Disappointed, the landing party returned towards the beach. The old man was still visibly distraught as he accompanied them.
‘Why’s the old boy so upset?’ one of the sailors wondered out loud.
‘There must be a spring or well somewhere close by,’ Eaton told him. ‘Get back to the ship and tell the others to start bringing the empty water barrels, and that it’s safe to set up camp on the beach.’
The sight of the Nicholas’ sea-weary crew eagerly coming ashore minutes later seemed to convince the old man there was nothing he could do to prevent the intrusion. Still clutching his branch of peace, he retreated into the village, and a short while later reappeared at the head of a party of about forty men. Doubtless they were villagers who had been hiding in the bamboo groves, for all wore the same drab workaday gowns and dressed their hair in an identical style. To the pleasure and astonishment of the men of the Nicholas, the new arrivals came down the beach and, after bobbing and bowing nervously, began to assist in carrying the sailors’ belongings on to the land.
‘Amazingly friendly people, are they not?’ said Jacques soon after he’d come ashore. Two of the villagers had insisted on taking a heavy cauldron from him and staggered off with it along the beach. There they set the pot down above the high-water mark, and within minutes several of their comrades had begun heaping up a stack of firewood, ready for use.
‘There’s a reason for what they are doing,’ Hector answered. He’d been watching closely. ‘They’re making sure we set up camp well clear of their village.’
‘Probably they are afraid we will interfere with their women,’ said Jacques. He looked around. ‘Mind you, I have not yet seen a woman, or even a child.’
‘There’s something else I don’t see,’ said Hector.
‘What’s that?’
‘Not one of these people is carrying a weapon. Not even a knife.’
‘They could have hidden any weapons in the forest before they came out into the open.’
‘I didn’t see any swords or spears when I was in the village. Only a couple of fish tridents, which Dan would find very puny.’
‘Well, I’ve never seen any people so obliging,’ Jacques said contentedly. There was a holiday atmosphere to the day. The entire crew of the Nicholas had come ashore, leaving their muskets and cutlasses behind. They were whooping and cheering, running up and down the beach, glad to stretch their legs. A few of them cast curious glances towards the village, but as yet no one ventured in that direction. It was sufficient to enjoy the sensation of being on dry land and away from the confines of the ship.
‘Jacques, you’re wanted over here. There’s been a vegetable delivery,’ called Jezreel. He was near the cooking gear on the beach. Several more villagers had arrived with baskets on their heads and were looking around for instructions.
As Jacques hurried off, Hector became aware that the old man who had first greeted them was standing meekly just a few paces away, waiting to be noticed.
‘What is it?’ asked Hector gently. He was quietly gratified that he’d won the confidence of the village elder.
The old man bowed submissively once more and, turning, beckoned to a figure lurking half-hidden among the bamboo thickets at the back of the beach.
In most respects the person who came forward resembled the other villagers. He wore the same coarse cotton gown and, like them, he was barefoot and had narrow eyes and a yellowish skin. But his long grey hair – instead of being in a topknot – hung loose around his shoulders, and he had a straggly beard that reached to the middle of his chest. Thin-faced and spare, his weather-beaten features made it difficult to judge his age, but he must have been in his late sixties or maybe older. He lacked the diffidence of his comrade, and his dark-brown eyes were full of confident curiosity. Up close, there was something else that Hector had not observed on any of the other villagers: a faint blue mark about two inches long in the centre of his forehead. It was in the shape of a hollow, elongated lozenge and had been inked into the skin.
The village elder gave a low, apologetic cough and in his soft, tuneful language murmured something to the newcomer. Looking at Hector directly, he said slowly and carefully, ‘My name is Panu. I help. I translate.’
The accent was very strong, and Hector was so startled it took a moment for him to realize he’d been addressed in Spanish.
‘We have come here for water and rest,’ he replied.
‘Are you captain?’ Panu asked.
‘No. That is the captain over there.’ Hector pointed out Eaton standing at the campsite, talking with Arianz, the quartermaster.
‘Jeema asks you please go soon.’
Hector presumed Jeema was the village elder. ‘We will stay only a few days,’ he assured the translator.
‘Anything you need, tell Jeema. The village will try to give.’
Intrigued, Hector asked, ‘Where did you learn to speak Spanish?’
‘Know Holland more.’
For an instant Hector was baffled. Then he realized that Panu preferred to speak in Dutch. Seeing Stolck not far away, Hector called him over and, with the Hollander’s help, began to piece together Panu’s story.
He came from a small island some distance to the southwest, where once there had been a Spanish trading fort. As a child he’d learned a little Spanish from his father, who had worked as a warehouse foreman for the white foreigners. The Spaniards had suddenly abandoned the fort when Panu was in his early teens, and, a few years later, the Dutch had arrived to occupy it. They had confirmed Panu’s father in his former job, and took on Panu as his assistant.
‘What was the name of this Dutch fort?’ asked Stolck. From the Hollander’s quickened interest as he translated, Hector surmised once more that Stolck had worked for the Dutch East India Company at some time in the past.
‘Fort Keelung.’
Stolck frowned. ‘I don’t remember hearing of such a place.’
‘Perhaps it was too small. My father retired and I had taken his place as foreman when the Chinamen took over.’
Stolck’s brow cleared. ‘Now I remember. The Company had a small fort on one of the little islands to the north of Formosa. One year it ceased to exist, and I never heard what happened to it.’
‘The Chinamen drove out the Dutch.’
‘What happened to you?’ asked Hector through Stolck.
Panu seemed to retreat into himself as if shrinking from a painful memory. ‘I tried to cling on to my job. My father was already an old man and he was killed in the fighting. Later I lost my family and my home when the town was burned to the ground.’
‘And what brought you here?’
Panu made a grimace of resignation. ‘I was useful to the Chinese because I spoke the languages of commerce. Sometimes they needed me to go on their junks that traded with Japan.’
‘That’s impossible,’ said Stolck to Hector, and then translated for Panu. ‘The Japanese forbid any trade with China.’
Panu gave him a weary look. ‘There is always smuggling. The Chinese junks did not sail to Japan itself. They came here, to these islands, and dealt with the Japanese merchants through intermediaries. It was very profitable for both sides.’
‘So you can speak some Japanese as well?’ Hector asked. He was impressed by the man’s calm competence, though there was an undercurrent of real sadness.
A look of caution crossed Panu’s face. ‘The villagers took me in when I chose to desert the China merchants. I have been able to make myself useful.’