Read The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet: A Novel for Free Online

on the 29th July, 1799

    Jacob de Zoet emerges from buzzing darkness to see Hanzaburo, his house interpreter, being interrogated by two inspectors. 'They'll be ordering your boy,' Junior Clerk Ponke Ouwehand appears from thin air, 'to open up your turds to see what you shat. I tormented my first snoop into an early grave three days ago, so the Interpreters' Guild sent this hat-stand.' Ouwehand jerks his head at the gangly youth behind him. 'His name's Kichibei but I call him "Herpes" after how closely he sticks to me. But I'll defeat him in the end. Grote bet me ten guilders I can't wear out five by November. Broken our fast yet, have we?'
    The inspectors now notice Kichibei and summon him over.
    'I was on my way,' says Jacob, wiping his hands.
    'We should go before all the hands piss in your coffee.'
    The two clerks set off up Long Street, passing two pregnant deer.
    'Nice shank of venison,' comments Ouwehand, 'for Christmas dinner.'
    Dr Marinus and the slave Ignatius are watering the melon patch. 'Another furnace of a day ahead, Doctor,' says Ouwehand, over the fence.
    Marinus must have heard but does not deign to look up.
    'He's courteous enough to his students,' Ouwehand remarks to Jacob, 'and to his handsome Indian, and he was gentleness made man, so van Cleef says, when Hemmij was dying, and when his scholar friends bring him a weed or a dead starfish, he wags his tail off. So why is he Old Master Misery with us? In Batavia, even the French Consul - the French Consul, mark you - called him " un buffalo insufferable ".' Ouwehand squeaks in the back of his throat.
    A gang of porters is gathering at the Crossroads to bring ashore the pig-iron. When they notice Jacob, the usual nudges, stares and grins begin. He turns down Bony Alley rather than run the gauntlet any further.
    'Don't deny you enjoy the attention,' says Ouwehand, 'Mr Red-Hair.'
    'But I do deny it,' objects Jacob. 'I deny it utterly.'
    The two clerks turn into Sea Wall Lane and reach the Kitchen.
    Arie Grote is plucking a bird under a canopy of pans and skillets. Oil is frying, a pile of improvised pancakes is piling up and a well-travelled round of Edam and sour apples are divided between two mess tables. Piet Baert, Ivo Oost and Gerritszoon sit at the hands' table; Peter Fischer, the senior clerk, and Con Twomey, the carpenter, eat at the officers': today being Wednesday, Vorstenbosch, van Cleef and Dr Marinus take their breakfast upstairs in the Bay Room.
    'We was just wond'rin',' says Grote, 'where you coves'd got to, eh?'
    'Pottage of nightingales' tongues to begin with, Maestro,' says Ouwehand, poking at the gritty bread and rancid butter, 'followed by a quail-and-blackberry pie with artichokes in cream, and last, the quince and white rose trifle.'
    'How Mr O.'s evergreen jests,' says Grote, 'spice up the day.'
    'That is ,' Ouwehand peers over, 'a pheasant 's arsehole your hand is up?'
    'Envy,' the cook tuts, 'is one o' the Seven Deadlies, eh, Mr de Z.?'
    'They say so.' Jacob wipes a smear of blood from an apple. 'Yes.'
    'We readied yer coffee.' Baert carries over a bowl. 'Nice an' fresh.'
    Jacob looks at Ouwehand who makes a 'told you so' face.
    'Thank you, Mr Baert, but I may abstain today.'
    'But we made it special,' protests the Antwerper. 'Just for you.'
    Oost yawns, cavernously; Jacob risks a pleasantry. 'Bad night?'
    'Out smuggling and robbing the Company till dawn, weren't I?'
    'I wouldn't know, Mr Oost.' Jacob breaks his bread. 'Were you?'
    'Thought you had all the answers afore y'even set foot ashore.'
    'A civil tongue,' cautions Twomey, in his Irish-flavoured Dutch, 'is--'
    ' He 's the one sittin' in judgement on us all, Con, an' you think it too.'
    Oost is the only hand rash enough to speak so bluntly to the new clerk's face without the excuse of grog, but Jacob knows that even van Cleef views him as Vorstenbosch's spy. The Kitchen is waiting for his answer. 'To man its ships, maintain its garrisons and pay its tens of thousands of salaries,