Batavia Epub

by Pete Fitzsimons

  Hugh Edwards was at home having dinner when he heard the news over the ABC Radio. A reporter from the Geraldton bureau of the ABC was intoning in those classically emotionless tones of the broadcaster born, ‘Max Cramer and a group of Geraldton divers have located a shipwreck in the Abrolhos Islands, believed to be the 1629 Dutch East Indiaman Batavia.’

  In response, Hugh had just one thing to say: ‘TAXI!’

  Or near as dammit. (‘Bloody Max!’ might have also figured.) By dawn the following morning, Hugh was at the airport and then on his way to Geraldton to meet up with Max and cover the story for his newspaper before returning to Perth and beginning to organise a major diving expedition on the wreck himself.

  On the sparkling morning of 29 July 1963 – Hugh’s 30th birthday, by the by – he was able to dive on the reef himself and see the vision splendid before him, just as Max Cramer, who was with him on this expedition, had described it. Cannons, coins, artefacts, anchors, navigation instruments, all there, even more impossibly beautiful and achingly evocative than he had long dreamed.

  A few days later, at her insistence, they were even joined beneath the waves by the 60-year-old Henrietta Drake-Brockman! Only upon surfacing did she agree with Hugh that the site of the atrocities wasn’t Goss Island after all, though she could legitimately take a bow for having moved the whole focus of the search 30 miles north from where the wreck was long presumed to be.

  Of all the things drawn up from the floor of the ocean among the Batavia’s debris on this campaign – Edwards’s first to discover her secrets – was a bronze object that initially looked like a bell. Yet the Latin inscription around its rim made it obvious that the opening should be placed uppermost, at which point they realised what it was.

  ‘An apothecary’s mortar!’ cried one of the diving party.

  Hugh Edwards knew instantly to whom it had almost certainly belonged – the only apothecary on the ship, Jeronimus.

  And what did the inscription say?

  Click Here

  Love conquers all.

  On this same expedition, they discovered sword-chopped skeletons in shallow graves on Beacon Island, proving beyond any doubt that this tiny patch of land was indeed the site of Batavia’s Graveyard.

  Dave Johnson had long known about the existence of those graves. ‘You can tell where the skeletons are,’ he explained to his startled companions. ‘I find them when I am burying rubbish. The soil has a characteristic dark greasiness.’

  Research on the site has gone on for the last 50 years, and new discoveries are still being made. In 1999, six bodies were unearthed from just the one pit by the Western Australian Museum – Maritime. There were three adults, a teenage lad, a small child and a baby aged eight to nine months.

  The expert view was that a lack of trauma marks on the bones suggested the victims’ throats had been cut, or they were strangled in their sleep, before being dumped in the prepared grave that could have been hidden under a tent temporarily ruled and guarded by mutiny leader Jeronimus.

  Surely, 370 years on, the handiwork of poor Andries de Vries, following the design of Jeronimus to be rid of all those in the hospital tent, had finally been discovered.

  And what, though, of the wreck itself? While a good chunk of it is now in the Western Australian Museum – Maritime, bits and pieces still lie forlorn, cradled in a grave of the Batavia’s own making, while endless rollers crash overhead onto the very reef she impaled herself on, one night so long ago. Somehow, of all the images that I have come across in the course of researching and writing this book, of all the poignant scenes I have described – many of them violent and distressing – the one that comes back to me the most is what I saw from a plane right above the wreck site.

  Stunningly, even nearly 400 years on and from a hundred metres in the air, you can still see clearly the exact imprint of the shape of the ship, a pale shadow on the ramparts of the reef in the bluey-greenness all around. It is an imprint of a once mighty ship, built for mighty things by some of the finest marine craftsmen in all of the world, only to be done under, torn asunder by the failings of a few men. That exact shape on the reef is like a photographic negative, the reverse image of something vibrant and fantastic, which gives you a strong clue of what once was. In how many other spots on earth do we see the evidence, still, of a major man-made mishap of four centuries ago? Personally, I can count them on the fingers of one finger: the Batavia.

  Nature can’t quite obliterate the image of that ship from the planet, any more than mankind can collectively forget what happened – for the story, and the impact of the story, is simply too strong.

