Young Dick Read online

CHAPTER SEVEN

  Richard was not granted shore leave, but given his experience in dealing with ships’ chandlers he was tasked with replacing the used and spoiled citrus fruits. He presented the order to the Purser, who spluttered with needless expense indignation and without thinking, said, “These things do not grow on trees I might have you know!”

  Richard smiled to himself, pocketed the signed order and sought out Jamie. Jamie was of a mind to have Richard escorted by two heavy sailors seeing as merchantmen they could not go armed, but warmed to the idea that Richard and Billings would attract less attention as sightseers. They would carry little money; the fruit would be paid for dockside on delivery. Had Jamie known that Richard had pocketed his pistol he would have had a fit.

  The two boys had no need to play the part of wide-eyed youngsters in an exotic port; they were bombarded with new experiences, smells, flowers, black people, Orientals and most appalling of all, the base end of the slave trade. Richard had already decided to bypass the Dutch chandlers who were hoping to make a killing with supplies available only to themselves. The two boys wandered deeper into the settlement until they came upon tatty but clean food stalls run by Africans and Arabs. They chose a huge African standing behind baskets of every type of fruit, including many the boys had never seen before.

  The nearest Arabs all made bad face. The language was not a barrier but a delightful problem to be solved. Flashing his snow-white teeth, the big man first tried a variety of local dialects; all that meant to the two boys was a change in harsh constants and a different cadence of clicks. A Dutch speaker was called but failed to communicate, and then Richard resorted to drawing a picture of Subtile in the sandy soil. A young black boy caught on, spoke to the big man andthen ran off, leaving Richard baffled. The big man filled the gap by offering a variety of fruit as samples. The boy returned with a seedy looking Arab in tow; he spoke broken but understandable English. Richard explained what they wished to purchase and the amounts, and on translation the big man’s eyes opened wide and he included other merchants in the deal that was obviously beyond him. Richard paid off the Arab with some coppers but failed to notice that he ran off in the direction of the town, not the way he had come. The deal was soon struck at a fraction of the cost quoted by the chandlers. Richard made sure that the oranges and lemons had been freshly picked while still green; the big man understood. This caused for a celebration, and the big man whose name they could not pronounce took them to his tent where two shy but smiling wives plied them with a local beer and treats. A most unwelcome visitor soon joined them: a skinny Dutch half-cast burst into the tent brandishing a large knife; he put it to the throat of one of the wives. The big man rumbled hate from the depth of his stomach and crouched like a cat.

  “Stay still, kaffer, and your wife will live: all I require is the order form from the Englander, he said in the local dialect and then repeated it in English for Richard’s benefit.

  “The form will be of little use to you if the Purser fails to honor it,” pointed out Richard.

  “Oh it will be honored sure enough – that is if you wish your black friends here to live,” smirked the half-cast. It was then that Richard realized that the family would die; black lives meant nothing here, and there would not be any competition or witnesses left alive. Without thinking, he pulled his pistol from his pocket, cocked it and shot the man in the chest. The man’s eyes widened in disbelief, then clouded in death as he slid to the floor. The big man’s wives began howling and the big man himself shook with fear at the repercussions of a white man being killed in his tent. Richard gave no thought to the fact that he had just killed his first man; he gave orders to Billings instead.

  “Get the big man’s hand cart; we will put the body in it, cover it with fruit and take it back to the ship.” The big man and his wives caught on quickly, filling the cart, eager to have the body removed. Two men were ordered to pull the cart, and they reluctantly agreed to push it to the dock. Richard pressed the order form into the big man’s hand. He nodded in understanding, knowing that he had to fulfill the order. When they arrived, sweating, at the dock, Richard and Billings waited until they were alongside Subtile, and then, forcing themselves behind the porters, began to push the cart as fast as they could towards the end of the wharf. The porters at first stiffened in resistance, then caught on and rammed the cart’s wheels into the barrier at the end. The body and the cart’s contents spilled into the sea, and Richard began berating and hitting the porters in reprisal while crewmembers and onlookers enjoyed the show. No one saw the body glide beneath the waves and all that was left were a few fruit bobbing on the surface. Several sets of eyes from the Dutch chandlers noted the initial delivery and wondered what had gone wrong.

  The order of fruit arrived late that afternoon, accompanied by too many vendors and family members to invite intervention by the Dutch chandlers. Songs were sung as the fruit was loaded aboard, and the purser even managed a smile when he saw the amount tendered for payment. With a final show of white teeth and many smiles, the Africans happily departed.

  The Captain, keen to show the scientific officers under his command, accepted the Vice Governor’s invitation to dine that evening. It was a resounding success with almost all of the local dignitaries speaking English and keen to hear the latest news from London. The obvious enthusiasm of the cartographer and navigator went some way in convincing the Vice Governor of Subtile’s scientific intentions. Even the Purser played his part when confronted by a hostile chandler owner.

  “Have you secured all the purchases that you intend to make during your stop over at the Cape?” Tension knotted the squat man’s short forehead and spittle formed on his goatee beard.

  “Indeed not, Sir, I have a list for livestock and other vitals; if your clerk could present himself first thing on the morrow I am sure you will not be disappointed.” The Purser smiled as the Hollander nodded and drank deeply from his pot of gin.

  The supplies were loaded on board as Subtile prepared to sail on the tide. The livestock were secured in pens on the deck. None of them would survive the coming weeks. Richard counted down the minutes, fearful of any last-minute exposure and arrest. Finally, Subtile slipped her mooring,s caught a puff of wind and sailed out of the harbor. Richard took one last long look at the fabled Table Mountain in the clear sunshine.

  A day after Subtile’s departure, the body of the half-cast surfaced and was brought ashore by fishermen. After a thorough examination the Garrison Commander confined his investigation to the town: the caliber of the shot retrieved from the body was Dutch, not English.