The Triangle and The Mountain: A Bermuda Triangle Adventure (7 page)

“Yes.”

“Well, what we do here could affect you so badly that all
the children your wife has in future will look like baboons.”

The messenger’s eyes widened. “Fine, I will not stay any
longer. I’ll take your message to the king.” He stood up to leave.

“Don’t you want to eat some meat with us before you go?”

“No, I’m not hungry.” With that he picked up his spear and
his throwing stick and hopped onto the rock that was the first one of the path
out.

The sorcerers had nothing to do the next day of course, but
the master did not want to give people the impression that he was at everybody’s
beck and call. Especially if it was a new young king.  They barbequed more of
the meat and left some overnight. Over the fire the master told more stories of
the good old days and Aitsi-!uma, his predecessor.

“When I was your age,” he said, “people came to us all the
time. Aitsi-!uma was very strict with them. She demanded many things, like food
for us and access to the pregnant mothers at all times.

“What did they come for?”

“Mostly, it was to get our help in warfare. You don’t hear
about it so much now, but in those days the tribes of our people fought all the
time. Every day the men of the tribe would send the young boys out to look
after the cattle and the sheep while they stayed behind making weapons. Some
made arrows, some made spears and others were training the oxen for battle.
They did this because they knew sooner or later they were going to use them.”

“What did they fight about?”

“Everything. Sometimes it was a squabble at about a waterhole
that started the war. Sometimes it was a new area of grazing that just sprouted
after being burnt. Sometimes they fought about women.”

“What did Aitsi-!uma do?”

“She did what all the custodians before her did. She told
them who was right and who was wrong and they had to abide by it.”

“And if they did not?”

“Then they knew what the consequences would be. Once, there
was a war between the
Hessequa
and the
Attaqua
. The
Hessequa
came to her first but the
Attaqua
never came. She prepared the potions
and called on the powers of the serpent. A cloud came over, full of lightning.
It struck inside the enclosure of the
Attaqua
and killed all the cattle
of the chief.”

“Did it settle the war?”

“Yes, it did. The
Attaqua
could not have a chief who
owned no cattle, so they had to find another elder to take over as their leader.
This man made peace with the
Hessequa
.”

“Have the
Hessequa
given you many babies after that?”

“We were invited every time they slaughtered a cow or a goat.
Those were good times.”

“So in those days all the tribes listened to us?”

“In those days, yes. There was the time that
Cochoqua
was fighting with the
ChariGuriQua
. Eventually the chief of the
Cochoqua
came here to the mountain himself. Aisi-!uma prepared the potions and danced. A
few days after that a giant whirlwind came up in the night and took away the
houses of the
ChariGuriQua
, together with the people and the cattle and
sheep. Not one person in the house of the chief survived.”

 “But nowadays,” said Hadah, “they don’t come so often.”

“It’s because of the Dutch,” said the master. “They have guns
that shoot better than our arrows and they come with horses that are faster
than our oxen. People are more scared of the Dutch than they are of Aitsi-!uma
or you and I.”

“I heard somebody say a
KhoiKhoi
man can outrun a
horse.”

“Yes, you can, but only if you have the whole day. A horse does
not have endurance but it is fast. It catches up with you very quickly and the
man on top shoots further than your arrows can travel.”

“So the ways of the Dutch
are
better than ours?”

 “No. The thing that happened was not better. You can see
that from the tribes that started going to the Dutch instead of coming to us to
settle wars. The Dutch wanted cattle and farms in exchange for helping. Once
they got what they wanted they never left. They stayed and pushed the tribes
away from the land where their forefathers grazed their livestock for as long
as anyone could remember. We only wanted the misshapen babies but they don’t
want our assistance anymore.”

“How can people be so dumb?” asked Hadah, shaking his head.

“Aitsi-!uma said the same thing to them, but they did not
listen. Once the lust for war was in a man he listens only to his anger. That
was the downfall of our people. Some of our people saw what was happening but
they were too few. People were too quick to admire the men who spoke of war.
Those who thought differently were told that they talk like women. It did not
help that Aitsi-!uma was a woman.”

“If you are a man you are a warrior,” said Hadah with
conviction.

“That is the way you protect your cattle and your family,”
said the master. “But we should have been wiser. Do you know the story of Kro!toa?”

“No,” said Hadah.

