Batavia (15 page)

22 April 1629, leaving
Tafelbaai

Just eight days after berthing in
Tafelbaai
, the
Batavia
sails on to her fate. At dawn of this gorgeous day, the anchor is weighed and the massive ship gently makes her way out into the open ocean once more, dutifully followed, as ever, by her attendant fleet.

Now, following closely the course set by Jacobsz, they all head first to the south and then steer to the east. Sticking closely to VOC instructions, for once, Jacobsz sets a course right within the
karrespoor
, cart-track, heading east between the latitudes of 36 and 42 degrees south. Their departure the previous October was timed to get them to the Roaring Forties when that wind is at its strongest, and his instructions are then to run within the
karrespoor
for 4000 miles before steering north-east until reaching the latitude of 30 degrees south, at which point they will turn directly due north and proceed to Java.

24 April 1629, Indian Ocean, entering the Roaring Forties

From the beginning, the Indian Ocean is different to the Atlantic. The water is more azure, the current beneath them stronger and more to their advantage, the dolphins and whales more plentiful and the bird life, while they are still not too far from the African shore, more abundant. And, of course, there is the promised massive wind, coming from dead astern just a couple of days after they leave
Tafelbaai
, and it continues to blow hard. It is as if, having escaped the torpor of the West African coast, with all its heavy air and dull days, the wind, the water and life itself have suddenly awoken and are rejoicing.

At least, mostly. For while most of the ship’s company on the
Batavia
are buoyant from the respite they have just enjoyed, and delighted to have such a strong wind behind them as they skim the waves towards their destination, that joy is not universal.

A couple of days at sea has not calmed the outrage of Jacobsz, and if anything his fury has grown. By now, the entire ship is aware of his humiliation at the hands of Pelsaert, and the skipper continues to thirst for revenge – perhaps even the ultimate revenge. After his brief discussion with Jeronimus back in
Tafelbaai
on the subject of separating themselves from the fleet, the plan has matured. In secret discussions with Jeronimus late at night in the
Onderkoopman’s
cabin, he has begun to look at the actual logistics of seizing the entire ship and all its treasures, killing Pelsaert and those who would remain loyal to him, and thereafter sailing whither they liked, from the Malacca Coast to the Coromandel and Madagascar, perhaps even as far as the island of Saint Helena in the South Atlantic – to all places that are beyond Dutch control. To accomplish that, they would need enough men willing to risk their lives to join the mutiny, but both feel
it can be done if handled right
.

To begin with, Jacobsz’s certainty that he would have the support of his high bosun, Jan Evertsz, is quickly confirmed. Jacobsz no sooner mentions to Evertsz the barest bones of the plan than the latter’s eyes light up and he announces that he is with the skipper in whatever he wants to do. Evertsz is a man earning just ten guilders a month, doing his bit to escort a treasure worth 250,000 guilders. To have his chance at sharing in that kind of wealth – to break free from the infernal yokes that the likes of Pelsaert are always placing upon him – is worth taking risks for. It is
even worth risking your life for
.

Late April 1629, Indian Ocean

Whispers on waves – the number of mutineers begins to grow in a silky series of hushed conversations, yet only Jeronimus and Jacobsz are in on who is on the list, who can be counted on when the clarion calls. In short order, Evertsz breathes to Jacobsz late one night on the quarterdeck that cadet officer Gijsbert van Welderen can be counted on, as can the gunner Ryckert Woutersz . . . the latter of whom Jacobsz is particularly pleased to hear about.

For Ryckert is a handy, stout man, known to have an ever-ready disposition towards violence, as witness the scars on his face, which show he has been on the wrong end of a broken bottle. He has the air about him of one who wants to even the score with the world – which is to the good for the job they need him to do.

Another wonderful recruit is the cadet officer Coenraat van Huyssen, who instantly proclaims himself eager not only to join but also to help in recruiting others. Coenraat has precisely the kind of persuasive skills and lack of conscience that they are looking for. And, sure enough, van Huyssen comes back not long afterwards and reports that Cornelis ‘
Boontje
’ (Little Bean) Jansz has also committed himself to the mutiny and will act whenever Jacobsz gives the word.

