The Triangle and The Mountain: A Bermuda Triangle Adventure (15 page)

“You mean the heads?”

“You know what I mean. And as far as the boat goes everything
is just fine.”

 What are you doing?”

“I’m checking out a stock and building a trade,” he said.

“Have you got the same stock on all three computer screens?”

“Yes. This one shows the daily chart, that one the weekly
chart and that one the monthly chart.”

“And these wavy things above and below?”

“They are indicators that show the sentiment of the market,
whether it is overbought or oversold. This is called the RSI, these three lines
the MACD and these the stochastics. See, if all these oscillators group
together at the bottom like here, it means that we can expect a change, most
probably to the up, since it is oversold. It is a buying signal. If you look on
the weekly chart you can see that this stock has been trading down in an even
sided triangle now for six months, begging for a breakout. And see this jiggle
here? It is called an upside down head and shoulders in the making. At least
that is what I suspect. Again, another positive sign. Now what do you see here
on the daily chart?”

“It looks like a candle.”

“Exactly. This spiky thing here means that somebody is
taking an interest. Somebody knows something and I think that he has got it
right. I’m putting together a trade now for going long on this stock.”

“How much are you investing?”

“I wouldn’t call it investing. It’s called taking an option.
It’s a trade. I’m thinking of putting down a hundred thousand US.”

“It’s a lot.”

“It’s a lot to lose. That’s why I am constructing this thing
so carefully, with stops and hedges built in.”

“And you believe you are going to win?”

“I always win.”

“Then why do you have to build in stops and hedges?”

“There is always a first time. Even for me. There is no
point in being careless.”

“All right,” she said. “Let me go upside and battle the
waves on the sea. I’m sorry that I scared you.”

“You did not scare me.”

He had a distinct feeling this trade was going to become
another champagne moment.

***

Hadah had by now realised that his master was avoiding
contact with all people. He just could not see the reason why. They did not
even greet when others came near but just plodded on.

Early that morning the master announced that it was time to
leave Cape Town behind and to return home. They left their cave dwelling in Sea
Mountain but instead of heading for the road that led to the Great Mountains
and Eland’s Pass they followed a course that flanked Sea Mountain to the south.
By midday the master stepped off the road and soon they found themselves inside
a vineyard. They crawled under the sparse shade of the low bush vines and
rested.

“You can eat of the grapes if you find any,” said the
master. “The harvesters have been here already.”

Indeed, they found some small bunches that were not worth
the trouble of the harvesters and here and there even a full one where it was
hidden from sight by a thicket of leaves.

“It is very sweet,” said Hadah with pleasant surprise, “the
best I’ve ever tasted.”

“This vineyard was planted by a previous governor,” said the
old man between chewing, “long before your time. They say that the wine made
from these grapes are famous all over the world, in Holland and other
countries.”

Later on they passed Princess Lake and the master pointed
out to Hadah where its source was, close to the cave where the princess died
from sadness. Hadah looked up, saw the cave and wondered about it all. This was
the girl who knew their mountain and its spirit and could use its power. Did
she really die from sadness or was it because she did not heed the call of the
spirit? If she was the one who answered the call she would have been his teacher
and not querulous old Ah!man who did not want him to visit his family or look
up acquaintances in the city . They studiously avoided going near the lake where
warriors drown and by nightfall found themselves on the shores of False Bay.

Over the next day and a half they stuck to the shoreline,
eating shellfish and wild figs and scouring the sand for pieces of ships. They
found nothing much for their collection, bar a few planks that could have come
from anywhere. The master took pieces off them for good measure and added these
to Hadah’s bag.

They arrived back in their own cave on Snake Mountain only on
the morning of the third day after leaving Cape Town. The reason for the delay
came from close to home.  On the steep incline up their mountain, just past the
De Villiers farm, the master stopped when he noticed a narrow path in the
shrub. He suddenly realised that he had a craving for meat after all the fish
and shellfish they had had on their journey to and from Cape Town and announced
his plan to the long-suffering Hadah.

“See, the wind comes from that side,” he continued. “The
animal will not smell us and the bush is so thick that it will come out right
here on its way to the place where it burrows for roots, which is down in the
valley.”