“Aitsi-!uma told me this story since she knew this young
girl quite well. The girl knew this mountain and she often wandered around on
her own up here. Her people, the
Gorachouqua
, came here in summer, to
the cool side where there is always water and grazing. The other place which is
like this in summer is all the way over at Sea Mountain. She knew that place
too. It is strange how the tribes could agree to use the same water and grazing
sometimes when they had no other option.”

“Well, what happened?” asked Hadah, since the old man had
stopped talking.

“This girl was the daughter of the king of the
Gorachouqua
.
Now the king of the
Goringhaiqua
fell in love with her, since she was
beautiful. But - instead of doing the right thing and asking her father and pay
the price in cattle, he abducted the young woman to his home and married her.”

“Why did he not ask the father?”

“Because he was too proud. The two tribes were fighting on
and off and he could not get himself to go and ask for anything from the father,
who was his enemy. Anyway, so there was another war because of what he had
done. While they were fighting, the woman ran away from her husband. Instead of
going back to her father, however, she ran to a cave high up on the side of Sea
Mountain, where there is a strong fountain. There she grieved for her people
until she died. While dying she called on the power of the spirit who lives in
our mountain. As I said, she wandered around alone on this mountain and somehow
she had learnt some of its secrets. Maybe, if she was not abducted, she was
going to become Aitsi-!uma’s successor instead of me.”

“What had she done?” asked Hadah.

“She cursed all men who love to make war. The way Aitsi-!uma
told the story, her tears fell into the stream that flows into the lake at the
foot of the mountain. Now, every man who drinks of that lake is in danger. If
he has a warlike attitude, he will fall into it and drown.”

“Have there been drownings indeed?”

“Yes, many of our nation have fallen in and drowned. It
happens all the time.”

“But not Dutch?”

“Oh yes, some Dutch men have also mysteriously been drawn to
the lake, where they fell in and drowned as well.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“You want to know about my castle?” asked Grant.

“Yes, I grew up in a castle, so naturally I am interested in
yours.”

“OK, well maybe what you call a castle is not what I call a
castle. How many rooms do you have?”

“About sixty.”

“All right, that’s a lot,” said Garth, surprised. “How old
is it?”

“The foundations were laid three centuries ago but every
generation after that has added something.”

“Very interesting!” said Grant. “I wonder what kind of
business your family was in three centuries ago.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Piracy for sure,” he said.

“And if I told you that you are right, what are you going to
think of me?”

“I’ll respect you,” he said, not meaning to start a conflict.

“Good,” she said, “Because our very large house is full of
things that my family had taken from Spanish, French and American ships that
they had captured. Actually, my first forefather who came here was trading in
salt. His children started building ships and they became privateers.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Indeed. It was once an honourable profession and nobody on
Bermuda is ashamed if his forefathers were privateers.”

“And what does your family do now?”

“Now they are bankers.”

“I see.”

“Which is why you are heading for Bermuda.”

“How would you know?”

“I know. You have money and everybody with money heads for
Bermuda, sooner or later.”

“Why would that apply in my case?”

“I don’t know as much about banking as my brothers but I
take an interest in jewellery, since we own so many historic pieces. In fact,
I’m training to be a designer. Your golden taps interest me a lot. I’ve
listened to the sound they make when you tick them. They don’t sound or look like
gold plated taps at all. They are solid except for the moving parts. It shows a
certain attitude. I don’t think they are meant to stay in your boat for ever.”

“Shall I throw you overboard now or later?”

“Why would you do that? I’ve met many of your type and none
of them wanted to throw me overboard.”

“What type is that?”

“People who prefer not have their hard earned money go to
others who do not work so hard.”

“I thought you said you are not a banker?”

“My brothers bring them home to us. Of course, you can use
anybody else.”

“I’ll think about it. I’ve already made some contacts.”

“But you’ve not made any permanent arrangements yet?”

“Nothing finalised.”

Grant studied the bubbles in his glass. He had not considered
getting to second base with this woman yet and it was probably a good thing. He
had a feeling his good luck favoured him once again. Then his eye fell on the
radar screen.

“Nice talking business with you,” he said, “but look-e-e
here!” He pointed at a spot on the screen.

“What does it mean?” Madeleine asked.

“Do you see these solid bands? It means we need to do some
work right now. All along these clouds ahead of us there is activity and it is growing
as we speak. We are bunched in by rain storms. And there is one getting close.”

“Where is it?”

“Sneaking up on us from the east. See there, that was lightning.
We have maybe twenty minutes before it strikes us. All hands, prepare the sails
for a squall!”