Ideally, Jacobsz and Jeronimus would like to have the leader of the soldiers, Gabriel Jacobsz, with them, but the word that comes back from van Huyssen is that it is not even worth trying. Gabriel is with his wife, Laurentia, a woman as tough as she is proper, who dreams of a new life with her husband in Batavia and who would have no interest in anything so unlawful as what they propose. Gabriel would not have been allowed to join a mutiny, even if he’d wanted to.

Far more promising, however, is Jacobsz’s second in command, Lansepsaat, Lance Corporal, Jacop Pietersz, known to the men as Steenhouwer, Stonecutter, for his extraordinary size and strength and the fact that he not only has been a stonemason but also looks like he could break rocks with his bare hands. On land, Stonecutter was known to ever and always be ready for a brawl, and as a mutiny is close to the biggest brawl there is when it comes to life on ships, he accepts at the first tentative approach.

Stonecutter soon reports, in turn, that two of his soldiers, two German mercenaries, Jan Hendricxsz and Mattys Beer – both in their early 20s – have pledged to him that if there is an uprising they will follow him. The hulking Hendricxsz, the biggest man on the ship by a good two inches, is a particularly worthy recruit, as he is intimidating just to look at, let alone to have to fight. Jeronimus counts him as the equivalent of having recruited
two
men.

Jeronimus, meanwhile, is able to recruit the gunner Allert Jansz, whom he has come to know in the course of the journey and has come to believe there is an extremely promising streak of evil in – and so it proves! No sooner has Jeronimus asked than Allert Jansz commits to the planned mutiny.

For the skipper and the
Onderkoopman
to continue to expand their list, it is now paramount that only those who are all but certain to join the plot are approached. They are acutely aware that if just one person is approached who refuses and then turns informant, all their lives will be forfeit. Another three men whom they would love to approach but do not, for there is such little chance of success, are the provost, Pieter Jansz, the
opperstuurman
, Claas Gerritsz, and his deputy, Gillis Fransz. Jansz, who is accompanied on the voyage by his wife, is a good, decent man whose prime job in life is keeping discipline on the ship and preventing the very thing they are planning, and he is second only to Pelsaert in terms of whom they want to keep their plans well away from. As for Claas Gerritsz and Gillis Fransz, they too would be prize catches but so profoundly do they pray at every grace, such devoted attendees are they at all of the daily services held by the
Predikant
, that Jacobsz and Jeronimus take the view that it is not worth trying. The rule is ‘If in doubt, leave them out’ – secrecy has to be everything, and there are to be very few approached directly by the skipper and the
Onderkoopman
.

Their one chance of survival, should rumours start to run, will be to deny all knowledge of it. And yet, given how many mutineers they have in powerful positions, it would take a brave man indeed to denounce them. And what could the
Commandeur
do if they are so denounced? With the skipper, the bosun and the
Onderkoopman
firmly against him, not to mention some of the most violent men on the ship, it is unlikely their accuser would live to make old bones.

Against that, it is important not to move before they are ready. And that is why the
Onderkoopman
and the skipper only meet in strictest secrecy, late at night, and only sometimes with those in the innermost circle of the plot – Evertsz, Stonecutter and van Huyssen being foremost among them.

On the afternoon of the fifth day out of
Tafelbaai
, the very thing that Jacobsz has been hoping for occurs. On the eastern horizon, an enormous black cloud appears, complete with flashes of lightning, and they are heading straight towards it.

Perfect.

Jacobsz is on the watch from midnight, right when the storm is at its most powerful – raging and cursing and hurling its worst – and just below where he is situated stands the helmsman in the steerage cabin,
with his hand on the whip-staff
. Just in front of the helmsman is a small compartment called the binnacle, in which the compass is housed. Now, though the helmsman can see the compass clearly, and some of the sails for’ard, he has no vision of the sea ahead and is entirely dependent on Jacobsz, or whoever commands the watch, for his direction. As Jacobsz tells him ‘starboard the helm’, the order is obeyed without question. Far below, the rudder slowly makes an angle to the stern of just on 19 degrees, and
the mighty
Batavia
gradually alters course
.

