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Title: Marooned on Australia
Author: Favenc, Ernest
Language: English
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[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.
CHAPTER II.
A lonely Night--We make acquaintance with the Natives--Waiting for
a Ship--We start for the North--A long hard Journey.
The loneliness of the night that soon closed around us was such as I had
never experienced before. Every strange sound or cry of a night-bird
startled us from our uneasy sleep on the sand: both of us were heartily
glad when daylight banished some of the unknown terrors that had haunted
us through the hours of darkness.
After our meagre meal of biscuit and water, I proposed that we should
make an excursion a short distance inland, and find out what sort of a
place it was where we were abandoned. Paul agreed; and this I must
confess here, that, although in after adventures we took opposite sides,
and to avenge a great wrong I had to consent to his death, yet during
the first years of our miserable exile Paul was the best companion a man
could have had.
We hid our water and provisions in a secure place, as we only intended
to make a short excursion; then we climbed the low rocks at the back of
the beach and found ourselves on a sandy flat, covered with coarse wiry
grass. Beyond was a thicket or close forest of low trees and towards
this we made our way, Paul armed with the hatchet and I with the
cutlass.
We found the thicket barren and grassless, and beyond again was an
opening in which we saw, as we thought, a large village of white huts.
We listened, but hearing no sound we advanced cautiously towards it. We
soon found out our mistake. What we supposed were huts were big mounds
of earth built up, as I now know, by a large light-coloured ant. Paul
climbed up on the highest of one of these, which was nearly ten feet,
and from the top called to me that he could see a low range of hills in
the distance, then he came down hastily and whispered that he saw smoke
rising a short distance away.
After talking the matter over we agreed that, as we were bound to come
in contact with the inhabitants at some time or other, it would be just
as well to have it over at once, so we advanced with outward boldness in
the direction of the smoke. I confess that my heart sank at the thought
of meeting these savage and formidable giants, who were reported to have
killed and eaten many of the Company’s sailors, but I kept a good face
and we were soon close to the place. We came upon them unexpectedly, for
they were squatting round two or three fires cooking shell-fish. They
raised a great hubbub when they saw us, and most of them ran away, but
some raised their lances in a threatening manner.
Both Paul and I gained courage when we saw these Indians, for they were
not giants at all, being rather undersized, with thin legs and arms.
They were black and quite naked. We shouted to them, and, having read
of such things, I broke off a green bough and held it up. This appeared
to please them for they lowered their lances, and after some delay
allowed us to approach. One of them then gave a peculiar cry, and the
rest of the tribe, including the women and children, approached timidly
from their hiding-places.
Conversation was of course impossible, but we made them understand at
last that we wanted to find out where they obtained their fresh water.
They led us to a sandy patch of ground where there was an old tree with
white bark. Here a hole had been dug and covered with boughs. On tasting
the water it proved to have a somewhat sweet flavour but was quite fit
to drink.
Thus relieved of one of our chief causes of anxiety, we determined to
make friends with these wretched Indians and, if possible, live with
them until another discovery-ship visited the coast; for I believed in
the warning whisper of the sailor. I can never understand why my life
was spared. Not on account of my youth, for a poor ship’s boy, younger
than I, was hanged. However, it matters little now.
I pass over the time we spent on this portion of the coast, vainly
waiting for the ship that never came. We accustomed ourselves to go
without clothes, like the Indians, and they taught us to hunt and what
roots and berries were fit to eat. On the other hand our cutlass and
tomahawk were very useful, as they had only tools of blunt stone. We
kept our clothes carefully, in case of being rescued, but in the course
of nearly two years this hope grew faint, and then a bold project
entered my head. I began to think that to the north this great Terra
Australis must run up very close to Java, and that, if we could make our
way there, we might be able to cross by the aid of a raft or canoe to
some of the islands and get in the track of the Company’s ships.
Moreover, the blacks, pointing to the north, had told us that up there
lived people who wore clothes. Not like ours, but still they did not go
naked. Inquiring still further I found that these people lived on the
same land that we were on, the natives being confident that there was no
big water to cross. They had never seen these people themselves, as
they were a long way off, but they had heard of them from other Indians.
Paul was quite ready to go, when I confided my plan to him, for life
amongst these poor Indians was of the most sordid kind, and we could not
stand the torment of the swarms of flesh-flies, as could the Indians.
They had, however, been very kind to us; for, after all, they could have
murdered us at any time and secured the cutlass and hatchet, which they
much coveted.
I consulted with Paul how we could reward them, and we finally smashed
up the old water-keg, which was now almost useless, and breaking the
iron hoops into convenient lengths for knives, distributed them amongst
the men of the tribe, who were more delighted with this than if we had
given them wallets full of gold.
We had vessels chopped out of soft wood for carrying water, we had
learnt how to make fire with two sticks, one old man was coming with us
as far as he knew the country, and they gave us a stick with notches cut
on it which would ensure our friendly reception by the neighbouring
tribe, of whom we had met some members when on our hunting excursions.
So we left these poor Indians, who had succoured us in our misery and
helplessness, and but for whom we would have died of starvation on that
barren coast. They wept and wailed when we turned our faces to the north
and left them, for these Indians are like children, easily moved to show
emotion, either of anger or grief.
The old man stayed with us three days, then he returned, and we were
left alone with an unknown world before us. We journeyed but slowly, for
we had to hunt for our food as we went, and that consisted mostly of
roots and small vermin, although now and again we managed to secure a
large and singular animal which, although possessing four legs,
progresses on its hind ones alone, in a series of astounding leaps. It
was the time of year when there are many thunder-storms, so that we did
not suffer from want of water, and this was of great assistance, for in
this dry and hot climate thirst is to be greatly dreaded. We passed
through the territory or hunting-grounds of the tribe next to where we
had been living without seeing any but a few scattered males, who, as
they knew of our existence, did not trouble us or express surprise.
It was a rough journey and we were nearly starved several times. At last
we came to a tribe who displayed great hostility at our appearance
although none of the others had done so. In fact one tribe had
entertained us most hospitably for many months during which it rained
incessantly. These Indians, however, would not let us approach them,
although it seemed to me that they displayed more fear than anything
else.
This made me think that perhaps we were drawing near to the
neighbourhood of the strange people who, being evidently more civilized,
would in all probability be feared by these other Indians. This I
afterwards discovered to be the case.
We found it much harder travelling amongst these hostile or frightened
tribes than before, also the days were much hotter and the sun now went
right over our heads at noonday so that we had no shadows, which
frightened Paul, although usually a bold fellow enough. Moreover, he
began to be afraid that we were approaching the country of the giants
who had slain the Company’s sailors, and I confess that I had my fears
of it as well. We fared miserably, as I said before, for not only had we
to hunt for a living, but the Indians of these parts are extremely
treacherous, and would follow us for miles, seeking an opportunity to
drive their lances at us, and another weapon they had, made of bent
wood, which made a whirring noise as it flew, and was very hard to
avoid. Fortunately, we had now acquired as much practice as these
savages, and I warrant they did not come off best in any fair encounters
that we had.
Still, it was weary work having to be always on the watch, and dragged
us down sorely. At times we followed the sea-shore, when the sandy
formation of the coast allowed it, then again we would be forced back
into a desolate region of rocks and thickets.
It must have been two years after leaving the place where we were
marooned that we came to a hilly, broken region, whereon there were many
of the trees that grow straight up for nearly fifteen or twenty feet and
then have tops like bunches of grass. The blacks, our first friends, had
taught us how to find out the eatable parts of these trees so that we
fared better; and, strange to say, in that region we found no
inhabitants, nor traces of any. No old camps, no marks of their stone
tomahawks on the tree trunks, no traces of man at all. Although this
made us wonder it was a great relief to us; and on that account game was
plentiful, there being no Indians to keep the animals in check. So we
grew stronger and in better heart, travelling slowly and resting often.
The weather was delightfully fine and water plentiful. In this country
there is very little difference in the seasons, save that one part of
the year is wet and the remainder dry. The rain comes from the
north-west, and during the dry months the wind blows from the exactly
opposite direction, namely, the south-east.
CHAPTER III.
The Head on the Rock--A strange People--We are made Welcome--King
Quibibio.
It was early one morning that we suddenly came to a Rock on which we
both caught sight, at the same time, of a rude carving of a man’s head.
Much startled, for it was the first sign of human occupation we had seen
for some time, we examined it carefully; and we both were struck by
observing that this head was not a copy of the natives of the country we
had passed through. For these Indians are all most ugly, having blubber
lips, flat noses, and low foreheads; but this head was that of a
handsome man although without any beard. It was carved in the
perpendicular face of the Rock, and the countenance bore a somewhat
severe expression; in fact, after such a long and rude separation from
any of our kind, both Paul and I felt somewhat awed as we gazed at it.
The Rock bore no other mark nor inscription save this solemn, life-sized
head. It was almost on the crest of a rise, and no sooner had we passed
it, than we came on to a beaten pathway on which were fresh footmarks,
not naked like an Indian’s, but more resembling those of a boot without
heels.
I confess that this sudden coming upon the fresh traces of a civilized
race so unmanned both of us that we felt a strong inclination to beat a
hasty retreat. For you must remember that we had now been about four
years living either with savages or by ourselves in a wilderness.
“Shall we follow the path?” I whispered to Paul, for I felt afraid to
speak loud.
He looked around and then answered in the same low tone:
“Let us look over the ridge.”
I nodded assent, and carefully and cautiously we advanced to the top.
Hiding behind a heap of rocks we looked over.
What did we see?
The ridge we were on sloped abruptly down the other side, into a
beautiful open valley, through which ran a broad river. We saw green
patches like cultivated fields, thickets of tall trees, low houses with
white walls, and, above all, human beings, clothed and apparently
wearing a kind of head-dress. Paul and I gazed speechless with
amazement. Then, to my astonishment, he burst out crying and sobbing,
and I could not help but follow his example.
When we were somewhat calm, we retraced our footsteps and, having
repassed the Rock, halted to debate how we should best approach this
strange people. All through our wanderings we had carried with us our
jerkins and breeches that we might not appear naked before any civilized
race we met. We had, of course, never worn them, and they were still in
a fair state of preservation, though weather-stained. Some distance back
we had crossed a small runlet; to this we returned and proceeded to make
our toilet as best we were able. We washed ourselves carefully, and then
did what we could to put our wild hair and beards in order. This was
hard work, for the cutlass was too blunt for such work; but by lighting
a fire and using the glowing ends of sticks we singed each other’s
redundant locks down to fair proportions. After we had dressed
ourselves, feeling very strange in our unaccustomed clothing, we shook
hands with each other and went to meet whatever fate was in store for
us.
We had scarcely risen to our feet when we were alarmed by a loud outcry
from the very spot on the ridge we had just left. Then followed a
strange sound, like the blowing of a horn, and after that all was
still.
I said to Paul:
“Let us go on and get it over.”
He assented, and we walked up the ridge.
When about half-way up we saw a party of men approaching. They were
dressed in a garment like a long shirt, belted round the waist, and wore
small turbans. They were all armed and advanced rapidly towards us; one
man in front, who wore a shell slung over his shoulder (which was the
occasion of the noise we had heard), was pointing to the ground.
Evidently it was the discovery of our barefooted tracks that had alarmed
them. So intent were they in looking on the ground that it was not until
they were comparatively close that they observed us. They stopped short,
in silence, although some lifted their weapons.
We made up our minds for instant death, and stood awaiting it, our only
weapon being the almost useless cutlass, which I had thrust in the belt
of my jerkin. The tomahawk had long since been worn out, and we had
thought it better not to carry native weapons.
To our intense astonishment one man suddenly uttered a shout, and all
the raised weapons fell. The cry was taken up, and whilst some ran back
towards the valley, the others approached with smiles and gestures of
welcome. To this, you may be sure, we were nothing loath to respond, and
we soon found ourselves being conducted in state towards the valley.
The man who seemed to be in authority spoke volubly in his own tongue,
but we could only shake our heads in reply. I noticed that all the party
wore sandals of hide, made, as I found out afterwards, from the skin of
the jumping animal I have already spoken of.
We were led in a friendly fashion past the Rock with the head carved on
it, and then it was that I remarked for the first time that all our
escort were beardless, like the head. Both Paul and I, as I may here
well state, were fair men, like most of my countrymen, and although our
skins were burnt nearly black, our blue eyes and yellow hair showed at
once that we were not native Indians.
We were led down into the valley by a broad well-trodden pathway, and on
reaching the foot found many people assembling to see us, having been
roused by those who ran back. I noticed but few things then, for our
excitement was too great, only that the women wore a garment like the
men, and the men being all beardless, the only distinction in the
appearance of the sexes was that the women wore their hair long, prankt
with flowers, parrots’ wings, and other adornments.
We soon approached a larger cluster of houses, which I supposed to be
the heart of the town, although the town was scattered all up and down
the valley. The houses were much the same in design, being but one story
high, with flat roofs; but this ugliness was relieved by the sides being
made sloping, like the sides of a pyramid. Some of the houses were
larger than others by reason of having wings thrown out. They were built
of mud and coated with a kind of whitewash to preserve them from the
rain. There were flowering shrubs and beautiful trees everywhere, for
the valley seemed to be most fertile.
Presently we approached what appeared to be the largest of the houses in
the town, if such a scattered lot of houses could be called a town.
There seemed to be a good deal of bustle going on, and when we arrived
close the crowd parted and a fine-looking man came forward, dressed but
little better than the rest, with the exception that his turban was
bright red whilst all the others wore white.
He approached us eagerly and looked curiously at us, then said something
in a language different from what the others had been using, which
sounded somewhat familiar to me, but which I still could not understand.
He repeated it, and catching a word that sounded like “ar-me” I said it
after him. This delighted him hugely, and he looked at me so kindly
that, instinctively, I held out both my hands which he seized and shook
warmly, then, leaning forward kissed me on both cheeks. Paul followed my
example, and all the people standing around seemed as pleased as
possible.
The man with the red turban--whom I may as well say at once was the
chief, King Quibibio--led us into the house. For the moment we could
scarcely see, the room being darkened to keep out the flesh-flies, which
here, as in all parts of Terra Australis, are the greatest possible
torment. But as they will not enter a darkened room, the Quadrucos,
which is the name of these people, keep their houses darkened. Our eyes
soon grew accustomed to the dim light, and we found the interior
delightfully cool, on account of the thickness of the walls. There were
skins and other kinds of mats about the floor but no seats of any kind,
for these people always sit or recline on the ground.
The king motioned us to be seated, setting the example by lying down on
a rug. He then called out an order in his own language and a boy came in
with two cups made of shells, filled with what I now know to be green
cocoa-nut milk. After being so long used to tepid, brackish water I
thought it the most delicious beverage I had ever tasted. The boy took
back the empty cups and presently came in with a large earthenware bowl
of water. He washed our feet, which we submitted to quietly enough, and
then proceeded to fasten on each of us a pair of sandals, such as were
worn by all the others. This seemed to give the king the liveliest
satisfaction, and after motioning the boy to leave he resumed his
attempts at conversation.
I may as well here mention that the investiture of the sandals made us
members of the family. The meaning of it I will describe later on.
Pointing to himself the king said, “Quibibio”, then he pointed to me and
I replied, “Diedrich”, this, after some repetitions, he succeeded in
mastering. Paul was much easier, and then we practised on the king’s
name until we had it perfectly.
We now had time to look about the room, which was spacious and lofty,
and although destitute of any furniture but the rugs and mats, seemed
exactly suited to the climate. Doorways opened in two or three
directions, and before them hung curtains or screens of reeds. Seeing
our curiosity the king led us outside, through the doorway by which we
had entered, and taking us a little distance away pointed to the wall.
We then saw one reason why they were made sloping. Shallow steps, or
rather a stairway, was cut in them to enable the inhabitants to easily
reach the flat roof.
Quibibio ascended, and we followed him on to a flat roof surrounded by
a low parapet. I never saw a lovelier sight than that beautiful valley
presented. The white houses seemed to nestle in clumps of verdure, the
cultivated fields, though easily discernible, were not separated by
walls, for these people possessed no domestic animals, and they rather
regarded the fields as serving as a lure to bring in the big jumping
animals from the neighbouring hills. It was a most peaceful scene, and,
coming to it suddenly, as we did, out of the great desolate wilderness,
we could scarce believe but that we were dreaming.
CHAPTER IV.
A Prince and Princess--The Frenchman’s Cross--Quadruco Customs--Weapons
and Drill.
