Batavia Epub

by Pete Fitzsimons

  While he is not remotely surprised that Jacobsz has been drunk, he is truly appalled by the progressively more aggressive manner in which the skipper conducted himself while paying visits to the other VOC ships in the bay. It is all the worse for the fact that Jacobsz is of the Commandeur’s own flagship, so this behaviour reflects dimly on his own leadership of the fleet.

  It is an outrage that must be addressed, and it must be done immediately – the more so because, while the Batavia is in port, Pelsaert’s authority is paramount, while that of Jacobsz is at its lowest ebb.

  Within earshot of those hovering outside the Great Cabin, and in the presence of Jeronimus, who has sadly been led astray by this buffoon of a skipper, Pelsaert unburdens himself of his considered view that Jacobsz is a complete disgrace to himself and the VOC. In fact, Pelsaert says, he has never heard of such behaviour from a VOC skipper, and Jacobsz must understand that he, Pelsaert, will be writing a full report on his ignominy, which he will submit when they get to Batavia, and the skipper will have to answer for it to higher authorities still.

  Jacobsz listens the best he can but wishes to be anywhere but here right now, hoping only that the infernal Pelsaert will sometime soon shut his prissy mouth. Jacobsz’s own mouth tastes as if several rats have laid turds in it overnight, his eyes are blurred from the pain and somewhere inside his skull a large African man is pounding on a drum. In his own defence to Pelsaert, he can offer only that he was so drunk he did not know what he was doing, and that he had no idea that Pelsaert would take it all so seriously.

  But the Commandeur is serious, as serious as syphilis. He is so serious that he now puts Jacobsz on his last warning. He either entirely behaves himself for the rest of the journey or severe measures will be taken against him. Those measures are not specifically spelled out by Pelsaert, but, as other VOC measures for ill-discipline start at flogging and work their way towards keel-hauling and then being broken on the wheel, Jacobsz is left in little doubt as to the extent of Pelsaert’s fury. In fact, these punishments are as nothing to the humiliation and fury the skipper feels at being so upbraided by a lowly cur for whom he has no respect, a cur who wouldn’t know a mizzen mast from a bowsprit. Without a word, he storms off to the ship’s interior, and is some time in emerging.

  It is an hour or so before sundown when Jacobsz appears once more on the poop deck, and it is not long before Jeronimus, who has been waiting for him, is once again by his side. ‘All well, Skipper?’ Jeronimus breathes lightly.

  No, all is not well, and the skipper does not bother to dissemble with Jeronimus, who, after all, was with him in the boat when they visited the other ships and can be expected to be on his side. ‘By God!’ Jacobsz finally explodes. ‘If those other ships were not lying close I would treat that miserly dog so that he could not come out of his cabin for a fortnight . . . and were I a bit younger I would very quickly make myself master of the ship.’

  Whereupon, after his own due consideration of the skipper’s powerful words, Jeronimus asks softly, ‘And how would you do that?’

  . . .

  This time, it is Jacobsz who pauses, as the small swell of Tafelbaai continues to gently rock the masts of the Batavia in small arcs, back and forth, as if it is a giant cradle. How far can Jacobsz go, how much can he trust Jeronimus? In the end, he decides to pull back, to mull over what he has already said, rather than going any further.

  In the meantime, after the initial lull in activity since mercifully arriving in this blessed shelter, it is time for the serious business to begin. The first thing is to gently take the ship into shallow waters at high tide, so that as the tide falls away much of the exterior of the hull can be exposed. And then to work! It is time to rid the ship of the weeds and algae that have grown over the preceding months, in parts forming a layer of mush nearly half a yard thick.

  Once that is removed, the crew attack the barnacles that have also grown on the hull. Topside, meanwhile, other sailors scrub the decks with vinegar and sand them with ‘bibles’ – flat stones the size of the good book – to clean the wood. The lower decks are then smoked with gunpowder and juniper berries in an effort to kill the vermin, while all the bedding is dragged up into the strong sunshine to be aired, even as the artisans get to work caulking the leaks.

