The Devil's Company : The Tragedy of the 'Batavia'.

By John Lobb

The wreck of the 'Batavia' in 1629. The complete story of this momentous event in Dutch/Australian history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781447616269

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THE DEVIL’S COMPANY

THE TRAGEDY OF THE ‘BATAVIA’

We should explore - venture forth and realise our dreams!

The boldest may prosper but integrity will prevail.

Copyright © 2008 by JOHN LOBB

All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

JOHN LOBB. SELF PUBLISHED BY www.lulu.com

ISBN: 978-1-4092-6882-6

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PREFACE

I had hoped to publish this book in 2002 to coincide with the four hundredth anniversary of the Dutch East India Company (V.O.C.). Others have written about this fascinating, if gruesome saga but few have imagined the thoughts of the people involved while remaining true to historical records. I also wanted to define the pivotal characters and highlight the historical significance; the 'Batavia' was wrecked off the coast of Western Australia one hundred and forty years before Captain Cook claimed the Southern Continent. This is a compelling story with outstanding personalities - is there a greater villain than Jeronomous Cornelisz or a more worthy heroine than Lucretia van der Mylen?

I must acknowledge Henrietta Drake Brockman and her book Voyage To Disaster as a primary reference. Mike Dash’s ‘Batavia’s Graveyard’ also provided helpful information.

JOHN LOBB,

Sunrise Beach, Qld.

Australia.

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On the 4th June 1629, about two hours before dawn, Captain Arian Jacobst questioned his watchman.

Hans, what does that appear to be?

What’s that skipper?

"That spray in the distance. What can that be?"

"It is the shine off the moon. There’s nothing there."

Shortly afterwards the Dutch East Indies retourship ‘Batavia' blundered into a shallow reef known as Houtman’s Abrolhos. With a tremendous cacophony of splitting timbers and tearing hessian the great ship ground to a halt on submerged rocks; the bow ripped asunder as canvass tangled with rigging on shattered spars. The impact so violent it whipped the masts askew, leaving the mighty flagship firmly snared, perched at an ungainly angle like a stricken albatross. By the skipper reckoning they were two hundred Dutch miles from Terra Australis Incognito.

Scudding clouds above the pre-dawn gloom revealed a dismal scene. Shocked passengers swarmed the decks, anxious to see their parlous situation. Some praised the Lord for keeping them safe but many bemoaned their wretched luck for being part of an accursed voyage.

Knocked down by the force of the collision the befuddled Captain Arian Jacobst surveyed the carnage and felt his head spin as he considered the calamitous consequences. Having been pitched from his bunk Commandeur Francisco Pelsaert found the skipper among the darkened disorder.

What’s the meaning of this Captain? By your recklessness we have run aground.

By my word Commandeur, how could I have done better?

From the Poop each glared at the other before turning to inspect the main deck, now a fragmented jumble as distraught people thronged the dismal chaos.

What counsel now Captain? Where are we and what’s to be done to free the vessel?

"God knows, this is a shallow that must be lying quite a distance from the unknown land, and I think we are just on the tail of it. We must see to putting out an anchor, if we're on the ebb then perhaps we can wind from it."

Claas, take the lead and get the yawls out. We need to know how much water we have. See if you can secure the stern.

Alas skip, methinks we can’t get a drag, the kedge won’t to hold.

How many fathoms do we have?

Perchance three at the transom but the tide's agin us.

Keep trying, go back a throw before tending the side.

Methinks we’re held fast, the wind's freshening but moreover the sea's running out.

Instruct the Bosun to hoist the cannon and all else we don’t need. Clear the decks! We have to reduce our draft before the incoming tide. Do we have any water at the port bow?

No Captain, we’ve come too far up. The long boat had to go back an arrow shot to find forty feet.

What’s become of my good fortune? Methinks we’ll be stranded for several watches. Claas, get the people to favour the port side and be sure to lessen our burden, heave as much ballast as you can. Instruct the Provost and the Constable to help - put the gunners into the hold.

Should we bring up the stone Cap’n?

Not yet, perchance when we’re done and we measure our prospects. Gillis, I want you to inspect the bottom timbers, we must be taking water.

