by Giles Milton
In the event the negotiations in The Hague broke down and the English, who had presented their own list of propositions, found they were rejected by the Dutch. After all the excitement and many months of discussions, both parties found themselves back at the drawing board. By late spring 1615 the English commissioners realised there was nothing left to discuss and they returned to London.
It was during the years in which these negotiations were taking place that Jan Pieterszoon Coen began his spectacular climb to the top. He had first sailed east in 1607, a most unfortunate introduction to the spice trade for it was while he was stationed in the Banda Islands that Verhoef and his lieutenants were massacred. Coen was in
no doubt that the English had played a significant role in planning the ambush and much of his hatred seems to have stemmed from this belief.
In 1612 he sailed to the Spice Islands for a second time and it was on this occasion, while serving as chief merchant, that he engaged in his first scrap with John Jourdain. The men shared the similar aim of capturing the entire Bandanese spice trade but Coen was willing to employ far bloodier methods to pursue his goal. He wanted to conquer islands, subjugate the natives and plant Dutch colonies as a balance to the English presence in the region. Although the Seventeen had already sent out a handful of settlers they were hardly what Coen had in mind; a motley crew much given to 'drinking and whoring'. In later years Coen would persistently call for a better class of settler, particularly those with manual skills. 'Even if they come naked as a jaybird,' he wrote, 'we can still use them.'
A portrait of Coen hangs in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Painted in Bantam, it depicts a tall, upright figure with a long and narrow face and deep-set eyes. His lips are thin, his nose aquiline and his cheeks hollow and pale. It is by no means a flattering portrait but it does suggest that Coen was a man in total control of his destiny. The few contemporary descriptions of Coen are far from complimentary. One of his colleagues describes him as 'full of Italian tricks' whilst others refer to his bony hands and pointed fingers. His nickname was De Schraale, which means 'thin and lanky' but also refers to his grim character.
His numerous letters give a greater insight into his character. Coen was a reserved man who was preoccupied with what he considered to be his duty and who did not suffer fools gladly. He never hesitated to speak his mind, frequently admonishing his superiors for what he believed to be their stupidity and short-sightedness. He was a practical man, a great mathematician, who, as a strict Calvinist, was devoid of any frivolities. As for a sense of humour, he had none.
His rise through the ranks was rapid. A year after proving himself a successful chief merchant he was promoted to the important post of book-keeper general and, after a further twelve months, was made a member of the influential Council of the Indies. He might have hoped that when Gerald Reynst died shortly after his abortive attack on Ai he would be promoted to the position of governor-general. As it turned out, the Seventeen in Amsterdam elected Laurens Reael, an effete aristocrat who appears to have spent much of his time concerned with his dress. Coen, not surprisingly, could not stand the man and argued vehemently against his tactics in dealing with the English. Reael responded by countermanding Coen's instructions forbidding the English from sailing to the Banda Islands, ordering him that 'no harsh measures were to be used to disperse the English by force, fearing that this might not only lead to war in these quarters but might spread to Europe as well.'
Coen studiously ignored these instructions and continued his attacks on English shipping. 'If I did wrong,' he wrote in a letter to Amsterdam, '(which I do not believe) please tell me and I will act accordingly. The English threaten to hang me in effigy on the highest gallows in England and to pickle my heart ... Reael cannot decide to deal firmly with the English, demanding more pertinent orders. I hope that your latest orders will satisfy him and change his attitude.'
