Batavia (39 page)

With such visions as this on Batavia’s Graveyard now a daily occurrence, the atmosphere among the Survivors is one of sheer, barely controlled terror. Often in the course of these weeks, and more frequently as conditions worsen, Survivors can be seen staring wanly out to sea in one of two directions. They are gazing either to a point beyond where the wreck of the
Batavia
lies, in the direction of their impossibly distant homeland, or towards the last point where they saw the sail of the
Commandeur
and the skipper with the forty-odd sailors disappear, followed shortly afterwards by Gillis Fransz and his own ten men in the yawl. For minutes at a time, they stare, dreaming of the green fields and bonny flowers of home, the soaring church spires and swirling boulevards of people in the merry towns, or
willing
a sail to appear, praying that in the far distance they will at last see a sign that their rescue is at hand. And then they just as suddenly snap out of it, get on with their work, keep their heads down and try to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible, as the Mutineers swagger past looking for someone to either bully or kill.

Under such circumstances, it is not surprising that the ranks of the Mutineers continue to swell, as even good men have to make hard decisions about what they are prepared to do to survive.

And so they come. Whereas in the early days on the ship, and then on the island, the core of the Mutineers was those in key positions at the top of the
Batavia
’s hierarchy – Jacobsz, Jeronimus, Stonecutter, Evertsz, van Huyssen, etc. – and the first recruits came from fore of the mast – Lenart van Os, Ryckert Woutersz, Allert Jansz, Cornelis Jansz, Gijsbert van Welderen – there now appears a new type of recruit. It is the sad, thinking man from aft of the mast, one who has no appetite whatsoever for violence, whose natural disposition does not remotely align with that of the Mutineers . . . but who has come to the conclusion that, while it might be an important ideal to save lives on the island, the most important thing is to save his own life . . . if not his soul.

The epitome of this new type of recruit is to be found in the person of the surgeon Frans Jansz, a decent man who – after everyone under his care in the sick tent was ruthlessly murdered – has come to a very stark conclusion: he has no choice. The Mutineers are, clearly, methodically killing off all men who are not of their number. If Jansz wants to live, it is obvious to him he must join the Mutineers, so he requests an audience with Jeronimus.

The
Kapitein-Generaal
graciously agrees and even listens to the man’s stumbling, bumbling words of how much he has always admired him and can see that, yes, though it may seem harsh to some, there really is no escaping the logic that there are too many people on the island for too few resources and something has to be done, so . . . if the
Kapitein-Generaal
thinks that he, the upper-surgeon, could be of any use . . . well . . . well,
he would be happy to help.

It is a singularly difficult speech for the upper-surgeon to make, made more painful by the fact that, as he makes it, he can feel the eyes of Lucretia upon him. While he cannot bring himself to look back at her, he can guess all too well her thoughts. But is she really so different? Does she not, too, want to live? If not, why is she here in this tent, with this monster?

Charm itself, Jeronimus thanks the surgeon for his kind words and says he is delighted to have his support. Does he understand that being ‘one of us’ means being obedient to him, Jeronimus, in everything that he will be asked to do, that this is a sacred oath upon his very soul, and that all of them are like brothers now, and he will be expected to comport himself thus, and in return he will be so treated as a brother and his protection will be assured? Frans Jansz gravely gives his oath, affirming it all. Good.

Jeronimus can’t help but notice that Jansz’s clothes are looking a bit ragged. Perhaps he might like to see young Pelgrom about his attire, and see if one of the red coats might better suit him? If he does very well among them, he might one day even be able to wear some gold lace upon it, like Zevanck, van Huyssen, Stonecutter et al. Wretchedly, Jansz nods that he will do just that and then takes his leave. Sipping on his wine, Jeronimus watches him go, with sly amusement.

Few things are as pleasing as the power to corrupt good men. The truth of it is that it is highly unlikely that Jansz will be a worthy addition to the Mutineers, as in this environment they have little need of educated men. But, for the moment, he lets it pass. The point is that, by joining them, Jansz has removed himself from those who still might oppose him.

