Chapter 2

THE MUTILATED MAN

The southeasterly wind tugged and swirled as Simon Verbeeck left his residence in the Heerengracht and strode off in the direction of the castle. The trees along the streets sighed and shuddered, and although he could not see the sea, Simon Verbeeck knew that it must be raging tonight. He smiled as he walked down the deserted street where it was dark, save for the faint lights that shone from the houses of the citizens. There was hardly any movement, except for the occasional slaves transporting their masters somewhere in a sedan chair. Or a few sailors who had come up from the harbour to survey the colony.

Simon Verbeeck smiled at the comment that the vessel lying off Robben Island with its sails furled was a pirate ship. Well, he had never heard the like. What pirate would dare venture as far as Robben Island when he knew that the heavy artillery of the castle could make life difficult for him? When he knew that there were almost always one or more warships lying in Table Bay harbour taking on supplies? At the moment, there happened not to be such a ship, but the ‘Red Ruby’ was a match for any ship of a pirate.

The tall, dark seafarer felt a strange excitement as he hurried through the dark in the direction of the castle. Before long, the high battlements of the old castle lay dark and impressive against the delicate glow of the starlight. Only here and there was a light visible where a member of the garrison was apparently keeping his lantern burning. Furthermore, the massive building was dark and silent, with only the southeasterly wind howling through the gaps in its battlements.

The guard at the gate of the castle readily let Simon Verbeeck in. The seafarer had raised his storm lantern, and when the guard saw who it was, he allowed him to enter immediately. He indicated to him where the commandant of the castle could be found. Simon Verbeeck hurried there, and when he made known the purpose of his visit, the commandant looked at him somewhat suspiciously.

“But, my dear Verbeeck,” said the commandant, “this Zeeman is a condemned man. We expect that he will be executed in three days or so. What business do you have with a murderer, then?”

“I wish I knew, Commandant,” said Verbeeck. “A message was conveyed to me, a request was put to me, and I would like to speak with this Arie Zeeman. Who knows, perhaps the so-called secret that he possesses relates to the colony here in Table Bay. Perhaps it could be to our benefit. I assure you that I will not commit any offence if you allow me to speak with Zeeman.”

“Of that I am certain,” said the commandant. Then he summoned an assistant and ordered him to take Verbeeck to the dungeon where Zeeman was being held on the east side of the fort.

Through the wind-swept courtyard, the assistant led Simon, and even the assistant could not understand why such a renowned figure of authority as Verbeeck would want to speak to a wretch like Zeeman.

They entered the eastern section of the castle, they descended a spiral staircase into the deep darkness.

By a faint lantern light, two guards sat by Zeeman’s dungeon door. They learned the command of the commandant, they immediately recognised Verbeeck, and they let him in. The heavy door groaned and squeaked as they opened it.

“Zeeman, there is someone to speak with you,” said one of the guards and closed the door behind Simon Verbeeck. The next moment, Simon found himself alone in the company of the condemned man. Initially, he saw no one in the dark, damp, musty dungeon. It seemed to him as if the water of the sea was bursting through the roof and through the walls of the dungeon,