Batavia (30 page)

Others on this island look at Jeronimus with anything from trepidation to expectation to adoration, but Hayes looks at his boss with no more than frank assessment. The soldier is outwardly polite, even formally deferential as they discuss the forthcoming trip. But, as Jeronimus has learned from long experience, the eyes do not lie. Hayes is observing the form, but his eyes are saying clearly, ‘I am not in your thrall. I will do as you ask for the moment, but we will see.’

Jeronimus does Hayes the honour of holding his gaze, with eyes that seem to say, ‘Let us cut to the chase. The truth of it is, as we both know, you will be going to the High Islands because it is my request, and I assure you there
is
water there.’

After a few more minutes of discussion, Jeronimus nods to him that their meeting is over. Hayes rises to go and turns to the tent flap that serves as a door.

‘Two other things,’ Jeronimus tosses after him.

Wiebbe Hayes turns back. ‘
Ja
, Onderkoopman?’

‘It is extremely important that you return with as much water as possible, so you must travel with the absolute bare necessities. We will not be able to issue you with any muskets.’

This does not sit well with Hayes. He is a soldier, his men are soldiers, and a soldier without a musket is effectively no soldier at all. But what can he do? Jeronimus is his superior, and, with the authority of the council behind him, the
Onderkoopman
is
commanding
him to leave behind their arms for the very good reason that they will be able to bring back more water to their comrades, who are in desperate need of it. ‘
Ja, natuurlijk,
Onderkoopman,’ he replies. ‘And the other thing?’

‘Be sure to take Jan Carstenz with you
. He is a good man, and I think he will be a great help to you on the island.’

Again, it is an odd request. While Jan Carstenz is a good man, he is also extremely protective of his beautiful wife, Anneken Bosschieters – the only woman close to Lucretia in terms of natural loveliness – and Jan would not be happy to be leaving her behind, even for a few days. But the same logic applies. If Jeronimus has made a special request for Jan Carstenz to go, then that is the end of it. And even Jan would have to understand that. For the sake of all, Jan must sacrifice personal interests and go and collect the much-needed water.

It is done. The upside for Hayes is that he can be fully independent on the High Islands and not even pretend to answer to anyone. And the soldiers, who like to be a law unto themselves, can be exactly that.

21 June 1629, High Islands

On the following morning, they leave in a flurry of farewells and pole-pushing from the shore, with Anneken weeping as she waves her husband, Jan Carstenz, goodbye. At least it should only be for a few days.

Twenty soldiers and several sailors fill the rafts under the command of David Zevanck, all of them volunteers, many of them there simply from the feeling that in the midst of this dreadful maelstrom it can be no bad thing to stick close to Wiebbe Hayes. He seems to know what he is doing and continues to radiate a calm confidence.

It is odd, thinks Hayes, as they head towards the High Islands, that no one, least of all Zevanck, has been specific about exactly which of the two High Islands the water is to be found on, but maybe that will be apparent once they get there. Maybe they are simply dotted with freshwater creeks and all you have to do is sink the barrels into one and they will be full.

But if that is the case, Hayes thinks, why is the raft dropping them and then leaving, instead of staying right there and waiting while they load it up again? It is with this in mind that he turns to Zevanck and asks for more specific directions as to where the water is to be found.

Zevanck does not like Hayes and does not bother to pretend otherwise. He growls in reply that Hayes and his men will see soon enough once they get there, and he makes it absolutely clear that he does not care to discuss it further. Hayes has to let the matter rest as they approach to within a mile of the High Islands. From this distance, it looks good, at least in comparison with what they have left.

While Batavia’s Graveyard is really naught but a strip of coral that just happens to be a couple of yards higher than the sea around it – and is not really an ‘island’ worthy of the name – this place they are approaching is obviously the genuine thing. The highest and more north-easterly of the two islands, which is the one they are landing on, springs out of the water to the height of at least 50 feet at its peak. Covered in vegetation of an indeterminate species – though it looks to be low, singularly disappointed shrubs, together with equally sad little trees that have been obliged to bow to the constant wind – East High Island looks to be about two miles long and is perhaps nearly as wide.

Offloaded, and after waving the quickly departing rafts goodbye, Hayes’s men immediately begin their search for water, not least because after their journey on the sea they are all especially thirsty. In the first instance, what they find is . . . not much. True, there are some brackish pools of water surrounded by dark moss up on the cliffs where they can sate their immediate needs, but there is no sign whatsoever of the clear and obvious supply of water that has been promised.

Disappointed, but not panicked, Hayes organises his men to continue a methodical search of the island, scouring it square yard by square yard, and marking off the places they have already searched as they go. It is thirsty work, but it simply has to be done.

They have only been at it a short time when Hayes and his men are suddenly stunned.

There!

What strange manner of creature is this? Just up ahead in a small hollow of ground, the people sight something the likes of which they have never seen before – some very odd-looking animals. They look to be cats, albeit with big ears pointing skywards, huge hind legs and tiny front legs, standing upright and . . . and . . . and now they are
jumping
! Jumping like no cat has ever jumped. Bounding,
bouncing
all over the place. And then the bouncing cats stop, the whole lot at once, looking back at the people . . .
their whiskers quivering.

One of the men, Otto Smit – who as a cadet is nominally the superior of Wiebbe Hayes but is happily filling in as his number two, such is his respect for Hayes’s acumen and leadership – gives a joyous shout and runs towards them, and suddenly the cats take off all together, bounding away. Now all the men shout, running happily after the jumping cats, some of the soldiers with their swords drawn, and others hurling any stone they can find. One well-aimed stone hits one of the cats behind the ear and brings it down. A flash of a cutlass later and there will be some precious fresh meat to share tonight, cut into strictly divided portions that Hayes insists on.