A very few Survivors, however – and the most notable is the upper-surgeon’s offsider Aris Jansz – resolve to do things in a different way. A small, quietly spoken and relatively educated man with equal amounts of empathy and ability, Jansz has no interest in joining the Mutineers, or openly fighting them. He is not even interested in either making himself as inconspicuous as possible or making himself indispensable. A natural loner, he simply wants to go about his own business – alone.

15 July 1629, Batavia

At last,
at last
, they are on their way. After a week of feverish preparations, which included having the
Sardam
cleaned from stem to stern, repaired below decks to stem any leaks and entirely revictualled, the yacht’s skipper, Jacob Jacobsz, pronounces that he is happy for them to leave.

None is happier to hear it than Pelsaert, together with two others who have made the gruelling trip in the longboat from the Abrolhos and are now returning there with him. They are Claas Gerritsz, the
opperstuurman
, and Claas Jansz, the upper-trumpeter, who has left his beloved wife Tryn back there with her sister Zussie and has been beside himself with urgency to return since that terrible day they had to leave.

At the very time that the square-rigged
Sardam
clears the port and begins to make her way back towards the Sunda Strait, before embarking on a course that will lead them to where Pelsaert, in Coen’s chilling words, ‘lost the ship and left the people’, Jeronimus Cornelisz is embarking on
a key project of his own
. . .

15 July 1629, Batavia’s Graveyard

Having now disposed of all the sick people in the Abrolhos, it is time to focus on getting rid of the rest of the useless mouths eating the food and guzzling the oh so precious fresh water, before focusing fully on the Wiebbe Hayes problem.

‘It is time to tidy up that island,’ Jeronimus says succinctly to David Zevanck, pointing to Seals’ Island across the deepwater channel, where a long streak of white shows the shore and they can see the small figures moving about on it. For nearly a month, there has been no contact between the two islands, and none of the promised supplies have been delivered to them. But, to Jeronimus’s disappointment, the people there have survived regardless – though he is at least pleased to have gained the impression by close observation that they are moving around more slowly, as if they must be ailing.

To be specific, he tells Zevanck exactly what he wants: ‘Kill most of the people, the children as well as the men, and leave alive for the time being only the women who are there.’

Zevanck nods and drinks deeply from the golden goblet of red wine – known among the Mutineers as the ‘killing cup’ – that Jeronimus always proffers while giving such instructions. To help him, Jeronimus has decided to send some of his best men with him, men who are already proven killers.

All of Lenart van Os, Stonecutter, Hans Jacobsz and Jan Hendricxsz are sent for. They are told
they must accompany Zevanck and Coenraat van Huyssen
in the little boat to Seals’ Island, and then told what they must do when they arrive. All are given weaponry from the stores, consisting principally of daggers, swords and
morgensterren
, morning stars.

And the surgeon, Frans Jansz, is also sent for. Jeronimus explains to him how regrettable it is that the eradication of those on Seals’ Island must be accomplished, but he, Jeronimus, is no more than an instrument of the Company’s will and it was the specific instruction of the
Commandeur
before he left that their numbers had to be reduced, to allow the survival of at least a few of them.

Pale, Frans Jansz listens to the monstrous lie but nods, agreeing that he will go too. For what choice does he have? He has been presented with the option of forfeiting his own life or signing off on their death, and he has chosen to sign off on their death – and even, tacitly, to help to kill them. He takes hold of the weapon that Jeronimus has offered him in the reluctant manner in which a vampire might take hold of a crucifix. Hollow-eyed, haunted by what he is doing, he goes to join the others . . .

15 July 1629, Seals’ Island

The first that those on Seals’ Island know of possible trouble for them all comes in the late afternoon, when, for the first time since they set foot there nearly four weeks earlier, they see a yawl with seven men in it heading directly their way from Batavia’s Graveyard.

Hearts pounding like the drums of the Hottentots they heard just three months earlier, no fewer than 40 people start to run in desperation, in every direction. Having witnessed the murders just a week earlier of the provost and his people, they can have little doubt that much the same fate is intended for them. And yet, where can they run
to
? The answer is not obvious on this small, barren island. Though it is nigh on a mile long, there is no shelter, no forest, no hollows or caves, no means of escape. But run they do, trying to keep always to the farthest point on the island from the seven men who, they now see as the boat approaches the shore, are heavily armed.