On descending we found an ample repast laid out on the floor. It
consisted of various kinds of game, birds, fish, and boiled herbs. We
also found awaiting us two more people, whom Quibibio, by signs, gave us
to understand were his son and daughter. I was rather astonished to find
these young people so old, as I had taken the king to be only about
middle age, but the beardless faces were very deceptive. In fact the
only difference noticeable between the Princess Azolta and her brother,
Prince Zolca, lay in the length of the hair, and the fact that Azolta
wore flowers round her head.
The Quadrucos are a fine race, and as Azolta was a most beautiful girl
Paul could not keep his eyes off her during the meal, until I had to
tell him that he might give offence. Her twin brother, as I afterwards
learned he was, appeared to be of a lively disposition, and to greatly
regret that we could not understand each other.
The meal being finished the attendant boy brought round a basin of water
for us to wash our hands in; and we then arose from our reclining
position, which I and Paul found very irksome.
Azolta retired, as also did Quibibio, leaving his son, Zolca, to
entertain us. This he did by smilingly inviting us to walk out. We took
our way down a beaten track by the side of the river, which was a broad,
sandy stream, with long reaches of water. We soon reached a gorge
through which the river descended, or at least the small stream it then
was, in a series of cascades. Zolca led us up an easy ascent by the side
of this gorge, and we suddenly found ourselves within sight of the
ocean. At our feet lay a well-sheltered bay, overlooked by the rise we
were on, and beyond was the sea unstudded by a sail. Some large-sized
canoes were lying near the beach, and on the rise on which we stood were
several men, some with shells slung across their shoulders. Zolca waited
quietly until I happened to turn my head slightly, and then I started
with surprise, for close to us was reared a wooden Cross, some thirty
feet in height.
We approached, and when near it Zolca bent his knee as Roman Catholics
do. Paul and I, being of course of the Reformed Religion, did not do so,
until it struck me that it would be policy to follow Zolca’s example. I
whispered this to Paul, and we then both knelt down.
Then we examined the cross. It was firmly put together and well planted
in the earth; but the inscription that had been cut on it, of which I
could but detect a few letters, had been almost entirely defaced by the
weather. The cross was made of a ships’ spars, and must have been a
prominent object from seaward.
Zolca patted the post that formed the cross, and said, two or three
times, a word that sounded like “Gon-vil”. This awakened a chord in my
memory, which I could not explain until it suddenly flashed before me.
And I saw myself a boy in old Harlem, pondering over stories of
adventure; and amongst them that of the Norman captain, Paulmier de
Gonneville, who discovered a great south land, where he stayed with the
natives for six months, finding them very peaceful and gentle, although
warlike towards other tribes. My memory now becoming clear, I recalled
reading of the great Cross he erected, and how he had taken a prince of
the country to France, promising to return with him, which, however, he
was prevented from doing.
This, then, was the land, and thus was our friendly reception accounted
for. It was more than one hundred years since Paulmier de Gonneville had
been there, but the tradition that he would return had evidently been
faithfully handed down and preserved. I now saw what course to pursue,
and felt thankful that my boyish love of reading about discoveries had
given the information.
“Gonneville! Gonneville!” I said eagerly, and the delighted native
repeated it. Then he insisted on our returning with him, and on arriving
at what may be called the palace, he produced a Latin missal, inside of
which I could trace in faded characters:
“_Jean Binot Paulmier de Gonneville. Honfleur, 1503._”
After deciphering it I read it aloud, much to the pleasure of the two
natives, for Quibibio had now joined us. Zolca next produced an
old-fashioned, short sword, evidently of French make, but there was no
inscription on it. Struck by a sudden thought, I drew the old cutlass I
had carried so long and presented it to Zolca, making him understand
that it was a present. He seemed at first so pleased with the wretched
weapon that he could only look at it with delighted eyes; then he put
his hands on my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks, a French custom
handed down, I presume, from Gonneville’s time. I heartily wished the
performer had been his sister, Azolta, who had entered the room and was
gazing shyly at us.
I now, having got a footing, as it were, tried to show them by signs,
and drawings on the ground with my finger, what had happened to us; how
our ship had been wrecked, how we had lived amongst the Indians--at
which both father and son showed signs of disgust,--how we had walked on
and on until we came to their country. They seemed to readily comprehend
it all, and from that time we were as one of the race, and from the date
of giving him the cutlass Zolca was my brother. We at once assumed the
Quadruco dress, and every one was our friend.
I will now give some account of these people, it being of course what I
have since learned.
They are, or, alas! were, of a light colour, with dark hair and eyes,
and as I said before, beardless. They were well built, averaging about
five feet eight or nine; extremely good-looking, especially the women,
many of the young girls being nearly as beautiful as Azolta. Their
dress, which was woven out of the woolly pod of a bush, was a single
garment like a long shirt, with a girdle round the waist; it reached a
little below the knee, and was the same in both sexes. The men wore a
turban, but the women wore only ornamental head-dresses of flowers and
feathers. They had little occasion to work, the valley being so fertile,
and the hunting was merely a pastime and an exercise. The men had but
one wife (Quibibio’s was dead), and family affection seemed very strong
between them. They had a simple kind of religion, which I don’t think
was much thought of, and consisted merely in a belief in a Great Spirit,
who sometimes was kind, and sometimes angry. They had plenty of dances
and games, but very few rites or ceremonies.
The tradition of their origin was that their forefathers, with their
wives, came from some far-away island in two large canoes; that they
found the valley they lived in almost uninhabited, save for some
scattered families of savages who fled at sight of them, and they
settled down and had lived there ever since.
Of their wars with the Indians, and with two other nations who came
from the sea in big boats, I shall have to speak presently, as I had to
take my part in them.
The cocoa-nuts growing in groves up and down the valley of the river
were, they told me, brought by their ancestors from the land from which
they came. This I could most readily believe, as we had seen none
throughout our long journey; nor would the arid country we passed
through have supported them. So far as I could make out the Quadrucos,
at the time of our visit, numbered 800 souls.
I applied myself diligently to learning the language, and with two such
teachers as Zolca and his sister it was easy work. Paul did not make
such rapid progress, on account of his want of education, but he could
soon make himself understood.
One day Zolca came to me in great glee and showed me the old cutlass,
polished up and made as sharp as a razor. Little did I then think to
what use I should one day see that keen blade put! I asked him who did
it, and he took me to a large house I had never yet entered. In it we
found many men at work sharpening and cleaning swords, hatchets, and
heavy knives, but all very coarsely and roughly made. I was astonished
at the sight, for I had no idea that they had any knowledge of metals,
but Zolca informed me that these weapons had been taken from the dead
bodies of their enemies, belonging to the two tribes who came from the
sea and fought them.
By this time we could fairly understand each other, and Quibibio
approached me on a subject which had evidently been troubling him.
“When would I teach them to make swords?”
On inquiry it turned out that de Gonneville when he left promised to
return, and told the then king, Arosca, that he would bring back men who
would teach them how to make metal, and also how to fight like his
people.
I hesitated before replying, and then told the king that I was afraid no
metal existed in his land, but that Paul and I would go through the
weapons they had, and teach his people how men fought in our country. In
saying this I, of course, relied upon Paul, who had once seen military
service. This answer satisfied Quibibio, and I held a consultation with
Paul, who readily agreed to do something that would raise his
importance.
Next day, then, we inspected the weapons they made themselves, putting
on one side those captured from the enemy. We found that not only did
they all possess serviceable bows and arrows, but, in addition, most of
the men were expert slingers, and all could throw the lance with
precision. They had, however, no system of fighting, each man acting
independently, and this was due to the enemies they had had to deal
with.
On first coming to the land, some hundreds of years ago, no doubt, their
only foes were the native Indians, whom they called Papoos, and these
they easily vanquished. Still, however, they had occasional trouble with
them, so a beaten path was marked out around the settlement, and this
was traversed twice a day by sentinels. As every Quadruco wore sandals,
it was easy to detect a barefooted footmark crossing the path, and it
was this which led to our detection. The Indians, however, grew to fear
them greatly, which was the cause of the abandoned tract of country
Paul and I had passed over.
Then a fresh enemy arose. Men came from the sea in great canoes, half
the size of Gonneville’s, and nearly as high out of the water. These men
were of two races, and although they both attacked the Quadrucos, they
also fought between themselves when they met.
Fortunately they had not appeared until the settlement was numerous
enough to resist them, and as yet, though some of them had actually
landed, none had succeeded in getting beyond the shore. These people
used bows and arrows, swords, and another weapon which, by its
description, I took to be a blow-pipe. A look-out was constantly kept
for these marauders, and the shell which was ingeniously turned into a
trumpet was sounded as the signal of danger.
Paul was now made captain, and took the work with pleasure, for I think
he felt sore that I had been made so much of, and was anxious to also
attract admiration.
With my assistance he divided his men into archers, slingers, and a
small body of swordsmen, all of them also being armed with lances. In
addition, finding that they had no notion of the use of the
shield,--strange to say, for even the Papoos knew about that,--we set
some of the artificers to work and soon had some light wooden shields
covered with hide, which we taught them how to use, for I had been
trained to arms in Harlem, as all youths of my position were.
Time passed quickly and happily. The Quadrucos were delighted with their
new employment, and as for me, so long as I could look in Azolta’s dark
eyes and hear her soft voice, I wanted no more.
CHAPTER V.
The Blowing of the War-Shell--The Fight in the Bay--Burning a Mongol
Junk.
The season of rains had passed over, and the valley was one mass of
verdure and flowers. Azolta, Zolca, and I were wandering along in the
early morning when the harsh note of the war-shell came from seaward,
and was taken up and repeated again and again. It was a most discordant
sound in such a scene of peace, and no wonder that Azolta started and
clung to me. Zolca’s eyes blazed, and he ran towards the men who were
approaching with the tidings. Two large vessels had appeared on the
horizon, evidently bearing down towards the settlement.
Thanks to our constant training there was no confusion in gathering our
forces. The archers mustered together under Paul; I had charge of the
slingers; and Zolca led the small body of men armed with swords and
shields. The women had been instructed to prepare plenty of food, and
also to have long strips of the stuff of which they made their dresses
ready for the wounded. Then we marched to the shore, old Quibibio
leading.
The two vessels were still at some considerable distance, so we halted
on the top of the rise and watched them approach.
Suddenly I recognized our coming enemies from old engravings in the
books of travel, which I had read. They were Mongols. I could tell by
their strangely-shaped vessels, with their huge lop-sided sails. I had
seen many pictures of these ships and of the people. I turned to an old
Quadruco near me and asked:
“Have not these people heads like this”--showing the back of my
hand--“and tails on their heads?”
“Yes,” he answered.
So I knew then that these were Mongol junks that were approaching, and
had not much fear, for I had heard that my countrymen in Java used these
Mongol people to work in the fields.
We had erected strong barricades at the foot of the low hills commanding
the bay, and along here the slingers and archers were posted in
alternate parties. Zolca and his swordsmen lay in readiness to rush down
and encounter any who might succeed in reaching the land in spite of our
volleys of arrows, spears, and stones.
As there was still ample time, the women went round distributing food
and drink to the men, and it was a pretty sight to see with what
coolness and cheerfulness they did it. But the fact was that Paul’s
organization, rude as it was, had infused great confidence in them,
after the loose disorderly way they had fought before. Azolta herself
brought me some food, and when she looked at me before going away I saw
that there were tears in her glorious eyes. Then before I knew what I
was doing, I caught her in my arms and kissed her. And this, on the eve
of battle, was our first kiss.
The wind now dropped, and the Mongol pirates put out sweeps and came
down more rapidly. Evidently some amongst them knew the way, for they
came straight into the bay, one leading, and as soon as they got as near
the shore as they dared they anchored, lying close alongside each other.
All our men kept under cover and maintained a perfect silence, as they
had been ordered to do. In this silence we could plainly hear the shouts
and orders of the pirates who seemed to be all talking at once. I had
small concern as to the result, for I had heard the Company’s sailors
speak most contemptuously of these Mongols. In this, however, I erred.
Heavy, clumsy boats were now dropped into the water and filled with men,
and some of them pulled towards my side of the bay, for Paul and I were
now posted on opposite sides. I noticed, however, that only about a
third of the boats left the ships, the others remaining as it were in
concealment, between the two vessels. This was a simple trick which had
however deceived the Quadrucos before and cost many lives. Namely, by a
feigned attack they had induced all the Quadrucos to rush to one point,
and then sent the remainder of the boats to an unguarded spot. We were
prepared for this, and the pirates were destined to receive a lesson.
On they came, three boat-loads, propelling their craft by standing up at
the oars and facing the bows. I allowed them to come so close that my
men got impatient; but I had my reasons for this, and was delighted to
see that all the men at the other side of the bay kept close. When the
boats were in quite shallow water I gave the signal, and such a storm of
arrows, spears, and stones burst on the astonished Mongols that they
turned tail at once. The leading boat had received such a hail of
missiles that the men were too staggered to stop her, and with the way
she had on, she grounded.
This I had anticipated, and giving the signal agreed on, Zolca and his
swordsmen came bounding down, Zolca yards ahead. The Mongols showed but
little fight and were cut down and killed without mercy, whilst some of
the Quadrucos received but slight wounds. My men kept up a relentless
fire on the other two boats as they clumsily turned round, and they must
have finally reached their ships half full of dead and dying.
While this was going on Paul told me he had the greatest difficulty in
keeping his men close, and had he not succeeded it would have spoilt
all. The Mongols, although making a great clamour on board their junks
at witnessing the repulse of their party, evidently believed that their
stratagem had succeeded, for the remainder of their boats, five in
number, now made for what they thought was the unguarded side of the
bay. Zolca and his men immediately started round to assist Paul, and I
and most of my men followed; which was fortunate, for the leader of this
party was more cautious, and ordered his boats to land at different
points, so that the attack was at five places at once.
This, however, did not save him or his force, for from their cover
Paul’s men suddenly assailed them with such a hurricane of arrows, &c.,
that they dared not approach. This leader, however, kept his boats out
of the very shallow water and ordered a number of his men overboard, to
land everywhere. The manœuvre caused delay, and by this time Zolca had
arrived, closely followed by me and my men, and the pirates struggling
in the water, unable to use their weapons properly, were all killed,
excepting a few who managed to regain their boats which made back for
the junks.
None of our men had been killed and only a few slightly wounded, so well
had we taught them to keep under cover, whilst the pirates had lost a
boat and over a hundred men killed, besides the wounded. By the capture
of the boat we gained a great number of weapons of all kinds, and from
the dead bodies many more were taken.
Naturally there was much rejoicing amongst the Quadrucos, and when I met
Azolta she kissed me of her own accord.
Meantime the pirates showed no signs of leaving, and, as I now know,
these piratical junks were packed full of men.
Paul drew my attention to what they were doing, which appeared to be
throwing one another overboard. He explained to me that they were simply
killing those who were very badly wounded, and throwing the bodies
overboard, this, seemingly, being their barbarous practice.
We next held a conference and came to the conclusion that the Mongols
intended to wait until night before attempting another onslaught. After
our men had eaten a good meal, and had some relaxation, we formed small
camps round the bay, where it would be handy for them to reach their
posts when wanted; a close watch being, of course, kept on the pirates.
The bay was now alive with sharks, attracted by the dead, but all the
bodies we could get I ordered to be taken to the rocky headlands and
thrown into the outer sea. So we soon got rid of the sight of these
hideous, yellow, flat-faced monsters, with their bald heads and black
tails.
I now called Paul and Zolca on one side and communicated to them an idea
which I had conceived. The moon rose about two hours after dark, and it
was most likely that the pirates would make their attempt shortly
before daylight. I therefore proposed to utilize these two hours of
darkness by attacking in our turn. It was now only an hour or so past
noon, so that we had ample time to prepare. When I explained my plan
Paul grasped it at once, and Zolca, although he did not fully comprehend
how it was to be done, would, after the success of the morning, have
done anything we desired. I sent for some of the most expert bowmen, and
with them we went back to the town, which was rash; but then we could
have reached the shore in time had there been any sign of another
attack. Paul made these men practise shooting up in the air, so that the
arrows would fall straight down as if from a height; he measured off a
certain distance, and after a short time they grew very skilful at it,
making the arrows drop almost exactly within the mark every time.
Meanwhile Zolca and I started some of the women to make three huge
bundles of dry palm-leaves; and these, when finished, were bound
together at the top, and a loop attached. We then put them to soak in
the palm-oil that we used for our lights at night.
