Slowly the mist burned off and the sun rose bright and glassy, making the dew-beaded leaves glisten and sparkle. Krüger decided to take a walk through the oak grove. Mr Hendrik, feeling the stiffness in his leg and wanting to lie down, took a blanket and spread it over the ground in a patch of sunshine not far from the carriage. He stretched out on his back, put Captain van der Velde’s Bible under his head and stared up into the sky. Soon his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep.

When he heard Mr Hendrik begin to snore, Wesley Lewis Jr climbed down from the driver’s seat and searched through everything the bandits had left behind. But there were no false bottoms in the other trunks, no secret compartments. He looked through the clothes, felt every pocket and squeezed every lining, collar, hem and sleeve, turned everything inside out, but there was nothing there either. Nothing anywhere.

He sat in the carriage and watched Mr Hendrik through the open door. The Negro’s got the money on him somewhere, he thought. He must have. Son of a bitch.

Wesley Lewis Jr worked at the bottle. Mr Hendrik slept. The ground steamed a little in the sun, warm as fresh dung.

In life, it was important to determine goals and hold to them, if you were ever to taste success. He remembered how his father used to say, ‘You think Jesus Christ Our Lord and Saviour didn’t know exactly what he was doing?’

Well, Wesley Lewis Jr thought, I know exactly what I’m going to do.

I’m going to kill the Negro.

I’m going to take Captain van der Velde’s money.

I’m going to sail back to Paramaribo and find Josephine and take her away and fuck her forever.

No more hunting and trading animal hides, no more sweating through forests, no more goddamn mosquitoes. And no more Mr Hendrik.

Wesley Lewis Jr tipped the bottle to his lips and drank to his new resolution.

LOVE IS REVOLUTION

Général Fourés fell quickly in love, of course. At his age, these were miracles and not to be denied their due and devotion.