A Storm--Wreck of the _Selwaert_--Paul relates the events of the
Mutiny--Hoogstraaten builds another Vessel.
I was struck by the look of the sky when I glanced around. The sun rose
red in a haze, looking more like a setting than a rising sun. It was
dead calm, and very warm. There had been no dew during the night, and
the air was oppressive. Hoogstraaten noticed the same, and with a
sailor’s instinct, prophesied a storm within forty-eight hours.
Where we camped was on the way to the river which Zolca and I had lately
visited, and it struck me that I ought to show the captain the bay, as
it might lead him to make a mistake if ever he visited the coast again.
I proposed this to him, and he was well pleased at the idea. So we
continued north, instead of returning home, having ample provisions
with us. I promised the commander that, as we returned, we would go by
way of the gold-mine.
The day was oppressively hot, and although no clouds were
visible--nothing but a thick haze--a low and constant mutter of thunder
seemed to rumble around us. We were all tired when we reached the river,
and enjoyed a swim in a large pool which was in the bed just where we
came on it.
After eating and resting we went on to the bay in which the river
discharged itself.
The captain drew my attention to the clouds now gathering in the
north-west; dark and sullen they looked, lit up every now and again by
lurid flashes of lightning.
“We are going to have a gale,” said Hoogstraaten, “and I am glad that my
ship is in safe quarters.”
I had heard from the natives that at times terrific winds blew from the
north-west, but none of great magnitude had occurred during my residence
with them.
As we stood on the beach, gazing at the bay, the captain, to my great
surprise, burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Coming from a
grave and serious man like my companion, I could scarcely believe my
ears.
“Truly, Master Diedrich Buys,” he said at length, when he had exhausted
his mirth, “I have found you out properly! You and your friends were, I
verily believe, the mock Indians who opposed our landing when I examined
this bay on our way south.”
I now knew the cause of his laughter, and joined heartily in it.
“Were you the officer in the boat?” I asked.
“I was indeed, and your arrows whistled sharply enough about my ears.”
It was now my turn to laugh, as I assured him that our fire was
harmless; the men being instructed to aim wide.
“I am glad to hear it,” he replied, “for I should be loath to think you
would have willingly harmed your countrymen, and to tell you the truth I
wondered greatly that none of us were hit. I must confess that I fired
as straight as I knew how.”
Heavy clouds had now gathered over the sky, and a moaning wind had
arisen. One of the oldest of the Quadrucos came to me and said:
“We are going to have a great storm, such as I remember once many years
ago. We will make places to sleep under behind that ridge, where the
wind will not touch us.”
This was of course spoken in the Quadruco tongue, and Hoogstraaten
looked at me inquiringly.
“He predicts a great storm, and is going to erect shelters for us.”
“Ask him about your bay,” said the captain.
I guessed at what he meant, and the Quadruco returned answer:
“The waters of the bay are never much troubled, no matter how strong the
wind blows.”
This relieved the captain’s mind.
“Vanstrooken is a good sailor,” he said, “and knows well what to do. I
can rest easy.”
We strolled to the headland and watched the gathering storm. The clouds
lying near the horizon to the north-west were of inky blackness, and
were cleft every minute by jagged streaks of lightning. The sea looked
sullen and angry, and the white crests of waves were already showing.
When we got back we found that the Quadrucos had erected strong
comfortable shelters of bark, fresh cut from the trees. That night the
wind was something terrible. We lay under the protection of the ridge,
but above our heads the storm hurtled, raging amongst the forest trees
and rending and tearing the branches. Nothing could stand against its
fury.
Towards morning the rain ceased somewhat, and when the dull daylight
came, Hoogstraaten and I fought our way to the headland to see the
turmoil of the sea. The two sailors accompanied us. The wind and rain
had not allowed the sea to rise as high as one would have expected, but
the surges that shattered themselves in spray at the foot of the
headland seemed to shake it under our feet. Squalls of rain kept
sweeping across the ocean, and in the interval between two of these one
of the sailors gave a great shout of alarm.
The captain looked up and gripped my arm with a clutch of iron, as a cry
of horror burst from his lips. A ship under a rag of storm-sail was
driving right on towards us!
A ship! The _Selwaert_!
They were running for shelter and had mistaken the bay. The wind being
in my favour I managed to make the Quadrucos hear me, and they soon came
hurrying up. The ship was doomed, but we might save some of the crew.
Hoogstraaten was paralysed with astonishment. His ship, which should
have been lying snug and safe in our bay, was coming swiftly on to be
shattered to splinters at his very feet! By what wizardry had it come to
pass?
We could do nothing but wait, and the end soon came. The ship was flung
bodily on to the reef, and, as she struck, the masts came down as though
they were broken twigs, and a great green wave leaped up and boiled
right over her hull. If any cry arose it was lost in the roaring of the
storm. When the sea swept past, her deck was clear and empty. Still that
great sea saved many lives, for it swept all alike, living and dying
mixed with all the lumber of the deck, right over the reef into the
sheltered water of the bay. The natives were ready, and plunging in
brought all ashore they could see, assisting those who could swim. In
all fifteen were saved, amongst them being our prisoner Paul.
