Cast Off (20 page)

A European surgeon married to a native woman? How was such a thing possible? But she sounded as if she was telling the truth. And she wore a gold wedding ring.

“I beg your pardon,
madame
. I only thought—”

“You thought a Hottentot lady couldn't be married to a white man. Well, you thought wrong.
I
am the first.
People are not always what they seem to be.
”

How was I to fix this disaster? I'd offended the wife of the man from whom I sought employment.

“Of course,
madame,
you are quite right. Please forgive me for my stupidity. And, if it's not too much to ask, would you be willing to give Master Van Meerhof my letter?”

Missus Van Meerhof examined the envelope. She tapped it slowly against her palm. I watched, appalled, as she committed a grave breach of manners and
opened
it. Read the letter. And tore it to pieces.

“My husband has no need of an assistant,” Missus Van Meerhof said. “But I don't like the idea of you running around causing trouble. You will work for
me
. You will do what
I
tell you to do.”

I weighed my options in a matter of moments. In a village this small, with more slaves than free people, I had none. “Yes,
madame
.”

“Now go around back to the pump and wash yourself.” She sniffed. “I won't have you bringing vermin into my clean house.”

I found the pump and used my handkerchief to scrub my hands and face. Eva Van Meerhof appeared and dropped a pile of old but clean clothes on a bench. “Burn yours,” she said, and left.

I stared at the bundle. I longed for clean clothes, and I had no choice but to put them on after being ordered to by Missus Van Meerhof. But how was I to undress without being seen? A wall enclosed the back of the house, so I had no fear of passersby, but if Missus Van Meerhof happened to look out her kitchen window . . .

Reasoning that a bottom was a bottom, I turned my back to the kitchen, removed my trousers, and pulled on the fresh pair. They hung over my feet and I rolled up the legs and pulled the string tie around the waist as tight as I could. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw no one in the kitchen. I pulled my blouse over my head—

“I knew it! I knew you was a girl the second I laid eyes on you!” Eva Van Meerhof smacked open the kitchen door and strode outside. “What game are you playing? Pretty young white girl thinks she can sneak in here and get cozy with the only free man not tied for life to the VOC?”

She'd known I was a girl before she saw the linen wrap I wore under my shirt. What had I done to give myself away? Was it simply that Eva Van Meerhof was looking for rivals, or had something about my person changed but gone unnoticed by the men I saw every day? Without a mirror, I couldn't know. My own self had grown unfamiliar to me.

With my arms still in the sleeves, I clutched my shirt to my chest even though my nakedness was covered by the linen bindings. “
No
! No,
madame,
I swear it! I admit I'm a girl, but that is a secret known only to myself and one friend and now to you. It's a disguise I wear so that I can find employment, not a husband. I have no designs upon Master Van Meerhof, I swear it. I'm only twelve years old!”

“At twelve I had already left my family and been working two years.”

“Then we understand each other,
madame,
for I too have left my family. And I too need to work.”

“Oh, you'll work, I promise you that. You will
work
and you will not
speak
to Master Van Meerhof. You will not
look
at Master Van Meerhof. And you'll go on being Albert Jochims or I'll have you
hanged
for
thievery
.”

We'd been in port maybe a week when I woke up itching from the inside out. The fog from when Pa died had burned off, and now I was like a hungry rat in an empty hold. I had to get off the ship.

I decided to visit Petra. I hadn't heard from her since she left, and now I felt bad about not even knowing if the surgeon had taken her on.

I found the Van Meerhof place easy enough. Finding Petra was another story.

“What do you want with Albert?” the native woman at the door wanted to know.

“Just to say good day.”

“The boy is lazy enough. He doesn't need you to distract him.”

“I wouldn't distract him,
mevrouw,
I'd only parley for a few minutes.”

“Well, I am his employer's
wife
. I decide what he does with his minutes. And it's not
parleying
with you.”

If Missus Van Meerhof thought I'd be surprised by a Dutch man marrying a native lady, she needed to look down her nose at me a little harder. There was plenty of such coupling up in the Indies. Some of 'em was married, though not my parents. The law said Pa would've had to stay in the Indies if he'd married Ma. He liked us, sure, but not enough to give up the sea.

I was a bastard. A by-blow.
Illegitimate.
And now with Pa dead, I always would be. 'Twas a funny thing about mixed-race Indies kids. Bastard or no, the girls were like princesses—all the Dutch men wanted to marry 'em. But nobody wanted anything to do with a mixed-race boy—unless he had a high-up VOC pa. The rules about staying away from Holland didn't apply to the gentry boys. They went to the fanciest schools in Europe, some of 'em. I was never going that route, and now I was back to where I started, 'cept I had no family along with no future.

“Please,
mevrouw,
could you at least tell me when Albert gets his half day off?”

The witch smiled at me. I bet she had Petra moiling night and day. “When I say so.”

We'll see about that.

When I got back, Jaya pulled me up to the bow.

“How fare you, my brother?”

“All right.”

He spit betel juice over the rail. “No, you do not—and that is natural.” He sucked his red teeth with his tongue for a while, looking out at the harbor. “Your father was my friend. I miss him every day. But life goes on, as you know, and we go on with it.” Jaya lowered his voice. “You remember when I found you with guns in hold?”

“Aye.”

“And I say to you there are better ways to get money?”

“Aye, I remember,
Om
.”

