[Illustration: PAUL AND DIEDRICH ARE MAROONED IN A GREAT UNKNOWN LAND.]
Marooned on Australia
BEING THE NARRATION BY DIEDRICH BUYS OF
HIS DISCOVERIES AND EXPLOITS _IN TERRA
AUSTRALIS INCOGNITA_ ABOUT THE YEAR 1630
BY
ERNEST FAVENC
Author of
“Tales of the Austral Tropics” “The Secret of the Australian Desert”
“The History of Australian Exploration” &c.
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
_Dedicated to the Memory of my Friend
Edmond Marin de la MESLEE”
by whose accidental death Australia
lost both an ardent geographer and an
enthusiastic student of the history of
the Austral Continent._
_ERNEST FAVENC_
PREFACE.
In the following romance I have endeavoured to associate the tradition
of De Gonneville’s visit to Australia with the historical fact of the
wreck of the _Batavia_, and the marooning of two of the mutineers. The
wreck of the _Batavia_ is perhaps one of the most murderous tragedies
that ever happened in any part of the world. One of the ruffians
confessed, before being hanged, to having killed and assisted to kill,
twenty-five defenceless people. A full account of the wreck and the
massacre will be found in _Pinkerton’s Early Voyages_.
I have taken a liberty with history in introducing Captain Sharpe, the
buccaneer, as in reality he never visited the Australian coast, although
some of his crew did. I must also confess to having taken some freedom
with chronology as, under the name of Hoogstraaten, I have introduced
Abel Janz Tasman many years before his actual advent on the western
coast of Australia; and De Witt’s voyage of discovery really took place
before the wreck of the _Batavia_. I trust, however, that in a romance
these inaccuracies will be pardoned.
In the appendix the reader will find an account of the setting up of the
great Cross by De Gonneville, and the record of Sir George Grey
regarding the head carved on the Rock.
ERNEST FAVENC.
CONTENTS
Chap. Page
I. THE WRECK OF THE _BATAVIA_, 11
II. WE START FOR THE NORTH, 22
III. A STRANGE PEOPLE, 31
IV. THE FRENCHMAN’S CROSS, 41
V. THE FIGHT IN THE BAY, 52
VI. PAUL DISCOVERS GOLD, 65
VII. ANOTHER PIRATE JUNK, 77
VIII. PAUL’S TREACHERY, 89
IX. I FIGHT A DUEL, 101
X. A STORM, 113
XI. THE REBELLION, 125
XII. AZOLTA’S STRATAGEM, 138
XIII. THE PIRATE FLAG, 150
XIV. WE ENTERTAIN THE PIRATE CAPTAIN, 163
XV. WE DESTROY THE MONGOL JUNK, 176
XVI. A STRANGE DISCOVERY, 188
XVII. THE GREAT CATASTROPHE, 196
XVIII. RESCUE BY DUTCH SHIPS, 205
APPENDIX, 219
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
PAUL AND DIEDRICH ARE MAROONED IN A GREAT UNKNOWN LAND _Frontis._ 22
CHART SHOWING THE ROUTE TAKEN BY DIEDRICH AND PAUL 10
PAUL DREW HIS SHORT SWORD AND STOOD ON THE DEFENSIVE 72
DIEDRICH RALLIES THE QUADRUCOS AND RECAPTURES THE TOWN 143
[Illustration:
CHART SHOWING
THE ROUTE TAKEN BY
DIEDRICH AND PAUL.
]
MAROONED ON AUSTRALIA
CHAPTER I
The Wreck of the _Batavia_--The Mutiny--Return of Pelsart--Marooned.
Jerom Cornelis! Even now after all the suffering and danger I have gone
through, that man’s face, the face of the tempter, comes back to me as
vividly as ever.
My father was a substantial merchant of Harlem, and in that town I was
born, being the second son. That was the age of discovery, and the
thirst for it was inherent in nearly every youth. The wonderful success
of the Dutch East India Company had fired all men with enthusiasm, and
as I grew towards manhood, I longed to make one of the many bands of
adventurers who often left for the East. So persistent did I become
that my father at last consented to my going, thinking that a voyage
would probably cure me. Having some influence with several of the
directors of the great company, he obtained for me a subordinate
position as clerk to the supercargo on board of the _Batavia_, one of a
fleet of eleven ships about to sail from the Texel to Java.
