignment. Instead, as soon as he stepped ashore he was grabbed by a sturdy Dutch farmer with very broad shoulders and full beard who asked in heavily accented English, 'Is it true, you're a disciple of Simon Keer?'
Modestly Saltwood conceded that he was, whereupon the farmer pushed him away, muttering, 'You ought to be ashamed, spreading lies.'
He was not allowed even one night's rest in Cape Town, for at noon he found himself in a caravan of sorts heading eastward to a river on the far side of the mountains, where he had been directed to launch a mission. During the arduous journey he learned much about South Africa but even more about Reverend Keer, for wherever he stopped, people asked about the red-headed Lancashire man. The few Englishmen spoke of him with obvious regard, the many Dutchmen with unmasked contempt, and one night he asked an English missionary's wife to explain this contradiction.
'Simple,' she said. 'Simon Keer always stood up for the Hottentots and the Xhosa.'
'Isn't that our duty? To bring them to Jesus Christ?'
'Reverend Keer treated the Hottentots more like workmen in England.
Always fighting for their rights. Decent pay. Decent homes for them to live in. Things like that.'
'Did the Dutch object?'
She put down her cooking pans and turned to face Hilary. 'You must keep one thing in mind, if you're to be an effective missionary. We English have been here four years. The Dutch have been here a hundred and fifty-eight. They know what they're doing and they do it well.'
'Keer says that what they do so well is slavery.'
She placed her two hands on Hilary's and pleaded, 'Don't use that word. Reverend Keer was given to exaggeration. He lacked education, you know.'
'He's translating the Gospels.'
'Oh, he was excellent at identifying himself with the Xhosa. He could stay up all night transcribing their words.' 'I thought it was my duty to do the same.'
'To bring them Christ, yes. To become their advocate against the Dutch, no.'
'You speak harshly.'
'The Xhosa killed my son. They'd have killed me, too, except that a Dutch commando arrived in time.'
'And you stay?'
'It was an incident. We were at war and our troops had killed their people. Simple retaliation.'
'Aren't you afraid?'
'I am, and you will be, too. And pray God that you don't get caught up in it.'
As he penetrated farther into the country he became increasingly aware of how different the long-established Dutch were from the lately arrived English, and in his first letter home he shared his observations with his mother:
The Dutch speak of themselves in three distinct ways. Those in the environs of the Cape call themselves Dutch, although many of them have never seen Holland or ever will. In truth, they speak harshly of the old country, holding in contempt those real Dutchmen who came out from Holland to lord it over the locals with sneers and assumptions of superior education. Some of these long-time Dutch have taken themselves a new name, for they are more of Africa than of Europe. 'We are Afrikaners,' they say, but where I am traveling now these Afrikaners are named Boers (farmers). But farther east toward the lonely perimeter of the country, where the roughest of the Dutch dwell, they call themselves trekboers (migrating graziers), which is appropriate, for they are constantly moving on with their herds, until I am reminded of Abraham and Isaac. My mission is to be established in the lands of those trekboers who have stopped their wanderings.
At his next halt, where only Boers lived, Hilary received his harshest view