“How do I do that?”

“You just do what I tell you. We reef the mainsail first.
Let’s go!”

They were still busy when the sun disappeared behind the
clouds that now closed in on them from all sides. Vertical shafts of rain
poured from dark bases in several directions. Thunder rumbled across the waves.
The lightning in the east moved closer. When the squall hit, they were safely
back inside the doghouse. It was a weather tight and hopefully water tight
canopy that sat on top of the companionway stairs. It duplicated some of the
instruments from the cockpit and had its own wheel for steering, much smaller
but easy to use through a system of assisted hydraulics.

Grant decided on it during the design phase. “I don’t see
why one should get fatigued from exposure,” he said, imagining himself steering
in a regulation sixty knot Cape storm from the open cockpit.

“You may want to feel the wind on your face so you can
anticipate better,” was a contrary opinion, but he insisted on the doghouse, as
well as that it should fit gracefully into the overall design. He had nothing
against the rough stuff, as long it was according to his own choosing.  

Grant took no chances with the storm.  It was the first time
that the boat met with a squall under his command and he decided to err on the
conservative side. They were under heavily furled headsail and mizzen only. The
onslaught of wind and rain came with a force so powerful, however, that he immediately
felt he should have taken in more sail. In the stronger gusts the boat heeled
heavily to port despite its size and he turned to take the weather bow-on. They
were deluged by a true tropical downpour. Huge drops of rain beat an angry
staccato against the Acrylic. Visibility reduced in seconds to no further than twenty
metres beyond the bow. The rain flattened the crests of the wavelets but he
could feel the seas bulging up underneath. Over the drumming against coach and
doghouse roof they could hear the rigging start up with a song of its own.  

“Aha,” he shouted, surprised. “Force nine, without a doubt.”
He checked the anemometer to see if he was right. It was not quite what he had
thought, but close. The instrument indicated forty knots in the gusts, which
was force eight. Still, there was surprising venom in the storm.

“There’s definitely more spunk to the Atlantic here in the
north,” he said to Madeleine, who worried him a bit. Don’t puke on me now,
lady, he said under his breath. He prepared himself mentally for a leap back
into the open cockpit to get the bucket. At the same time he consciously tried
to relax his rather white-knuckled grasp on the wheel.

Half an hour later there was no sign of a let-up. The
orderly deep ocean swells were no longer recognisable. Instead, they were
ploughing through a maelstrom of confused waves. Steep seas piled higher and
higher. Grant decided not to be intimidated. He started aiming for the seas.

“This is how you do it,” he called out to Madeleine, who
opted not to go below but appeared to watch the storm in wide-eyed wonder, although
she winced when a thunder clap exploded like a gunshot over the yacht. “When
you see a big sea head your way, take it on the bow. You don’t want it to roll
over the deck and destroy things.”

Up they went and then down they raced on the back of each
big wave. Madeleine must have sensed Grant’s concern about sea-sickness because
once when he looked over she ticked the band on her wrist. It was rather
miraculous compared to yesterday. He wondered about it and then remembered.
Those piratical forefathers! She probably had it in the blood.

It became an exhilarating chase over the heaving seas.
“Hee-yah!” he yelled as he pointed the boat up a steep one. “Whoopee!” he
called on the way down until they smashed into the bottom of a deep trough. He
was enjoying himself. This was his kind of stuff. Man against nature. He felt
good and his boat felt good as they took on waves that now sported thick froth
on the tops. A quick look confirmed that Madeleine was watching his antics with
a little smile. She seemed impressed.

And then, after another hour, it was all over, bar for the
seas. They sat on a lumpy ocean which had lost all shape or rhythm. The yacht
bounced on hillocks that seemed to come from all directions. A weak afternoon
sun broke through the clouds. He studied the radar overlay on the Garmin for a
follow-up squall but the way forward seemed to be clear. They could shake out
the reefs. Madeleine led the way.

“Watch…”

“For the boom,” she continued.

There was no need. In stark contrast to the violence they
had just experienced, only the weakest of breezes was blowing.  The conditions
required the set of light sails that he kept under the front hatch. Grant decided,
however, that it was too much trouble for the two of them and instead rolled
out all existing sails to their maximum, including the massive number one Genoa
and the oversized mizzen fore staysail.  

“What happened to our wind from that side?” asked Madeleine
and pointed to the starboard side.

