The wooden shack measured four metres in length and width. More or less. In the furthest corner was the last shallow hole she had dug. Soon the space for relief holes would run out.
Susanna wiggled herself deeper into the soft sand as the roar of a lion tore through her, deep, thunderous and angry. A few shots rang out. Then there was silence.
The sun filtered through the thin slits of the rough wooden beams as a new day broke but its feeble rays were not a match for the icy draught from the sea that penetrated her wooden structure. She shivered as it sliced her skin, chiseled through every bone and froze the blood in her veins. The wind whipped up the sand and settled in every crevice. The voices of the soldiers stationed outside were audible. She pressed herself deeper into the sand upon hearing the familiar jingling of keys at the door.
A barefooted woman entered when the door flung open. For a few brief seconds she took in the scene that met her eyes. In one hand was a bucket and in the other a blanket. She put down the bucket half-filled with water.
"I am Maria." She surveyed Susanna's surroundings. Avoiding eye contact, she put her hand in the pocket of her apron tied across her long dark dress and pulled out a tiny bundle. She put down the coarse dress, wash rag and head scarf on the folded blanket next to the bucket on a spot close to the door.
"Wash," she instructed and stepped to one side.
Susanna moved towards the water, cupped her hands, scooped up a handful and watch the water trickle through her dirty hands. Eyes shut she put her hands into the water and splashed it over her face. Slowly she stepped out of the filthy, tattered sailor's outfit and tossed it aside.
When she was done she pressed her nose against her upper forearm and sniffed it. "Do you smell that?" She asked Maria who had been watching in silence.
"No," came the response, abrupt and spoken in a manner which signalled that further conversation was not an option.
She wiggled into the coarse company-issued sack dress that irritated the skin at the back of her neck. "Thank you for the blanket," she said while scratching her neck. She picked up the blanket. It was grey threadbare. She unfurled it and wrapped it around her body while eyeing her unresponsive onlooker. "And the clothes and the water."
Maria nodded and stepped closer. She bent to collect the bucket and the clothes.
"Talk to me." Maria did not react. "Please." She put her hand on Maria's shoulder. "At least tell me what happens next."
"Convicts work on the island."
"Island?"
"Yes."
"Why an island?"
"As punishment."
"Is it good or bad?"
"Not good"
"How long have you been here?"
"Four years. Five. I lost track."
The evasive eyes and dead expression unsettled Susanna. "You are from Bengal, like me," she tried once more.
"I must go."
"Talk to me..."
"I am not allowed to talk. Not to you. I must go."
"This ear will not heal if I do not keep it clean. I used my urine... Please, I need more clean water. For my ear."
"I must ask Catrijn." She picked up the dirty water and the clothes. "I will be back."
YOU ARE READING
SUSANNA
Historical FictionThe year is 1658. A young woman is tried in a Batavian court as a runaway and a thief. Her ear is cut off branding her as a convict slave and she is sentenced to a lifetime of slavery. Banished to a Dutch settlement she must serve her sentence as a...