When they cut up the animal, they are stunned to find that some of these strange creatures, the females, have openings in their chests, almost like little pouches. Inside are tiny, perfectly formed baby cats. Then the men chase some more cats and they even see some of the larger baby cats climb right inside their mothers, who then bound away! It is completely extraordinary – the most unheard of animal they’ve never heard of. And the most important thing, as the men quickly discover, is that their meat is more than merely palatable. An old Dutch dictum has it that
honger maakt rauwe bonen proeven zoet
, hunger makes raw beans taste sweet, and so it proves on this occasion. Perhaps when they were well fed in Amsterdam the gamey meat would not have appealed to them, but here it tastes like a precious delicacy.

Still, there is no water to be found by the end of the day, beyond some more brackish pools, but the fact they now have plenty of meat is a major breakthrough.

22 June 1629, Batavia’s Graveyard

The morning after Hayes and his men have been dropped off, Jeronimus informs the provost, Pieter Jansz, that he, with his wife and their child, plus soldier Claas Harmansz of Maagdenburgh with his wife, Claudine Patoys, and her child, along with another eight people are to be immediately taken back to Traitors’ Island, the tiny islet on which most of the ship’s company spent their first terribly uncomfortable night after the shipwreck. Jansz, too, is a councillor and must set the example, as Jacobsz has done. Though the provost is uncertain that this is a good idea, because he knows how bleak that island is from the day and night he spent there immediately after the shipwreck, Jeronimus informs him that he needs him to do it because he has a specific and very important task for him. The southern shore of Traitors’ Island, he informs Jansz, now has a great deal of wood on it, and he desires the provost and his people to spend their energies building some rafts. They will be given all the materials and tools they need, and once those rafts are completed they will be able to join Wiebbe Hayes and his men on the High Islands, where water is plentiful. Though still doubtful, the provost agrees.

Once the provost and his party have been moved to Traitors’ Island, things at Batavia’s Graveyard are suddenly extraordinarily quiet. Over the previous three days – involving several ferrying trips on the barge back and forth – the island has been so emptied that there are just 140 souls remaining.

This is still way too many in the view of Jeronimus and his closest henchmen, but it is at least a good start.

22 June 1629, in the longboat, Indian Ocean

On this day, as every day at noon, Jacobsz uses his astrolabe to take his sights from the sun at its highest point and calculate their position. They are now at 16 degrees 10 minutes south, meaning – dot three, carry one, subtract two – in 24 hours they have rather neatly travelled 24 miles. Running with a south-west to south-easterly wind, together with a northerly current, they are now making excellent progress.

24 June 1629, High Islands

After three days of intensive searching, Wiebbe Hayes is now sadly certain that the island on which they have been landed contains no steady supply of water, beyond the odd brackish pool. That water has been enough to keep them alive for the three-day search, but there is no chance it will sustain them in the long term.
Hayes thus orders his men to move at low tide
the one-mile distance across the shallows of the muddy causeway to the neighbouring island, so they can begin another methodical search.

Ably assisting Hayes in the relocation of the 20-odd troops to the lower of the two islands is Otto Smit, who has proved himself to be something of a master of logistics. For although Jeronimus has done his very best to ensure the privation of the High Islanders, nevertheless, a store of hard-won goods and supplies – including humpies fashioned from driftwood covered in scrub, a reasonable supply of fresh ‘cat’ meat, and scant water collected from brackish ponds – has been built up over their short period on the first of the islands.

And, despite the fact the larger cay is only a mile away, given the difficult nature of negotiating the mudflats that separate the two islands it is Smit’s responsibility to coordinate the movement of men and supplies. Calling on his cadet training, Smit has worked out every detail: which man is responsible for which item; the time the tide will be at its lowest so they can most easily make the crossing; the optimum route to be taken; how to distribute the water among the men, and so on.

Within a short time, the men are efficiently relocated in their new home – named Hayes’s Island in honour of their leader – have re-established their shelters, and have gathered kindling and firewood to make a fire with which to dry out their washed clothing and cook their evening meal of grilled cats. Wiebbe Hayes and Otto Smit have a quick meeting to divide the men into two groups for exploration on the morrow.

And there is a lot of ground to search. For though this island is not nearly so high as the first, it is bigger – about three miles long and two miles wide. Blessedly, this island, too, is well supplied with wildlife, and they also discover that the fish are particularly abundant here, while the birdlife is teeming. Still, with only the water they have found on the original island so far, it is not going to be easy, and the need to find a reliable supply is, as always, paramount. Meanwhile, they continue to look towards Batavia’s Graveyard, hoping to see boats coming their way with the promised provisions, but day after day there is no sign. No one can work out why.

26 June 1629, Batavia’s Graveyard

In his tent, surrounded by a coterie of his closest Mutineers, Jeronimus lets the last drops of his fifth glass of wine of the evening swirl around his mouth, before letting them trickle down, down, down . . .

At last satisfied, he leans back. Things are sorting themselves out admirably. It was a very good move indeed to insist that all of the key stores be kept in his tent, one of the many good moves he has made to this point. He is strengthening by the day – a fact attested to by the presence on this evening of one Wouter Loos, a soldier he has had his eye on for some time. A natural leader of men, rather in the manner of Wiebbe Hayes, Loos kept well away from the Mutineers in the early days on the island and remained his own man, but this evening he has accepted an invitation to dine and drink with them – a sure sign that he understands which way the tide is turning and wants to run with it.