The Seventeen had initially expressed concern about their bellicose servant in the East, but as his detailed letters, documents and balance sheets poured into their headquarters in Amsterdam they were convinced that they were dealing with someone of remarkable talent. Despite the shortage of capital he continued to send back huge cargoes of spice, and the directors, hinting that he might one day be considered a suitable candidate for the top job, raised his salary and promised it would keep rising if Coen continued the good work. The directors got no thanks from their industrious servant. 'I thought my services were more valuable to you than what you offer,' he wrote in his characteristically sneering style, referring to the fact that others received far more than him 'and accomplish little'. This barbed comment was directed at Reael who was also deeply dissatisfied with his pay rise. Determined to force the directors into reconsidering their offer, Reael upped the stakes considerably by resigning from his position as governor-general. He then dropped heavy hints to the effect that he would be only too willing to resume his post when his pay rise had been satisfactorily sorted. 'It being human nature to change one's mind ...'he wrote, 'I might be induced to stay longer if the situation, and especially a good salary, would warrant it.' In resigning, Reael had seriously misjudged his employers.The Seventeen had long been considering removing him from his post and he had now presented them with the perfect opportunity. Writing a polite letter accepting his resignation, they promptly installed Jan Coen, just thirty-one years old, in his place.
The time for being conciliatory was over: in a letter to Coen they instructed him that 'something on a large scale must be done against the enemies; the inhabitants of Banda must be subjugated, their leaders must be killed or driven out of the land, and if necessary the country must be turned into a desert by uprooting the trees and shrubs.'
Coen was only too keen to carry out these wishes. Courthope was determined to stop him.
chapter ten
Raising the Blood-Flag
N
athaniel Courthope was appointed commander of two ships, the Swan and the Defence, in October 1616. He was given the post by John Jourdain who had long recognised Courthope's abilities and was now sending his friend on a mission of the utmost importance. Courthope was to sail his ships to Macassar in order to buy rice and provisions, then proceed directly to Run where it was hoped that the natives 'expected him and would be ready to receive him.' It was critical that he should be successful in taking control of the island for of the six principal Bandas, only Run still lay outside the grasp of the Dutch. If they seized this island, as they had seized Ai, they would control the world's entire supply of nutmeg. They would also have completed their stranglehold on the Spice Islands, leaving the English without a single base from which to launch future attacks.
Jourdain was only too aware of the consequences of failure and provided Courthope with detailed instructions about his mission. He was to gather together the chieftains of Run and Ai and confirm whether or not they stood by their former surrender to Richard Hunt, the factor on Ai Island, to whom they had proclaimed their allegiance to King James I. If they did, Courthope was to get this confirmed in writing; if not he was to coerce them into submission. Jourdain added that if the Dutch 'offered violence, to the utmost of his power, even to the loss of lives and goods, to make the good the same'. Little could he have imagined how thoroughly Courthope would fulfil this last command.
The Swan and the Defence sailed on the last day of October and, helped by a freshening breeze, arrived before Run Island on 23 December 1616. The ever-cautious Jourdain had warned his friend to be wary of treachery on the part of the natives: 'At your arrival at Run,' he said, 'show yourself courteous and affable, for they are a peevish, perverse, diffident and perfidious people and apt to take disgust upon small occasions, and are, being moved, more cumbersome than wasps.' Fearing a hostile reception, Courthope anchored in the bay and 'sent my skiff ashore to understand the state of the islanders'. It became immediately apparent that far from planning treachery the natives were oveijoyed at the sight of the English ships for they had been worn dow
n by their constant struggles with the Dutch and many were in a pitiful state having fled to Run as refugees from Ai. Since then, the island had been under a virtual blockade and much of the population was on the verge of starvation.
Courthope records with great precision the formal surrender of the island; a wise precaution, for it was his documentation that was later used as incontrovertible proof of England's sovereignty over Run. Inviting the chief orang-kayas aboard the Swan, he asked them 'whether they had made any contract with the Hollanders, and given them any surrender; they all replied, they had not, nor never would; but held them as mortal enemies'. Indeed the island's headmen surpassed themselves in their protestations of loyalty to England, repeatedly assuring Courthope that their former submission still held.
