At table that lunchtime, Rutger told Elza and Sarith that he would be travelling to Jericho in two days’ time.
“Can’t we come along?” Sarith asked. But Rutger answered, “Absolutely not. It will certainly not be a pleasant journey. It’s a three-day journey before we’re there, and it’s raining so much. Who knows what I’ll find there. And in any case it would be far too tiring for Elza. You stay here and amuse yourselves. I’ll be away for only a week or two.”
Two weeks alone with Elza was something that Sarith could obviously do without, and she thought that it would then be better simply to return to Hébron. Thank goodness, thought Elza, hoping that Sarith would remain at Hébron a lot longer than two weeks! Sarith left the very next day, on the tent boat of a plantation that lay a lot further than Hébron along the Suriname River.
Daniel Jeremiah had done everything within his powers to make the journey as pleasant as possible for the man who would have to decide whether or not the bank would increase his loan. The tent boat was supplied with different wines, rum, fruit and various roast meats. It was thus a considerable disappointment to him when Rutger kindly refused the drinks and said that he enjoyed something with a kick, but never drank before evening.
Before they left home, Rutger had told Alex to use his eyes and ears well. He must try to learn from the slaves on the plantation how things were there, and he should keep a constant watch on the overseer. Rutger knew he could depend on Alex. From the moment he had been given this young slave, when he had just arrived in Suriname, he had realized what an intelligent youngster he had. For a start he understood everything in Dutch and could speak it, too. As the child of the Van Omhoog’s kitchen slave he had virtually grown up in their home, but he had always been wise enough not to let on that he understood everything they said.
Rutger had, however, realized this very quickly, and had made it common practice always to speak Dutch with Alex when they were alone together. When it became apparent that Alex was so interested in everything, Rutger had taught him to read and write. Within a few months, Alex could read fluently, and Rutger often handed him a book. If Alex wanted to know something and asked about it, Rutger would give him a book and would say, “Read about it for yourself and we’ll talk about it later.”
When Rutger refused his host’s drinks in the boat, he looked at Alex with a wink. The tent boat sailed from Paramaribo first to the other side of the river, then along the various plantations to Fort Nieuw Amsterdam, where they could navigate the bend that would take them into the Commewijne River. The tide was favourable. They had sailed on the ebb tide down to the mouth of the river and could now take advantage of the flood tide to sail up the Commewijne. The boat cruised along various plantations: everything looking really fine. A grand plantation house and other buildings; very often pleasant summerhouses at the waterside in which you frequently saw people sitting who would always look up and wave to the passing company. At five in the afternoon they arrived at the Mon Trésor Plantation, where they stopped for the night.
Even by noon, Daniel Jeremiah had drunk so much that he looked really drowsy and was slurring his words. The small slave-boy whose job it was to provide him constantly with drinks had his ear twisted now and then when the glass was not filled quickly enough. Over and over again Daniel told Rutger that in past times the plantation had been a feast for the eyes. Oh yes, in the past, when his wife was still alive. Those were different times, those were. She had always cared for everything so well. Not that it was a dilapidated pile now, oh no, Rutger mustn’t imagine that. But even so, the household missed a woman’s touch. Women a’plenty for the other, that wasn’t the problem; he could have a different one every night if he wished. But women, black or white, were still the cause of most problems, didn’t Rutger agree?
The next day passed like the previous one. They departed on the flood tide and sailed on further upriver. Still plantations on both sides, but also large stretches of rainforest in between, and in some places slaves hard at work where new plantations were being laid out. Suriname gold, Rutger contemplated as he sailed along all the plantations and could sometimes see all the labour from the river. Yes, the explorers had been right. There was gold in South America. Not the yellow gold that they had first sought after, but the fertile ground that could produce goods for which there was so much demand: sugar, and now coffee, cocoa, tobacco and cotton. A golden era for the plantation owners and for the bankers in the Netherlands who generously provided credit and got richer and richer. Were the handsome mansions along Amsterdam’s famous canals not a striking proof of this? Did the owners of these fine houses have the slightest idea of how that gold was come by? Did they know anything at all about the despicable lives led by so many of the slaves?