Our preparations were now complete, and we had nothing to do but wait
and watch until nightfall. There is but little twilight in this country,
and as soon as it became too dusk for the Mongols to see us we sent men
to collect all the available canoes. When quite dark Paul and I took the
smallest canoe and set out for the pirate junks. Our intention was to
cut those boats adrift which had not been taken on board again, but were
towing astern. We did not paddle, but I propelled the canoe from the
stern by means of a lance, while Paul lay in the prow with one of the
sharpest swords we could get, ready in his hand. It was very dark, and
once under the tall side of the junk we were comparatively safe.
It was a strange feeling to be so close to these wretches, and hear them
jabbering and quarrelling overhead. No order appeared to be kept, for
they all seemed talking at the same time and none listening. Cautiously
we made our way under the stern, which, sloping outwards, completely
sheltered us. Here we noted what we wanted to see for our next move, and
then I gently impelled the canoe towards the boats. The tide was rising
so that the junks swung shoreward, which was just what we wanted. Four
boats were towing astern, and after a few noiseless cuts from the keen
blade they were floating towards the land. No alarm had been given, and
in a few moments the three boats belonging to the other junk were adrift
and following the first four.
We did not wait any longer, but I sculled the canoe straight away at
right angles. It was lucky I did so, for a tremendous uproar arose on
both ships, somebody having caught sight of the boats drifting away.
Thinking that whoever had cut the boats loose must be on board, they
directed a shower of arrows after them, taking no heed in our direction.
Some of the pirates jumped overboard, but doubtless the sharks took all
save one, and he actually swam to one of the boats, and was there
transfixed by an arrow from one of his own countrymen, for his dead body
lay in the bottom when the boats stranded--which they very soon did, for
the tide here rises thirty feet or more and makes very rapidly.
We landed at another part of the beach and began our preparations for
the real assault. Zolca was delighted with our safe return, and as our
time of darkness was but short, we hurried on with everything.
The hubbub on board the junks still continued, but of that we thought
little--they could do no more.
Our picked bowmen were drafted into the boats, and we soon had them
stationed at what we calculated was the right distance from the ships.
We had judged most admirably, for by the shouts of alarm and fear we
could tell that the arrows were falling on the pirates like rain from
heaven. Zolca was in charge, and by our instructions he kept up the fire
intermittingly, that is to say, he would give them one volley, then,
after an uncertain interval, another, so that they did not know when to
expect it.
Now our turn came, with the three bundles of oil-soaked palm-leaves and
some live coals carefully covered up, we started in the same canoe that
had done us such good service already. We pulled to Zolca’s boat, and he
ordered one vigorous volley which must have made the Mongols skip below
again. Then we shot like an arrow, straight as we could paddle, for we
had determined to throw off all disguise. The stern of the junk where
we had been before was reached in safety, and on the great, creaking
rudder we hung one of our fire-bundles, the other two we suspended
anywhere we could, driving them fast into their places with three swords
we had brought with us for the purpose. Having a lance with us, with a
bundle of this same stuff at the head, we floated back a bit, lighted
this at the hot coals, and touched off the fire-bundles. All this we
were enabled to do unobserved, for the sterns of these junks overhang
the water a long way, so that it was like a roof over us; moreover, the
pirates were all under cover, expecting another shower of arrows.
The oil-soaked bundles burst into immediate flame. Paul hurled the
burning spear on board, where it set fire to the roof of their
cooking-house, and we paddled desperately back without any harm. Zolca
ordered one more volley, and we drew out of the circle of light and
waited.
CHAPTER VI.
The End of the Pirate Junks--Paul discovers Gold--Azolta and I are
betrothed--Death of Quibibio.
I was in great hopes that if the junk took fire properly it would
communicate the flames to the other one, for these unwieldy vessels are
built of most inflammable materials. This was not the case. The other
junk’s crew cut their cable, and drifted out of reach before the fire
got fierce hold; then they put out their sweeps and went out to sea,
leaving their companions to their fate. The moon now rose, and we had a
full view of the scene. Truth to tell, the spear hurled on board by Paul
had done more damage than our fire-bundles. It had ignited the top of
the cook-house, and from there it had run up the huge sail and masts,
whilst the only damage our fire-bundles had done was to burn the rudder
and a hole in the upper part of the stern. This, however, was sufficient
to put the junk at our mercy.
The Mongols were apparently working hard to extinguish the fire, but
without much avail, for the masts, rigging, and sails were soon all
aflame, and presently came tumbling about their ears.
Zolca had all the boats drawn round in a circle to prevent the escape of
any of the pirates who might jump over, whilst others on shore watched
for the same purpose. I did not see any try it, although the junk burned
for some hours, until she seemed to have nothing left to burn. Still she
did not sink, and we kept our watch all night. When daylight broke she
lay there, black and smoking, but with no signs of life on board. I feel
pretty certain that when they saw they were doomed, most of them
voluntarily sought death in the flames, for I have since learnt that
suicide is a custom of these people. Zolca and some of his men boarded
her, and found that she had been burnt clean out, nothing but the hull
being left.
Whilst engaged in this we heard a great shouting from the shore, and
soon learned that the other junk had run on a reef of rocks just outside
the bay, and was now lying on her side with the waves breaking over her.
As there is a tremendous surf at this place there was little chance for
any of the pirates to have escaped, but to make sure Zolca placed a
guard there; but none were ever seen, and the waves soon made short work
of the wreck. When the tide was nearly full we towed the burnt vessel as
far up the sand as we could, and there broke her up, and got a quantity
of iron from her.
Things having come to this happy issue, and all our enemies being
destroyed,--that is, for the time, for we did not relax any vigilance in
watching for others,--life went on easily and happily, especially for me
with my beautiful Azolta.
Soon after our victory over the Mongol pirates Azolta and I were
publicly betrothed amidst great rejoicing. Quibibio now seemed to have
reached all he had desired. He had been the one to witness the return of
men from, as he supposed, De Gonneville’s country, who had taught his
people how to fight, and now I was betrothed to his daughter, and had
promised to live and die in his country. Zolca, too, was untiring in his
devotion to me, and would have laid down his life for me.
Paul had set his affections on a very pretty girl, the daughter of one
of the principal men, and he was betrothed at the same time. This
betrothal, according to the custom of the race, was to last one year,
when the marriage ceremony took place.
That year passed peacefully and quietly. Paul and I had a house allotted
to us, and wore the red turban; but I now began to notice a change in my
fellow-exile. So long as there had been hardships to encounter, and
fighting to look forward to, he was one of the best and cheeriest of
men, although but a rough sailor without any education. But now the life
of ease and indolence seemed to bring all his worst qualities to the
front. He had no resources to fall back on, although I tried hard to
interest him in the work I was doing, namely, trying to teach the
natives new arts and industries. I had succeeded in making a rude kind
of paper, and after that the manufacture of ink was easy, and with the
pinion feather of a bird for pen I had begun to teach Zolca and others
the use of written characters.
Paul took no interest in this. He sighed for the rude joys of his former
sailor life, the strong drink, the dancing, the singing, and rough
jokes of boon companions. Of dancing and singing we had plenty, but the
graceful flower-dances of the Quadruco girls did not suit him when he
remembered the clumsy jigs of his sailor days.
One day, when I was trying to rally him, he replied hastily that he
wished he had been hanged at the yard-arm of the _Sardam_ frigate before
he had come to rot in this place. Then he flung out of the house, and I
saw him no more that day.
I was in hopes that when he was married he would become reconciled to
our quiet life, where, if we were cut off from the world, we at least
were well fed and enjoyed a beautiful climate. But this was not to be.
That evening he came to me and proposed that we should build a small
vessel out of the timbers of the junk, and make our way north to Java. I
reminded him that we should probably be hanged at once as two of the
mutineers of the _Batavia_. But he replied that by this time they must
have forgotten all about us.
“And if not,” he said, sinking his voice, “I have knowledge of what will
purchase our pardon readily.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“There is this valley, and--there is more.”
While the tempter thus spoke I saw my old home in Harlem, my parents,
who had doubtless mourned me both as dead and guilty, and a longing to
return came over me. Then the loving eyes of Azolta, soon to be my wife,
blotted out the picture, and I knew my duty.
Since my exile and residence amongst the Quadrucos I had learned to look
at things from a far different stand-point than the ignorant boy who
sailed from the Texel. Then I saw no harm in the Company occupying the
lands of the natives, dispossessing and making slaves of them. I had
been taught no better. Now I saw the wickedness of it, and the idea of
these peaceful, happy people, who had sheltered us in our distress and
treated us with honour and distinction, being handed over to the
rapacity of the Company, and the tender mercies of its servants, struck
me with horror, and I vowed in my heart that I would fight to the last
drop of my blood in their defence, even against my own people.
“What do you mean by more?” I asked Paul.
“There is gold here,” he returned. “Plenty of it. I found a lot of
stones with veins of the metal, when I was out hunting one day.”
He went to the corner where he slept and brought out some white stones
in which he showed me yellow streaks which certainly looked like gold.
“I have seen it before,” he said, “though not in this shape.”
Now this determined me more than ever. Should my countrymen learn of
this, nothing would stop them from swarming over the land, and the fate
of the Quadrucos would be settled.
“Paul,” I said, “have you no gratitude for the people who welcomed us
and treated us so well? Do you not know what will happen to them if the
Company hears of this place, and establishes a Factory here? Can you say
that you have the heart to dream of such a plan?”
“Right well do I know what will happen, Diedrich; but it is a lot that
must be theirs sooner or later; you yourself must confess that. Some
discovery-ship will poke her nose into that bay some fine morning, and
then the thing is done.”
“But don’t let yours be the hand to do it,” I replied.
“I am wearied here,” he answered, “and above all, it is so easy to get
away; where those clumsy junks go, we can go, and what Master Francis
Pelsart did in his boat, from where the _Batavia’s_ bones lie, we can do
easily from here in a better boat, which we will build.”
“I would sooner cut off my right hand than consent,” I replied. “These
people have adopted us, and here I will live and die!”
“For the sake of a pretty savage!” sneered Paul.
Mad with sudden rage at this allusion to Azolta, I drew the short sword
I now always wore, and was about to fall on Paul, who drew his and stood
upon the defensive.
For a moment we faced each other, then Paul dropped the point of his
weapon.
“Let us not quarrel, friend Diedrich,” he said; “we have been through
too many perils together to try to slit each other’s
[Illustration: PAUL DREW HIS SHORT SWORD AND STOOD ON THE DEFENSIVE.]
skins now. I will forget this mad scheme of mine, though in truth I am
tired of this life.”
I knew he was but feigning, but I held out my hand and he shook it, and
we returned our weapons to our belts. But from that day there was
ill-blood between Paul and me.
I understood it all now. It was not the monotony of the life, for Paul
was too rough to mind that; it was the discovery of the gold that had so
changed him. Here it was useless to him--no better than common rock; but
once free, with the knowledge of its locality, and he could enjoy
himself to the end of his days.
Azolta noted my abstraction, but I could not tell her the cause, for I
was meditating whether or not I should confide in Zolca. For Paul had
not given up his purpose, of that I had felt sure, and although he could
do nothing by himself, still he must be watched. The death of Quibibio
decided me.
The old king died happy. These people did not fear death in the least.
All his wishes and hopes had been fulfilled. His son Zolca, who would
succeed him in the mildly paternal rule which was all that was demanded
from the king of the Quadrucos, was a noble fellow; his daughter was
about to be married to me, who was as an adopted son; his enemies by sea
had been beaten and destroyed. He was ready to die, and he died calmly,
smilingly, with the three of us kneeling beside him.
He was buried beside his ancestors, and Zolca now reigned in his place.
The mourning did not last long, for death was looked upon as inevitable;
and it in no way delayed my marriage to Azolta.
Paul and I were married on the same day, and I took up my quarters in
the palace. Since our outbreak we had been ostensibly on the old terms,
but in my heart I knew that Paul had in no way relinquished his purpose.
Zolca now being in supreme command, I resolved to take him into my
confidence.
It was a long task, for I had to explain things to him which he had not
the experience to grasp. In the first place I had to find out if he knew
about the gold; to my astonishment he did, and said he could take me
straight there. Of course he did not know about the value of gold, but
he had noticed the yellow stuff in the rocks when he had been out
hunting. I now explained to him that this yellow stuff was what all
white men craved. That some would do anything for it. That if they came
to hear of it being here they would come in big ships and take it,
driving him and his people out of the valley to wander amongst the
Papoos, if they did not do worse. That they would have weapons which his
people could not resist. He seemed scarcely to understand me, for in his
simple mind all men of my colour were friends, “amis” as the Norman
captain had taught his ancestors.
To explain things I asked him what he thought the Mongol pirates would
have done had they beaten us instead of our beating them.
“Killed us all,” he replied promptly.
“That is what the white men would do, only in another fashion,” I told
him.
Then, my boyish reading coming back again, I related the story of the
Conquest of Mexico and all its horrors.
“Deedrick,” he said at last, that being their pronunciation of my name,
“brother, why tell me all this?”
Then, though greatly loath, I told him that Paul had found the gold, and
that the sight of it had changed his nature. That he had proposed to me
to build a vessel and go to where our countrymen lived to the north, and
bring them back and show them the gold.
“But why?” he asked, in bewilderment. “Is he not happy here?”
It was cruel work, like kicking a dog who would lick your hand, but I
had to do it. I told him that men like Paul had such a desire for gold
and all it would buy in our country, that they would do anything to get
it; that it made them worse than the pirates; that it turned a good man
into a bad man. Be it remembered that crime was almost unknown amongst
these people; petty quarrels there were, but nothing more, therefore it
was extremely hard for me to explain to Zolca.
I then said that we must not trust Paul; that he was bold and clever,
and now that he had set his mind on it he would never let the matter
rest.
“But, brother,” said the bewildered prince, “why are you not like the
others?”
I said that some men had stricter notions than others, and I had had
very strict parents; moreover, I loved Azolta more than all the gold in
the world.
Poor Zolca! He got up and walked about; then, cast himself on the ground
again and I saw great tears in his eyes. It was his first experience of
human nature. Of course he had never felt for Paul as he did for me,
still he had believed in him. At last he sprung up and his eyes were
blazing.
“Deedrick! I will kill him before he shall harm my people!”
Prophetic words!
CHAPTER VII.
Paul attempts Flight--Another Pirate Junk--The Fight between the
Junk and the Proa--An ancient Goldmine.
But for the grief and anxiety occasioned me by Paul’s conduct I should
now have been perfectly happy. With my bride Azolta, and my brother
Zolca, and congenial work in the instruction of the people, I could
scarcely realize that I was the man, who, as a boy, had been herded with
mutineers, and put ashore to starve on the unknown land of Terra
Australis.
As for Paul, apparently he had settled down to married life and
forgotten his plan of sailing for Java, and bringing the Company’s men
down to show them the gold and the fertile valley of the Quadrucos; but
I felt quite sure that he meant to carry it out on the first
opportunity.
My attempt to introduce the use of tables and chairs amongst the
Quadrucos was not very successful. Zolca and my wife tried hard to
accustom themselves to this new mode of eating and drinking, &c., but I
am afraid the others only lay on the floor and looked at the furniture.
They took to writing, however, and having concocted a simple code of
signs, Zolca and I could communicate easily.
One morning the blowing of the war-shell announced danger from the
northern side of the valley. Zolca, Paul, and I, with a body of men
whose duty it was to hold themselves in readiness--for we had taught
the Quadrucos not to rush on like a rabble, but to do everything
according to method--proceeded to the spot. We found that several
footprints of the Papoos had been found, crossing and recrossing the
beaten path which the sentinels patrolled. As these were not very
formidable foes, Zolca and his men proceeded in pursuit of them, and
Paul and I returned. Before leaving the place, however, Paul asked me if
I had seen the paintings in the caves near where we were. I had heard of
them from Zolca, who professed not to know by whom they had been done,
but I had never visited the place. Paul led me to it. They were gigantic
figures, without mouths, dressed in long robes, with halos around their
heads. There were also characters resembling written words on the walls
of the cave. I imagined they had been done by the Quadrucos who first
landed.
As we went slowly home I noticed that Paul seemed most friendly, he
talked about the hardships and dangers we had gone through together, and
what a happy life we had suddenly dropped on. In fact I never saw him
more subdued and affectionate. Zolca did not return that day, evidently
his pursuit had led him further than he expected.
