ONCE MORE TO THE SOUTH
Five years of wedded happiness followed my return to Amsterdam from my
second voyage with Dirk Hartog into the Southern Seas.
I had now come to regard myself as being past the age of adventure. My
income was large, my estate substantial; and the wealth I had brought
back with me from the Island of Gems, shrewdly invested by my
father-in-law, the Count of Holstein, enabled me to maintain a position
compatible with the dignity of the noble family into which, through my
marriage with Anna Holstein, I was admitted a member. Nothing,
therefore, was farther from my thoughts and inclinations than a return
to the life of peril through which, in my younger days, I had passed,
when suddenly the blow fell which changed all my plans.
During the year 1630 an epidemic known as the "Black Death" raged
through the Netherlands, and, as one of the victims to the fell
disease, Anna, my wife, was taken from me. I followed her to the grave,
and returned to my desolate hearth determined to die also. To this end
I shut myself in the room which Anna had lately occupied, where I would
permit nothing to be disturbed, nor would allow any to enter. Such food
as I required was brought, by my orders, into an adjoining apartment,
where I ate, when my appetite craved, in moody silence. Dust gathered.
The air in the room became oppressive. I regarded this mournful chamber
as my tomb.
My servants, and those who had called themselves my friends, avoided
me. I heard whispers at my barred and bolted door, saying that I was
mad.
A madhouse I knew to be worse than a prison. I therefore resolved to
leave my home before I was prevented from doing so.
How long I had remained in the state of misery and dejection to which I
had abandoned myself I cannot say. It must have been some considerable
time, for when, at last, I came out into the light, the sun dazzled me.
None offered to stop me when I left the house. Many of my one-time
servants had been discharged by my father-in-law, who had taken upon
himself the management of my estates. The gatekeeper looked at me
curiously when I passed his lodge, and that was all the notice
vouchsafed me by my former dependents.
I knew that Dirk Hartog had returned from the voyage upon which he had
embarked soon after my marriage, and to him I determined to carry my
broken heart. Only upon that mirror of mystery known as the ocean could
I look for peace.
I found my old commander in the cabin of the "Santa Isabel", an ancient
Spanish vessel, reported to have voyaged to the south in 1595, when
Mendana, a Spaniard, was sent out with instructions to establish a
colony at the island of San Christobal, in the Solomon Group, and from
thence to make an attempt to discover the Great Southern Continent.
Mendana's fleet consisted of three large vessels and a frigate, and,
since it was intended to settle a colony, many took their wives with
them, among the emigrants being Mariana, the wife of Lope de Vega, who
commanded the "Santa Isabel". The total number of men in the fleet was
378, of whom 280 were soldiers. The "Santa Isabel" became detached from
the rest of the fleet, and reached the Great South Land, where she
spent five years in a harbour said to be of great beauty and
extent--the finest harbour in the world.
All this we learnt, from the log of the "Santa Isabel", though what
became of the expedition, or of those who composed it, the record did
not disclose. But the reading which interested Hartog most, keen
treasure-hunter that he continued to be, was a paper describing some
curious drawings he had found in one of the lockers of the vessel, of
hands, some with six fingers, some with four, and others with only two.
Under these drawings was the following inscription, translated into
Spanish from some ancient language: "These hands are not carved upon
the rocks, but are painted with a pigment that withstands the elements,
and yieldeth not to time. They mark the measures of gold obtained."
Then followed a rude chart giving the latitude and longitude of the
place which Hartog professed his ability to find.
"Join me, Peter," he said, "and let us ship together. There's treasure
to be won, dangers to be passed, and forgetfulness to be had in the
South. You are still a young man--in your prime. Is it fair that you
should set yourself against that which plainly hath been decreed by
Fate?"
These words of Hartog moved me, as well they might, and I placed myself
unreservedly in his hands. My father-in-law, when he was made
acquainted with my desire to embark upon another voyage, offered no
opposition. He was, I imagine, glad to be rid of me, perceiving that my
moods ashore might interfere with the plans he had formed for the
management of my estates. So, all being settled to our mutual
satisfaction, Hartog and I went to work to equip our vessel, in which
occupation I found relief from my sorrow, and became more reconciled to
submit myself to the will of heaven.
In three weeks our preparations were completed. A new ship was
purchased, and commissioned without regard to cost. So much money was
spent upon her that Hartog called her the "Golden Seahorse". She
carried six guns, and a brass bow-chaser, with which Hartog declared we
might make war upon the whole South Pacific in the event of our being
forced to hostilities. A great quantity of arms and ammunition was put
aboard, together with a supply of beads, knives, and bright-coloured
cloths to barter with the natives. Berths were also found for Bantum
and Janstins in the officers' quarters, and although Hartog and I were
joint owners of the "Golden Seahorse", and shared equally in the profit
or loss of the expedition, Hartog was given the supreme command.
It was not until we had lost sight of land, and when I felt the call of
the sea, that I ceased to mourn my lost Anna, and realized my
obligation to live what remained to me of life in such manner as an
all-wise Providence might determine.