  In this manner, the days at Tafelbaai pass relatively pleasantly for nearly all, bar Jacobsz, who continues to fester in fury. For most of them, it is simply a great pleasure to be away from the open sea and in the shelter of a bay.

  As to those lucky few involved in the commerce ashore or tending the sick, they feel blessed to be able to spend a little bit of time on solid land. For them, the Hottentots are a source of endless wonder and even great amusement. One thing is to have the natives ‘dance’ – jumping up and down with their legs pressed tightly together while they rhythmically chant ‘Hottentot brukwa . . . Hottentot brukwa’, Hottentot dance . . . Hottentot dance, over and over again – and this they readily do for the simple price of a pipe filled with tobacco. Another amusement is to have the males show off the length of their genitals by saying to them ‘ karos naar de zijde’, sheepskin to the side. And, though the female Hottentots are a little more reluctant, they, too, can be persuaded. It is a great delight for the sailors to say to them ‘kutkijken’, c—t looking, with which the women would generally say ‘tabakum’, at which point if you handed over a small piece of tobacco they would lift their own piece of sheepskin and allow you a good long look. As to taking it further with the women, that is out of the question. Not only are they generally unwilling, but even if they weren’t, you risked having their husbands, fathers or brothers wearing your balls for earrings. No, the best you could do was hand over your tobacco in return for a quick look. It is something, anyway.

  18 April 1629, Tafelbaai

  Dusk is beginning to fall after this stunning African day and Skipper Jacobsz is just taking pause on the poop deck, surveying the ongoing scrubbing of the decks by the sailors, when he looks up with something of a start to see that a lightly smiling Jeronimus has suddenly materialised beside him. Strange, this man’s ability to do that, almost as if he is a spirit . . .

  ‘And so . . .’ Jeronimus begins, resuming immediately their conversation of a few days earlier, ‘you were going to tell me precisely how you could best and most easily make yourself master of the ship.’

  Jacobsz is not surprised at the prompting. The way they left it last time, it was understood they would come back to the subject, and he has indeed been thinking it all over and has decided to trust the Onderkoopman. So he tells him . . .

  To seize control of the ship, he explains to Jeronimus, it would need only a small number of committed men in the right positions. Once control was established, enough of the others would join the mutiny to ensure success.

  Jeronimus, without himself saying anything that could be incriminating or binding, starts to press the skipper for details of his plan. It is true that in the entire history of the VOC there has never been a mutiny on any ship bound for the East Indies, but on the other hand there has never been a prize as rich as the one they are travelling on now. But, Jeronimus wonders, could Jacobsz really pull it off ?

  The first key, Jacobsz explains, would be to separate the Batavia from the accompanying fleet, so Pelsaert and whatever loyalists he could muster would get none of its support. Then he and the mutineers would have only the ship’s company to worry about. The interest of Jeronimus quickens. It makes sense. Without the attendant fleet, the Batavia, carrying the richest cargo ever to leave Amsterdam, would be without any external protection and really would be defended only by the fealty of the crew and the loyalty of the soldiers berthed far beneath them on the orlop deck. But who, precisely, would help to seize the ship herself?

  ‘Let me have my way,’ Jacobsz replies grimly. ‘I am sure most of the officers will follow me and the principal sailors.’ He has particular faith in his bosun, Jan Evertsz, a maritime man after his own heart – fond of drinking and who
ring – who may even be a skipper himself some day in the future. Evertsz is to those before the mast every bit as powerful a man as Jacobsz is to those aft of the mast.

