The covenant - James A. Michener [90]
It was not a real war, of course, but when the white population was so small and the native so large, the loss of even one white man posed grave problems. The stolen sheep was soon forgotten, but tempers rose on both sides as cattle were taken, assegais thrown and muskets fired. And the situation was aggravated when many of the new slaves ran away, representing a huge cash loss to the Compagnie.
In the final clash, four men were slain, and then reason prevailed. To the fort came Hottentot messengers, calling, 'Van Doorn! Van Doorn!' He was finally found playing with his son, and Van Riebeeck was irate when Willem, out of breath, finally reported.
'Isn't that thieving Jack's crowd?' the commander asked, pointing to where seven Hottentots stood under a large white flag.
'I don't see Jack,' Willem said.
'Let's talk,' Van Riebeeck said. 'Go bring them in.'
So Willem, unarmed, left the fort and walked slowly toward the Hottentots, and Jack was not among them. 'Where is he?'
'He stay,' replied a man who had helped at the fort.
'Tell him to come see me.'
'He want to know if it is safe?'
'Of course.'
'He want to know from him,' the man said, pointing to the fort.
So a further conflict between Van Doorn and the commander arose when Willem left the Hottentots, returned to the fort, and informed Van Riebeeck that Jack was demanding a guarantee given personally by the commander. Since this seemed an accusation of bad faith, Van Riebeeck refused. 'May I do so on your behalf?' Willem asked. There was a grudging nod.
The Hottentots were invited to approach the outer perimeter of the fort, where Van Doorn assured them that it would be safe for Jack to join them, but the little brown men still wanted recognition from the commander himself. So Willem again confronted Van Riebeeck, and after much angry discussion, he agreed to the meeting.
When Jack received the safe conduct, he remembered Java, and the way men of importance behaved. Donning his faded uniform and mounting his finest ox, he jammed his cockaded hat on his head and rode forth to meet the man whom some of his people were already calling the Exalted One.
The peace negotiations, as Van Riebeeck would grandiloquently call them in his report to the Lords XVII, were protracted.
'You've been taking too much of our land,' Jack said.
'There's room for everyone.'
'As long as we can remember, this was our place. Now you take all the best.'
'We take only what we need.'
'If I went to your house in Holland, would I be allowed to do the same?' Van Riebeeck ignored this rhetorical question. 'Why don't you bring back our slaves when they run away?'
'We tend cattle, not people.'
'Then why do you steal our cattle?'
Jack said, 'We used to come to this valley for bitter almonds. We must have food.'
'You'll find other almonds.'
'They're far away.'
And so it went, until Van Riebeeck said wearily, 'We will draw a paper that says we shall always live in peace.' And that night, when Jack had ridden off on his ox, Van Riebeeck sat alone with his diary. As he had done every day since arriving at the Cape he penned a careful entry, which would be read with reassurance in both Amsterdam and Java:
They had to be told that they had now lost the land, as the result of the war, and had no alternative but to admit that it was no longer theirs, the more so because they could not be induced to restore stolen cattle which they had unlawfully taken from us in our defensive war, won by the sword, as it were, and we intended to keep it.
And then the Cape forgot both slaves and Hottentots, for one clear December morning the settlement awakened to a breathtaking sight. In the night hours the ships of a great merchant fleet had moved into the bay and six medium-sized vessels rode tidily near the Groote Hoorn, a magnificent East Indiaman bound for Java. Tall and proud, she displayed her fine woodwork and railings of polished brass as if she were boasting of the distinguished passenger who occupied her stateroom, the Honorable Commissioner, personal emissary of the