With that new course now set, Jacobsz moves to his next task. After assigning those on watch with him to various tasks that will take them below decks for a short while, he ensures that he is alone. That accomplished, he climbs the stairs to the poop deck, bends over the
hakkebord
, the carved top of the decorated stern, opens the canopy of the stern lantern and, reaching in with the rag he has with him for the occasion, snuffs out the light. In an instant, the poop deck is in near-total darkness.

On the trailing
jacht
, the skipper of the
Sardam
is suddenly apprehensive. One minute, he has the great stern lantern of the
Batavia
in his sights, and she is about two miles east by southeast off his starboard quarter. Then, he has lifted his head after lighting a pipe with his hands cupped against the wind and she has simply vanished! How can that have happened? For all of the fleet, the stern lantern of the
Batavia
ahead has been almost a talisman of the voyage, a sign that all is well. And now that it has disappeared in the storm, it is anyone’s guess what has happened. It is far from unprecedented for ships like the
Batavia
just to disappear in the middle of storms and sink within minutes. One huge wave, hitting at the wrong angle and flowing into the gun ports, and it can be over in seconds. Is that what has just happened?

A similar apprehension grips all those on watch on the other ships. On this, yes, dark and stormy night, there is no hope of discerning the shape of the
Batavia
in the moonlight, for there is none – it is completely dark. Straining to see ahead, wondering if they might soon perhaps come across the flotsam and jetsam of a vanished ship, and survivors clinging to wreckage or secure in one of the ship’s longboats or yawls, the rest of the fleet continues on its course, but there proves to be no sign. The
Batavia
seems simply to have vanished.

On the
Batavia
herself, spray from the storm-tossed waves keeps whipping over the deck, and the thunder of tons of water crashing into the hull is constant, but she holds her way, heavy enough to knock the top off some of the waves and streamlined enough to careen down the other side while remaining relatively stable. At her bow, the ship’s thrusting figurehead of the proud red Lion of Holland continues to leap into the storm, confident it can take whatever the elements can throw at it.

The same cannot necessarily be said for the other ships in the fleet, which soon fall far behind in the heavy weather, even allowing for the fact that they are now on an entirely different course to their flagship.

And, sure enough, come the dawn, Jacobsz is delighted to see that all other sails have disappeared from the horizon. Pelsaert is a lot less thrilled, but
the skipper shrugs off his concerns
.

‘Commandeur,’ Jacobsz says softly in his raspy voice, somehow managing to sound patronising despite the use of Pelsaert’s formal title, ‘you must understand that these things happen in
stormen
, storms. It is simply not possible for a fleet to stay close together when the wind is blowing. In any case, they follow the same course as us, and we will likely soon pick each other up.’

Pelsaert turns away without a word.
Ja
, Jacobsz is a good seaman and navigator, and he is no doubt the best captain the Company possesses – which is why he’s been given command of the flagship – but as a man he leaves a lot to be desired. Based on long experience, Pelsaert simply does not trust him.

He returns to his cabin, feeling ill. Will this cursed fever never leave him? It is, of course, the return once more of
the sickness he picked up in India
and has never properly shaken. Its regular reappearance comes at times when he is physically run down, and, having spent most of the last six months at sea, with poor food and little settled sleep, the
Commandeur
is not surprised that it has come back now. Not that it makes it any easier to bear for all that. All he can do is retire to his cabin, get as much rest as he possibly can and hope that this dreadful sickness will leave him.

Attending him are three people: the ship’s surgeons and Lucretia. Frans Jansz, the surgeon and upper-barber, who is in overall charge, confesses he is somewhat baffled as to how to cure the
Commandeur
. As a qualified medical practitioner, he knows that the body is composed of four basic ‘humours’, as in body fluids: blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm. Sickness occurs when those fluids are out of balance, and steps must therefore be taken to restore that balance.