Skip, she’s starting to wash over the deck.

The wind’s coming with the day and it seems we’re in for a blow, what’s-more the swell's coming in on us.

Jan, see what’s to be done about the rigging. Get Wensel's men up and cut what you have to, take all you can off the main.

Looks as though we’ve come up on the tide and the waves are going to hinder us, even with water we won’t get off.

There you are Skipper, at least now we can see the folly of our misadventure.

It’s an eerie light that comes with the rain. What a misery! We’re held fast in the midst of nowhere. Where are we, what’s to report?

It seems we’re on a rocky shallow but there could be islands to the north.

Let’s hope so. We need to get people and supplies to a safe haven. If we’re to be free of these wretched rocks we have to raise the draft.

Are you suggesting we leave the ship?

Yes I am Commandeur, but first we'll need to see what land is hereabout. I also propose to lower the main mast. If we don’t it’ll drag us over and we’ll hole for certain.

Does that mean ‘Batavia’ is lost?

Not yet, but we’ll need to take desperate measures if we’re to save her. She’s lying into the wind and won’t take much of this battering. We have to drastically trim before the next tide.

Are you certain you need to take down the mast?

If we get off we can still sail without it; there’s no other way.

Ready the sailors and clear the main!

Several timbers are smashed underneath Skipper, there’s nought for it, we’re taking water cos she's raked all the way through.

Get the Constable to take Nannings down and ensure the gunners bring up as many preserves as they can. Save the bread and grain. Also prepare the treasury, the silver stays with us.

Jacop, fetch the axes and get Pieter to keep the others away. Make haste and ready Boontjie’s watch to contain the mast. Cut the mainstays!

It’s a wasted effort Skip, we still can’t get the main over, the tops have fouled and she’s jammed into the capstan.

Jan, put Gerrit's watch up, find Thomas… cut away the hallyards and shrouds, free the spars.

Claas, get the boy to fetch Warner and his tools. We’ll need to dismantle the capstan and chisel the combing so we can free the base. Even without the rigging she’s wedged in tight.

Captain I think it’s best if you go with the yawl to survey the islands. I need to know if they’re a safe haven."

Commandeur, perchance I should stay with the ship, I need to harry the sailors.

I know what’s to be done. We need to get people off before all is lost.

Before clambering down to join the boat crew Captain Jacobst took another moment to survey the debacle. Even before she ground to a halt, before the lash of the tops, he knew what had happened. It was not the first time he'd heard the scraping of the keel and immediately realised he would be blamed for disabling the Company’s best ship. Jacobst had been distracted, sailing too far south and grossly miscalculated longitude. His sudden bout of nausea could be likened to the qualm of a convicted man upon hearing the Advocate pronounce the death sentence.

After the ship foundered, while still lying on the deck, Captain Jacobst recalled seeing his watchman Hans leap over the Poop as might a fleeing fox. However his thoughts were now distracted by the vision of Lucretia and although a smitten suitor it was a vision of longing. She stood alone, off to the side, her back to the ship, staring into the wind as might a vigilant lookout. She seemed a beacon in the murkiness, a welcoming symbol with unbound hair riding the breeze as her intense blue eyes wandered afar. Many times he'd seen this enigmatic pose and as a carnal creature felt his blood warm with desire. He observed the Predikant’s young daughter Willemyntgie entice Lucretia back to the fold, he could see the French girls but not Zwaantie and that worried him. Like a knowing husband he suspected his hussy of indulging in mischief.

Adjacent to the offending reef were two small islands, islets really, little more than barren outcrops of coral; nothing substantial, no features of any consequence, barely above sea level they were minimal in every way. One was larger than the other but just as desolate. Although there were other islands in the distance they had to bring the people to this place. The ship needed to evacuate quickly.

After returning to 'Batavia' Captain Jacobst realised their fragility. The pounding swell exposed the ship which lay beaten, waiting for a merciful end. Disembarking would be hazardous because surf washed where the small boats docked, a constant impediment that would hamper loading particularly if the waves were imposing. Despite ongoing efforts the tangled central mast could not be shifted and so the proud ship suffered the ignominy of listing into the sea. Several hours of futility confirmed the grand ship's destruction and again Jacobst experienced a pang of conscience, although this time it felt like a heavy blow to the head.