I slept soundly, to be awakened at sunrise by my name being loudly
called from outside the house. Hurrying out I found Namoa, one of the
principal men of the valley, in a state of great excitement. As day
broke, the sentinels on watch for the pirates saw a boat with a white
sail leaving the bay. They then missed one of the largest of the boats
we had captured from the Mongols.
Paul had started for Java!
I concealed all signs of emotion, and with Namoa made inquiries. We
found that Paul had taken with him his wife and her two brothers. How he
had wrought upon them to join him I cannot say, but they must have been
secretly at work for some time, preparing the sail and mast, &c. This,
then, accounted for his plausible manner the night before, to lull my
suspicions to rest. Zolca’s absence was another chance in his favour,
and he seized the opportunity.
I treated the matter lightly, explained that Paul had only gone to try
how the boat would sail, as we intended rigging masts on all of them. I
surmised that he meant it as a surprise for us, that was the reason he
had said nothing about his intended trip.
When Zolca returned, which he did in a few hours, having followed the
Papoos for a long distance but failed to overtake them, it was quite a
different thing, and his eyes showed me that the untamable savage was
still latent in him.
However, I had thought the matter over, and had come to the conclusion
that Paul never would reach Java. In the first place, even if he escaped
shipwreck, he had a most hazy idea as to its whereabouts; in all
probability he would land on some strange island, peopled with savages,
and he and his party would be murdered. I considered it would be a
miracle if he reached Java, unless he was picked up by one of the
Company’s discovery-ships. Then again, he could not carry a sufficiency
of provisions and water to last him through calm weather, when he could
not sail. He had spoken of Captain Pelsart’s voyage in the boat, but
Pelsart was a navigator with a well-built boat, not a clumsy Mongol
affair; also he had a boat’s crew of trained sailors. Altogether I
looked upon it as a rash and desperate enterprise that only an ignorant
man would undertake, and one sure to bring destruction on the heads of
the parties engaged in it.
All this I confided to Zolca, who, I think, understood most of my
reasoning and felt reassured. Suddenly our conversation was interrupted
by the blowing of the sentinel’s shell from seaward. We hastened there
and, to our intense surprise, found that the boat with the white sail
was returning. Now, although I was glad that this, to a certain extent,
confirmed what I had already told Namoa and the rest, still I knew that
Paul was not coming back willingly, and this idea was soon made a
certainty, for, almost immediately, a Mongol junk came into sight. Paul
was evidently running back to escape a worse fate.
I drew Zolca on one side and told him the tale I had told Namoa and
urged him to accept it as the best policy. We could settle with Paul
privately, meantime we wanted his help to fight the pirates. To this he
agreed, and when finally the boat ran up to the beach, I hailed Paul in
our own language and told him how to act. He was sharp enough to see the
situation, and it was evident that the other Quadrucos had no suspicion
of the attempted flight. Paul’s companions would, of course, divulge it
presently, but not until we had dealt with the junk, and I was anxious
to avoid any disunion in our ranks with an enemy in sight.
After our last fight I had carefully gone over the bay and found out the
channel leading into it. Also, that this channel passed close to one of
the headlands of the bay. On this knowledge my plans had long since been
formed in case of another attack. As the junk, which was much larger
than either of the former two, drew near, we all took up our stations as
before, with the exception that a body of bowmen under Namoa, stationed
themselves on the headland commanding the channel.
Apparently these pirates knew the entrance into the bay quite well, and
this puzzled me exceedingly, also why they persisted in coming, seeing
that they got nothing but hard knocks for their pains. I found out the
reason soon afterwards.
The junk came on under a light wind and passed unsuspectingly under the
headland, from which suddenly descended on her deck a shower of arrows,
spears, and stones. The pirates were helpless, or nearly so, and the
wind being, as I said, but light, their progress was slow, and before
they got out of range, into the middle of the bay, they must have lost a
great many of their crew.
I sent a messenger to Namoa, telling him not to move from his position,
for I had great hopes of beating the enemy off before dark, when he
could give them a parting salute.
The Mongols now hauled down their sails and prepared to get out their
boats. They sent one in to reconnoitre, but so confident was I in our
ability to chastise them that I did not trouble to keep our ambush a
secret, but, as soon as they were well within range, ordered my men to
open fire on them with their arrows, which they did with telling effect,
and the boat returned quickly to the junk.
Hardly had they reached the side before the harsh note of the shell was
heard from the headland where Namoa was stationed. This was taken up
and repeated round the bay. Evidently another vessel was in sight. The
Mongols, who were in a better position to look seaward than we were, now
began getting their boats on board again, with much shouting and noise.
Then they got out long sweeps, and, aided by the wind, which had changed
to the south-east, put out to sea, passing under the headland, where
Namoa gave them a volley which must have made great havoc.
The other vessel was now in full sight, bearing down rapidly on the
junk, which seemed anxious to escape. The new-comer was smaller than the
junk, not so high out of the water, and much cleaner built. She was
propelled both by sail and oars, and Zolca, who had joined me, told me
that she belonged to the nation of brown men of whom his father had told
me. I know now that she was a Malay proa. She was evidently bent upon
attacking the junk, and the matter being thus taken out of our hands, we
all crowded to the two headlands to witness the encounter.
Seeing that they could not get away, the Mongols took in their oars,
lowered their sails, and assembled their men on the side the Malays
were approaching. When the proa was near enough they discharged such a
flight of arrows at her deck that, from where we stood, it looked like a
cloud flying from one ship to the other. This reception in no way
daunted their assailants, who returned the compliment, and swept up
alongside the junk with the intention of boarding. We saw their dark
figures, seemingly much more active than the Mongols, leaping on to the
deck of the junk and being cut down.
Then the Mongols attempted to board the proa, but were repulsed; and
that was the last that we actually saw of the fight, for the wind had
freshened, and the two vessels, locked together, were soon carried
beyond reach of our sight, that is, so far as the details of the combat
were concerned. But they continued side by side until dusk came on.
Before that, however, a dense smoke had arisen from one of them, and
when it fell dark the watchers on the headland saw a great light for
many hours.
Now this was almost the last we saw of any of these pirates, though we
had one more visit; but we had worse visitors in store.
The battle being over without any loss on our side--having fortunately
had someone else to do the fighting for us--a most disagreeable duty
remained. This was the trial of Paul and his accomplices. By my advice
Namoa was taken into our confidence, and also another of the head men.
The culprits were brought to the palace, and after due admonition were
taken to the great cross of Gonneville, for which the people had a
superstitious reverence, and there made to vow that they would never be
led to make such an attempt again, under penalty of death for a
repetition of the fault. Paul, by my advice, had pleaded that he only
wanted to make a trial of the boat, but he was deprived of his red
turban and had to wear a white one in future--a punishment for which he
did not care the snap of a finger, but which, in the eyes of the
Quadrucos, was a great degradation.
If Zolca had had his way he would have made the punishments death, I
verily believe, so much had I worked on his feelings by my description
of what was to be expected if the East India Company discovered the
gold. I persuaded him, however, to make the sentences lenient, in order
not to make the offence appear too important.
I now wished to see the place where the gold was, and Zolca and I went
there one morning. To my astonishment I saw distinctly, by the signs,
that pits had been formerly dug there, and that a large area of land had
been disturbed at one time. As the Quadrucos knew nothing of the value
of gold it must have been done before their coming to the country. But
there was no doubt that it had been the work of some people, for,
searching further, I found where one hill had been almost quarried away,
and great heaps of broken rocks were to be seen in different places. I
remembered the characters in the cave Paul had shown me, and it suddenly
occurred to me that they were like the copies I had seen in books of
Mongol characters.
Was this an ancient gold-mine, formerly worked by these people, and had
the secret of the place been preserved for generations amongst them? Did
this, then, account for their persistent endeavours to effect a
landing? As I now know that these people are of great antiquity, and
religiously preserve their traditions, I believe that I then arrived at
the right solution.
CHAPTER VIII.
A Dutch Ship comes in Sight--Paul’s Treachery--The Captain lands.
Three years passed peacefully and happily, undisturbed even by the
wretched Papoos. Paul seemed to have at last given up his mad notion of
endeavouring to reach Java and return to civilization.
One day it struck me to ask Zolca about the carven stone head, and he
told me that it was done by a Quadruco in the reign of his grandfather;
that this man was very clever at the work, and had done many heads, and
also made figures out of mud. Some of these he showed me, and I was much
struck with them, also with the thought of this savage genius living and
dying unknown amongst his countrymen; whereas, had he been in Europe, he
might have been taught to be a great sculptor.
I had now a baby son, but Paul had no children, for which I was sorry,
as it might have rendered him quite contented with his lot. For myself I
desired no change; if at times I felt home-sick, it was but a passing
feeling, and I soon forgot it in the caresses of Azolta and the prattle
of our babe.
One day Zolca proposed to me a long excursion to the northward. There
was a river there which he had visited as a boy, but which he had never
been to since. We went with a small party, well armed, for it was very
likely that we would fall in with the Papoos. Paul preferred remaining
at home, and as I at last began to trust him, I saw no objection to the
trip.
It was three days’ journey to the river, which much resembled the one we
lived on, only the banks were not so fertile. It ran into a bay similar
to ours, except that the entrance was blocked by a reef apparently
running right across, for a line of breakers stretched from headland to
headland. Game was plentiful in the valley of this river, and we spent a
day there hunting.
In the afternoon I was down on one of the headlands, noticing how much
the formation of the bay resembled our own, when, happening to look
towards the north, I was astonished to see a full-rigged ship in the
distance. Hastily calling Zolca I drew his attention to it, explaining
that these were the enemies to be feared far more than the pirates. The
wind was light, and she was coming on under easy sail, apparently
examining the coast-line as closely as she dared. The tide had risen
considerably, and the line of breakers had nearly disappeared, so that
the entrance to the bay looked smooth and inviting.
I had been extremely puzzled what to do, but had now made up my mind and
communicated my idea to Zolca. By my advice we removed all our clothing
and made ourselves as like the Papoos as possible; then, retaining all
our weapons, we patrolled the headland in full view of the ship. My
stratagem succeeded. When opposite the bay she hove to and lowered a
boat, evidently with the intention of examining the bay and surrounding
country. My instructions were to make a hostile demonstration, but to
avoid bloodshed; fire arrows over their heads and around them, but on
no account to hit anybody.
The boat came swiftly in, and I noticed the admiration in Zolca’s eyes,
who had only seen the clumsy rowing of the pirates. Once inside the bay
we commenced our mimic warfare. The crew lay on their oars, and the
officer in charge stood up and endeavoured by signs to make us
understand that he wished to land peacefully. Of this we took no heed,
but shot our arrows all around the boat. I could see that the men were
getting uneasy, and at last the officer lost patience, and drawing a
long-barrelled pistol fired at us. I had warned the others not to show
any fear if this should happen; and we only redoubled our gestures of
defiance, making as if we would rush into the water, on which crew
precipitately backed out. The officer then tried to land in other
places, but we followed the boat round until at last he gave it up and
returned to the ship. Apparently his report of us and the country was so
unfavourable that she hoisted all sail, and, keeping well out from the
coast, went on down south before a fair wind, and I had every
anticipation that she would pass the mouth of our bay during the dark
hours of the night.
My feelings were very strange at thus frightening my countrymen off the
coast, when a few years back I would have hailed them with tears of joy;
but the change in Paul had so affected me that I could not believe that
they would keep faith, even if we allowed them to land and make friends.
I was rarely glad, however, that we had succeeded in disgusting them
with the country without shedding blood, and still more pleased when, on
reaching home, we found that the ship had not been sighted, so that she
must have passed in the night.
Still she was a looming danger. She had gone south, and would possibly
come back again. Paul said little, and displayed no great interest when
he heard of the vessel.
I have said that in this country the seasons were wet and dry, rather
than hot and cold. The wet season was now approaching, and squalls from
the north-west were frequent. The buildings of the Quadrucos were built
on rising ground, they having had some bitter experiences of former
floods in the river; but for all that I pointed out to Zolca ancient
flood-marks, or what I took to be such, above the site of their present
habitation. He only laughed and said that no such flood had occurred as
far as their traditions went back.
Strict orders had been issued that, in the event of the strange ship
showing from the south, everyone was to remain out of sight. The canoes
were removed to a secluded cove, and all marks of occupation effaced
from the seaward view. I even proposed taking down Gonneville’s Cross,
which was a standing invitation for a ship to send in and examine it.
Zolca, however, would not hear of it, in fact I am sure the people would
not have allowed us to do it. He, however, suggested that we should mask
it with boughs in the event of the ship appearing.
My forebodings were too true. Early one morning the glint of a white
sail to the southward told us that the discovery-ship was on her way
back. The Cross was easily hidden behind some palm-trees which we cut
down for the purpose, and we anxiously waited for what would result.
The day was fine, the ship came on at a fair rate of speed, and in
about a couple of hours or less was abreast of the bay.
It will be remembered that between our bay and the one to the north
there was a great resemblance, and, having formerly passed our bay in
the night and not knowing of its existence, I was in great hopes that
they would take it to be the one where they had tried to land before,
and not think it worth while to examine it again. It would have all
happened just as I wished but for the treachery of my old comrade Paul.
Suddenly she changed her course and came close in to the shore.
Astonished at this manœuvre I looked round for the cause, which was not
far to find. Whilst all eyes had been fixed seaward, the traitor had
removed the screen of boughs from the Cross, and, not content with this,
had climbed the post and fastened a long streamer of red stuff to the
top.
Zolca’s eyes were like burning coals, and had the culprit been in sight
it would have fared hard with him. I saw that we must act quickly.
“Order the men back to the town,” I said. “Let Namoa see that they all
retain their arms and keep in readiness. Also,” and I looked Zolca
straight in the eyes, “order them to secure Paul, _dead or alive_!”
Our only hope now was to prevent Paul having any communication with the
landing-party. The men drew quietly back to the town, and Zolca and I
and about a dozen men awaited the coming of the boat which had been
lowered and was heading towards us.
We stood grouped on the beach; at our backs, on the crest of the rise,
towered the great Cross of De Gonneville, which a second Judas had just
contaminated. We must have presented a strange picture to the officers
who sat in the stern of the approaching boat.
She ran lightly up the beach and two sailors jumped out and held her,
one on each side, while the officers landed. I advanced a few paces to
meet them. One was a swaggering, red-faced fellow, with a long, blonde
moustache curled at the ends, the very type of men I have seen reeling
out of the taverns in Harlem. The other was grave and dignified, and to
him I naturally addressed myself.
“May I inquire, sir, your name, and that of your vessel?”
Both men started and stared in amazement, and no wonder, at hearing
themselves thus addressed by an inhabitant of Terra Australis.
“Who are you, in the name of wonder?” stammered one at last.
“I am from Holland, and was shipwrecked here many years ago. I have
adopted this country as my own, and am now one of these people. This,” I
said, motioning to Zolca to come forward, “is Prince Zolca, the chief of
this country, who bids you welcome.”
Zolca, who had been tutored by me, held out his hand and the officer I
had been addressing took it respectfully. The fellow with the red face
curled his moustache and looked on with a sneer.
“May I inquire the name of your ship?” continued the officer.
Now I knew that this question would be asked and had puzzled much over
the answer. I determined to tell the truth, for I had undergone my
undeserved punishment.
“My name is Diedrich Buys, of Harlem, I was clerk on board the
_Batavia_. Although innocent of any misdeed I was found amongst the
mutineers and marooned here by Commander Pelsart.”
“Incredible!” said the officer. “’Tis over a thousand leagues from here
to where the _Batavia_ struck on the Abrolhos.”
“It took us four years to reach here,” I said.
“Ah! I heard that two men had been put on shore. Where is your
companion?”
“He is here, but absent just now.”
“My name,” said the officer I had spoken to, “is Hoogstraaten, commander
of the _Selwaert_; this is my second officer, Herr Arendsoon.”
The gentleman indicated inclined his head haughtily, and I gave him an
equally stiff nod.
“Prince Zolca,” I said, “wishes me to ask you gentlemen to his house. I
will guarantee your safety.”
Commander Hoogstraaten bowed an assent; I heard the other whisper
something about “a trap”, but he was frowned down.
“We first went to the Cross, and I told Hoogstraaten of De Gonneville’s
visit and how we had been welcomed as friends of his. He had read of
the Norman’s voyage and was deeply interested in what I told him. We
then went forward to the scattered town of the Quadrucos. Hoogstraaten
looked with intelligent interest on the strange and novel sights, whilst
Arendsoon dawdled along, twirling his moustache and leering at any of
the pretty girls we passed; for the Quadrucos, after their usual simple,
harmless fashion, had lined the sides of the pathway to see the
strangers, although there was no rude pushing or crowding.