Jerom Cornelis was the supercargo. He had been an apothecary in Harlem,
and as such I had known him for some time. He was a man of ability and
education, and I had a boyish admiration for him. Now I know him to have
been a man whose talents were marred by an intense, almost childish
vanity, and a disposition, cruel and relentless as the tiger’s. As a lad
of eighteen, I saw nothing but the wonderful fascination he exercised,
and listened entranced when he dazzled my imagination with pictures of
future greatness in the rich islands of the eastern seas.
Our voyage was a stormy one, and as the _Batavia_ had over two hundred
souls on board, the discomfort was great. I shared a cabin with
Cornelis, and in every way that singular man strove to win my
affection. Why he did so I cannot say even to this day.
We had been nearly two months at sea, when Cornelis confided to me a
plan he had formed, in conjunction with the pilot and some other
mutinous spirits, to seize the ship and turn pirate. I endeavoured to
dissuade him, but without avail; he bound me over to secrecy and assured
me that my life was safe whatever happened, as he would not allow me to
take an active part in it, which I certainly had no intention of doing.
The plot, however, was frustrated by the weather and other causes, and
although I am certain it came to the ears of our commander, Captain
Pelsart, he did not, unfortunately, hang the mutineers out of hand as
one would have expected from a man of his determination.
Now one would have thought that this would have revealed to me the true
character of Cornelis, but such an infatuated fool was I, and so
beguiled by his specious tongue, that I still remained his friend and
admirer.
We had now doubled the great southern cape, and storm after storm burst
upon us with relentless fury. One by one we lost sight of our consorts
and at last found ourselves alone; driven out of our course into an
unknown sea.
To add to our distress, Captain Pelsart was confined to his berth with
sickness and the vessel was in charge of the pilot, who apparently lost
all reckoning. It was on the morning of the 4th June, 1629, for the date
is indelibly engraven on my memory, that our voyage was brought to a
fatal termination by the vessel striking on a reef of rocks. When I got
on deck there was nothing visible but white surf and foam everywhere,
and we had to wait until daylight, the ship bumping heavily meanwhile.
Daybreak showed us to be in the neighbourhood of a group of rocky
islands, one of which was close to us. Finding that the ship was
irretrievably damaged Captain Pelsart proceeded to land the passengers
and crew on the nearest island. Great confusion ensued and many of the
sailors broached some casks of wine in the cargo and got drunk.
Provisions were landed, but very little water, and as none could be
found on the island, our captain, after two days, started with a boat’s
crew to the mainland, which we could see in the distance and which was
supposed to be the mysterious continent known as Terra Australis.
I had been separated from Cornelis in the turmoil of the wreck, and
indeed it was not until the _Batavia_ was utterly broken up that he came
ashore almost dead. He had been floating for two days on the topmast of
the ship, carried backwards and forwards by the current, until at last
he drifted near enough to gain the land.
On regaining strength he assumed command, in the absence of the captain,
and in spite of all the bloody deeds of that guilty man I will say that
he restored some sort of order amongst the demoralized crew and
passengers. One of the petty officers named Weberhayes was despatched
with some thirty men or more, including some French soldiers in the pay
of the Company, to a large island visible to the eastward. If successful
in finding water he was to light two fires. The water supply consisting
only of rain in the holes in the rock, another smaller party were
conveyed to a neighbouring islet.
All this was done in furtherance of a plan maturing in the mind of
Cornelis. He retained about him all the ruffians on whom he could rely
when the time came to act. This soon arrived. For Pelsart not returning
Cornelis threw off the mask. He assembled all his followers at a meeting
at which I was forced to attend, and here they all swore a solemn oath
to stand by each other, and if Pelsart had gone on to Java and returned
with a ship they would endeavour to capture it, if not they would build
one out of the remains of the _Batavia_, and start north on a piratical
cruise. But first, the mouths of those who could not be trusted had to
be silenced for ever.
That night I was awakened by shrieks, groans, and cries for mercy.
Cornelis and his myrmidons were butchering in cold blood the helpless
people whom they had not admitted to the conspiracy.
I could do nothing during that night of horror, but try and close my
ears to the piteous cries of the victims. Nest morning, with their lust
for murder still unsated, they went over to the small island and
recommenced their fiendish work on the defenceless people. Unfortunately
for Cornelis, however, some few escaped and during the night succeeded
in making a raft and crossing to the large island, where Weberhayes and
his party were. They informed him of the butchery that had taken place
and put him on his guard.
The vanity of Cornelis now got the ascendency of him. He had himself
proclaimed Governor-general of the barren, rocky islet we were on, which
was christened “Batavia’s Grave”. He had the merchants’ chests broken
open, and from the stuffs contained therein uniforms were made for a
chosen body-guard. This being done, it was determined to exterminate
Weberhayes and his men.