Throughout that fateful day the men toiled like navvies, it had dawned grey and not improved. They tried in vain to lever the central mast and it's rigging while ensuring the main deck was swept of refuse. Showery squalls with a gusty southerly lashed cold spray onto the hapless individuals. Leaving the ship amid turmoil and stormy weather tested their endurance, clearing the deck became a treacherous assignment. The surging sea raged the cluttered wreck, disrupting an anxious mob as they lurched into bobbing craft. Resembling drunkards some land lubbers tripped and fell while sea salts mimicked seals as they washed into the ocean. Although reluctant travellers the willing were transported onto the larger of the rocky outcrops.

Accepting there was little else he could do to save the precious ‘Batavia’ the Captain assumed the role of ferry-master on the larger sloop while the Commandeur supervised docking and loading of both long boats, also aware their flag ship was doomed. Although pre-occupied with saving people Commandeur Pelsaert learnt there were sailors loitering below who seemed reluctant to leave the vessel. Without Captain Jacobst's authority but like a faithful V.O.C. servant the Commandeur readied the money chests but neglected to save sufficient food and drinking water. By mid afternoon the sea had encroached the hold and only then did sailors retrieve some bread and biscuit, but little thought was given to feeding the survivors.

Commandeur, I have to report the survivors are squandering our stores, there's insufficient for us all, perchance you should be ashore.

Perchance I should survey the land and commence some regulations. I will leave with the next boat before returning for the silver.

By day’s end there were one hundred and forty people with Captain Jacobst on the larger island while the Commandeur sheltered forty survivors on the nearby islet. Fading light and rough seas prevented the last boat joining the main group. Salvaged goods comprised thirteen barrels of biscuit, six casks of bread, six barrels of drinking water, a few preserves and some wine but certainly not enough for all.

At least seventy men remained on the devastated ‘Batavia’ and by nightfall most had sampled the Captain's wines, carousing in the manner of exultant aristocrats though a few hid like scared rodents waiting for a safe exit.

Well now Janie, seeing the good Captain and his lot have seen fit to venture ashore I might join the boys in the cellar. I say we’ve earned an extra ration or two.

That's more my notion, I’m by your side. I’ll be pleased to sup without those blaggards in our ear.

Passchier, Waggars and Ryckert are in the toff’s quarters, let’s see what treats they've left us; methinks she hold up till morning.

On opposing islands the two senior officials ruefully eyed their pathetic situation. In the distance they could see the flickering stern lamp signifying the great ship was alive yet both considered their hopes extinguished; the flag ship was dying, dashed by an unknown reef in an unknown land. There would be no resurrection of ‘Batavia’, they were abandoned as refuse and in dire trouble, each would be blamed for the loss though Captain Jacobst seemed most culpable. It was his command, his watch and his error of navigation that ultimately destroyed the pride of the fleet on her first voyage. What’s more Captains were warned of the 21st degree latitude prior to leaving the Fatherland and Jacobst had rutters charting dangerous reefs on approach to the Southland. However Fleet Commandeur Pelsaert had overall charge of the expedition and responsibility for all the people's welfare.

The survivors were stranded on barren rocky islets with little sustenance and bleak prospects; cold and dishevelled without protection from the weather they huddled through the night like urchins in the street.

Where are we?

Only God knows this place.

May our Great Almighty be merciful and take pity on our sorry plight.

I hope we can salvage more victuals because we'll soon need them.

Perhaps we're near a settlement, Abel says there’s many outposts in the Indies, moreover he had a notion there’d be ample victuals in the jungle.

This is no jungle. The Provost says we're in the midst of the ocean miles from land. Gert says we're many weeks from our port and by the look of this it’s true.

Well Pieter, I'm not going to fret until the morrow. Perchance we can haul provisions from the ship. If the weather holds she won't burst.

Let's hope your notion is true Will. I'm going to fossick with the others.

