The covenant - James A. Michener [80]
By the time the journey was half over, this girl Ateh was so well known that even the captain had to take notice of her, and it was he who gave her the name by which she would later be known: 'Ateh is pagan. If you're going to sing in a Christian church, you've got to have a Christian name.' Thumbing through his Bible, and keeping to the Old Testament, as the Dutch usually did, he came upon that lyrical passage in Judges which seemed predestined for this singing girl: 'Awake, awake, Deborah: awake, awake, utter a song . . .'
'Prophetic!' he said, closing the book reverently. 'That shall be her name Deborah,' and henceforth she was so called.
Since it was Willem's responsibility to deliver the slaves, and since he wished to keep them alive if possible, it being usual in these waters that thirty percent died on any passage, he was often belowdecks to satisfy himself that they were properly cared for, and this threw him always into consultation with Deborah. Before he came down the ladder, she would be huddled in a corner reviling the ill fortune that had brought her there, but when she saw him coming she would move forward to the bars of the cage and begin to sing. She would feign surprise at his arrival and halt her song in mid-note, looking at him shyly, with her face hidden.
Since the fleet had now entered that part of the Indian Ocean where temperatures were highest, the penned slaves were beginning to suffer. Food, water and air were all lacking, and one midday, when the heat was greatest, Willem saw that Deborah was lying on the deck, near to prostration, and on his own recognizance he unlocked the gate that enclosed the slaves and carried the girl out to where the air was freer, kneeling over her as she slowly revived.
He was amazed at how slight her body was; and as she lay in shadows her wonderfully placid face with its high cheekbones and softly molded eyelids captivated him, and he stayed with her for a long time. When she revived he found that she could speak the native language of Java, with its curious tradition of forming plurals by speaking the singular twice. If sate was the word for the bamboo-skewered bits of lamb roasted and served with peanut sauce, then two of the delicacies were not sates, as in many languages, but sate-sate; to hear natives speaking rapidly gave the impression of lovely soft voices stuttering, and Willem began to cherish the sound of Deborah's voice, whether she sang or spoke.
On most days he arranged some excuse for releasing her from the cage, a partiality which angered both the Dutch seamen and the other slaves. One evening, when the time came for her freedom to end, he suggested that she not go back into the cage but remain with him, and through the long, humid night, when stars danced at the tip of the mast, they stayed together, and after that adventure everyone knew they had become lovers.
This posed no great problem, for scores of Dutchmen working in Java had mistresses; there was even a ritual for handling their bastard offspring, and no great harm was done. But the captain had been commissioned by Mevrouw van Doorn to look after her son, and when he saw the young Dutchman becoming serious about the little slave girl he felt obligated to warn him as a father might, and one morning when sailors reported: 'Mijn-heer van Doorn kept the little Malaccan in his quarters again,' the older man summoned Willem to his cabin, where he sat in a large wicker chair behind a table on which rested another of those large Dutch Bibles bound in brass.
'Mister Willem, I've been informed that your head has been twisted by the little Malaccan!'
'Not twisted, sir, I hope.'
'And you've been acting toward her as if she were your wife.'
'I trust not, sir.'
'Your mother put your safekeeping in my hands, Mister Willem, and as your father, I deem it proper to ask if you've been reading the Book of Genesis?'
'I know the Book, sir.'
'But