They had to wait until deep in the night before they heard
the rustle of quills. The moment the large porcupine stuck its head into the
clearing they went to work with their fighting sticks. A few blows on the head
did the job. There were little ones behind it but in the dark they could not
see them clearly enough, so they got away. With their prize between them they
went to sleep, suitably far away and downwind from the hyena path. When morning
broke, they continued with their journey, the porcupine dangling from a stick
between them, the master in front and Hadah, being taller, in the rear.

“Now, do we learn from the leopard or is the leopard
learning from us?” the master asked. “Because he hunts porcupine exactly the
same way we do. He will wait all night if necessary where its path goes through
thick shrub and break its neck with one swipe when it comes out in the clearing.”
He was clearly trying to get Hadah’s spirits to rise, since they had been
sinking deeper with every step that separated them from Cape Town.

“I don’t know,” said Hadah sullenly. “Maybe we are all
clever.”

Once they had arrived at their hide-out the old man chose to
dress the animal, while Hadah made several trips to the ravine to get water and
firewood. At last he had it all together and they built a fire with the
hardwood that was going to provide just the right heat for the job at hand.
Without discussing it they knew that the thick wavy back portion needed to go on
first. The master balanced it on rocks sticking out of the bed of coals and
they sat back to take in the aroma. It was good to be back home. Even Hadah
admitted it, albeit reluctantly. The prospect of a bellyful of porcupine helped
quite a bit.

CHAPTER TEN

The thunderheads raced along over the eastern Atlantic
Ocean, keeping formation as a line squall and continued to scare the more timid
of the straggling line of sailors who were on their way to the Caribbean. They
rumbled and rained, churned up the waves and whined in the rigging. The truth
was, however, that they were weakening. At this time in early fall the Atlantic
just did not have the surface temperatures anymore that could sustain a healthy
thunderstorm. They were heat engines and without hot, humid surface air to fuel
them, the latent energy that they carried in swirling motion since their desert
origins slowly started to dissipate. The desert air itself was a problem. Around
the thunderheads was dryer air, straight from the Sahara, air that did not make
a side trip over the forests. The thunderheads could not help but suck in some
of this dry air. Moist air coming from the sea’s surface tended to condensate
prematurely on the tiny dust particles and all of this tacked power. 

Another threat was the shears. Hot air and cold air tended
to operate in layers, especially later in the season and these layers often
moved in directions contrary to each other. Passing through wind shear like
that could cut even the strongest thunderstorm in half and finish it off, the
bottom of the vortex going one way and the top heading in another direction.
The chances of survival, let alone growing, were small to non-existent.

That is what usually happened in November. Which is why,
when somebody in the National Hurricane Centre in Florida marked the line of
thunderheads as Tropical Wave number fifty four, that is, the fifty fourth such
wave to exit the continent of Africa since the start of the year, nobody really
took notice. At a meeting a supervisor said that they should keep an eye on it
for when it reached the Gulf in ten to fifteen days’ time and that was it.

On approaching the Lesser Antilles, however, the
thunderheads exhibited unexpected behaviour. They started dancing, not to the
beat of drums but under the heady influence of
Coriolis
. They broke up
their straight line and formed up in a circle, dancing in an anti-clockwise
direction, faster and ever faster. In the Hurricane Centre this fascinating
behaviour was duly observed, still with a healthy dose with of scepticism.  As
a matter of routine, a watcher fed a series of images coming from the
Geostationary Operational Environmental Satellite (GOES) into a supercomputer.
“Hey, can you believe this?” he called out. “The computer suggests sustained
wind speeds of over sixty miles an hour.

“We’ve got ourselves a tropical storm,” said another. “But
how long will it last?”

It lasted much longer than they expected. The reason for
this was that there was a strip of warm water on approach to the Lesser
Antilles, measuring twenty six and half degrees Celsius on average and in its
centre even more. It was almost two hundred kilometres in diameter and fifty
metres deep.  It should not have been there. Later on, meteorologists and scientists
argued about the reasons for its existence so late in the year. Of course,
there were scientific explanations for it, as there always are.  This body of
warm water should have been driven into the Gulf of Mexico by then, had it not
been for the fact that the westerly trade winds had been uncharacteristically weak
and sporadic that year. What was the reason? The subtropical ridge of high
pressure was badly developed. And what was the cause for that?  El Nina. Others
went further and said that it was proof that global warming was interfering
with the climatic systems of the planet. Winters are not as cold anymore and
summers hotter and sometimes longer. There was just so much more latent energy
accumulating in the weather systems that there are bound to be overruns here
and there.    