Most of those remaining on ‘Batavia’ were in better spirits, all the ship's officers were ashore and the insubordinates had supped generously. The gunners and soldiers first broached the supplies, celebrating their freedom as a Feast Day. Mimicking victorious raiders they ransacked the hold now filling with water and set a banquet in the Gallery, Paschier van Ende, Ryckert Woutersz, Jan Hendricx, Mattys Beer and Allert Jansz were eager hands who gleefully sorted the stores.

What’s the good of all this stuff now? Leave it boys, let’s take some of their special preserves and old wine, let’s set up for the night. Before we leave this rat's nest we'll have some sport. There’s none to stay us now.

Trust you to know a good bottle Paschier, come on boys let’s make merry, what do they care about us?

Look at this Mattys, French and Portuguese wine, yahoo! Ryckert and Allert have found the cheeses and sweetmeats, this’ll be a spree for the ages.

Methinks too many cups makes a dullard though perchance the irons or the yard will spice the bethinking.

Perchance we’ll swing for our ructions.

If that’s so methinks we should ratchet our ministrations, let’s get some fancy garb and set table in the Great cabin.

What a jolly notion. Our masters certainly set up for a feast, I didn't know they stored all this.

Give me that, I'll show you what it's good for.

Hold up Gilly, don't smash it ! Let's have a session first.

Come on, grab some victuals before they’re spoilt, there's water washing the boards. Here Joel, take some of these while we search for treats.

I'm not your lacky, fetch your own liquor. Give me that, I'll show you what's to be done.

Help me Allert, here take some of these preserves, you'd better tell the boys to come before the sea takes a hand.

Perchance I should call our brothers before you scoff the lot.

Don't worry Mattys, I’m certain we can scrape a handy repast, those dung bags won't return till morning.

Stop Jean! Stop smashing our booty. Come on, help me get him out of here.

As if Inspectors for the Inquisition inebriated larrikins ransacked the Officers’ quarters at the rear of the Upper Deck. Mostly sailors they scanned personal effects, keeping some but generally discarding or wilfully destroying all vestiges of officialdom.

Look at this finery, what's the good of it for the nonce? Let’s have another tipple, old wine has to be drunk.

Well done Lucas, here quaff some of this, it's what the genteel ladies would have supped.

Wouldn't I like to have 'em here, we could have a proper spree.

What a splendid notion, we could show 'em a trick or two.

This is what I’d like to show em …

I don’t know how they wear some of this. Look at this collar, how's this Corny, do I look like a cavalier?

Give it here, I'll show you how it's done. Sash this on me and perchance I could find a lace vest and some baloony britches, I ‘ll show you what the burghers look like.

"You there, who’s there? Out cats and dogs, you’ve been master here long enough, now it’s my turn for while."

Boontjie, stop! That’s enough! It’s only Lucas the Steward’s mate. Stop it you buffoon! Now look what you’ve done, you’ve stabbed him!

You damn fool Boontjie, you stupid ass, you’ve cut me! God help you gunner, if I were an officer I'd have you in irons afore you swing from the yard.

The cantankerous revellers took great delight but little care as they assembled an array of wine and spirit from the Captain’s stock. While consuming the forbidden harvest merrymakers moved through adjoining cabins like wealthy patrons at a bazaar, taking or discarding items of interest. Many were not familiar with a gentleman’s wardrobe and were keen to pocket mementoes though most intent on wilful destruction. They wished to punish their absent superiors. Embittered by months of difficult servitude there was little sobriety, they drank to excess, rejoicing in their freedom before lamenting their precarious existence. Resembling brazen thieves they dared to loot, ravaging Company possessions and rioting as if there was no tomorrow.

What about this, Waggers? Doesn’t this coat make me look like the Captain of Arms?

More like Captain Arsehole - here take this to wipe your bum.

What a splendid sight, I’ll put this uppity coat on and be a proper gentleman. Methinks we could all do with some finery while those scum bags are ashore.

To hell with them, they’re nought but dick-heads only fit for the trough, let’s drink to us and forget about those mangy weasels. What do they care about us.

'That's true Bejie, where’s those poxy Officers now? They're gone and we're in command so we can do as we please. How do I look?'