“You mean the trade winds,” said Grant. “No idea. The sea
gods blow the way they decide to blow and we just go along with it. Even the
Caribbean Weather Station did not know about the squall that we’ve just
encountered, mean as it was. Could you belay this halyard to that electric winch
behind you and give it a few turns?”

“Like this?”

“No, like this.”

Madeleine was a talker, so she continued where they had left
off earlier.  “When you come to our house remind me that I show you around. There
are some things that might interest you as a South African.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, I think so. We had Boer prisoners of war from South
Africa on Bermuda a century or so ago. Some of them carved the most beautiful
things from wood. We have an ox wagon with a full span of oxen, as well as a
little grouping of Boers with their guns amongst the rocks, all it from cedar.
I know it very well because as a little girl I sometimes helped to polish it.”

“You’re kidding me about the Boer prisoners, don’t you?”

“I’m not kidding you at all. Look it up on the internet if
you don’t believe me,” she said. “At some point in the past there was a war between
my country and your country and that was where the prisoners came from.”

“Between us and Bermuda? You’re not serious.”

“Bermuda is part of the UK, remember.”

“Of course, yes. OK, it’s clear to me now,” he said. “They
called it the Anglo-Boer War.”

“Talking about your country where you want to build your
castle,” she asked, “Do you really own a farm with a whole mountain on it?”

“Not a whole mountain,” he said. “The farm is on the side of
the mountain but quite high up.”

“Does it have a nice view?”

“It’s got the most fantastic view in the world.”

“Really? What do you see?”

“If you stand up there you see two oceans at the same time.
There is Table Bay on the one side and False Bay on the other side. Waters from
the Atlantic and the Indian oceans mix right there before your eyes in False
Bay. What is amazing,” he said, “is the clarity of the air, which makes the
colours stand out so vividly. You have the bright blue of the sea, the pale
blue of Table Mountain on the horizon and around you, by contrast, the green of
the
Cape
Fynbos
, which is what they call the vegetation.”

“Really? Is it all jungle?”

“No, not jungle and not savannah either. It is a kind of
brush, I suppose, not very high but very green.  And down in the valleys you
have the vineyards, which is a different green. Everybody around there is in
wine farming. It is stunning. You have to see it to believe it.”

“It sounds impressive.”

 “It is. And you know, it is quiet. You don’t hear a sound
from traffic or anything like that. You just see things move far away down
there on the highways. Where I want to build my castle you even look down on
the aeroplanes as they fly past.”

“You’re not serious! Your farm must be as high up as
Everest.”

“I’m serious, actually. What happens is that you have Cape
Town International about forty kilometres away. You look down on the jumbos as
they come in to land. When it comes to small planes it is high enough for them
to fly by below the place at their normal altitude.”

“It sounds worthwhile seeing,” said Madeleine. “Did you pay
a lot for it?”

“Actually, I have not paid anything for it. It’s a gift.”

“How nice! What have you done to deserve that?”

“Not much. I just paid some attention to two very old
people.”

“Are they your parents?”

“No, we are not related. The thing is that they feel
abandoned by their children and other members of their family. Which is why
they’ve decided to give the farm to me.”

“So it is sort of an inheritance. You don’t get it
immediately, only when they die?”

“No, I can get started immediately. Nobody is using this
farm, because it is too far up on the mountain and protected by more sets of nature
conservation legislation than my lawyers can cut through. Basically the only
thing you are allowed to do up there is to build a house.”

“A castle.”

“Yes, in my case a castle.”

“And are these two old people going to live there with you?”

“No, they have their own farm down in the valley. They are
still farming.”

“Oh, then they are not so old?”

“Actually they are very old. The gentleman is a hundred and
ten and the old lady will be a hundred and five in a few days’ time.

“That’s amazing! How can they still be farming?”

“It’s fantastic, but they do. If you look at them you would
not say that the old guy is older than seventy and his wife older than sixty
five. But the fact is that they have already outlived two of their children who
died of old age.”

“It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. But I still
find it strange that you are close to old people like that who are not related
to you.”

“It’s just the way it happened,” he said. “I am friends with
some of their great grandchildren who live in Johannesburg like me. They took
me to meet them once when we were together on a surfing holiday in Cape Town.
The thing is that I liked that mountain so much. There is just something there
that draws me, which means that every now and then I went back there on my own,
just to walk the trails and do a bit of para-gliding. Of course I always called
in on the old people to say hi. Then one day the old lady told me that I should
start playing the stock market. That is how I discovered that I have a talent
for it.”