Not knowing of the escape of some of the victims, they rowed up
confidently, expecting to take the party by surprise, but were surprised
themselves. Weberhayes and his followers, armed only with such rude
weapons as clubs and stones, fell upon them suddenly, killed some, and
forced the others to make a hasty retreat.
Incensed at this repulse, Cornelis led a fresh assault in person and I
was ordered into the boat. I had no stomach for the fight, and did not
feel particularly sorry when we got more soundly beaten than before.
Weberhayes’ party now had arms, taken from the dead mutineers, and
Cornelis resorted to treachery. He sent the chaplain, whose life had
been spared, to negotiate; and meanwhile he tried to bribe the French
soldiers with some of the treasure of the _Batavia_, but they were loyal
and at once reported the matter to Weberhayes. A truce was then agreed
on. Cornelis was to send over some provisions and receive water in
return, of which there was a permanent supply on the island. Weberhayes,
however, rightly mistrusted Cornelis and was on his guard; so when a
sudden attack was made he was prepared, and not only beat them off with
loss, but captured Cornelis.
This was the end of the rebel Governor-general. I never saw Cornelis
again until the rope was round his neck.
Now commenced on the island I was on, called “Batavia’s Grave”, a wild
pandemonium. There were still some casks of wine left, and the ruffians
drank and quarrelled, and fought with knives over useless pieces of
silver. With the capture of Cornelis every semblance of a plan seemed to
have vanished. Never shall I forget the horror of that time, although I
have seen blood flow like water since. Five wretched women who had been
spared from the massacre, two of them being the daughters of the
chaplain, were stabbed to death by these devils, and how I escaped a
knife through my heart I know not.
At last one morning a sail was in sight, and aided by a fair wind a
large ship came swiftly on and soon dropped anchor half-way between the
island of Weberhayes and “Batavia’s Grave”. Hastily arming themselves a
large boat’s crew from our island started to board the ship. Weberhayes
was, however, before them. As Pelsart--for it was he with the _Sardam_
frigate--left the ship, intending to land, he was intercepted by
Weberhayes who told him the true state of the case. They returned on
board and awaited the coming of the other boat. The mutineers, in their
gaudy uniforms, were allowed to come well within range. They were then
hailed and ordered to drop their weapons overboard and come on board;
which they did, and were at once put in irons. Pelsart then landed, but
the rest made no resistance and were secured, I being amongst them.
We were kept close prisoners on the island for many days whilst the
sailors of the _Sardam_ tried to recover the treasure lost in the
_Batavia_. Then one day we were taken on board. Some of us were
interrogated, some not. I had to confess that I had accompanied one of
the armed boats which attacked Weberhayes. There was a short
consultation in the cabin, then the deadly work of retribution
commenced. One after another the murderers were run up to the yard-arm,
and then their bodies were thrown into the sea. Cornelis was hung from a
higher yard than the others, in acknowledgment of his leadership. They
all died sullenly and defiantly.
As I expected a like death, and had now become used to scenes of
bloodshed, I looked on in apathetic despair. At last when it seemed that
my turn had come, for there was nobody but myself and a sailor named
Paul left, the executions ended; for the ropes were unreeved from the
blocks, the anchor raised, some sails set, and the ship stood in for the
mainland. Not a word was said to either of us. Paul was an old sailor,
and one who had kept his hands as free from bloodshed as possible. He
looked inquiringly at me, but I could only do the same to him. Neither
of us knew what this meant.
When within a short distance of the land the ship hove to, and a boat
was lowered. Our irons were struck off, and we were ordered to get in. A
short row took us to a spot where there was easy landing on a beach,
sheltered by a rocky reef which broke the surf. When the boat grounded
we were ordered out; a couple of bags of biscuit, a breaker of fresh
water, a tomahawk, and a cutlass were passed on to the beach. As the
sailor who placed these things down stooped near me he whispered
something that gave me a clue to our fate. He was one of Pelsart’s men
and came from my native town of Harlem. The boat’s crew shipped their
oars and pulled rapidly back to the _Sardam_.
Paul muttered a terrible curse and looked at me. There was no longer any
doubt. We were marooned on the coast of the great unknown South Land. To
die at the hands of the giant savages said to inhabit it, or the more
dreadful strange beasts. What the friendly sailor had whispered to me
was, “Keep your heart up. Ships may be round here soon.”[A]
So far as I know they never came; when the _Sardam’s_ masts sank beneath
the horizon, both Paul and I had looked our last upon an European sail
for many long years.