There were riotous parties throughout the ship with much shouting, toasting and uproar as enlisted men enjoyed their first celebration for many months; veterans drinking to forget before remembering to raise their mugs to the future. The boisterous hard-men appreciated their unexpected liberty by ransacking the rear decks while boozing, swearing and engaging in licentious conversation, taking particular relish in Mrs van der Mylen’s cabin. Troublemakers looted and desecrated while inebriates were content to drink and slept where they collapsed.

Some stalwarts drank into the night while others dozed fitfully but like the cheating spouse who cavorts at will, once sober they worried about the consequences.

In the Commandeur's cabin, also the official dining room, some of the Cadets held counsel, discussing more serious matters.

I'm for staying with the Captain, perchance he'll soon be rid of the Commandeur and then methinks the true quest begins.

Would that be the mistress or the maid?

Ha, methinks he’s spent his shot with the the aforesaid yet who can say what the cock will do when the keepers uprooted. But if I consider truly methinks Zwaantie has wormed her way into Arian’s heart …

Perchance that should be britches …

That’s true Hans, but returning to the crux the shit will stick to the wall; we should consider our station with the Company, we owe them our dues and our loyalty. Francisco Pelsaert is our commander.

That’s true Andries, I respect our Lords and Masters but we have to account for our changed happenstance and I also say the Captain has a tune to play.

But not if he steers away from the Company. Remember our oath and bethink on the hereafter. We must be true to the Directors.

You boys can say what you like but this voyage has never been on course, there’s too many outsiders, I’ve not seen a more discordant lot, above and below decks there’s been constant bickering and methinks there’s more to behold.

Perchance we should allow the shit to harden, let’s hold off and see what construes when the two wise men confer.

Methinks that’s an admirable notion David, let’s see what the morrow’s parley reveals. But I concur, too many interferers have spoilt this voyage, as my father was wont to say - a women outdoors has mischief in mind and too many cooks will spoil the broth. That grand and mighty fancy woman has been the cause of our woes.

I say a fine riddance to the lot of them.

Really Daniel, she's been an ornament to us all.

We agree on that Andries, what man wouldn’t like to have her in his bunk.

Methinks these femmes have been the root of our woes, they've led our masters to stray from their duty…

Methinks the sea is no place for a woman, look how unruly the sailors have become. Even our brother Conraat has found a lusty maid…

Am I to shade my eyes from a manly quest? Should I tack away when a prize awaits? Methinks the Commandeur or the Skipper have shied away from their duty, assuredly we’ve seen many instances, but for my part, perchance the Director’s have erred.

Perchance we’ve parleyed enough on our dilemma, methinks we should stay this prattle till our players reveal their true meaning, however we're all agreed the women have upset the ship’s motion, Zwaantie has set many hearts to flutter while . . .

More than a flutter, she nearly caused a rebellion when the Boatswain curbed her philandering. As you say David, perchance we should leave this parley till after dinner cups.

Let's not be swayed by other men's fortunes. We have to take else we'll be accused of treason. I will not be part of an insurrection because the Captain despises the Commandeur.

Spoken like a patriot Otto but that’s true, we should not engage in a personal vendetta. We have to weigh what's best for the Company, they pay our dues and will determine our fate.

This wrecking has altered our fate.

Let's see how the pot boils ashore.

Yea, we'll parley with our comrades but I'll be mindful of how the Skipper sets his sails.

I reckon he'll stretch out with the saucy maid before he considers the sheets.

I tell you David, I'd like to be standing in line. Aren't they a dandy duo? However Lucretia is more to my liking. She's a mighty fine woman.

There's few who would blacken the repute of our supercargo, she's as fine as a man could want but does she have the passion of the servant.

A toast brothers! To the mistress and the maid!

And to us in their boudoir!

I will seek counsel with the Undermerchant, he's a learned man with an eye for fortune.

Aren't we all Conraat, but methinks it's strange Jeronomous has sided with the Captain and not the Commandeur. The latter should be his ally.

Yet the Commandeur doesn't act like the Captain, he's a refined thinker while Jacobst's a coarse doer.

Still, I've never heard of a V.O.C. skipper serving with this outrageous manner, his outlandish sport behests a rebellion. The Directors would be shocked if they learned of his misdemeanours. Which is why we need the Undermerchant's consideration. Commandeur Pelsaert will need to take stronger action against the ship's Officers or else there'll be further strife.