No sooner does the prow of the boat touch the sand than some of the Mutineers jump ashore and begin to chase after them, brandishing their swords and swinging their morning stars, with the only exception being Frans Jansz, who wretchedly lags behind. Most enthusiastic is Lenart van Os, barely ashore before charging full tilt after the nearest person he can see, a small lad with a terrible limp, who presents an easy kill that van Os just can’t resist opening his account with.

With one mighty thrust, the hulking Mutineer puts his well-prepared sword clean through the lad, who falls to the ground with a scream. Satisfied that the child’s death won’t be long in coming, van Os continues to sprint and soon has another young lad in his sights. This time, he runs the victim through the buttocks, before killing another man with a single deadly thrust.

Around and about, others of the Mutineers are picking their marks and going after them, scream after scream attesting to their good work. Jan Hendricxsz is particularly effective and manages to stab, slash and bash no fewer than two men and five cabin boys. This includes the leader of the soldiers, Gabriel Jacobsz, who is cut through while trying to defend his pregnant wife, Laurentia Thomas, and their child.

Coenraat van Huyssen, meanwhile, homes in on his own mark and, raising his weapon to full height, smites the VOC assistant Cornelis Janszoon a body-jarring blow over the shoulder, before wrestling him to the ground. Yet the sword of van Huyssen is as blunt as van Os’s is sharp – he has, after all, been very busy of late with his new wife, Judick – and though Janszoon is wounded, it is not mortal. Janszoon, displaying a fierce will to live, manages to land enough blows on van Huyssen’s head that the Mutineer is obliged to call for help. In an instant, Hans Jacobsz flies into the fray and, with one thrust, drives his pike into Janszoon’s breeches. To his amazement, however, not only does the thrust not go through him but also Janszoon somehow manages to rise, strike blows at van Huyssen and Jacobsz that knock them both to the ground and then disappear into the bushes!

They will search for him later. Watching the whole thing from his own hiding spot in the bushes is another Cornelis, none other than Cornelis the once fat trumpeter. The last four weeks have been a complete hell for him, with his formerly porcine figure now all but wasting away. Perhaps, if he was stronger, he might have been able to come to the aid of Cornelis Janszoon – God knows, he wants to strike back at these monsters – but, as it is, he is glad enough to just lie there undetected, to see the direction that Cornelis Janszoon ran in and resolve to follow him when it is safe.

The carnage still continues apace. Of resistance, there is very little, with only a few brave men following the form of Jacobsz in trying to protect their families as well as they can; however, without weapons there is all but nothing they can do, bar wave a few planks at the Mutineers, trying to keep them at bay. Laughing, because those planks make it interesting, the Mutineers quickly slaughter these brave men, leaving their women and children unprotected. The women, for the moment, are spared, but, as there is no use for the children, when they are caught they are quickly killed.

As the sun wanes, the killing goes on, though it becomes more difficult. Some of the cabin boys manage to hide in the thick brush at the northern end of the island, while others are so fast and nimble it is near impossible for the Mutineers to get close enough to kill them. How can they solve this problem?

It is Zevanck who comes up with at least a partial solution. They need one of the lads, who is as fast as the others, to become a Mutineer and begin chasing and killing for them. And Zevanck knows who.

It is young Abraham Gerritsz of Amsterdam whom they picked up back in Sierra Leone, where he had deserted from another ship. Gerritsz has been brought down and is about to be killed when Zevanck steps in. ‘
Jongen
, boy,’ the young aristocrat addresses him,
‘you must participate in the killing,
or you will be fixed yourself.’

Gerritsz nods that he understands, and, carefully, Zevanck hands him a dagger. All the Mutineers are on watch to ensure that Gerritsz will not use it on them, but there is no such problem. In no time, the boy has spotted another lad and chases after him, bringing him to ground. He quickly plunges his knife into his throat, ending his life.