  Vale, the Batavia, and all who sailed upon her, even Jeronimus.

  The coats of arms of the Dutch East India Company (left) and the city of Batavia. The VOC coat of arms depicts a trophy of armoury, nautical instruments, flags and man-of-war supported by Neptune and Providentia (holding a mirror) with the VOC cipher at the top. The Batavia coat of arms shows a sword crowned with a laurel wreath and lions on both sides armed with seven arrows and a sword, the whole surrounded by two crossed palm branches. (Rijksmuseum)

  The flag of the VOC featuring the initial ‘A’ for Amsterdam together with the VOC cipher adopted by the Heeren XVII on 28 February 1603 (flying from the replica ship Amsterdam). (Photolibrary)

  In what was to become known as the Bandanese Massacre, Governor-General Coen mercilessly ordered six of his Japanese samurai to behead and quarter 44 chiefs in front of family and friends before mounting their heads on pikes. (Doug Meikle, Dreaming Track Images)

  Protected by 24-feet-high stone walls and a series of canals, the nascent settlement of Batavia quickly grew into the political, financial and military nerve centre of the VOC’s entire East Indies spice-trade operation. (Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales)

  Looming over the harbour, the heavily fortified citadel of Batavia served to remind both friend and foe of the supreme might of the VOC in the Dutch East Indies. (Rijksmuseum)

  Responsible for establishing the VOC’s seventeenth-century domination of the Spice Islands, company man Jan Pieterszoon Coen served two terms as Governor-General of the Dutch East Indies. (Rijksmuseum)

  Hendrick Brouwer, brother-in-law of Commandeur Francisco Pelsaert, pioneered the Brouwer Route, which took advantage of the Roaring Forties and reduced the voyage from Amsterdam to Batavia by six months. (Rijksmuseum)

  A swan surrounded by her cygnets, the Batavia replica sailed into Sydney in 1999, where she served as the flagship for the Dutch Olympic team the following year. (Australian National Maritime Museum)

  Ornately painted in pale green, with red and gold ochre trimmings, the towering stern of East Indiaman Batavia (faithfully reproduced here on the replica) rose 40 feet above the waterline. (Photolibrary)

  The carved figure of a magnificent scarlet Lion of Holland adorned the low-lying prow of the Batavia (seen here on the replica), leaping out at all who would dare to get in her way. (Newspix/Peter Barnes)

  The Batavia replica’s mainmast was so high that when she arrived in Sydney for the Olympic Games, she could only pass beneath the Sydney Harbour Bridge during exceptionally low tide. (Sydney Heritage Fleet)

  Lest she fall prey to enemies and pirates alike, the Batavia was defended by a total of 30 cannons (reproduced on the replica), ranging in size from eight- up to 24-pounders and individually up to two tons in weight. (Newspix/Bob Barker)

  The title page of Ongeluckige Voyagie, Van’t Schip Batavia, illustrating the stricken Batavia broken upon the reef. (Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales)

  Showing no mercy to this day, cruel breakers crash down upon the defenceless reefs and barren islands of the Abrolhos. (Photolibrary/Bill Bachman)

  In 1960, local Pop Marten’s discovery of a skull here on Beacon Island (formerly Batavia’s Graveyard, the scene of so much bloodshed) proved a vital clue in locating the Batavia three years later. (Newspix/Andy Tyndall)

  Illustrations from Ongel
uckige Voyagie, Van’t Schip Batavia. Under full sail and at rapid clip, the unsuspecting Batavia approaches the reef (top); the longboat and yawl lowered and heading away (bottom right); the Batavia with mainmast cut away lies stricken as the longboat and yawl shuttle survivors to the nearby tiny island, later known as Traitors’ Island (bottom left). (National Library of Australia, nla.aus-vn2323054)

  An outraged Pelsaert is held back from swimming to the aid of survivors on Batavia’s Graveyard by bosun Jan Evertsz – from Tales of Old Travel (1869), by Henry Kingsley. (Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales)

  High seas preventing Pelsaert from reaching the Batavia, he steers for the smaller of the islands, where Jacobsz and his men await them – from Ongeluckige Voyagie, Van’t Schip Batavia. (National Library of Australia, nla.aus-vn2323054)

  The waterhole that enabled the soldiers abandoned on Wiebbe Hayes’s Island to survive. (Newspix/Andy Tyndall)

  An array of seventeenth-century Dutch weaponry – musket, pike and dagger (Rijksmuseum) and morning star (Photolibrary) – the likes of which Jeronimus’s men used to murder the innocent.

