Commander Cornelis van Quaelberg was not an easy man to love. He was everything that Zacharias Wagenaer was not. Harsh and selfish, he considered nobody's happiness but his own. Many justified his behaviour in the beginning.
'Give him time,' they canvassed on his behalf. 'The poor man lost his wife. Death changes a man.'
'Prosperity is a gift of God bestowed upon some. That gift had been given to me, your Commander. I share that power with some of you.' he chastised the few who held the keys of power in the settlement. 'The acquisition of wealth and prosperity fell outside the realms of those with low rank and inferior birth because it breeds insolence.'
But sympathy had a short shelf life among those who held no sway: those at the coalface of Khoe attacks; those who guarded outposts, and those who toiled the land from dawn to dusk.
Some of his utterances soon reached the ears of those without rank and station. Each joke behind the back of Commander van Qualberg inculcated a perception that those eking out an existence at the fringes of the Colony were not equal to those with station. That putting food on the tables of the growing Dutch settlement and on the ships in the harbour to and from Batavia, the Netherlands and elsewhere made them lesser men because the God they prayed to had only bestowed his favour on a few. The Commander's different way of doing things did not hold any promise of a better life. The freemen, who still bore the scars of their previous existence as low-ranking soldiers and sailors had no intention of dying in poverty.
'We fought in those wars. The blood of our forefathers, our family and fellow countrymen fertilised the battlefields of our fatherland's war for independence. We carry the scars. These hands lowered the bodies of fellow mates who died of disease, hunger and thirst in the belly of the Company's ships into the sea. They are at rest at the bottom of the ocean, and we made it, living in the throngs of a Golden Age. Except, we are not living. We are tired of existing. We must demand a part of this wealth that cost so many lives.' They gathered on the farms and inns and found inspiration in their shared visions of upward mobility. 'We will write to the Netherlands. We want a part of this Colony. Our dreams will not be eaten by the beliefs of this stork.'
The few with rank and station in his administration had begun to buy into the belief that labour was a commodity and the Dutch East India Company determined its price and value. Loyalties were split. Old ties broken. Power was something to behold, revered and protected. Labour was restless. Messy. Expendable. Bought and sold at a whim to the highest bidder. It was not a bridge to power and station.
Van Qualberg summoned his most trusted spies and instructed them in secret. 'I want all eyes and ears on the Saldanha traders. Use every available source at your disposal. Any drunk, whore or slave. Bring me something to stop that rot of indecency that is festering among them.'
'We misjudged him,' they whispered after church on a Sunday. 'The Bible promises good things to those who wait on the Lord. It is God's wish for us to prosper.'
In the public square the newsreader proclaimed, 'Wagenaer was the log, you would agree? There is agreement from various quarters of the Colony that the gods in Batavia had elevated a stork to the ranks of Commander.'
Things were not going in the favour of all the freemen and soldiers. But there were some at the Cape of Good Hope destined for a ride on the wave of prosperity that accompanied the visitors who were at the helm of the Golden Age.
Among the slaves Angela was one of the chosen few upon whom the kiss of prosperity lingered. She ran her own fresh produce business and had distinguished herself as a formidable business woman in the Colony.
Her luck and status improved when Arnoldus Basson left the service of the VOC and became a freeman. He worked as a fisherman with a group of people who had the sole rights to operate a craft between Table Bay and Saldanha. They traded with the VOC in fish, oil, seal meat, lime and salt under the oversight of the secunde, Heinrich Lacus. At her side was Arnoldus or Jagt as he was known among the Saldanha traders. Angela and Arnoldus moved in the close circle of Saldanha traders.
'I owe my good fortune to Abraham and Petronella. I will never forget that kindness bestowed on my life.'
'Our fate was meant to be. If I did not work for Joris my path with the master baker would not have crossed.'
'Thomas did not hold Janz in high esteem.'
Arnoldus chuckled. 'No surprise there. That business partnership between Joris and Thomas was doomed from the start but if it was not for that failed business venture Thomas would not have been the Colony's baker.'
Angela smiled. 'And if he was not a freeman and a baker who would have taken me in as a ward before manumission?'
'Yes, if it was not for Thomas-'
'I could still be out there... Like the rest of them...'
'You are not, Angela. You are here with me. I will take care of you.'
***
Catrijn's story, compared to her friend, Angela, took a questionable turn when, in the Autumn of 1668, she was at the centre of an inquiry held by the Council of Justice. The accusations which emanated against the secunde, Heinrich Lacus, damaged her reputation.
