“No.”
“You will, Mr. McGregor,” Banda promised. “You will.” And Banda changed the subject.
Jamie began to feel a growing admiration for Banda. In the beginning there was a wariness between the two men. Jamie had to learn to trust a man who had almost killed him. And Banda had to learn to trust an age-old enemy—a white man. Unlike most of the blacks Jamie had met, Banda was educated.
“Where did you go to school?” Jamie asked.
“Nowhere. I’ve worked since I was a small boy. My grandmother educated me. She worked for a Boer schoolteacher. She learned to read and write so she could teach me to read and write. I owe her everything.”
It was on a late Saturday afternoon after work that Jamie first heard of the Namib Desert in Great Namaqualand. He and Banda were in the deserted warehouse on the docks, sharing an impala stew Banda’s mother had cooked. It was good—a little gamey for Jamie’s taste, but his bowl was soon empty, and he lay back on some old sacks to question Banda.
“When did you first meet Van der Merwe?”
“When I was working at the diamond beach on the Namib Desert. He owns the beach with two partners. He had just stolen his share from some poor prospector, and he was down there visiting it.”
“If Van der Merwe is so rich, why does he still work at his store?”
“The store is his bait. That’s how he gets new prospectors to come to him. And he grows richer.”
Jamie thought of how easily he himself had been cheated. How trusting that naive young boy had been! He could see Margaret’s oval-shaped face as she said, My father might be the one to help you. He had thought she was a child until he had noticed her breasts and—Jamie suddenly jumped to his feet, a smile on his face, and the up-turning of his lips made the livid scar across his chin ripple.
“Tell me how you happened to go to work for Van der Merwe.”
“On the day he came to the beach with his daughter—she was about eleven then—I suppose she got bored sitting around and she went into the water and the tide grabbed her. I jumped in and pulled her out. I was a young boy, but I thought Van der Merwe was going to kill me.”
Jamie stared at him. “Why?”
“Because I had my arms around her. Not because I was black, but because I was a male. He can’t stand the thought of any man touching his daughter. Someone finally calmed him down and reminded him that I had saved her life. He brought me back to Klipdrift as his servant.” Banda hesitated a moment, then continued. “Two months later, my sister came to visit me.” His voice was very quiet. “She was the same age as Van der Merwe’s daughter.”
There was nothing Jamie could say.
Finally Banda broke the silence. “I should have stayed in the Namib Desert. That was an easy job. We’d crawl along the beach picking up diamonds and putting them in little jam tins.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying that the diamonds are just lying there, on top of the sand?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Mr. McGregor. But forget what you’re thinking. Nobody can get near that field. It’s on the ocean, and the waves are up to thirty feet high. They don’t even bother guarding the shore. A lot of people have tried to sneak in by sea. They’ve all been killed by the waves or the reefs.”
“There must be some other way to get in.”
“No. The Namib Desert runs right down to the ocean’s shore.”
“What about the entrance to the diamond field?”
“There’s a guard tower and a barbed-wire fence. Inside the fence are guards with guns and dogs that’ll tear a man to pieces. And they have a new kind of explosive called a land mine. They’re buried all over the field. If you don’t have a map of the land mines, you’ll get blown to bits.”
“How large is the diamond field?”
“It runs for about thirty-five miles.”