Arrived at the palace I invited the two officers in, and Azolta received
them as I had instructed her to do. The boy brought cups of green
cocoa-nut milk, and Zolca and I pledged our guests. While a meal was
being prepared in another room, for we had enlarged the palace, I showed
Hoogstraaten the Latin missal and sword left by De Gonneville. Zolca
despatched some men to the boat’s crew with refreshment.
During our meal I related the details of our journey to the commander,
who was anxious to get some knowledge of the country for the Company. I
could only assure him that all we had passed through was barren and
unprofitable. The natives were half-starved wretches who just managed to
live, and that was all. There was nothing whatever to induce the Company
to form settlements. Even the valley we were in was but a small patch of
fertile country surrounded by a wilderness.
Hoogstraaten, who was evidently devoted to his work, seemed much pleased
at obtaining so much reliable information of the unknown land, and when
we rose from our meal, to which the strangers had done ample justice, he
gladly acceded to my invitation for a stroll up the valley. Arendsoon,
who had greatly annoyed me by staring openly and admiringly at Azolta
during our repast, excused himself on the ground of being unused to
walking, so he stayed behind.
CHAPTER IX.
I fight a Duel--Paul appeals to me to let him go in the Ship--The
Secret of the Gold--A Tour of Investigation.
Our stroll up the valley occupied more than an hour, for I had much to
say and the commander much to ask of me. Zolca accompanied us, he having
whispered to me before leaving that Paul had been found and confined to
his house, which was watched by sentries.
As we approached the palace on our return I was astonished by hearing a
startled scream. Running forward, what were my feelings to see Arendsoon
with his arms round the struggling form of Azolta, attempting to kiss
her. In an instant I had torn the fellow away, and dashed him violently
on the ground. He sprang up again and drew his sword, but Captain
Hoogstraaten stepped between and sternly ordered him to stand. He did
not look a pretty picture, for he had gone down in the dust very hard,
and one side of his face was white with it. I drew my sword and begged
that the matter might be settled there and then.
“You have a right to demand it,” said the commander.
“I will not fight with a mutineer and a savage,” said Arendsoon,
offering to return his weapon to its sheath.
“Nay, sir, but you will!” returned Hoogstraaten in a voice of thunder.
“You have grossly outraged this gentleman’s” (and he put a stress on the
word) “hospitality, and you shall give him satisfaction or go back to
Batavia in irons!”
“Come on, then,” he said sullenly; but Zolca, calling to me to wait, ran
into the house and brought out the French sword, which was more of a
match for the hanger worn by my adversary, than the rude weapon I
carried.
We had scarcely crossed blades before I knew that I was his master, and
I saw by the coward look in his eyes that he knew it as well. I played
with him for a bit, and when I had driven him round until his breath
came in short gasps and he was evidently at my mercy, I gave him a
slight wound in the shoulder, enough to afford him an excuse for
leaving off. A great shout of triumph went up from the assembled natives
when they saw the blood trickling down his breast.
Captain Hoogstraaten asked me if I were satisfied, and I replied that I
was, otherwise, as I had his life in my hands all along, I would have
run him through the body. Namoa got some bandages, and the wounded man’s
shoulder was bound up. A messenger had been despatched for two of the
boats’ crew. When they appeared, Arendsoon was ready to accompany them,
but before he left, the captain demanded his sword, which he unbelted
and gave to him.
Hoogstraaten now asked me about the entrance to the bay, and I undertook
to show him the channel so that he could bring his ship in and anchor
her safely for the night. So favourably had this man’s conduct impressed
me that I felt greatly moved to take him into my confidence with regard
to the gold; but I refrained, and perhaps by doing so some gallant lives
were sacrificed.
Zolca and I accompanied the boat in a canoe, and piloted the vessel into
the bay. When she was anchored I went on board, Zolca returning on
shore to see that an ample supply of fresh provisions, cocoa-nuts, &c.,
was sent off for the crew.
Meantime I followed the captain into his cabin, where, his curiosity
still being insatiable, he questioned me about the history of the
Quadrucos, and speculated as to their origin, being evidently a man
devoted to such scientific questions.
We were interrupted by the arrival of the canoes with the provisions,
and with them came a note from Zolca written in the signs I had taught
him. It read:
“_Come ashore at once!_”
Hastily bidding adieu to the good captain, and telling him that my
presence was needed at the town, I went on deck. The sailors were all
crowded to the side, looking down with curiosity on the natives who were
passing up the provisions. Arendsoon was also on the deck with his arm
in a sling. As I passed him he gave a scowl. Then he beckoned to me.
“See here, Herr Mutineer!” he said; “I know the secret of your little
valley. Your friend in the bilboes was more communicative than you.”
I turned cold at heart, but would not let the villain see it, and passed
on with a look of unconcern.
I told Namoa, who was in charge, that, if the captain permitted, the
natives could go on board in small parties and examine the vessel, but
in case of misunderstanding they must go unarmed. Then I took a canoe
and paddled to the beach.
It was true what the scoundrel had said. He had been in communication
with Paul. The sentinels were not to be blamed, for their orders were
that Paul was not to be allowed to escape. They were too simple to
suspect anything. Paul had seen Arendsoon from one of the narrow windows
of the house, had called to him, and they had then held a long
conversation in their own language. This happened when we were away up
the valley. We alone were to blame for affording the opportunity.
I had not had a chance to speak to Azolta before. She told me that after
the officer held the conversation with Paul he had commenced to pester
her with his attentions trying to express his admiration by looks and
gestures. She, in her innocence, did not repulse him as strongly as she
should, which gave the ruffian confidence.
It was in no sweet temper that Zolca and I now proceeded to Paul’s place
of imprisonment. On opening the door I was astonished at the change in
the man. The sight of the vessel and the sound of his native tongue had
brought back all his worst traits, and obliterated what good had shown
on the surface. Instead of the cheery, willing fellow I had known so
long there was the ruffling mutineer of the _Batavia_.
“Hullo, bullies!” he cried, in coarse defiant tones. “Come to square
accounts with me! Ah! but you’ll have to be careful. We are under the
guns of a tight ship and they won’t let a good citizen of Holland be
maltreated by savages!”
This was in our own language, but Zolca guessed the import from the
fellow’s swaggering air, and his eyes gleamed with rage.
“Silence, you fool!” I replied. “Your friend on board that ship is a
swordless coward, at present under arrest. As for you, traitor! ship or
no ship, guns or no guns, I’d hang you on one of the arms of that Cross
you dishonoured if I saw fit. And you know it!”
Paul’s crest fell. “You crow loud, friend Diedrich, but what do you
intend? That I signalled the ship ’tis true; but, if you had let me, I
would but have gone off as a shipwrecked sailor, and left you and your
valley in peace.”
“Then,” said I, in answer to this palpable lie, “why did you hail that
red-faced sot and tell him about the gold?”
“Why? Because I was mad at being bundled in here and locked up like a
thief!”
“And locked up like a thief you will be, until the _Selwaert_ sails,” I
replied; “then, as you say, we will square accounts. Are you better than
a thief to try to put men on to steal their country from these poor
people, who have done you nothing but kindness.”
“Diedrich!” cried Paul in an altered tone, “let me go in this ship. I
will swear by all I hold sacred, by my mother’s grave, that no word of
the gold shall pass my lips. Diedrich! I speak the truth. By all the
dangers we passed through together, by the many times we have faced
death believe me! I am dying slowly here, I must get back to my kind
and my country. Do not deny me this chance!”
I was deeply affected by this appeal. Coming from the rude, untutored
sailor its eloquence proved its truth. Because I did not feel this great
o’ermastering yearning was it not possible for others to feel it?
Paul saw that his words had touched me and coming closer seized my hand.
“Diedrich! once when I was down you stood over me and drove back the
Indians who would have killed me. Once when you fell, choking with
thirst, I gave you all my share of what water we had, and staggered on
until I found some more and brought it back to you. Diedrich! Let your
old comrade go!”
“Paul!” I answered, “remember, I am not alone in this. Zolca, whose
kindness you have abused, is your judge; it is against him and his
people you have sinned.”
“But you can persuade him, Diedrich!”
“I will try. Promise me you will remain here quietly and not attempt to
communicate with the ship.”
“I do, I will!”
I took Zolca’s arm and we left the house. I told him what Paul had vowed
and promised.
“But,” said he, reminding me of what I had clean forgotten, “what is the
good of these promises? Is not the mischief done? Did not that fellow
whom you fought tell you that Paul had told him all?”
Of course he had. I had remembered this at first, and then, under the
sway of memories evoked by Paul’s words, forgotten it again. I turned
back and re-entered the house.
“Paul, what was the good of those promises,” I asked, “when you have
already told that officer?”
“I gave him but a hint; I will soon make him believe that I lied to get
away from here. If not, rather than that he should bring you harm I will
cant him overboard some dark night.”
I left Paul in a most undecided frame of mind. When I reached my house I
found the evening meal ready, but neither Zolca nor I had much appetite.
“Deedrick,” said Azolta suddenly, “why did you not kill that man
to-day?”
“Yes, why?” added Zolca. “You could have done it at any time.”
I gazed at them for a moment in surprise. Then I remembered their
training.
“It was better not,” I answered. “We must keep friends with the
captain.”
I passed a restless night, and early in the morning went down to the
beach. The ship swung at her anchor, and I could not help feasting my
eyes on her familiar outline, and ceased to wonder at the infatuation of
poor Paul. I began to feel something of it myself.
Zolca joined me, and fell to talking about the vessel, and I told him
about the sails and their management. Then we took a canoe, and went on
board to ask the captain to breakfast. He readily agreed, and after
being introduced to the first officer, Herr Vanstrooken, we left for the
shore.
During breakfast the captain explained that he was anxious to see the
country outside of the valley; not that he doubted my word as to its
undesirability, but in his report to the Company he was desirous of
saying that he had examined this place himself. We agreed to make the
excursion, taking an armed party with us, and men to carry what
provisions and baggage we wanted, as we intended to be out one night or
more.
We left about ten o’clock, Zolca staying behind in case of any trouble
arising. The captain took two sailors with him with firearms, so that we
were a strong party. We went by the Rock with the head carved on it, of
which Hoogstraaten made a sketch. We then took a sweep round the head of
the valley, and camped that night at a small spring.
The secret of the gold having been betrayed to Arendsoon, I had made up
my mind to take counsel with the commander of the vessel, although I
felt that he would insist upon its being his duty to communicate the
information to the Company. However, we were in for it, and must make
the best terms we could. It would be better to tell this man
voluntarily, than allow him to find it out by accident. It would retain
his friendship and assistance.
He was not much surprised, and told me that there had long been a
floating rumour of the existence of gold in Terra Australis. He agreed
with me that the mines had in all probability been worked by the Mongols
in the past.
We then fell to talking of the evil that would accrue to the Quadrucos
if the existence of the gold became known, and he, being a man of large
experience in the ways of the world, was able to see the matter more
clearly than I. He told me that the taking of the country by force and
establishing a Factory would only be one of the things to be dreaded.
The settlement of the Europeans after a friendly fashion would as
inevitably lead to the deterioration and final extinction of the race.
The use of liquor--now unknown--would be introduced, and quarrels would
arise between the two races.
He told me that much of his life had been spent in the service of the
Company, and that in his time he had seen the blighting influence of
European contact with the native population. He said he would think the
matter over, and see where his duty lay. He would, however, try and put
Arendsoon off the scent. Fate, however, took that matter out of our
hands.
I slept but badly, for gloomy thoughts of the future were before me, and
at daylight I was up.
CHAPTER X.
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.
CHAPTER XI.
Disappearance of five of the Mutineers--They come back again--One
turns Blacksmith and Armourer--Marriage of Zolca--The Rebellion.
I am now approaching the tragedy which has since often troubled my
conscience. Was it justice or murder? I cannot say; then I thought it
was justice, but now, looking back, I see that if by chance I misjudged,
if I did not sufficiently allow for the pressure of circumstances, and
the mad infatuation of the man, it was murder!
It wanted but a week to the captain’s departure, when five of the
mutineers disappeared. Naturally we thought they had taken to the bush,
intending to remain hidden until Hoogstraaten left, not relishing the
prospect of risking their necks at Batavia. These five men were the
worst and most unruly of the lot, and I by no means wished them to be
left behind to corrupt the people with their vices. I therefore helped
all I could, in the search we made for them, but without avail. Not a
trace could we find, and at last we had to give it up, trusting that
the Papoos would account for them.
It was with great regret that we parted with the captain. He told me
that, after the benefits and assistance he had received, he would so
word his report that we were not likely to be disturbed. He could
truthfully affirm that our valley was but an oasis in the midst of a
desert. As for the gold, the secret would never be divulged by him. He
also promised that, if put in charge of another ship, he would visit us
again. We went to the headland and waved him a last farewell as his
little craft shot out to sea before the steady trade-wind.
Paul had shown no anxiety to leave; so I began to think that his last
narrow escape had sickened him.
We returned to the town, and Zolca and I were discussing our late
visitor, when Namoa came with the astounding intelligence that the five
missing men were in the town, and, in fact, had never left it. They had
been concealed in Paul’s house all the time.
When accused of this Paul admitted it, but defended himself by saying:
that he was not going to see countrymen and fellow-sailors taken away
to be hanged; that Hoogstraaten was a man who never forgave, and that
these five men were marked men who would assuredly have suffered
although the others might escape with lesser punishment.
All this was exceedingly plausible, and there being no remedy for it, we
had to accept it. I told Paul to bring the men up, and I would speak to
them. They assembled, and a truculent-looking crowd they were, although
they tried to look their best.
I told them plainly that they did not bring good recommendations with
them, but as they had thrown themselves on our hands, we would treat
them according to their behaviour. I reminded them that they were
entirely at our mercy, and at a word from Zolca or myself, they would be
riddled with arrows and lances.
They remained silent for a time, then one of them stepped forward as
spokesman.
“We intend to behave ourselves, Captain,” he said, “and will obey
orders, and work for our food.”
This was a blunt, sailor-like speech that pleased me more than a more
elaborate one would have done. I told them that some of the natives
would help them to build a house, and that I thought they would be of
some assistance fishing.
Matters soon resumed their usual course, although we now saw but little
of Paul, the sailors proving more congenial company for him. As I had
suggested, they turned their attention to the fishing and seemed
contented enough. I was apprehensive that some conspiracy would be
hatched, but for a long time I saw no cause to suspect anything. Three
of the men were stolid, ignorant fellows, who could be led for bad or
for good by more astute minds. Of the other two I had grave suspicions;
they were sly and cunning, and would never look a man straight in the
eyes. One was a little, active fellow, named Berghen, the other, a
great, gross, hulking giant, called Wegelhoe. They were fast friends,
and as ruffians, just about equal. As for Paul, I now knew his character
well. Swayed by any stronger mind, he was ready to lend the cleverness
he undoubtedly possessed, to the first schemer who gained the ascendency
over him. I dreaded the influence of these two, and with reason.
Berghen came to me one day and said:
“Captain Diedrich”--which was the title they gave me--“have we your
permission to go up north to where the _Selwaert_ was wrecked, and bring
the rest of the wood and iron down here, and anything else we can find
that may be useful?”
“Do you propose going by land or sea?” I asked.
“By sea, Herr Captain; with the wind that now blows from morning till
night we can sail either north or south.”
“You can go,” I said, “but Wegelhoe and another man must stay behind as
surety, for you know well I cannot yet trust you!”
I saw a sly smile steal over Berghen’s face, which he instantly
repressed.
“You can keep any two of us you like, Captain. We have promised to obey
orders and behave ourselves. Have we not done so?”
“I have no fault to find,” I returned; “but for what purpose do you want
to recover the wood and iron?”
“There are many things which will be useful in the settlement. I have
worked at several trades, and can work in iron.”
I believed him so far, but did not credit that it was for the benefit of
the settlement they desired to go north. However, it mattered little
now. If they intended to try and escape, Batavia was the only port they
could make for, and by this time, or long before, Hoogstraaten would
have arrived there, and their reception would be anything but friendly.
To make matters certain, however, I assured Berghen that, in case of any
treachery, the two hostages would straightway be executed.
Wegelhoe, who was of an indolent disposition like many big men, made no
objection to remaining as hostage, and the party, led by Paul, departed
in two of the largest boats we had taken from the Mongols. By Zolca’s
permission some of the male relations of Paul accompanied him.