Jaya leaned over so he could whisper into my ear. “Some men and I will take back money the VOC stole from us. You will join us.”

“You're gonna bite the VOC gold?” I pretended to be surprised.

“It is no less than we deserve!” Jaya said in a fierce whisper. “Who works heavy heavy and risks his life every day? Not Gentlemen Seventeen,” he said, meaning the coves in charge of the VOC. “
Not
rich men in Batavia. And
not
captain of this ship.”

“We do the worst of it and get the least,” I said. 'Twas the sailor's lament. I'd heard it more often than “pass me the bottle.” I'd sung the song myself.

“Now you understand me,” Jaya said. “I promised Paulus I look after you if anything happen to him. This is how I look after you.”

All of a sudden, I got mad at Pa for leaving me to deal with the mutineers, for leaving me with nowhere to go. Bleed and wound me for thinking one day I'd be free like other coves. Losing that hope hurt more than never having it.

I smoothed out my face. “I don't know,
Om
—”

“We have time, my brother. You do not have to decide now.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “For now, only you look away while we borrow a few supplies, yes?”

And if I said no, I'd be surrounded by enemies, including my pa's friend. I nodded.

“Good boy.” Jaya pulled a leaf from his pocket and added a pinch of betel nut. “Oh, and brother?”

“Aye?”

“You say nothing of this. If anyone hears—well, it will be very bad for you. You understand?”

Eva Van Meerhof made good on her promise of work. I rose before dawn to haul in fresh water and wood and to stoke the fire. I cooked breakfast, dinner, and the evening meal and cleaned up afterward but didn't serve. That job was given to Rachel, the old Hottentot maid, who used her new leisure hours to chew dagga, a local leaf that kept her giggling over nothing or taking long naps. When Rachel wasn't laughing or sleeping, she gossiped with Eva Van Meerhof in their strange language full of clicks and clacks.

I swept the packed-earth floor and dusted the collectibles in the oak cupboard in the sitting room. I beat the carpets that hung on the walls, washed the linens, pressed Missus Van Meerhof's clothing but not her husband's—she reserved that task for herself. In the evenings I knitted or sewed until I was blinded by tears of exhaustion, and then I battled nightmares for a few hours on a straw mattress in the kitchen next to snoring Rachel.

It was something like my old life but without the help and comfort of Albertina. And it was the life in store for me should I marry a man not wealthy enough for a servant.

By contrast, the life of a surgeon's assistant—or even an ordinary sailor—seemed luxurious. But in the week I'd been here, no ships of any size had entered the harbor and I didn't know when the next one was due. Sooner or later one would come, and I would try to join its crew. If that ship wouldn't take me, I'd try for the next. But what if I had to leave without saying good-bye to Bram? Perhaps he wouldn't notice. He'd made no effort to see me, after all.

A week into my stay, I still hadn't met Pieter Van Meerhof. He'd been away on some business, but I guessed he was the handsome man who'd just come into the kitchen. Van Meerhof wasn't tall, but what he lacked in stature, he made up in muscle, in good teeth, and good humor. No wonder his wife didn't relish the idea of a new young woman in town. Pieter Van Meerhof looked like a man with healthy appetites.

“You must be the boy Missus Van Meerhof has told me about!” He clapped me on the shoulder and I stumbled forward a few steps.

“Albert Jochims, master.”

“And how are you finding your new position, Albert?”

Eva Van Meerhof came into the kitchen and glared at me over her husband's shoulder.

“Excellent, master.”

Missus Van Meerhof swept around the table. “Good morning, my love! How fare you?” She snatched a piece of buttered toast from my hand and fed it to him.

“You came from the
Lion
?” Van Meerhof asked with a full mouth.

“Yes, master.”

“What was your position there?”

“Surgeon's assistant, master.”

I blurted it out before I could think of anything better. Missus Van Meerhof looked like she wanted to fillet me with a pair of kitchen shears and throw me to the pigs.

“Surgeon's assistant? Eva, why didn't you tell me?” He put an arm around his wife's broad shoulders. “I have need of your skills, boy. There's fever in town.”

“Oh, no, sir,” I said, too scared to look at Missus Van Meerhof. “I was only an assistant for a week or two. Before that I looked after the chickens. I don't know much of anything. I don't think—”

“Nonsense!” pronounced the surgeon. “I have no assistant at present, therefore you can only improve my situation. Eva, dear, you won't mind if I borrow Albert for a couple of weeks until this fever dies down?”

Missus Van Meerhof beamed at her husband, a model of loving kindness. “Of course not!”

“Come see me after breakfast, Albert,” Van Meerhof said.

Missus Van Meerhof waited for him to leave the kitchen before grabbing me by my arms. She ground her thumbs into my shoulders and leaned down until we were nose to nose.

“Not. Very. Smart.”

I clenched my teeth to keep from saying what I wanted: that she was a horrid, nasty, miserable woman.

“Are you giving me the eye?” she said.

“No,
madame
.”

“Don't lie to me. I know what I see in front of my face. You think you're
better
than me. Well, you think
again
. Just wait a few years when
every
eye that looks at you knows what you are—not just
sharp
eyes like mine. You wait and you see how much you need a man, and you wait and you see what you'll do to
keep
that man when it's either him or the
tobacco fields
. Him or the
tanner
. His nice house or the whorehouse. You wait and see what you'll do then.
Miss.
”