Master of the Game

Jamie could not repress a shudder. He could feel again the foul-smelling carrion birds digging into his flesh.

‘The birds were already starting to feast. I carried you to the wagon and hid you at the house of my people. One of our doctors taped your ribs and set your leg and tended to your wounds.’

‘And after that?’

‘A wagonful of my relatives was leaving for Cape Town. We took you with us. You were out of your head most of the time. Each time you fell asleep, I was afraid you were not going to wake up again.’

Jamie looked into the eyes of the man who had almost murdered him. He had to think. He did not trust this man – and yet he had saved his life. Banda wanted to get at Van der Merwe through him. That can work both ways, Jamie decided. More than anything in the world, Jamie wanted to make Van der Merwe pay for what he had done to him.

‘All right,’ Jamie told Banda. ‘I’ll find a way to pay Van der Merwe back for both of us.’

For the first time, a thin smile appeared on Banda’s face. ‘Is he going to die?’

‘No,’ Jamie told him. ‘He’s going to live.’

Jamie got out of bed that afternoon for the first time, dizzy and weak. His leg still had not completely healed, and he walked with a slight limp. Banda tried to assist him.

‘Let go of me. I can make it on my own.’

Banda watched as Jamie carefully moved across the room.

‘I’d like a mirror,’ Jamie said. I must look terrible, he thought. How long has it been since I’ve had a shave?

Banda returned with a hand mirror, and Jamie held it up to his face. He was looking at a total stranger. His hair had turned snow-white. He had a full, unkempt white beard. His nose had been broken and a ridge of bone pushed it to one side. His face had aged twenty years. There were deep ridges along his sunken cheeks and a livid scar across his chin. But the biggest change was in his eyes. They were eyes that had seen too much pain, felt too much, hated too much. He slowly put down the mirror.

‘I’m going out for a walk,’ Jamie said.

‘Sorry, Mr McGregor. That’s not possible.’

‘Why not?’

‘White men do not come to this part of town, just as blacks never go into the white places. My neighbours do not know you are here. We brought you in at night.’

‘How do I leave?’

‘I will move you out tonight.’

For the first time, Jamie realized how much Banda had risked for him. Embarrassed, Jamie said, ‘I have no money, I need a job.’

‘I took a job at the shipyard. They are always looking for men.’ He took some money from his pocket. ‘Here.’

Jamie took the money. ‘I’ll pay it back.’

‘You will pay my sister back,’ Banda told him.

It was midnight when Banda led Jamie out of the shack. Jamie looked around. He was in the middle of a shantytown, a jungle of rusty, corrugated iron shacks and lean-tos, made from rotting planks and torn sacking. The ground, muddy from a recent rain, gave off a rank odour. Jamie wondered how people as proud as Banda could bear spending their lives in a place such as this. ‘Isn’t there some –?’

‘Don’t talk, please,’ Banda whispered. ‘My neighbours are inquisitive.’ He led Jamie outside the compound and pointed. ‘The centre of town is in that direction. I will see you at the shipyard.’

Jamie checked into the same boardinghouse where he had stayed on his arrival from England. Mrs Venster was behind the desk.

‘I’d like a room,’ Jamie said.

‘Certainly, sir.’ She smiled, revealing her gold tooth. ‘I’m Mrs Venster.’

‘I know.’

‘Now how would you know a thing like that?’ she asked coyly. ‘Have your men friends been tellin’ tales out of school?’

‘Mrs Venster, don’t you remember me? I stayed here last year.’

She took a close look at his scarred face, his broken nose and his white beard, and there was not the slightest sign of recognition. ‘I never forget a face, dearie. And I’ve never seen yours before. But that don’t mean we’re not going to be good friends, does it? My friends call me “Dee-Dee”. What’s your name, love?’

And Jamie heard himself saying, ‘Travis. Ian Travis.’

The following morning Jamie went to see about work at the shipyard.

The busy foreman said, ‘We need strong backs. The problem is you might be a bit old for this kind of work.’

‘I’m only nineteen –’ Jamie started to say and stopped himself. He remembered that face in the mirror. ‘Try me,’ he said.

He went to work as a stevedore at nine shillings a day, loading and unloading the ships that came into the harbour. He learned that Banda and the other black stevedores received six shillings a day.

At the first opportunity, Jamie pulled Banda aside and said, ‘We have to talk.’

‘Not here, Mr McGregor. There’s an abandoned warehouse at the end of the docks. I’ll meet you there when the shift is over.’

Banda was waiting when Jamie arrived at the deserted warehouse.

‘Tell me about Salomon van der Merwe,’ Jamie said.

‘What to you want to know?’

‘Everything.’

Banda spat. ‘He came to South Africa from Holland. From stories I heard, his wife was ugly, but wealthy. She died of some sickness and Van der Merwe took her money and went up to Klipdrift and opened his general store. He got rich cheating diggers.’

‘The way he cheated me?’

‘That’s only one of his ways. Diggers who strike it lucky go to him for money to help them work their claim, and before they know it Van der Merwe owns them.’

‘Hasn’t anyone ever tried to fight back?’

‘How can they? The town clerk’s on his payroll. The law says that if forty-five days go by without working a claim, it’s open. The town clerk tips off Van der Merwe and he grabs it. There’s another trick he uses. Claims have to be staked out at each boundary line with pegs pointing straight up in the air. If the pegs fall down, a jumper can claim the property. Well, when Van der Merwe sees a claim he likes, he sends someone around at night, and in the morning the stakes are on the ground.’

‘Jesus!’

‘He’s made a deal with the bartender, Smit. Smit sends likely-looking prospectors to Van der Merwe, and they sign partnership contracts and if they find diamonds, Van der Merwe takes everything for himself. If they become troublesome, he’s got a lot of men on his payroll who follow his orders.’