My fears apparently were unfounded. Zolca and I visited the place
several times in one of the boats and always found them steadily at
work. Berghen was evidently a man who, if he had been possessed of good
principles, would have made his way in the world, for he was decidedly a
born organizer. They had formed a camp on shore, and worked a certain
time each day, and I could see that Zolca was much struck by the order
and method that prevailed.
“If we come to a fight, Diedrich,” he said, “we must kill that man
first.”
Instinctively he recognized the master-spirit for evil amongst the men.
In due time nearly all the remains of the wreck were brought down to our
bay, and stacked in safety. I had dreaded the discovery of wine or
spirits about the vicinity, but Hoogstraaten had taken all provisions
away that had been preserved.
Berghen now had a forge erected, having manufactured a rude pair of
bellows, and it was pleasant to hear the ring of his hammer, as he
turned out rough, but well-tempered swords, knives, &c.
The wet and stormy season came on again and passed. Everybody seemed
contented and at peace. The natives never tired of watching Berghen at
work, and some of them quickly learnt the rudiments of the art. I had
grown more familiar with the man, and lost much of my dislike to him.
“Captain,” he said to me one day, “have you looked well for minerals
about here? I should say that both copper and iron exist.”
I had to confess that I was not skilled in recognizing the ores of these
metals, and he then asked to be allowed a party to make search for them.
As Paul had, of course, told them of the presence of the gold, it
mattered little whether Berghen found the place or not, so I gave my
consent, or rather obtained Zolca’s, for I left the control of the
Quadrucos entirely with him. Berghen was out for many weeks, two or
three days at a time, then one day he announced his success. He had
found both iron and copper, and showed me the stones he had brought in.
One was sheeny and bright, with many colours, another was of a crumbly
nature with dark green patches over it, these were samples of copper
ore; the third was heavy and dark, and had a metallic ring when struck,
this was iron.
Berghen then said that he knew how to construct rude smelting works,
with which he could extract the metal from the ore, if I would give him
a party of men to assist him, and to carry in a sufficient quantity of
ore.
Suddenly a thought struck me, and I asked, if, during his search for
the metal, he had come across the gold mine. A moment’s hesitation
confirmed me in the thought that he had, and meant to keep it secret
from me. Then he answered boldly, “Yes,” he had.
I asked him what he thought of it, seeing that he had had experience in
other countries.
He replied that there was gold there still, no doubt, but that whatever
nation had worked the mine formerly had probably taken the best of the
gold away. This was my idea, too, and after some further conversation I
told him that I would ask Zolca to let him have the men he required.
My suspicions, never quite lulled, had been again roused by the man’s
hesitation in replying to me about the discovery of the gold; but how
was I, with my short experience of the world, and Zolca, with his simple
nature, to suspect the hellish plot that was ripening in secret.
Zolca was about to be married, and a great ceremony was to be held in
honour of the occasion. The preparations for this, and the building of a
new house for Azolta and myself, engaged all our attention.
Zolca was married, with such pomp and show as we could muster, to one of
Namoa’s daughters--thought by many to be the fairest girl amongst the
Quadrucos. All the sailors attended and had places of honour, although I
noticed that but for the presence of Berghen, and the mysterious
authority that he exercised, some of them would have been rather too
free in their manner. It was wonderful how that scoundrel Berghen kept
his plans quiet and curbed the tongues of his men. I heard afterwards
that he had been in his youth an officer in the army of Saxony, and had
been sentenced to execution for treachery, but had managed to escape.
All the time he was with me he acted the part of the rough sailor.
It was not until another stormy season had passed that the conspirators
threw off the mask and suddenly overwhelmed us with misfortune. Two
years had elapsed since Hoogstraaten left, and I was now the father of
two children, a little girl with Azolta’s eyes having come to us.
The outburst was planned by a master hand. One night I was rudely
awakened to find myself in the grasp of the giant Wegelhoe and another
of the sailors. I had no time or opportunity for resistance, in an
instant I was bound and forced outside. Here I found lights and fires
burning, and men hurrying about. To my astonishment I saw that the
sailors, including some of the Quadrucos, now wore light breast-plates
and back-pieces, also light iron caps, roughly made but quite sufficient
to turn the point of an arrow. Berghen was standing at one of the fires,
apparently in command. Zolca, Namoa, and others, in a like plight as
myself, were there. As I was brought up Berghen addressed me, but
without any insolence:
“Sorry to have to put such an indignity on you, Captain, but necessity
knows no law. Now will you, like a man of sense and wisdom, appeal to
King Zolca to tell his people that if they show fight, it will mean the
instant death of you and him and all the rest.”
I spoke to Zolca and told him what to do, adding as a bright thought
flashed across me:
“Tell them to slip away and hide their weapons.”
Berghen now gave one of the men orders to bring up Azolta and Zolca’s
bride. The man went and presently came back saying that they were not to
be found. Berghen turned in fury on Wegelhoe. “You fat knave, did I not
tell you that they were to be securely confined in a room and a guard
set over them?”
The giant drew his hand across his heavy forehead. “Himmel! Captain”
(Berghen had assumed that rank), “did not you tell me expressly that I
must not interfere with the women?”
“Bah! I meant here,” and he waved his hand over the town. “I gave you
strict orders about the ladies,” he said, glancing at me, “that they
were to be treated with every respect, but to be closely guarded; but
your fat brains will not hold two ideas at once!”
Wegelhoe lifted his cap and scratched his head as though to stir his
brains up, but he remained silent under the rebuke. Berghen had become
the officer once more, and they all felt it. He meditated for an
instant; then addressed me again.
“Captain Diedrich, I am about to release one of these men, and send him
round with some of my company to collect the bows and arrows from your
people. Which one has the most authority?”
I intimated that Namoa was next in authority to King Zolca.
“Tell him that if he attempts to escape the king’s life is forfeited.”
I told Namoa what he was expected to do, and advised him to tell the
people to give up any spare or old weapons they had, in order to avoid
suspicion. As Paul was not present, shame keeping him somewhere in the
background, I was able to talk freely in the native tongue.
Namoa was released and departed with two of the sailors and some of the
disloyal natives. Berghen called after them to stay, he then told me
that the Quadrucos could keep their short swords, an act of grace,
which, after all, was only an empty condescension; for, as I soon found
out, they were armed with long pikes, against which our short swords
were vain weapons.
CHAPTER XII.
Azolta’s Stratagem--We are Rescued and retake the Town--The Camp on the
Headland--The White Flag.
The plot to which we had fallen victims had been most cunningly
contrived and carried out. Through Paul’s relatives--and I have before
mentioned that family feeling was very strong amongst the Quadrucos--a
large number of natives had been seduced into joining the mutineers.
There could have been no feeling of discontent amongst them; it was done
by working on their simplicity and love of change and novelty. Berghen,
too, had excited their admiration by his mechanical skill.
The manufacture of the breast-plates, caps, pike-heads, and other
weapons had been carried on secretly for nearly the whole time the forge
had been erected. A watch had been kept, and on my approach these things
had always been at once concealed.
The day was breaking as the men returned, bringing the weapons they had
mustered. Fortunately the show was big enough to prevent suspicion,
although Berghen glanced grimly at some stringless bows and headless
arrows.
Berghen, who seemed desirous to keep on good terms with me, now had us
unbound and marched into one of the sailors’ houses. An armed guard was
set round, with orders to shoot us if we attempted to get out. I doubted
much if these men would have shot at their king if he had tried to
escape, but the experiment was too dangerous to risk. A weary day
passed, but a woman’s wit was working for us, destined to lead to the
undoing of even such a crafty leader as Master Berghen.
In the afternoon Azolta came back alone into the town. I did not, of
course, see what passed, but she had an interview with Berghen, during
which she managed, by means of such broken scraps of the Dutch language
as she had picked up from me, to make him understand that she had come
back to learn the fate of her husband. Berghen conducted her to our
place of confinement and called me out. His complete success so far had
not yet developed the cruel savagery of the man’s nature, and his
manner was easy and even courteous.
I explained to him, after a conversation with my wife, that Azolta,
having satisfied herself of my safety, wished to presently return to
where she had left our children.
Berghen hesitated, then asked if she would not bring the children back
to the house, assuring me that he would have a guard set over it to
ensure her against any annoyance.
I thought it better to comply with this request, and Berghen, having
instructed the sailor in charge to allow the princess to pass out when
she desired, left us and returned to superintend some work he was
engaged in. We re-entered the house and Zolca eagerly embraced his
sister and asked after his wife.
Azolta now unfolded the plan which had occurred to her to try and carry
out, in the event of finding us alive. As she came in she had met many
of the faithful Quadrucos who did not care to return to the town at
once. These she had instructed to muster at the Rock with the head
carved on it, and bring what weapons they had, and as many more men as
they could collect without being discovered.
Her next proposal was that Zolca should leave in her place, take command
of these men, and by a sudden onslaught rescue us before daylight. I
have already mentioned the close resemblance of the twins, which
extended to their height, and the plan seemed perfectly easy and
feasible.
I did not at once give my consent, for I dreaded, if it should be
discovered, that Berghen’s vengeance would be sharp and sure. However,
at last I was persuaded, and as evening was drawing on, the work of
disguising Zolca commenced. Alas! my wife’s beautiful hair had to be
sacrificed. They had left us our short swords, and with one of these I
shore her long locks. These she nimbly interwove in the head-dress she
was wearing and put them on Zolca’s head. The transformation was
complete, and I felt no fear but what it would deceive the guard. Some
more touches were added, then Azolta assumed Zolca’s turban and belted
on his sword. At dusk he issued forth, and took his way unchallenged to
the place of meeting. In order to lull all suspicion in the watching
sentries, Azolta accompanied him to the doorway and bade him farewell in
sight of them.
Our great fear was that Berghen would intercept and speak to the
supposed Azolta; but we were fortunate, he was then on his return from
the beach where, as I afterwards found out, he had been overlooking the
removal of the boats and canoes. In a short time we were able to assure
ourselves that Zolca was safe. Later on Berghen came with a sailor, who
brought food and lights; but I guessed that his coming was merely an
excuse to see that all was right. Azolta, with a sullen look on her
face, could not be told from Zolca, and after a few words with me he
departed satisfied.
Then commenced a long and weary vigil, for I felt no inclination to
sleep. Azolta, who was tired out, slept on one of the mats, and I sat
and watched the glow of the fire through the narrow doorway, for there
were no doors to the houses, and the duty of our guard was to keep a
sleepless watch on the narrow aperture.
During the early part of the night there seemed to be a great stir, but
this died down, and about midnight, when the watch was relieved and the
great Wegelhoe took charge, all was silent.
As the hours stole on I began to grow anxious. If anything happened, and
Zolca did not come, it would be better for us to cut our way out, or die
fighting, than wait for morning to discover the exchange of prisoners.
My gloomy forebodings were suddenly put to flight. A loud command in
Zolca’s voice, so close that it startled even me, broke the silence, and
a deadly volley of arrows stretched most of the guard low. Then came a
rush of feet as with a loud shout they rushed on, my brother’s war-cry
sounding loud above all.
He had found over a hundred men assembled, and with them had crept up
unperceived, close to our place of confinement.
As we issued forth, with Azolta in our midst, the sluggish Wegelhoe, who
had been snoring by the fire, reared up his great length, and seizing
his pike made at us with it uplifted for a sweeping blow. I jumped on
one side, and stabbed him under the arm which, being raised, left part
of his body unprotected by back--or breast-plate. He fell like the log
he was, and waving my bloody sword, I shouted to Zolca, and Namoa to
rally the rest of the people and we would retake the town.
They now poured down to assist us with their concealed weapons, but
Berghen, who had at once grasped the position of affairs, was not so
foolish as to sacrifice his men against overwhelming odds. Mustering his
traitorous natives, he and his sailors formed a rear-guard, and covered
their retreat to the shore. Following the example of Paul and myself,
they had worn native dress and saved their European clothes. These they
had again assumed, and being dressed in leather breeches and high boots,
with iron breast-plate, back-plate and cap, they defied our arrows,
whilst from behind them their allies poured disastrous volleys into our
lightly-clad ranks. Seeing this we contented ourselves with driving them
out of the town, meaning to resume the attack with more caution in the
daytime.
We returned to collect the dead and wounded. Zolca was for despatching
all who wore Berghen’s badge, but I begged their lives, representing how
they had been led astray by men with stronger minds. Wegelhoe still
lived, and on examining his
[Illustration: DIEDRICH RALLIES THE QUADRUCOS AND RECAPTURES THE
TOWN.]
wound I came to the conclusion that the sword-blade had missed any vital
part. I hoped he would live, as he would serve as a hostage, to some
extent, in the event of any reverse befalling us.
When daylight broke we mustered our men, and found that at least a
hundred males, besides women and children, had gone over to the enemy’s
camp. This included all who were connected with the family Paul’s wife
came from, either by blood or marriage, and Zolca and I were relieved to
find that the disloyalty had not spread beyond.
But where had they gone to? In the retreat of last night, the sailors
had not been accompanied by more than twenty men. We were soon to find
out. Mustering about two hundred Quadrucos, Zolca and I marched to the
beach, leaving the town in charge of Namoa, in case of a sudden attack
from an unexpected quarter.
Berghen, we found, had provided against failure as well as success.
Knowing how great were the odds against him, in case of any mishap
happening he had stocked a camp on the southern headland with
provisions, and all the time we had been prisoners, both men and women
had been at work throwing up a rampart of earth around this camp, which,
being on the headland, could only be approached across a narrow neck of
land. All the boats had been secured, and were on an inner beach under
cover of the garrison of the camp. Fresh water could be obtained by
digging above high-water mark, and fish were plentiful. He was a clever
general, was Master Berghen, but I saw him hanged for all that.
We held a council of war to discuss the situation and could only come to
one conclusion: that we could not starve them out, and that to carry the
place by assault would mean a great loss of men, whilst a repulse would
be fatal. That they must be rooted out somehow we all agreed, for with
the boats, they could cross the bay at night, land at any unguarded
point, and harry us continually.
When we had finished, that is to say, when we had arrived at no
conclusion, I strolled over to the forge and smelting place. Here I
found a lot of stone broken up, which at once reminded me of the white
stone in which I had seen the gold. Secretly, then, they had been
obtaining the gold, whilst feigning to be smelting iron. I could not
help feeling a good deal of contempt for myself, for being so easily
hoodwinked. All the tools, and everything likely to be of any use, had
been carried away.
Zolca now called to me that some one in the enemy’s camp was trying to
attract our attention. On looking, I saw a man standing on the top of
the earthwork, waving a white flag.
We marched towards the camp and halted out of bow-shot. I then advanced
alone, and the man with the white flag, the meaning of which I had
explained to Zolca, met me half-way.
“Well, Captain Diedrich,” said Berghen, “you have fairly turned the
tables on me, thanks to that drowsy-headed knave, whom you thrust so
cleverly under the arm-pit. I bear you no malice, for I love a fair
fighter, but why should more blood be spilt? This country is surely
large enough for us both to live in.”
To this I could only reply that it was not. That during the whole time
they had been friendly guests of ours they had been plotting our
destruction. How was it possible to trust them?
“I have a fair offer to make,” he went on, ignoring my accusation,
which, of course, he could not answer. “You do not want or care for the
gold. Let us build a vessel, we have ample timber left for it, and after
getting as much gold as we can, let us go in peace.”
“To return with a crew of ruffians and cannon, and massacre us all!”
“We may return, I admit, but not with that purpose. Did I behave harshly
or cruelly when I had it in my power?”
Truth to tell he had not, but he had harboured a purpose in so doing.
Before he died Paul confessed to me the whole of the plot. Berghen
intended to keep us prisoners for a few days, until, by kind treatment
and large promises, he had persuaded more of the natives to join him and
disarmed the remainder. His intention then was to repeat the massacre of
the _Batavia_, and all of us, men, women, and children, would have been
ruthlessly put to the sword.
Of course I knew nothing of this at the time, or I would have held no
parley with the ruffian.
“And if I accept your terms will you give up Paul and all your weapons?”
“As for the arms, that is no matter, but as for giving up Paul, that is
another question, for I suppose you mean to give him a short shrift!”
“He is the traitor who has brought all this trouble on us! But for him
the _Selwaert_ would have passed on without knowing of our existence.”
“At least he is not responsible for this last attempt, I planned this
unaided, and it was only after strong persuasion, and a few threats,
that he joined us.”