  Jacobsz continues to quietly sketch out a rough plan, as Jeronimus listens intently. Apart from Jacobsz’s enduring fury at Pelsaert, and the promise of the riches they will all share if the mutiny can be brought off, there is another factor inclining the skipper to see it through. Given his severe falling out with the powerful Pelsaert, and the fact that the Commandeur has promised to make a report once they get to Batavia, there are sure to be consequences. ‘I am still for the Devil anyhow’ is the way the skipper puts it. ‘If I reach Batavia, I shall get into trouble whether or not.’ Jeronimus gravely agrees that the skipper has nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  Little by little, over succeeding conversations in the next couple of days, what has started as a bit of whimsy between the skipper and Jeronimus turns serious, as once vague and wafty sentiments begin to crystallise into a serious, hard-edged plan.

  Though all knowledge of sailing a ship is well beyond the ken of Jeronimus, the more he talks to the skipper the more convinced he becomes that it really could be accomplished with very few. When he started out with Jacobsz on the subject of mutiny, he had just been testing him, seeing how far he could take him down that evil track, more by instinct than intent, more to pass the time than time an uprising . . . but now, now it is different.

  Jeronimus first boarded the Batavia principally to get away from the Amsterdam authorities and to look for opportunities. He is now away from those authorities and this, he suddenly realises, is the opportunity of a lifetime. When he, a bankrupted man, looks at it – being on a ship with such a rich cargo, led by a disaffected captain who is promising to take all the risks and manage the mutiny – it seems to affirm that there is a God, and God is good, no, God is great! If God had not wanted him to engage in such a thing, He would not have set the circumstances exactly as they are – which is absolutely perfect for a mutiny to take place and for Jeronimus to suddenly be rich beyond his wildest dreams.

  As one who spends an enormous amount of time in the Great Cabin, Jeronimus knows all too well exactly where the money chests are and just how full to the brim they are with astronomical wealth. Now, he and Jacobsz agree that if they can pull it off, they will both be richer than Claas Compaen, the most famous pirate of their time.

  20 April 1629, Tafelbaai

  The ship’s company has been notably happy at Tafelbaai, but, as is so often the way with those involved in maritime life, it is not long before the siren of the sea calls once more, when the crew of the Batavia must prepare to leave behind the safety of the harbour, the pleasures of the land, the delights of kutkijken and head once more to the open ocean.

  As April is just starting to wane, thus, the Batavia becomes a hive of activity as all is made ready. The focus in the last day or so has been bringing aboard the supplies, including the freshly slaughtered meat, most of it now tightly stored in barrels. While it is the sailors who sweat and strain, hauling on pulleys to lift those barrels from the ship’s longboat and yawl up, over and down into the hold, the high VOC officials are also working hard, ensuring that all is properly documented. As this process of revictualling the ship is a commercial operation, it must all be carefully accounted for.

  While Commandeur Pelsaert watches from the poop deck, it is Jeronimus and the Commandeur’s favourite bookkeeper, Salomon Deschamps, who are busy recording the net number of barrels, their contents, their cost and their position in the hold. With his decidedly elongated quill and his steady hand, Deschamps is a study in efficiency as he carefully writes it all down, constantly cross-checking against all the other documentation before him.

  For his part, Jeronimus is supremely bored, but for form’s sake he knows that he must be seen to take some sort of interest. Personally, he finds both Pelsaert’s favouritism towards Deschamps and Deschamps’s extreme obsequiousness to Pelsaert as loathsome as they are laughable, but he must bite his tongue. Pelsaert had all too recently expressed his great disappointment to Jeronimus that he was present with Jacobsz when the skipper had so disgraced himself, and there is something of a strain between the two. It would not be wise to add to that now.

  Nevertheless, as the hold continues to fill with fresh supplies, Jeronimus contrives to spend less and less time with Deschamps and more with the young VOC assistant also involved in the whole process, David Zevanck, who, it becomes clear, shares a view similar to his own. There is a sneering, cynical quality to Zevanck that Jeronimus greatly enjoys. Whereas Rogier Decker has been a blank canvas on which he can work, with Zevanck the drawing is already half-complete, with large streaks of blackness throughout, and he likes what he sees . . .

  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.