There was no debate as to what actually happened. Buoyed by
the hot air rising from the surface of the sea and goaded by the
Coriolis
effect of the spinning planet the erstwhile thunderheads danced faster and ever
faster. All that the disbelieving watchers could do was to send out the planes
to go and observe.

***

The two sorcerers stayed in their mountain redoubt for two
weeks. What pressed on the master’s mind was the development of his apprentice.
Hadah’s thoughts had little chance to wander as the old man went on a
relentless training regime, explaining the making of potions and what they
could be used for. There were mixes of plant, animal and human elements that
had to be just right. The right words had to be spoken for the dark powers of
the spiritual world to be evoked into action. Hadah learned, repeated, lost it
and learned again.

In between they talked about going to the other tribes, the
Hessequa
,
the
Attaqua
and the
Gouriqua
, who had their territories beyond
those of the
Chainouqua
. Surely they would find some babies there. They
despaired of finding more amongst the
Chainouqua
. Once the people had realised
that they took babies that were to all appearances perfectly healthy, the
pregnant mothers mysteriously disappeared, hidden by husbands and distant
relatives who had seemingly forgotten that such or such a woman had ever
existed.

“My wife? Oh, that one. No she died last year of snake bite.
I’m now looking for a new one. See that young woman there? The pretty one? Maybe
next year she will carry my child.” Not even the master at his most
intimidating could get the truth to surface.

“And yet we must try them again,” he said. “Their king
committed. Have we visited all the kraals? I have a suspicion there are some
far flung ones where we have not been.”

At last, Hadah, whose head was now hurting, followed his
master down the spur of the mountain that divided the valleys to the north and
the south. Unnoticed by anybody, they slipped onto the road that led from
Stellenbosch to Eland’s Pass. That night they camped on their old spot by the dark
stream that ran just behind the crests of the Great Mountains. Not having had
any luck with either throwing stick or spear they dug up some bulbs and roasted
them. They fell asleep with a hungry feeling, dreaming of big clay pots filled
with curdled milk.

It was mid-morning when the two men approached the first
kraal of the
Chainouqua
. They were approaching hailing distance when the
master gripped Hahah’s arm so hard that he almost parted a muscle. It was then
that Hahad noticed that something was wrong. The livestock was still in the
circular enclosure formed by connecting the huts with hedges. He had heard the
bleating from far but thought it was from a herd grazing nearby. Now, as they cautiously
approached, they saw no human presence at all. Only the animals were there.
Some goats were indeed outside, but the majority were still with the sheep and
a few heads of cattle. From the indented flanks it was clear that they must
have been there for at least two days. Where were the people? Hadah at once ran
through a list of the usual suspects. Maybe a raid by the
Hessequa
? Or
the Dutch? But then, why were the animals still here?

Slowly he realised that there was another smell that
penetrated the usual kraal smells of dung and urine. It was the smell of death,
of decaying flesh. Hadah looked at the master and realised that he knew
already.

“No,” said the master when Hadah stepped forward to
investigate. “Wait!”

He walked over to the poles that closed off the gate of the kraal
and lifted them up for the animals. The sheep and goats stormed out, bleating
their relief, followed by the cows at a jog, no doubt heading for the fountain
or stream where they usually drank. 

“Wait here!” ordered the master once more and walked into
the kraal. He peered into the huts without entering and then came back to
Hadah.

“It’s the pox,” he said. “They are all dead, except for two or
three women, but they are sick as well and so weak that they can hardly
whisper. They will be gone soon. We must go.”

Hadah was astounded that the pox could come all the way from
Cape Town and affect these people. He looked back at the kraal in horror as
they proceeded on their way to the king’s homestead. They passed more livestock
but listened in vain for the chatter and laughter of the herd boys. They also
listened for the songs that the women sang when they gathered food but all that
they could hear were the songs of birds. The first of the sugar bushes bloomed
and there was quite a commotion as long-tailed sunbirds fluttered around,
mixing it with their smaller cousins. The usually appreciative
KhoiKhoi
registered nothing of it as they approached the central settlements of the
Chainouqua
.
All that they knew was the heavy fear in their chests.