“Those are my terms,” I said, “and I will not depart from them.”
“We parted at this, and I returned to my party and told Zolca and
Namoa--Berghen planted the white flag on the rampart as he climbed over.
What happened in the camp I learnt afterwards. Berghen assembled his men
and informed them of the conditions. So far as the sailors were
concerned they cared little for Paul, so long as their own necks were
safe, and had he not overheard what was said there is no doubt that he
would have been privately seized and handed over to us; but he did
overhear it, and not liking the prospect he addressed the Indians in
their own language, telling them what was proposed, and what his fate
would be when King Zolca got him in his power. At once they rose, and
Berghen and his men found themselves surrounded by an angry crowd with
bows drawn and arrows pointed at them. This put a stop to the
negotiations. Berghen had to give in, and mounting the rampart he pulled
up the staff with the white flag, made us a mocking bow, and hostilities
were resumed.
CHAPTER XIII.
A Night Attack--Appearance of _The Bachelor’s Delight_--The Pirate
Flag--We evacuate the Valley.
The hostilities were mostly on the side of the beleaguered party. They
had erected double ramparts, and well sheltered behind them they defied
us with impunity, for they could sweep us off the narrow neck with
their volleys of arrows. At night they would cross in their boats and
make sudden raids on the outlying parts of the town, forcing us to keep
in arms all night. Berghen understood his business. This lasted for a
week or more, the moon being against us all the time for a night attack.
At last, when we had about six hours of darkness, we determined to make
an effort to oust them. Zolca led the first attack, I followed with a
reserve to assist him. We crept up quietly enough, but Berghen was too
cunning for us. He had men posted far in advance of the ramparts, lying
down on the ground. These gave the alarm, and before we got anywhere
near the rampart they were prepared for us. Zolca, however, dashed on
with his men, and actually carried the outer rampart and killed a great
number of the enemy, although our own loss was heavy. Between the two
ramparts, however, the wily Berghen had dug ditches and holes into which
our men stumbled and fell in the darkness.
Zolca was forced to retire, and we agreed to renew the attack at
daylight at all hazards. No matter what our loss might be we must
exterminate them.
The moon rose about the middle of the night, and soon afterwards one of
the men on watch drew my attention to a light out at sea. My heart
leaped! Could it be Hoogstraaten; if so the camp was at our mercy.
The light was stationary some distance from the shore, and as the fires
in Berghen’s camp were still alight, they were no doubt waiting for
daylight to land, attracted by them.
Daylight came tardily, and revealed a ship lying off the shore; but she
certainly was not one of our ships, even I could tell that by her build.
When it was quite light there was a movement of men on her decks, and
one going aft ran up a flag at her peak. The lazy morning wind freshened
for a moment and blew it out. It was black, with something in white in
the centre. The black flag! What did I know about it? It was the flag
Cornelis had talked of sailing under--it was the pirate flag of murder!
In an instant a shout burst from the enemy’s camp, the sailors there
were cheering at the sight. Two descended to the beach, and taking one
of the boats set off to the vessel.
I hastily explained to Zolca, and those within hearing, that we must
retire; that these men in the ship would assist the others; that we must
retreat as quickly as we could, for these new men would bring guns and
cannons, against which we could not stand. I told Zolca to send half a
dozen swift runners ahead to tell the women and men in the town to
gather what they could conveniently carry, and make ready for instant
departure, for I saw there was no alternative but to abandon the town,
for we could not defend it.
Higher up the valley the river ran through a narrow gorge with mountains
on either side. This could be easily defended, and at the back we had
the range of mountains, from which the river headed, to retreat on.
Above this gorge I determined to convey all the people until the ship
left. We followed as fast as we could, leaving men posted to watch the
pirates and bring us information of their movements.
We found the alarm had spread, and in a very short space of time we
were on the march; but none too soon, for messenger after messenger
began to arrive with tidings. First that boats were putting off from the
ship filled with men. Then that they had landed. At last that they had
formed into a band and were marching towards the town.
However, our people were now well on the way, and leaving them in charge
of Namoa, Zolca and I, with about a hundred men, remained behind on the
ridge commanding the valley, from whence we could safely harass the
enemy should they start in pursuit; for we could easily evade them and
inflict great damage on all who should attempt to attack us. For I began
to entertain hopes that, by constantly annoying them from the fastness
of the woods and mountains, I could soon induce them to leave.
The pirates came on slowly and cautiously, evidently expecting an
attack. When they found the town deserted they seemingly suspected a
trap, for they sent single men ahead to examine the country. We had left
Wegelhoe behind, for evidently he was of no value as a hostage, and we
had no mind to be bothered with carrying his huge carcass. It was
unfortunate for him, because Berghen, as I afterwards learned, on being
informed of his presence, went to him, and after abusing him roundly,
stabbed the wounded man to the heart.
The pirates did not attempt pursuit when they found that the town was
really deserted. We could see them distinctly from our places of
concealment, and could distinguish their voices as they called to one
another. They were no countrymen of ours, although there were men from
many countries amongst them. We waited until nightfall, and then made
our way up the valley to our people.
Namoa had selected a good place for a camp, and although we were now
outcasts, unjustly driven from our homes, we were grateful that it was
no worse, and that we had had time to get our wives and children away in
safety, for I remembered to have heard awful tales of the bloodthirsty
doings of these men who sailed under the black flag.
The next morning we went down to the gorge and found that we could
defend it against any force the pirates were likely to bring against
us; for we could safely inflict such loss upon them that they would not
be likely to renew the attempt.
They did not try it, however. Finding that they had the town to
themselves, they took possession of such houses as they wanted. Unseen
by them, we kept watch on their doings. They brought their ship into the
bay, and put her on the beach, and cleaned her thoroughly, she being, as
I afterwards heard, leaky and very foul with barnacles. But they never
gave us a chance to cut any of them off, for they marched to and fro in
compact bodies, well armed.
Meantime they played havoc with our valley. What houses they did not
occupy they wantonly destroyed. They cut down the cocoa-nut trees to get
the fruit. Whatever would burn they burnt.
At the end of a fortnight the ship was again afloat, and anchored in the
bay. Now commenced excursions to the gold-mine, and heaps of stone began
to accumulate on the beach. The wretched Quadrucos who had sided with
Paul had to do the carrying of these loads, and dearly they must have
repented of their conduct.
At night we heard screams from the women, and one by one they began to
straggle into the bush whenever opportunity offered, and we found them
wounded, beaten, and dying. When the pirates discovered that they were
deserting, they chained them together, and drove them, so chained,
backwards and forwards to the mine. But our opportunity had now come,
and we hovered around, and not a day passed but what we killed or
wounded one of them.
One day we captured one of the crew. He was away from the others, and
out of their sight, examining some stones, when Zolca crept behind him
and felled him to the ground. While still senseless he was carried away
and secured in the camp. When he came to himself we found that he could
speak my language slightly, from having served on board one of our
ships. He was an Englishman, and when he found that we did not intend to
kill or torture him, he became communicative.
The vessel, he said, was English--that is, so far as an outlawed pirate
could be said to belong to any nation. Her crew comprised men of all
countries, but mostly Englishmen, as were the captain and officers. Her
name was _The Bachelor’s Delight_, and she had come from the West
Indies, round the Cape of Good Hope, there being many armed vessels in
chase of her, on account of the piracies committed. The captain’s name
was Sharpe, and he thought they would not stay much longer, as the gold
they found did not answer the expectations held out by Berghen;
moreover, they were losing too many men by our never-ceasing attacks,
which they could not guard against. In consequence of this there was a
coolness between Captain Sharpe and Berghen. He told us about the
stabbing of Wegelhoe, and also that the three other sailors had been
drunk and useless ever since they had tasted spirits, after such a long
period of enforced sobriety: that there were no Hollanders amongst the
crew, and therefore they were not made very welcome.
I lay awake all that night, thinking over this information, and by the
morning had decided on a course of action.
The Englishman seemed a cheerful, easy-tempered sort of fellow, without
much real harm in him, in spite of his presence on the pirate ship, so
I made up my mind to trust him. First, I took him to the gorge, and
showed him the impregnability of our position. He laughed, and said
Captain Sharpe was not such a fool as to expose his men for nothing.
What could he gain by attacking us? Pirates fought for booty, not for
the love of fighting.
I recognized this reasoning as sound, and now detailed my plan to him. I
had my rude writing materials with me, and with the assistance of this
sailor, who, strange to say, could both read and write, I composed a
letter in English, addressed to Captain Sharpe. I told him that if he
delivered up to us the sailors he had found on shore, who had done us
great injury, and also allowed the Indians to go free, we would desist
from our attacks upon his men, and let him stay and go in peace.
This the Englishman promised to deliver to him without the knowledge of
Berghen, and return with the answer. Although I did not think fit to put
it in the letter, I gave the messenger to understand that if my request
was not complied with I would redouble my attacks on them, even if we
sacrificed two men for one. I had no doubt, however, but what my terms
would be accepted, for I saw that these men had no honour amongst them,
and would at any time sacrifice each other.
I sent an escort with the Englishman to within sight of the town, or
rather the ruins of the town.
Zolca’s eyes glistened when I told him what I had done. His one burning
desire now was vengeance on the men who had destroyed our peaceful life,
and laid our homes in ruins.
Next morning the messenger returned. I had placed men to watch for him
in case he was attacked by mistake. He brought a written answer from
Captain Sharpe, which he read and translated to me.
It was a remarkable letter, and even now the remembrance of it makes me
smile. It commenced with some high-flown compliments to myself, Captain
Diedrich, and went on to say that he gladly entertained my proposals;
that, so far as he was concerned, Captain Berghen and his men were of no
interest to him whatever; that but for him he would have held friendly
relations with us, cleaned his ship, and departed. As it was, he had
lost several valuable members of his crew, and gained a very little
gold, nothing like what was represented. He would release the Indians in
a few days, meantime he would see that they were not ill-treated. With
regard to the others: he would be leaving in about two weeks, and if I
desisted from attacking his men, he would have them heavily ironed and
left in the town. The letter ended with expressing a hope that he might
meet me before his departure.
I noticed that Captain Sharpe passed over the destruction his men had
caused to the valley; but then, it was scarcely to be expected that he
would refer to it.
I sent back a message that I agreed with his terms, trusting to his
honour as a gentleman and a sailor. Also that, if he would trust himself
amongst us, the Englishman would guide him to our camp, and I would
entertain him to the best of my poor ability. I had a great desire to
see this man, who, according to the sailor’s account, was as brave as
could be, and as firm as a rock, but yet could write letters of empty
compliment to a presumed chief of savages, and prided himself on his
gentle descent.
The fortnight went by peacefully enough; the captain kept his promise
with regard to the Indians, and the poor remnant of them, including
Paul’s wife, found their way to our camp. They were pardoned, for they
had suffered enough, and once more taken back into the tribe. The
Englishman arrived one day to say that Captain Sharpe would have much
pleasure in accepting my invitation before sailing. I sent back a word
of warning, that Paul, Berghen, and the rest, had better be secured at
once, else they might get suspicious, and escape to the bush.
We then set ourselves to work to prepare a feast for the pirate captain.
Although this part of the valley was not so fertile as the lower part,
there were cocoa-nuts growing, and game was abundant. Dishes were
prepared in the native manner, for the pleasure of our late enemy.
CHAPTER XIV.
We entertain the Pirate Captain--Return of Hoogstraaten with two
Ships--They attack the Pirate--The Mutineers are tried and hanged.
The captain came, guided by the Englishman and accompanied by one of his
officers. He was most elaborately dressed, and wore costly lace at his
cuffs and neck. He had no arms but a light rapier. The officer was more
soberly attired, and was also unarmed, save for a hanger, or short
sword. This gentleman, for although pirates, both he and the captain
were undoubtedly such, could speak my language fluently, and had
evidently come to act as interpreter.
After our first greeting, he assured me from the captain that my advice
had been taken, and that Paul, Berghen, and company, were now safe in
heavy irons, with a sentry over them. I asked him if their seizure had
not surprised them, and he laughed as at a good joke, as he recounted
their wonder and amazement.
I presented the captain and his lieutenant to Azolta and King Zolca,
and I had to conceal my smiles as I translated, for their benefit, the
flowery compliments of the captain. Our conversation was somewhat
hampered, as the lieutenant had to translate to me, and I in turn to the
others.
We then went amongst the people, and both men seemed much struck with
their appearance, and the beauty of the women. Whilst so engaged, our
meal was laid, and on our return we sat down to it, and our guests
seemed to most heartily enjoy the strange dishes. After it was over,
some of the girls entertained us with dances peculiar to the Quadrucos,
of which the captain and lieutenant did not seem as though they could
have enough.
When the time arrived for the departure of our guests, I had an escort
of picked men to accompany them to the outskirts of the town, an
attention which seemed greatly to please this singular man.
When we parted he said that his men would march out of the town at
daylight, when we would be at liberty to enter it, and resume
possession. That he would be busy preparing for sea all the morning, as
he intended to leave by the afternoon’s tide, but if King Zolca and I
would visit him on board at noon, he would be only too happy.
Circumstances beyond our control prevented us from fulfilling this
engagement.
In the morning Zolca and I, with an advanced guard, marched down the
valley to once more take possession of our town. I could see tears in my
comrade’s eyes as he saw the ruin that had been wrought. The men, too,
gazed fiercely around, and I saw that Paul’s fate was sealed this time.
We went to look for the prisoners, and found them heavily manacled in
one of the houses. Berghen addressed me with a reckless laugh.
“So you have won the game in the long run, Captain Diedrich! Well, it’s
the fortune of war, and must be accepted.”
I could not find words to answer him. I could not revile a helpless
prisoner, but the thought of our wrongs made my blood boil. I set trusty
sentinels over them, and left without looking at Paul.
About the middle of the morning the women and children began to arrive,
and those who still had houses left went to them and made ready to
entertain their less fortunate countrymen.
Almost at the same time a messenger came in from the beach with the
astounding intelligence that two more ships were outside the bay. We
hastened to the rise, and then I noticed that the great Cross of
Gonneville had been wantonly cast down. Although not superstitious I did
not like to see this, and the natives raised a wail of lamentation.
Outside the bay lay two ships, flying the flag of Holland, and my heart
warmed at the sight. On board the pirate ship the English flag was
floating instead of the black one formerly displayed. There seemed a
good deal of bustle on her decks, and I guessed she was preparing for a
fight.
A boat from one of the ships now entered the bay and rowed to Captain
Sharpe’s ship, and an officer went on board. He remained some short time
and then, re-entering the boat, pulled for the beach, and I went down to
meet him. What was my delight at recognizing Vanstrooken. We greeted
each other warmly, and he inquired of the strange ship, being seemingly
somewhat suspicious of her.
Now I had no mind to see Captain Sharpe taken and hanged as a pirate,
for although doubtless he richly deserved it, still the man had behaved
honourably to me, and I would not betray him. I therefore replied that
she was an English ship, and they had been here some weeks repairing and
cleaning the hull of their vessel.
He then asked if I had seen anything of the five mutineers, and I told
him of how they had treacherously made us prisoners and taken possession
of the town; but that, thanks to the English captain, we had them safe
in irons in the town. This proved to be a most unfortunate speech of
mine.
He immediately expressed a wish to see them, saying that Hoogstraaten
was captain of one of the ships, and had put in here partly to see me
and partly to look for them. I could only accompany him back to the
town. As we went he gave me an account of their voyage to Batavia and
the dangers they experienced.
When we opened the door of the house the culprits gave a start of dismay
as they recognized the visitor. It was as though the executioner had
looked in at them.
The officer gazed round at them in silence. Suddenly Berghen spoke.
“Herr Vanstrooken, I trust before you hang us that you will blow that
cursed pirate out of the water. The wretch who betrayed us.”
“What does this mean?” said Vanstrooken, glancing at me somewhat
sternly. “Herr Diedrich says she is an English ship.”
“English ship she may be,” replied Berghen; “but for all that she is the
well-known pirate ship, _The Bachelor’s Delight_, commanded by the
notorious Captain Sharpe.”
Vanstrooken gave me a glance of anger which I returned, for my
conscience was easy; I had told the truth if not quite all the truth.
Vanstrooken hurried to the shore as fast as he could, and springing into
his boat, bade the men give way smartly. As he passed the stern of the
pirate he shouted something to which Captain Sharpe took off his hat and
made an ironical bow. Immediately after, the English flag was hauled
down and the black flag flaunted defiantly in its place. The delay he
had gained had enabled him to get his ship clear and ready for action.