  A soldier without a musket is effectively no soldier at all. (Note the U-shaped musket rest, used to support the gun when fired at shoulder height.) (Photolibrary)

  The first and largest massacre on Seals’ Island, where Jeronimus’s ‘tidying up’ led to the cold-blooded murder of over 40 innocent Survivors – from Ongeluckige Voyagie, Van’t Schip Batavia. (Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales)

  One of the Defenders’ limestone forts strategically located above the Mutineers’ landing site. (Newspix/Andy Tyndall)

  Row faster! From two directions, the boats of Hayes and Stonecutter race towards the rescue ship the Sardam, which was alerted to the Survivors’ location by plumes of smoke rising from Hayes’s Island – from Ongeluckige Voyagie, Van’t Schip Batavia. (Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales)

  Execution day on Seals’ Island (from Ongeluckige Voyagie, Van’t Schip Batavia): Jan Hendricxsz prepares to have his right hand removed before climbing the gallows and being hanged alongside six of his fellow Mutineers (top). Pelsaert and his council do not hesitate in applying torture to obtain ‘free and willing’ confessions from the very worst of the Mutineers (bottom). (National Library of Australia, nla.aus-vn2323054)

  On Beacon Island in 1999, six bodies were unearthed from just the one pit by the Western Australian Museum – Maritime. (Western Australian Museum)

  The workboat Henrietta raising one of the massive stern timbers from the wreck of the Batavia. (Western Australian Museum)

  Part of the excavated timber structure of the Batavia at Morning Reef. (Western Australian Museum)

  This pre-1629 Rijksdaalder coin is one of several thousand objects recovered from the wreck of the Batavia. (Australian National Maritime Museum)

  Pieces of silver-service tableware recovered from the wreck of the Batavia and possibly intended for the Indian ‘toy’ trade. (Western Australian Museum)

  The inscribed brass trumpet bell found by Pop Marten on Beacon Island added to the evidence that this was indeed the scene of murder most foul. (Western Australian Museum)

  The Batavia display at the Shipwreck Galleries in the Western Australian Museum, Fremantle, including timbers from the boat and a gateway constructed from the stones she was carrying. (Western Australian Museum)

  Pelsaert intended turning a profit trading the Great Cameo of Gaspar Boudaen – a priceless agate stone over 1000 years old – at the Mogul Court of India. It is still one of the finest cameos in the world and now safely resides in the Royal Coin Museum, The Hague. (Geldmuseum, Utrecht)

  An astrolabe – an early navigational instrument – posed on the otherwise desolate shore of Beacon Island. (Western Australian Museum)

  Notes and References

  Preface

  Corroborated by primary documents: Dash, p. ix.

  It is not a narrative history: Review by Mike Dash on Amazon: www.amazon.com/voyage-disaster-henrietta-drake-brockman/dp/1875560327.

  Introduction: The Spice Trade

  No man should die: ‘Spices and the Spice Islands’, Duyfken 1606 Replica Foundation: www.duyfken.com/original/spice-islands.html.

  600 times its original price: Milton, p. 267.

  A faraway land peopled by warriors: Milton, p. 4.

  Eight different companies dispatched 65 ships: Jacobs, p. 11.

  Labourers, housemaids and clergymen: Ibid., p. 16.

  Various islands, found uninhabited: Heeres, p. 65.

  We unexpectedly came upon a low-lying coast: De Houtman to Managers of the East India Company, 7 October 1619, quoted in Heeres, p. 78.

  We saw no high land or mainland: Heeres, p. 69.

  It was an added warning: There is, however, controversy over the interpretation of this term, with other experts saying that the word ‘Abrolhos’ actually meant ‘spiked obstruction’ in the Portuguese language of the time. Either way, it was a warning.