They passed another kraal where all was silent. They sniffed
the air and yes, there was death on it, their worst expectations fulfilled. In
a few kraals after that they caught glimpses of solitary figures stumbling
around, not looking right at all. They did not approach. The first human sound
that they heard was at the king’s kraal. The sound of wailing pierced the air
that was still, devoid of the usual thumping and grinding of the mill stones.
From the sound of it, several women were crying.

“We go back now,” said the master.

“But the king will be expecting us,” said Hadah.

“Not anymore. And we still have a job to do.”

Silently, they threaded their way back through the scenes of
devastation. When the hunger became too acute, they caught a cow that was
lowing close to a silent kraal, having a full udder. They did it a favour by
tethering it to a tree and milked it empty, each drinking his full. Fresh milk
was not food for men but times were desperate.

Hadah began to wonder what happened to his family on the
West Coast and he told the master of his fears.

“We cannot go there immediately,” said the master, not
completely unsympathetically. “Maybe sometime later. Also, remember that you
belong to the spirit now. That always comes first.”

“How could the spirit allow all of this?” asked Hadah.

 “I don’t know,” said the master, “but the truth is that it
does not have to do our bidding or protect our people. It only listens to us
when we bring it babies.”

***

When Grant had finished typing instructions for his stock
broker he scanned over the details once more. Then he pressed the send button.
Before bunking down he went on deck for a minute to see how Madeleine was
coping. He saw nothing alarming. Somehow, however, he could not rid himself of
the feeling that something was on the point of breaking somewhere.

He gave himself four hours and woke up from the alarm. He
lay back and listened. There was no sense of anything wrong with the movement
of the boat, which seemed gentler, but they were still beating against the
wind. Dang. He got up quickly to escape the sleep which continued to clutch at
his heavy eyelids. He believed that four hour watches were the best but his
body was missing the sleep-in mornings that he got used to on St Martin.

First on the agenda was a shower and then a weather update.
When he emerged in the cockpit fifteen minutes later he was in good spirits.

“I have good news,” he said.

“That’s nice,” said Madeleine, who dropped her headphones
when she saw him emerge from the companionway.

“Yes, I’d say so,” said Grant, “If it works out, that is. I’ve
been checking Passageweather.com, heard from Charlie of Caribbean Weather and
for good measure spent some time on the blower with the guys from Commander
Weather. They all confirm that there is a storm brewing in the mid-Atlantic.”

“Oops.”

“Not at all,” said Grant. “They say it is a tropical storm
heading for the Lower Antilles. It will miss us to the south. All the guys,
however, say that there is a good chance that it will influence our weather. It
means this trade wind might back and eventually even blow from the south-west
if we are lucky. Do you understand what I am saying? It means that sometime
later today we will stop bashing our way to nowhere. In fact, we will arrive in
St George with a fresh wind in the port or the starboard quarter and a
following sea to boot! How does that strike you?”

“It sounds good.”

“More than good. It kills me to sail like this.”

“It is kind of hard going. I think we are averaging three
knots over the ground, if I read correctly.”

“That’s right. We are faster through the water but the
westward drift is robbing us of one and a half knots over the ground, which is
pretty pathetic. If it wasn’t that this weather is on its way I’d rather we
motor from here on.”

“Why haven’t we so far?”

“Why use up fuel if you can have it all for free? We don’t
pay for the wind. And we are not in a hurry, are we?”

“Not particularly.”

“So, anything to tell?”

“No, just nice, warm weather. Clouds in the sky but nothing
that brings rain. You can see the difference. These clouds don’t have flat
bottoms. Hot when the sun shines. Steady wind from the northeast simply keeps
on blowing, but a lot weaker now. Waves I guess about five feet, not splashing
over the boat anymore.”

“Excellent report,” said Grant. “It’s perfect sailing
weather for everybody going the other way.”

***

The master took the road back to Snake Mountain and Hadah
followed in a daze. He could not stop thinking about his mother and siblings
and wondered whether they were still alive. He realized now that the master’s
strange behaviour over the last few weeks was not intended to make life
difficult for him but that he really tried to protect his apprentice. There
were bigger objectives here. The line of succession from sorcerer to sorcerer
had to be kept intact at any price. Which is why he followed the old
KhoiKhoi
off the road into the rocks whenever they became aware of fellow travellers on
their journey. The old man understood things about the illness that were only
vaguely clear to Hadah.