'State your name for the record,' demanded Commander van Quaelberg.
'Free Black Anthonij from Japan.'
'You submitted a sworn statement in which you accused the secunde, Heinrich Lacus, of corruption, fraud and the appropriation of Company property. Is this correct?'
'It is.'
'Can you tell the court what moved you to bring such a serious charge against him?'
'Catrijn told me, Zara, and another slave woman Marij-'
'Stop. For the record, explain what these people have to do with the charge against the sekunde.'
'Zara and Marij were both servants in the household of the secunde.'
'What are you waiting on. Continue. I do not have the whole day.'
'Catrijn told me that the engineer, Pieter Dombaer, took a certain box with money to Ceylon.'
'And how did she know that?'
'She said she heard the secunde give him an instruction to do so.'
'Do you know what goods were in the box?'
'I only heard that one box had been sent away with Dombaer. I know nothing further.'
'Do you have any knowledge of any other goods, money or things that had been buried here, squandered or carried away?'
'The box with money had been buried under the table of the secunde. That is all I heard. I know nothing else, except what Zara, Marij and Catrijn told me. A box went with Dombaer to Ceylon.
'You do realise all this is hearsay.'
'I do not understand this hearsay. You asked me to come here today and tell you what I know and I told you what I heard.'
'Watch that tone and attitude, slave. You heard it from Marij and Zara and they heard it from Catrijn. That is hearsay. Is there anything else, you wish to assist this Court with before you are dismissed?'
'I think you should ask all these questions to Groote Catrijn.'
'You are excused.' He addressed the court. 'I will leave no stone unturned to get to the truth in this matter. Under this secunde the undesirables squatting in the underbelly of this Colony are eating at the table of prosperity. They have gone so far as to prosper slaves and soldiers of low rank. That will not happen. Not in my name.'
In less than two years van Qualberg's administration came to an end, but not before he secured the conviction of the secunde. The Council of Justice tried Heinrich Lacus for thievery and banished him to Robben Island.
***
In the winter of 1668 Commander Jacob Borghorst took over as the new Commander of the Colony.
'Commander, the widow of late Petrus Wachtendorp, Maria Prignon, is here to see you.'
'Show her in, soldier.'
He read the deed of sale out loud. 'The whole household of Maria Prignon, including her slaves, Maria da Costa van Bengal and Lijsbeth van Bengal is hereby sold to Commander Jacob Borghorst. Included in the sale are the two Cape-born children of Lijsbeth van Bengale, Anna van de Caep and Anthonij van de Caep. Signed on this day of 18 June in the year of 1668.' He placed the document in front of her. She picked it up. After reading it she signed it
'I thank you for concluding this matter with such speed. The slaves are hardworking. They are good value for money. And so are the labours and future investment that will emanate from the children.'
'Of that I have no doubt. Thank you. I wish you well for the future widow Prignon. Do not hesitate to call on me if there is anything I can help with.'
***
The chill of the winter of 1668 extended to another inhabitant of the Colony, Eva Meerhoff, wife of the Colony's surgeon, Pieter Meerhoff,
The newly-elected Council of the Dutch Reformed Church under Adriaan de Voogd, Johannes Coon, Adriaan Wils and Gerrit van der Bijl. Adriaan spoke with authority.
'The lifestyle of widow Meerhoff is a disgrace. She is everything the Church detests in the dark races living in the Colony. Her drunken behaviour is an assault of values. The church will not tolerate someone who makes a mockery of our vows. Punish her for playing the beast at night. She is contaminating this Colony with her native habits.'
The outcome was unanimous. 'If the Commander and his Council is not prepared to act we will. We resolve to remove widow Meerhoff's three children. The Fiscal, Cornelius de Cretzir will find her, wherever she is hiding, and arrest her.'
***
The lodge was buzzing. 'Did you hear?'
'What?'
'Krotoa has been arrested. Thrown in the dungeon.'
'What for'
'Immoral behaviour.'
Two weeks later, further news reached the slave house causing further consternation.
'She was banished to the island. Without trial.'
'And her children?'
'Missus B is taking care of all three of them.'
'That is a shame. What about the other two? What were their names again?'
'Jeronimus and Anthonij,' replied Susanna without looking up. She was far into the term of her second pregnancy. The women turned and looked at her, surprised that she knew the names of Krotoa's children. She continued to scrub her naked body in full view of their enquiring glances.