I've heard mutinous parlance, after the spree at the Cape and the attack on Lucretia, some said the Captain was going to move against the Commandeur.

"It’s a strange notion when the Captain leads a mutiny yet it's treason punishable by the cord.

Take care lads, this parley could be misconstrued and we could be charged with sedition. Granted we've heard the malcontent and the scuttlebutt but this is an invidious construct. We should tread warily."

We're signed to the V.O.C. and have pledged to safeguard Company interests.

Also bespoke like a patriot. Unfortunately the ship is one of their interests beyond help.

However it's certain our esteemed Directors will search for their riches.

A toast to the 'Batavia'!

A toast to the Republic and the Company!

A toast to us and all the good women!

Jeronomous Cornelisz appeared to be in no hurry to leave the stricken ‘Batavia’. As a commercial passenger, a senior V.O.C. official, he voyaged to the Indies as a commodity buyer. Without shipboard duties he had no involvement with evacuation procedures, preferring to be an interested if appalled onlooker. The Undermerchant joined the ladies on the poop where they watched desperate sailors trying to restore order. Cornelisz paraded the upper decks emulating an officer though in reality he cringed at the prospect of leaving. With trepidation he viewed the sick, the feeble, the reckless clamber into frail crafts and plough through the swell like a farmer's cart in a rough paddock. The wave’s ferocity increased as the tide ebbed and conversely so did the danger. Jeronomous decided not to chance the tortuous deck or the frothy sea, he had no inclination for a risky transit to a barren rock in a vast ocean. Like many of his compatriots he couldn’t swim and thought it prudent to wait for better conditions. Being naturally cautious the Apothecary cum Merchant preferred to wait to see how others fared. That first night aboard the stranded ship would be a harrowing experience for Mr Cornelisz, preferring the role of fugitive he avoided his companions until they had reigned in their boisterous revelry. The furtive merchant could not ignore the roistering rabble but feigning illness he avoided the frivolity and huddled in secret listening to the angry sea and the whooping of the revellers.

Nearing the end of that tumultuous day when the grand ship foundered Commandeur Francisco Pelsaert peered into the darkness hardly believing the dim vista. His tour de force had ended abruptly when their vessel compliantly sailed onto the reef. He could see confused survivors sheltering in a strange environment, suffering shock and exposure they huddled like primitives around small camps. There were still more star like fires on the adjacent island while in a sea of black distant lamps flickered, a poignant reminder the great Indiaman still lived. Perhaps this voyage would not be her last, perhaps …

But Francisco knew it could never be, 'Batavia' would not return to the Fatherland, they were in disgrace and like exiles might rot on this wasteland. As a proud commander he admired their day's effort when evacuations were made under trying conditions with the deck awash and unstable because of the rigging and the list. The long boats had difficulty mooring yet the crew worked tirelessly in the gusty wet conditions to move people and supplies onto the small outcrops. Francisco wondered how many lives were lost - he saw men drown and worried about those left on board. The Commandeur couldn’t help thinking the grounding was an act of God, uncontrollable yet somehow meant to be.

Lucretia van der Mylen was another who did not rush for the long boats, she felt no immediate danger and wished to avoid the pandemonium. The lady chose to comfort others, assisting the weak and sick as they readied to leave, acting as a benevolent matron she selected belongings and quelled fears. Eventually, at the insistence of Claudine and Marretgie, particularly the sensitive mother and her child, Lucretia consented to leave. With the assurance of a deck hand she had ushered her anxious companions through the melee and into the rollicking craft.

Looking back at the stark outline of the ship, now a shadowy token of its former glory but ironically still resplendent with a pink flush from the setting sun, reminded Lucretia of that wondrous first day, the morning when ‘Batavia’ gaudily sailed for glory, but just as importantly sailed towards her reunion with Boudewyn. Irrespective of the present uncertainty she felt profound relief at having escaped her prison and fled tormentors. Strangely, Lucretia wanted to cry with joy. The expected privations were inconsequential compared to the anguish she had already endured. As Lucretia stood and stretched her arms it seemed a burden lifted, she could literally feel the pain receeding.

