The Blue-Eyed Aborigine
Page 2
He struggled to his feet, trying not to cry out in pain, and ran the length of the great ship to the cabins astern. All was chaos. Families were huddled together, sailors were running to and fro trying to help the injured, and everyone was shouting.
‘What happened?’
‘What have we hit?’
‘Is the ship taking in water?’
‘Dear God, we shall all die.’
In the gloom, Jan saw the young woman Lucretia standing motionless in a corner, flattened against the door of her cabin, her head bent. People shoved past her, pushing and jostling, but she stood, silent and unmoving. Even now, weeks after that shameful incident, the sailors avoided her, scared to be kind to her for fear of angering the Captain.
Jan gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain in his body. He felt sick and faint, but he also felt sorry for Lucretia. He knew what it was to be shunned.
He started towards her nervously, but just as he moved forward, a soldier came from out of the shadows and took Lucetia’s arm. She looked up, and Jan saw her flinch at the soldier’s touch.
‘I won’t harm you, lady,’ said the soldier. ‘You’ll be safer in your cabin.’
Jan didn’t know the soldier, but he was relieved that someone had gone to help the woman.
Lucretia looked at the soldier and smiled briefly.
There was so much confusion that Jan didn’t know what to do. And then, over the screaming and shouting and swearing, he heard a strong, calm voice.
‘There’s no need to panic. The ship is holed, but the Captain tells me we are in shallow water. There is no immediate danger.’
It was the Under Merchant, Corneliez! He stood still, steady as a rock, his sharp profile clear in the moonlight as he calmly observed the chaos surrounding him.
Jan’s shoulders relaxed. Thank God someone was taking charge!
And then Corneliez saw him. He looked him up and down briefly, then spoke.
‘We need to check the cargo, boy. Go down to the hold and tell me what damage there is to the victuals and the valuables.’
Immediately, Jan’s pain was forgotten and he darted away. When Corneliez gave you an order, you didn’t question it.
But Corneliez called him back. ‘Make a note of it, boy. Write it down.’
Jan stopped in his tracks and hung his head, afraid to meet the Under-Merchant’s stare. ‘I can’t write sir,’ he stammered.
‘Oh, no matter,’ said Corneliez impatiently. ‘Use your eyes, and remember. Then come back and find me.’
As Jan turned to go he saw Corneliez’s eyes following Lucretia’s back as she went into her cabin and, even in the turmoil, Jan noticed the way he looked at her. It made him feel uncomfortable.
He hurried down to the hold. He’d never been there before. All the valuable cargo was there, together with the non-perishable food and the water. It was guarded night and day. But now, everyone had run off.
He found a candle and a tinderbox near the entrance. He lit the candle and crept around the vast area. As far as he could see, no water had come in, though some of the barrels and other containers had burst open with the force of the impact when the ship had hit the reef. But there was still food and water to be salvaged.
Jan went further into the hold to check the cargo. He had no knowledge of exactly what the ship was carrying, but he knew it was valuable and he’d heard rumours that it included gems, gold and silver, precious curios and fine cloth, among other things, to be traded for spices.
The first thing to catch his eye was the huge gateway which had been specially made to form a grand entrance to the Company’s fortress in Java. It towered over everything, but it was securely lashed and hadn’t shifted. Nervously, Jan crept among carefully-stacked chests, holding his candle. Here, too, the cargo had been thrown against the side of the ship with the impact and some of the chests had burst open. He saw a length of beautiful woven material which had been tipped from a chest and was spreading out over the floor. Gingerly he poked at it with his bare foot. Then he saw another chest whose metal clasps had flown open, and he lifted the lid and looked inside. Some rough cloth lay on top, but this had shifted, and Jan stared in awe at the gems underneath, their lustre brought to life by the candle. He put his hand in and brought out a few of the precious stones. God! What would these be worth? If he took just one or two, would anyone notice?
