The covenant - James A. Michener [86]
'It's got to be Jack,' Willem said, and when they came to those slight rises from which the Cape settlement could be seenthe point at which a prudent enemy would turn backhe told the three gunners, 'I know it's my friend. I'll go to meet him.'
This occasioned loud protest, but he was adamant: 'I'll go without a gun, so that he can see it's me, his friend.' And off he went, holding his hands wide from his body and walking directly toward the small mound behind which he knew the watcher waited. 'Jack!' he called in English. 'It's me. Van Doorn.'
Nothing moved. If the person or persons behind the rise were enemies, he would soon see the flight of deadly assegais, but he was certain that if anyone had the courage to track four well-armed men, it must be Jack, so he called again, loudly enough for his voice to be heard at a far distance.
From behind the hill there came the soft sound of movement. Slowly, slowly, a human form emerged, that of a Hottentot, unarmed and wearing the uniform of an English sailor. For several moments the two men faced each other, saying nothing. Then Van Doorn dropped his empty hands and moved forward, and as he did so, little Jack began to run toward him, so that the old friends met in a forceful embrace.
They sat on a rock, and Willem asked, 'How did these wrongs come to happen?'
It was too difficult to explain. On each side there had been promises unkept, threats that should never have been uttered, and petty misunderstandings that escalated into skirmishes. There had been killings; there would be more, and any possibility of reconciliation seemed lost.
'I don't believe this,' Willem said. His affection for the slave girl Deborah had intensified his attitudes, making it easier for him to look at this Hottentot as an ally.
'We talk too much,' Jack said.
'But we're going to stay here, Jack. Forever. A few now, many later. Must we live always as enemies?'
'Yes. You steal our cattle.'
'They tell me you steal our tools. Our European sheep.'
The Hottentot knew that this countercharge was true, but he did not know how to justify it. Enmity had been allowed to fester and could not be exorcised. But one charge was so grave that Willem had to explore it: 'Did you murder the white soldier?'
'Bushmen,' Jack said, and with his nimble fingers he indicated the three-part arrow.
'Won't you please come with me?' Willem begged.
'No.'
There was a painful farewell, the little brown man and the big white, and then the parting, but when the two men were well separated, with Van Doorn heading back to his gunners, one lifted his weapon and shot at Jack.
He had anticipated such a probability, so as soon as he saw the gun raised, he jumped behind a mound and was not hit.
On a fine February morning in 1657 nine gunners and sailors assembled outside Van Riebeeck's office, and all in the fort stopped work and moved closer to hear an announcement that would alter the history of Africa:
'Their Honors in Amsterdam, the Lords XVII, wishing always to do what furthers the interests of the Compagnie, have graciously decided that you nine may take fields beyond Table Mountain and farm them under your own guidance, but you must not move farther than five miles from the fort.'
When the men cheered at this release from drudgery, Willem van Doorn heard the commotion and came in to listen with envy as Van Riebeeck spelled out the meticulous terms laid down by the Lords. The freedmen would work not individually but in two groups, one five, one four, and would receive in freehold as much land as they could plow, spade or otherwise prepare within three years. Their crops would be bought by the