When asked to record their surrender in writing, the orang-kayas obliged by producing an agreement which made over the island of Run to the English Crown 'forever'. 'And whereas King James by the grace of God is King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, is also now by the mercy of God King of Pooloway [Ai] and Poolaroone [Run].' It was a title that King James would come to cherish, and with good reason. On reading these lines one of Courthope's men wryly remarked that these two islands would prove a great deal more profitable than Scotland ever had.
The document continued: 'Moreover, we doe all of us make an agreement that the commodities in the two foresaid ilands, namely mace and nutmegs, we cannot nor will sell to any other nation, but only to the King of England his subjects ... And whereas all the orankayas of the foresaid ilands have made this agreement, let it be credited that it was not made in madnesse or loosely as the breathing of the wind, but because it was concluded upon in their hearts, they cannot revolt from or swerve from the same againe.'
There was one condition attached to the treaty: 'that we doe desire of his Majestie that such things as are not fitting in our religion, as unreverent usage of women, mayntayn- ing of swine in our countrey, forceable taking away of men's goods, misse-using of our men, or any such like... that they be not put in practice, being out of our use and custome.' The document was duly signed by eleven of the islands' headmen and the two sides shook hands. There was one last ceremonial which was to prove, above all else, that the chieftains stood by their pledge. A nutmeg seedling wrapped in the unique soil of the country was handed to
Courthope as a gesture of loyalty, an act that was more than mere symbolism for it demonstrated that they placed all their trust in his leadership. The colourful little ceremony that followed, which threw a carnival-like atmosphere over the proceedings, was undertaken with great sincerity on the part of both the orang-kayas and Nathaniel Courthope. As the English fired all their cannon in celebration of the island's 'capture', the village elders reciprocated by raising the flag of St George and the next two days were spent in friendly festivities.
It is unfortunate that there is no record of what the local headmen made of this strangely attired Englishman - nor has any portrait of Courthope survived — but letters in the East India Company archives testify to his impressive stature and
he appears to have engendered an instant respect both from his fellow men and from the native Bandanese. He was honest, straight-talking and scrupulously fair, and his sense of justice and strict morals were in striking contrast to those of the Dutch commanders so despised by Run's islanders.
The festivities presided over by 'the captain' were brought to an abrupt halt on Christmas Day when a Dutch ship was spied approaching from the west. A hastily convened council agreed that the island should be urgently fortified and, to this end, three of the largest cannon were landed and heaved up to a makeshift platform atop Run's highest cliff. This proved to be a wise precaution for three days later the vessel sent its pinnace into the bay 'within shot of our fort'. A tense stand-off followed before the Dutch ship raised the blood-flag to signify the start of hostilities, then hastily sailed for Neira. This gesture ended Courthope's fading hope that his stay on Run would be a short one. It was clear that the Dutch had no intention of allowing the English to remain on the island and were prepared to use force in order to evict them.
Yet Courthope was not unduly worried by threats of Dutch aggression for he knew that Run's natural defences would make it extremely hard for any enemy to capture the island. Its southern coastline consists of a long bank of precipitous cliffs which are virtually impossible to scale without ropes.The sea here is a boiling fury for the strong current hurls the waves against the black rock with tremendous force. Any vessel attempting to land would almost certainly be dashed to pieces on the rocks or wrecked on the reef that lies just below the surface. The island's northern shore, where the Swan and Defence lay at anchor, presented Courthope with more of a problem. Its small harbour was accessible to ships arriving from either east or west and, once anchored in the bay, they would have few difficulties in targeting Run's only settlement. But here, too, Courthope had geography on his side. The western end of the harbour is overlooked by a high cliff that commands a splendid view of the bay: by fortifying this bluff of rock the English could effectively bar enemy ships sailing from Java from coming within shot of the village.
The harbour's eastern entrance was the most difficult part of the island to defend - a long coral reef linking Run with the tiny islet of Nailaka, a low-lying atoll of powdery beaches and palm-trees. This islet was of great importance to the islanders because its surrounding shallow waters provided rich pickings for fishermen. It was essential that in times of siege Nailaka remained in their hands. As Courthope made a study of the little island he realised that if he set cannon pointing eastwards he could attack any ship sailing from Neira long before it got within shot of Run harbour. By placing a second battery facing west he would have virtual command over all shipping sailing from Bantam.