Then he dropped them back. These gems belonged to the Company. If he were found with them, he’d be shown no mercy. Thieving was severely punished.
Quickly he retraced his steps to the upper deck. As he emerged into the moonlight, he saw panicking passengers everywhere, shouting and screaming, with soldiers and sailors trying to calm them and make the stricken ship safe. The deck was full. There was no room to move and no one seemed to be in charge. The noise was deafening, drowning out even the noise of the surf as it pounded on the reef. Where was the Captain? Where was the Commander? And where, for that matter, was Corneliez, the Under Merchant?
Jan forced his way through the mass of people. He must find Corneliez and tell him what was happening down below. He made his way to the Commander’s cabin, thinking that they’d all be there – the Captain, the Commander and Corneliez – trying to decide what to do. But when he reached the cabin, his nerve deserted him. What if Corneliez were not inside?
As he hesitated outside the door, he heard raised voices inside. The Captain was there all right, and so was the Commander. The Captain was shouting but the Commander’s replies were icily calm.
‘This is your fault, Jacobsz,’ said Commander Pelsaert. ‘You cannot deny it.’
‘The maps were wrong, man!’ shouted the Captain.
‘Nonetheless, you were in charge of the ship’s navigation and I told you that in my opinion we were nearer the South Land than you thought. But you would not listen.’
There was silence then, and Jan imagined the two men staring at each other.
‘Well,’ said Pelsaert at last. ‘What are we to do? What state is the ship in? Can she be repaired?’
‘I have no idea.’
Pelsaert continued: ‘Well you had better find out, man. And if the ship cannot be repaired here, then we shall have to take the longboat and make for Java.’
Suddenly Jan felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He jumped with fright, and spun round to find himself looking into the cold eyes of Corneliez.
‘Eavesdropping, boy?’
Jan flushed. ‘No, sir. I thought you were in the cabin. I came to tell you what’s happening below.’
But Corneliez wasn’t listening. He, too, had heard the angry voices coming from the cabin.
‘The victuals, sir. And the cargo,’ continued Jan anxiously. ‘I went to check on them as you asked.’
Corneliez tightened his grip on Jan’s shoulder and led him away from the cabin door. Then he gave him his full attention.
‘Good. Now, tell me what you saw.’
Stuttering, Jan repeated exactly what he had seen.
When he had finished, Corneliez nodded. ‘And you are certain there is no water taken on?’
‘It seemed dry, sir.’
Corneliez frowned. ‘What damage there is will be to her bow where she hit the reef, but when the tide changes, the water will rise. We must salvage what we can, but we must also lighten the load,’ he muttered.
‘Will you send men down there now?’ Jan asked.
Corneliez glanced towards the cabin door. ‘No boy, that is the Captain’s job,’ he replied sharply. Then he squared his shoulders, walked back to the cabin door and knocked.
Jan stood irresolute. Corneliez looked over his shoulder. ‘Go and make yourself useful,’ he said, then went into the cabin.
On deck, someone must have given orders, for ship’s biscuits and brandy were being distributed to the passengers and things were a little calmer. A few minutes later the crowd parted to let the Commander through. Jan noticed the tremor in his hand and his pale skin. He had been unwell for most of the voyage
and now he climbed unsteadily on to a coil of rope and began to speak. The crowd fell silent.
‘There is no need to be afraid,’ he said in a thin voice. ‘We have hit a reef. The Captain will inspect the damage and see whether it can be repaired. Until then, we shall stay on board. Please allow room for the Captain and the crew to get on with their work.’
He coughed, even this short speech exhausting him.
‘And what if it cannot be repaired?’ This remark came from one of the passengers – the preacher, a nervous man dressed in black and surrounded by his wife and family.
Pelsaert took a deep breath, then pointed beyond the ship to where the pale light of the moon glinted on the sharp coral. ‘As I said, we have hit a reef. But we think that the reef surrounds a group of islands to our east, so, if needs be, we shall make camp there.’