Fate ensured this would be the first and last voyage for ‘Batavia’. Specially built by the V.O.C., the finest vessel of her kind, a Dutch retourship commissioned for spice trade in the East Indies. On her maiden transit the flagship and a small fleet were bound for her namesake port in Java. A magnificent merchant ship with thirty-two cannon she had a complement of more than three hundred including one hundred soldiers plus thirty women and children. About one hundred soldiers would reinforce the Company’s besieged Javanese Fort while some were engaged for mercantile business and a few had social intentions. The ship would be loaded with highly sought spices and other trade goods before returning to the Netherlands.

It was the beginning of a golden age for the East India Company. Members were newly enriched participants in an enlightened era who fostered an emerging Dutch middle-class; the Republic capitalising on Baltic trade to become a commercial leader. However this expedition would represent a unique chapter in the history of the Netherlands and Australia.

Responding to burgeoning demand for exotic spices - primarily pepper, nutmeg and cloves, the Dutch East India Company (V.O.C.) formed in 1602. The Netherlanders supplanted the Portuguese before outmanoeuvring the Spanish and English to become a major exporter of these sought-after commodities. Initial profits were enormous, creating many battles if not outright war between competing nations. The new route to Java required sailing along the North West Coast of Terra Australis Incognito, the Great Unknown Southland.

As lead ship in a fleet of eight ‘Batavia’ sailed on 29th October 1628; 'Galias' and 'Cleen David' were bound for the Coromandel Coast of India while the retourships 'Batavia', 'Dordrecht' and 'Gravenhage' were headed for Port Batavia in Java; they were accompanied by the yachts 'Assendelft' and 'Sardam' together with the escort warship 'Buren'.

As Fleet President Commandeur Francisco Pelsaert sailed on ‘Batavia’ with Captain Arian Jacobst as Skipper. The grand ship ‘Batavia’ exhibited as an impressive vessel with a raised rear Poop and striking bowsprit complemented by high masts and topsails. Much of the timber decking and fixtures were carved with ancient symbols to ward off demons and protect those that sailed her. These expressive sculptures were often grotesque images while the stern transom was adorned with historical Dutch war heroes, including a representative of the Batavi tribe - feted warriors against the Romans. The whole ship strikingly painted red, green and gold with masses of rigging controlling the sails; when in port she would hoist a bevy of flags and pendants. It would have been a fine spectacle, the sartorial flagship proudly leading an ornately dressed body of ships, a resplendent emblem of an opulent trading company.

Unfortunately late loading caused the great ship to miss the tide and 'Batavia' sailed a day after the other vessels. This mishap would be the first of many setbacks. Amsterdam was not a natural harbour and it required an experienced pilot to find deep water through the channels of the Zuyder Zee marsh. Captain Jacobst hoped to head the fleet and clear the narrow banks before the weather closed but seemed impeded by his novice charge, splendid but sluggish as she lurched like a drunkard. Unused to their new abode the eclectic crew adjusted the rigging as she staggered through the maze of waterways while an approaching storm heightened the danger, making sailing difficult, particularly for a beginner on her first day in a narrow strait.

I’m sorry Skip, she’s like a maid on her first day, I can’t control her, she won’t take up and then she goes too far. We’ll have to rein her in, there’s too much wind in the tops and the tiller’s too slow.

There’s a gale approaching so we’ll have to hold fast. If we don’t tread warily we won’t make the North Sea and the Gentlemen will have our necks.

She’s like an unruly tavern wench but we’ll bring her to heel methinks once we clear the land she’ll run with the wind.

If this damned tempest gets any worse we won’t see the islands. we’ll have to hove to. Gillis fetch Jacop and Hollert and tell the Boatswain to keep swinging the lead landward. I always harness my charge, particularly when they show spirit are from fine stock. We have to cajole her just now because she’s a novice and not seen a good blow but methinks your words are true Claas, once we have a blue line then we’ll see how sound she is. There’s enough of my men to temper this rabble and see she runs truly.

Unfortunately the untamed steed could not be held against the autumn storm and was driven into the shallows, bottoming on the ebbing tide. The wind gusted ferociously, lashing the crew