His men began work on the fortifications shortly after Christmas. One bastion was christened Fort Defence, the other Fort Swan, and each was armed with three stout cannon. Scarcely were these guns in place than a small fleet of Dutch ships took advantage of the stiff easterly wind and sailed over from Neira, catching the English unawares. Before Courthope had even primed his cannon, the ships had sailed into Run harbour and moored alongside the Swan and the Defence, cutting off any assistance from the shore.
Courthope's immediate task was to inform the Dutch that Run had surrendered to England. He therefore sent a
messenger across to the Dutch flagship to warn the commander, Cornelis Dedel, that the island was now English, and that he should 'depart the road before six glasses were run, for that the islanders ... would have shot unto them from the shore'. Dedel was intrigued by this news and played for time, asking to meet Courthope aboard the Swan. The English captain agreed 'and shewed him the surrender of Polaroone, and our right and possession there for his Majesty of England, which we would hold and maintain to our utmost power'. Dedel seemed impressed with the document and, according to the English account of the event, took it in his hands and, 'perusing it, he said with these words: "This is a true surrender." '
Yet he refused to leave the harbour. Although 'the glass was running in the Great Cabin' he wished to learn more about the English commander and probed him for information about the forces at his disposal. Courthope repeatedly reminded Dedel that he had hidden cannon trained on the Dutch vessels and that the natives would open fire when the sixth glass had run. Having gauged his man, Dedel at last took this threat at face value and, outmatched and outgunned, sullenly retreated to Neira. The English later learned that he had come with instructions to attack the island but had not reckoned with the batteries that Courthope had erected on the shore.
Less than a week later a Dutch pinnace was observed taking soundings around the island of Nailaka.This caused Courthope serious concern and he instructed his men to let fly with their muskets, forcing the pinnace to put hastily to sea. This event was later used by the Dutch as evidence that the English had been the first to open hostilities.
Although Run's defences
made a Dutch assault unlikely,
at least in the short term, Courthope realised that the island was extremely vulnerable to a sea blockade, a situation aggravated by the fact that he had landed on Run with scarcely any provisions. His two ships had been loaded with only a few chickens and a small quantity of rice and arak, most of which had been consumed on the journey to Run. Unable to restock en route, the Englishmen arrived to find that the island offered little in the way of food. Although nutmeg grew in abundance, there was not enough fresh fruit or vegetables to feed the native islanders and the only other plant that thrived was the sago palm whose pithy trunk could be boiled down into a glutinous, porridge-like starch. The inhabitants of Run had always depended on their neighbouring islands for their supplies, but all of these were now firmly under Dutch control. Their only hope of replenishing stocks lay in the occasional junk or trading craft that happened to put into the islands natural harbour.
More serious was the shortage of water. Run had no water reserves and the islanders had traditionally survived by collecting the monsoon rains in 'jarres and cisternes' and using the water sparingly during the dry season. But Courthope s men brought an increased demand and water soon began to run low. A group of them offered to sail across to Neira or Great Banda to replenish supplies but Courthope considered such a move far too dangerous and ordered them to survive on reduced rations. But his authority over one group of rebellious spirits, never strong, was now weakened by dissension between the ships' companies. Many of the professional sailors were horrified at the prospect of spending many months on this remote island and, led by John Davis, the master of the Swan, they announced their intention of sailing to Ceram to fill the water casks. Unrelated to his more famous namesake, Davis was nevertheless a sailor of ripe experience who had taken part in no fewer than five voyages to and from the East Indies. But his abilities as a leader of men were not so obvious. His quarrelsome disposition upset many of his own crew while his deep attachment to the bottle frequently clouded his judgement.