The captain gave us no assistance; he still remained like one dazed,
standing on the headland watching the seas hammer his ship to pieces.
The worst of the gale had now spent itself, for the clouds began to
break and the rain ceased. We marched the rescued men back to the camp
as soon as they were recovered sufficiently. I guessed from Paul’s
presence that there had been a mutiny, and an attempt to run away with
the ship. I would not, however, speak to him, but gave orders to the
armed natives to guard them closely and kill any who attempted to
escape. Then I went back to Hoogstraaten. He had somewhat mastered
himself, and taking my arm asked me how it happened. I said I had asked
no questions, but it must have been a mutiny, as Paul was amongst them.
As we descended, the sea flung a body on to the rocks close to us. We
both recognized it. It was Arendsoon!
Arrived at the camp I proceeded to question Paul for the benefit of the
captain, otherwise I would not have spoken to him.
“What have you been doing in our absence?” I asked.
“Arendsoon is the culprit; but for him I would have kept my word.”
“He is dead,” I answered.
“He had a party of discontented seamen on board, and persuaded them to
seize the ship during the captain’s absence. Zolca was enticed on board,
then seized and confined with the others.”
“What others?” demanded the captain.
“Herr Vanstrooken, the boatswain, the carpenter, and five sailors.”
“Were they on board when you were wrecked, or did you murder them before
starting?” I asked.
“Arendsoon would have killed them all, but I would not have it. I saw
too much of that when the _Batavia_ was wrecked. When we were ready to
sail we sent them ashore.”
“Did Arendsoon release you?”
“Yes, when Zolca had been decoyed on board, he came ashore with some men
and made the natives understand that Zolca had sent him to take me on
board.”
“When did you sail?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“In the face of that storm brewing?” asked the captain.
“Azolta was alarmed at her brother’s absence. Had we not gone we should
have been attacked, for she was gathering the people together under
Namoa.”
Brave Azolta!
“We had got well out to sea,” went on Paul, “when the storm burst. We
rode it out for some time, but at last determined to run back to the bay
for shelter.”
“And mistook this place for it?”
Paul bowed his head.
“If you have spoken the truth about saving the lives of the true men,”
said Hoogstraaten, “you have saved your own. As for you,” and he frowned
at the half-drowned mutineers. “Friend Diedrich, I think I shall have to
trouble you to erect a gallows for me, since I have no longer a ship or
a yard-arm to hang them on!”
There were some broken pleadings from the men, but without an answer the
captain turned away and in a short time we were on our march home.
We arrived the next evening much to the delight of the people, and
their astonishment when they saw our batch of prisoners. Poor
Vanstrooken looked very crest-fallen when he met his commander, but it
was no fault of his. He and the others had been seized in their bunks
and allowed no chance of resistance. As for Zolca he was furious with
passion, for, fearing his desperate nature, he had been put in irons
during his detention on board.
The storm had flooded the river considerably, but it soon ran down
without doing any damage.
Paul’s story was confirmed by Vanstrooken. Arendsoon, who appeared to
have been a second Cornelis, would certainly have made short work of his
prisoners but for Paul. However, he had met his fate, and the fishes
were eating him. It was no good detaining Paul a prisoner, in fact he
had had little choice, having had nothing to do with originating the
conspiracy, so he was restored to freedom.
The other prisoners were tried by their officers, and of course they
would brook no interference from me. Hoogstraaten, however, did not hang
them out of hand, as he had promised. Their punishment was to depend on
their good behaviour between then and the time they reached Batavia.
As soon as the weather became somewhat calm, the captain and his men set
to work to build a new boat to depart in. It was tiresome work, for they
could only dismantle the wreck at low-tide, but once they got well under
way they were able to employ the time of high-tide in the work of
construction. As I have said the tide on this coast rises over thirty
feet, so there would be ample depth to float over the reef a boat of the
size they were building in Wreck Bay, as we had christened it.
In due time the boat was finished, rigged, and sailed down to our bay,
to the admiration of the Quadrucos, who felt almost as though they had
built it themselves. She was large enough to carry all of the survivors,
and in a few weeks the captain anticipated being able to make a start.
The end of the stormy season was now nearly at hand, and once the steady
breeze from the south-east set in, the voyage to Batavia could be
accomplished with little danger.
From Hoogstraaten, who had been on the northern coast of Terra
Australis, I learnt the exact position of our settlement, and also that
the whole of the great country we were on was as barren on the
coast-line as the part we had travelled over. This was the reason that
the Company had not established Factories. Where this great land
extended to, the commander could not say, for no man had seen the
eastern side of it. He had sailed much for the Company, and this was the
first time that any mishap had befallen him of any consequence.
He told me about the brown race we had seen attack the Mongol junk; that
they were good sailors, and were found all about these waters, and they
often came to Batavia in their proas. They were of what is known as the
Malaya race, and called themselves “Orang-Laut”, or “men of the sea”.
The Mongols they called “Orang-Kini”, and lost no opportunity of
attacking and plundering them.