Now the Captain appeared red-faced and sweating, and started giving orders to the sailors and soldiers.
‘Shift the heavy cargo and put it over the side. Come on, look sharp.’
‘But surely the valuables will be lost!’ shouted one of the passengers.
Jacobsz looked angrily at the speaker.
‘We must lighten the vessel,’ he said curtly. ‘We shall have to see the damage, if we are to repair it.’
But the passenger wouldn’t be silenced. ‘And the Company’s valuables?’
‘We shall save all we can,’ said Jacobsz. Then he squinted up at the huge mast which towered above them. He turned to a group of sailors.
‘The weight of the mast will lock the ship more firmly to the reef,’ he said quietly. ‘We may have to cut it down.’
Many of those huddled on deck heard his words, and there were gasps and mutterings.
‘We shall inspect the damage from the outside,’ he said, louder this time. ‘Then we shall know more.’
Jan saw a sailor with a rope round his waist climbing over the gunwale and being lowered down while other sailors paid out the rope. When the sailor was hauled up again, there was much gesticulating and shortly afterwards, one of the ship’s boats was lowered over the side with an officer, the Captain and two more men in it.
The minutes passed, and dawn light began to creep over the scene. The crowd waited anxiously.
At last there was a commotion near the bow and Commander Pelsaert went over to talk to the men who had been brought back up on deck. There was a low murmuring, then Pelseart took up his position again on top of the coil of rope.
‘It seems that there is a large hole in Batavia’s bow,’ he said.
Everyone started talking at once. Pelsaert held up his hand for silence.
‘The Captain tells me that, for the moment, we are not taking on water, but when the tide changes, water will come in.’
More muttering.
Pelsaert raised his voice. ‘Meanwhile,’ he said, ‘the Captain and some steersmen will take the yawl over to the islands to see whether we can make camp there.’
Everyone watched as the yawl was made ready and lowered into the water.
‘Take care!’ shouted the Captain, as the steersmen pulled away. ‘There’s only a narrow channel through the coral.’
Jan stared down at the reef. Jacobsz was right. The boat had to be lowered with precision or it would be holed by the sharp coral just beneath the surface.
Everyone on board watched as the boat made its cautious way towards the low, dark shapes which lay to the east.
Hours later, the yawl returned.
‘Aye, there is land!’ said one of the steersmen. ‘Three small islands. They are all flat, and we could not tell whether they had water, but we can camp there until the ship is repaired.’
‘Only three islands?’ said Pelsaert,
‘Only three nearby, but there seem to be others some way distant.’
Pelsaert nodded. ‘Good. Then we shall make our home on the nearest large island for the time being.’
Jan watched the Commander. He was undoubtedly a sick man. He seemed to be forcing himself to stand upright and give commands. He pointed at a group of sailors.
‘Tomorrow, at first light, you must transport people to the island. Women and children are to go first, with some men to protect them.’
It was an anxious night, and as the tide changed the ship began to take in water. As soon as dawn broke, everyone assembled on deck again. The preacher was standing close to Jan like some black crow. He was holding the hand of his youngest boy – a little toddler still unsteady on his legs – and the boy suddenly turned and smiled at Jan. Jan smiled back. He was unused to such friendliness.
Before long, the preacher’s family were lowered into the first boat together with some soldiers. Barrels of water and biscuits and peas were loaded on with them.
Lucretia was waiting her turn to board. The soldier who had spoken kindly to her earlier stood beside her and helped her into the boat. Even though it was crowded, the other passengers moved away so as not to touch her.
Jan watched as the boat was lowered down jerkily to the water, and the sailors struggled to control it as they rowed through the channel in the reef. The heavily-laden boat lurched in the waves and the spray soaked everyone. Some of the women and children in the boat screamed with terror – but Lucretia remained silent.