  Your Honours should know by experience: Boxer, p. 96.

  At liberty to destroy their town: From a letter to the Dutch Company, dated Bantam, 1 January 1614, printed in Tiele, Part I, p. 42.

  A furore throughout the Indies: Milton, p. 311.

  Lords of the land of Java: Corn, p. 160.

  Begin their day with gin and tobacco: Ibid., p. 98.

  Ardently addicted to the pleasures of love: Ibid., p. 189.

  Maintenance of ten clove trees: Jacobs, p. 74.

  Women of the Moghul nobles: Dash, pp. 61–2.

  Not quite everyone was in his thrall: Godard, p. 52.

  Scarface and Hook: At the very least, Jacobsz was rough and ready and mixed with a crowd exactly like that.

  Not the manner in which to sail: Pelsaert, 19 September 1629.

  A moot point: Dash, pp. 27–8.

  Haarlem no place for him to be: Ibid., p. 31.

  Other raw kashoobs: Jacobs, p. 39.

  Chapter One: Across the Seven Seas

  Mighty East Indiaman: An East Indiaman was the largest, most heavily armed of the VOC merchant ships engaged in trade with the East Indies.

  Still she wants to be with him: Dash, p. 78.

  Heave the sheets: Witsen, pp. 406–9.

  Pompous prig that he was: The fleet was originally meant to sail as a convoy of 18 ships, with Jacques Specx as Commandeur. Very late in the piece, however, Specx was delayed in Amsterdam on Company business, so it was decided that the fleet would, effectively, be split in two, with the first half sailing immediately with Pelsaert as Commandeur, while Specx would follow shortly thereafter with the second half.

  Very good reports of his previous services: H. T. Colenbrander, J. P. Coen, Levensbeschrijving, 1934, Vol. V, quoted in Drake-Brockman, Voyage to Disaster, p. 32.

  That profit will have to be shared: Dash, p. 165.

  Swear their own oath of allegiance: Jacobs, p. 41.

  You cursed dogs: Ibid.

  Heave to, I say: Witsen, pp. 406–9.

  I will give you a beating: Meister.

  Come, move like one man: Ibid.

  As tightly as a school of herring: Dash, pp. 173–4.

  The crew are all fit and well: Corn, p. 190.

  I suggest you forthwith retire: While this particular clash is not documented, it is beyond doubt that there were clashes of this nature in this first part of the journey, as Pelsaert’s strait-laced ways clashed with Jacobsz’s rambunctiousness.

  Cursed with an equally sensitive stomach: Andries de Vries’s seasickness here is an instance of poetic licence. We only know that Andries was of a sensitive nature.

  Projectile vomiting green bile: This scene has been created from a combination of the evidence of de Vries’s character in Pelsaert’s Journal and descriptions of daily life aboard a VOC Indiaman in texts such as Godard’s and from expert consultants. I have concluded that de Vries was a weak yet honest man, susceptible to seasickness and given to experiencing horror at a typic
al butchery scene aboard an Indiaman such as this.

  In Amsterdam there lived a maid: This version was first noted in The Rape of Lucrece by Robert Heywood in 1608.

  Bound to the victim and thrown overboard: Milton, p. 60.

  Powders, pills and potions: Pelsaert, 18 September 1629; Drake-Brockman, Voyage to Disaster, p. 67. Pelsaert’s use of the address ‘Mr’ before the surgeon’s name was a sign of respect for his vocation. This sixteenth-century honorific was the origin for today’s practice of referring to surgeons as ‘Mr’ rather than ‘Dr’.

  He who can’t fart: Meister.

  Het Zuidland: Het Zuidland, translated as the Southland, is the name Pelsaert uses to describe Australia throughout his journal, and similarly it will be used throughout this book. The name ‘New Holland’ in reference to Australia was not used until 1644, by Abel Tasman. As a point of interest, it was Tasman’s voyage around the bottom of Australia in 1642 that proved Australia and Antarctica were not joined as part of a hypothesised supercontinent referred to as Terra Australis.

  Because Pelsaert is paying her: Godard, p. 85.