All along Batavia’s rail, people were watching and wondering. Among them was the Captain. Jan glanced at that harsh, knowing face and then quickly looked away. What was going on in his mind? The Captain knew this was his fault. Would he be able to repair the damage to the ship? Or did he have other plans?
Jan felt the Captain’s gaze fall upon him and he moved away, only to stumble into the solid figure of Corneliez, who seemed to have materialised out of nowhere.
‘Careful, boy,’ said Corneliez. His lips curled into a smile, but his eyes were dead.
‘My pardon, sir,’ muttered Jan, sliding out of his path.
‘Boy!’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘You’ve done a good job these past few hours. Tell me your name’
‘Jan, Jan Pelgrom, sir.’
‘Jan, eh? Good, good.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Jan turned to go back to work. The Under Merchant had noticed him, had singled him out for special duties – had even praised him! He should have been flattered, but when he glanced back and saw Corneliez and Jacobsz whispering together, heads bent, he felt even more uneasy than before.
Chapter Three
All that day, supplies and people were taken from the ship to the nearby islands. Jan was still on board, but most of the women and children and many of the male passengers had gone, together with some sailors and soldiers.
The next morning, the sea was more turbulent and the spray came right up over the deck. Jan could feel the Batavia lurching under his feet and there was a ripping noise of timbers being torn from the hull. But he was too busy to be frightened, running here and there, doing odd jobs for the carpenters who were fighting a losing battle to repair the damage, as more and more water poured into the stricken vessel.
The Captain had ordered the main mast to be cut down, and he himself struck the first blow with an axe. Everyone left on board watched intently as each blow sent a shudder through the whole ship. Now the huge mast lay across the deck of the crippled ship.
For two days, people were shuttled past the first island to the larger one beyond, together with whatever casks of food and water could be salvaged. On and on it went, the longboat and the yawl ploughing back and forth until some two hundred souls were marooned on the largest of the nearby islands.
And then everything came to a standstill.
Jan had expected to be one of the last to be taken over, and together with some seventy soldiers and sailors he waited on board the creaking vessel for the longboat and yawl to return. But the hours went by and the boats didn’t reappear.
As darkness fell, there were mutterings from those who were left.
‘What’s happened? Where are the boats?’
‘Surely they won’t leave us here?’
Not only had the boats gone, but the Commander’s cabin was empty. He had disappeared, along with the Captain and several other officers and sailors.
Several days passed, and those on board stared out despairingly over the water, but there was no sign of the boats. Some still insisted that the Commander would never abandon them and that he must be searching for a water source, but others cried: ‘He has deserted us. He has left us to our fate, God damn him.’
On board, the men were getting unruly. Jan, too, was desperate – desperate with thirst – and he was thinking of braving the chaos below decks to check the water barrels, when one of the friendlier soldiers walked by him – a man called Weibbe Hayes, who always acknowledged Jan when he was sent to clean the orlop deck.
Timidly, Jan asked if there were still barrels of water in the hold.
Weibbe blew his nose on his hand and wiped it on his trousers. ‘Well, young Jan, you can go and take a look, if you dare, but those damned soldiers are running wild down below. I’ve tried to reason with them, but they’re past caring. They’ve cracked open some of the wine barrels and they’re all mad with drink. They’ve broken into the gun store and armed themselves, too.’
Then Weibbe took a leather water bottle from the wide belt which crossed over his shoulder. He held it out to Jan.
‘Drink, lad. Not too much, mind. This may be the last I can get.’
Jan stammered his thanks, and gulped down a few mouthfuls of the stale water.
Weibbe took the bottle back and put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, before moving off.
Jan watched him go. If even Weibbe couldn’t control the soldiers, then he certainly wasn’t going to venture below. In any case, he preferred to stay up on deck – even though up here it was a ghost ship, with all the sounds of daily life, the shouts of the sailors working the sails, the constant footsteps, the chatter of passengers, all nothing but an imagined echo coming through the sounds of the screaming gulls and the creaking of the ship’s timbers.