As soon as Vanstrooken’s boat got alongside, a cannon was fired from the
ship, the ball dropping astern of the pirate. No notice was taken of it,
the crew being busy getting the anchor up. She was then allowed to drift
towards the entrance until the headland sheltered her from the fire of
the ships.
Meantime boats full of armed men left the two ships and came swiftly in
to board and capture their prey. They were received with a warm fire;
but nothing daunted, they ranged alongside, and the crews commenced to
scramble up the bulwarks. They were, however, vigorously repulsed, not
one, I think, getting a footing on the deck. Again and again they
attempted it, but without success, and at last had to draw off and
return discomfited to their ships. There must have been heavy loss on
both sides, for I saw the pirates throw many dead bodies overboard.
Evening was now drawing on, and a breeze had sprung up. _The Bachelors
Delight_ weighed anchor, and, favoured by wind and tide, swept boldly
out in the face of her opponents. She had to endure a galling cannon
fire as she threaded the channel; but her masts and spars were
untouched, and once outside, she unhesitatingly made for her nearest
adversary and delivered a broadside into her that must have done great
damage. Shooting past she sheered up to the other one and gave her a
like compliment; then, with every sail drawing, she went on her course,
and the two other ships soon saw that pursuit was hopeless and presently
beat back to the mouth of the bay.
Here, the tide being against them, they had to remain until the morning;
but a boat was soon coming ashore from one of them. It was dusk when
they reached the beach, but I recognized Hoogstraaten. He stepped on
land, looking darkly at me, and would not see my proffered hand.
“You keep strange company since my last visit, Master Diedrich Buys!” he
said.
“Truly so;” I answered, somewhat nettled. “You left us five well-ordered
gentlemen as guests!”
“That is beside the matter,” he replied, somewhat haughtily. “Why did
you not at once inform Herr Vanstrooken of the true character of that
piratical craft?”
“Because the man had kept his word honourably with me, and handed over
the men I wanted in irons. Moreover, I think it would have been much to
the advantage of all of you if you had accepted my explanation and let
him go in peace.”
He looked at me for a moment with a black frown, then suddenly laughed.
“Faith, friend, you are right, I believe! That same pirate carried too
much metal for us.”
He held out both his hands, and our old friendship was at once restored.
“I will be your guest to-night, with your permission,” he said; “but I
must send my boat back with a message.”
In a few minutes he was ready to go with me to the town, where we were
received with great welcome by Zolca and Azolta.
We sat talking until late that night, for he had much to tell and much
to listen to. The events of the years since we parted had been stirring
with both of us. He had been back to Holland, had visited Harlem and
seen my parents--having gone there on purpose to assure them of my
innocence with regard to the _Batavia_ mutiny. He brought me loving
messages from them, and I felt I never could thank him enough for having
done, of his own accord, the thing I most desired, namely, my
justification to my family.
Next morning early the boats arrived from the ships, bringing off the
captain of the other vessel and some of the superior officers.
Vanstrooken, I was sorry to hear, had been badly wounded and was
confined to his cabin. The ships had entered the bay at daylight and
were now anchored where the pirate vessel had lain.
The proceedings were short. The four prisoners, for Paul, of course, was
not included in this trial, were adjudged guilty of both mutiny and
desertion, either of them punishable with death. They were straightway
taken on board and hanged at the yard-arm in their irons. The bodies
were then taken out to sea and thrown overboard. They all maintained a
sullen silence to the last.
I tried to put off Paul’s trial and certain condemnation as long as
possible, and in this matter Hoogstraaten unconsciously helped me.
The latter, I may mention, came of a wealthy family, and was a man of
considerable private means. He told me that he and my father had joined
in bringing me out a few presents, and invited Zolca and me on board to
see them.
“I have brought you these,” he said, “in case you are again visited by
the Malays or Mongols;” and he showed me two brass cannons and a stand
of firearms. He told us that he had also a plentiful supply of powder
and ball, and moreover, he would leave a sailor with us who was a good
gunner, and who would superintend the mounting of the guns in the best
position, and also give us instruction in the use of them. This man he
would pick up again on his return.
On my asking him of his destination, he smiled slightly.
“To no less a place, Diedrich, than the Abrolhos of Frederic Houtman,
where you first made acquaintance with the land of Terra Australis. I am
going to try and recover two casks of rix-dollars which went to the
bottom when your ship the _Batavia_ broke up, and were not recovered by
Francis Pelsart. I have on board two native divers from one of the
islands of the straits and also one of Pelsart’s sailors.” I expressed a
wish to see this sailor, and Hoogstraaten ordered the boatswain to send
him forward.
What was my surprise to recognize the friendly sailor, who had whispered
a word of hope to me at the last. He did not know me, however, and it
was some time before he could believe that I was the youth he had helped
to put ashore so many years ago. I asked him why he had whispered to me
of the coming of ships, and he told me that he had overheard Pelsart
say--in answer to one of the other officers, whose pity had been touched
by our fate--“Rest easy. They will be rescued soon, ships are now under
orders to examine this coast.”
Hoogstraaten now told me that he had a present for the Princess Azolta,
which he must take ashore and give to her himself. It was large and
flat, like a board, and the sailors handled it most carefully, the
captain himself superintending its transportation. When we reached our
house, the sailors behind carefully carrying the mysterious package, I
noticed a sly smile on Hoogstraaten’s face, as he gravely bowed to
Azolta, and requested me to tell her that he had brought her a small
present from Europe. The sailors leaned the package against the wall and
commenced to strip the coverings off. Hoogstraaten managed to edge
Azolta in front of it, as the last covering fell, and she gave a little
start and scream of surprise. It was an almost full-length mirror, and
she suddenly, and for the first time in her life, saw the reflection of
her figure.
The captain’s present was an unfailing source of amusement. Zolca had to
stand before it and put himself in various fighting attitudes, much to
his own admiration. Then his wife came in, and other girls, and the
coquetry that went on before that glass was something to remember.
Hoogstraaten lay back on a rug, and laughed till he was hoarse.
CHAPTER XV.
The Trial of my Comrade--He wounds Zolca--The Death of Paul--We destroy
the Mongol Junk.
The captain left for the Abrolhos the next morning, and now a stern duty
remained to be undertaken.
Paul had been kept in confinement and closely watched, only his wife
being permitted to see him. Namoa had been intrusted with the charge of
him, and there was no danger of his escaping, for the Quadrucos had only
to look around at their ruined homes and ravaged valley to renew afresh
their determination to wreak vengeance on the traitor.
If I could have saved Paul I would. This I solemnly aver, but it was not
to be; his deeds had been too black.
I was determined, however, that he should have a trial such as was the
custom of civilized nations, and persuaded Zolca that it would make more
impression on the people.
Namoa and five other men of standing were then selected, and Paul was
warned that the next morning he would be tried for his life.
He asked permission to see me, and, of course, the request was granted.
That evening I went to him. He told his wife to leave the house, and we
were alone. I sat down by him, and, truth to tell, my heart was heavier
than if I had had to face the executioner in the morning. I took my
guilty comrade’s hand, and we sat for some time in silence.
“I am sorry that they did not capture Captain Sharpe,” he said at last.
To this there was no answer to be made, for I thought differently.
“Diedrich,” Paul went on, “I did not ask to see you to upbraid you, but
you could have saved me if you would.”
“How?” I asked.
“When you made terms with Captain Sharpe you could have stipulated that
he should take me away and give the others up.”
Now, this was another proof of how these men, who were ready to mutiny
at any moment, were equally ready to sacrifice their friends to save
themselves. Paul cared not a jot for the fate of Berghen and the
others, so long as his escape had been provided for.
“Paul,” I replied, “when I made terms with Captain Sharpe we were
fugitives hiding for our lives. Through your treachery we had to fly to
the mountains, and watch our valley and town being destroyed. Is it
likely that any thoughts of mercy would find room in my heart just then?
Did you attempt to rescue me when Berghen had us confined and guarded?”
Here Paul broke down, and confessed the plot to murder us which I have
already detailed.
“I deserve nothing but death, Diedrich,” he concluded, “but, at least, I
can say that neither when you were surprised, nor during the attack on
the camp, did I raise my hand against you or Zolca’s people.”
This I believed, for I knew well that Paul was brave enough, but yet I
had seen nothing of him whilst the skirmishing was going on.
We sat long talking, but I had few words with which to comfort him. I
knew his doom was sealed, and he accepted the fact.
I left him towards the middle of the night, and his wife went back to
keep him company. He had hinted several times that I should assist him
to escape to the bush, but I refused to listen. Not to save Paul’s life
ten times over would I be guilty of such treachery to Zolca, my brother.
Paul was tried in a large open space in the centre of the town, all the
inhabitants being present, grouped round in a circle. I had to preside,
as none of the others knew anything about such a mode of procedure.
Retribution amongst uncivilized races is short and sharp, without any
pretence at trial.
Paul met his coming fate boldly enough. He did not evince any outward
fear, although he must have known that death was hanging over his head.
Speaking in the Quadruco language, I appealed to Paul to confess his
guilt, and prepare to meet his end; for, if I had had any doubt as to
what his fate was to be, one look at Zolca’s face would have been
sufficient to tell me. The fair valley, now a scene of desolation; the
ruined houses; the wreck of what had been a flourishing and fruitful
settlement, were there to witness against Paul.
In answer to my appeal Paul acknowledged his misdeeds, and owned that he
could no longer be trusted.
I then made an appeal on his behalf, trying to explain, as well as I
could in their language, that Paul had been led away by his desire to
return to his own people, and that we should keep him a close prisoner
until the return of Captain Hoogstraaten from the Abrolhos, who would
take him away altogether.
My speech had no effect; I could see that in the faces of all present.
Zolca sprang to his feet and commenced a fiery oration, pointing to all
the wreck and desolation around, which excited his audience to frenzy,
and I wonder now that they did not rise and slaughter all of those of
their own people who had gone over to the pirates. At the conclusion
Zolca turned and asked me what to do. In reply I turned to those around,
and asked them what punishment they decreed.
“Death!”
The whole crowd shouted the doom, but Paul never blenched, though the
word seemed to ring and echo up the valley in a hundred reverberations.
There was silence for a moment.
“What death am I to die, Diedrich?” said Paul, without a tremor in his
voice.
I turned to Zolca, and he answered:
“The same death as your friends. Hung up on a rope.”
“Never!” cried Paul, and leaping on Zolca he snatched the old cutlass
from the king’s belt, and, before a hand could be raised, cut him down.
Too late, alas!--for the whole thing was instantaneous,--I caught Paul
by the wrists, and even as I did so he was stabbed by every one of the
infuriated Indians who could get near enough to do it. I relaxed my
grasp and he fell dead, with a dozen fatal wounds in his body.
I next turned my attention to Zolca. The blow had been struck at his
head, but in his mad haste Paul had only wounded him on the shoulder, at
the base of the neck, and the blood was gushing from the wound. I made
the Quadrucos, with the exception of one or two, draw back, and with the
aid of strips torn from our dresses, managed at last to staunch the
bleeding. A litter was soon made, and on it we carefully conveyed the
senseless body to his house.
The dismay of Azolta and Zolca’s wife may be imagined, but the former
retained her presence of mind, and took her place by her wounded
brother. I was almost in despair myself, as I had no knowledge of
surgery, and knew that the wound wanted skilful treatment which I could
not apply to it, in fact might make matters worse.
In this extremity some one called from outside:
“Captain Diedrich!”
Going out I found the Dutch gunner left behind by Hoogstraaten, who had
witnessed the trial from some distance. He asked me about the king, and
I told him my trouble.
“That is the reason I came to you,” he said. “I have often assisted the
surgeon, and when we had that scuffle with the pirate there were a good
many cutlass wounds to be attended to. I have some material for dressing
in my kit, and if you will allow me I will examine the king’s wound.”
I could have fallen down and worshipped the man. He went to the house
that had been allotted to him, and presently returned with some bandages
and a sponge.
When we re-entered the house Zolca had recovered from his faint, which
had been caused by loss of blood. His first question was as to the fate
of Paul, and he listened with satisfaction to the manner of his death.
The sailor now proceeded to examine the wound, and I told Zolca to lie
still without speaking. Although the man’s hands were rough and hard, he
seemed to understand what he was about. The blood had been soaking
through the rough bandages I had applied, but after he had strapped it
up in a more skilful manner this stopped, and I felt much relieved.
I then went out to see to the burial of Paul’s body, but the sailor told
me that the Quadrucos had almost hacked it to pieces, and then taken it
to the beach. Going down there I found a number assembled, watching the
bay, and learned that they had taken the mangled corpse out and thrown
it to the sharks. That was the end of Paul, after escaping death in a
hundred shapes.
Now commenced a rather trying time. Zolca’s wound healed but slowly, and
he himself pined at the inaction of a sick-bed.
Meanwhile there was plenty of work to be done. The gunner proved a
blessing indeed, not only did he do the work Hoogstraaten had left him
to do, but he attended to the others who had been wounded in the fight,
and I ever found him a worthy, honest man.
The Quadrucos soon got their spirits back; the drill at the guns and the
work of restoring their houses banished thought from them, and the place
soon began to assume something of its old look before war had desolated
it.
For me it was different; the sickness of Zolca, and the consequent
depression of my wife, affected me greatly, added to which I could not
forget the death of my old companion, Paul; for, no matter what his sins
had been, we had been comrades together through years of wandering in a
desert and unknown land, and I could not forget it.
The gunner had one gun planted on the headland which commanded the
entrance, the other on an elevation from whence any ship, escaping the
first battery, could be safely bombarded. I think he prayed that a junk
might turn up, and, strange to say, his prayer was answered. He was a
burly fellow of the name of Hessel, and I am sure that he thoroughly
enjoyed his life amongst the Quadrucos, about fifty of whom he had
drilled into good musketry-men.
A watch was kept on the headland, day and night, for the return of
Hoogstraaten, and one night a light was seen to the northward. This, of
course, could not be the discovery-ships, and when the news was brought
to me I went and woke Hessel the gunner. He chuckled at the news.
“Wait until daylight, Herr Diedrich, and you will see how I will make
the rogues skip!”
He betook himself and his picked men to the battery on the headland, and
there awaited the coming of the enemy, and dawn.
Zolca, aroused from his uneasy sleep by the stir and bustle, sent over
to me to know what it was about. I went to him and told him. Instantly
he insisted on being taken to the beach, so that he might witness the
engagement in which he could take no part.
It would have made him worse to deny him, so a litter was soon arranged
and we carried him to the great Cross of De Gonneville, now once more
erect. Hessel was so confident of his ability to beat off the junk, if
it proved to be one, that he had not manned the other battery, therefore
I was able to stay by Zolca.
It was a calm, balmy night, not a cloud to obscure the stars, not a
sound save the wash of the wavelets on the beach. None could have
thought at that hour of all the tragedies that beach had witnessed
within the short space of a few years. I sat on the sand by the side of
Zolca’s litter, and thought of all the trouble our coming seemed to have
brought down on these simple, friendly people.
Zolca was not asleep, I felt his unwounded arm move, and he put his hand
on my head, which was leaning against the side of the litter, as he
might have done to a child. Some strange sympathy must have told him of
what I was thinking, and he put his hand out as if to tell me I was not
to blame.
Dawn broke at last, red in the tree-tops behind us, and the
quick-growing light soon showed the look-outs on the headland that it
was a junk in sight. It was a dead calm, however, and I guessed that
Hessel was whistling for a wind to bring the enemy within range.
Soon after sunrise a light wind arose, and the junk, hoisting her great
clumsy sail gradually approached the land. So light was the wind, and so
slowly did it come, that it was nearly two hours before the junk was
close to the entrance. Zolca’s excitement was intense and I confess I
shared it. I had every faith in Hessel, and knew that he would choose
the right moment to open fire, otherwise I would have been by his side.
At last it came, a flash of light, and a roar from the headland,
followed by the sputtering volleys of musketry. The junk seemed to reel
under it, and a yell and clamour arose from her that appeared to equal
the report of the cannon. Hessel now fired again, and this time the
clumsy vessel was almost pierced through; her masts fell, and it was
evident she was sinking. The wind had freshened and the tide being on
the flow, she drifted into the bay. Hessel held his fire for the
reason, as he afterwards told me, of not sinking her in the channel.
The Mongols had made no resistance, they were too surprised, nor could
they see their enemies. Deeper and deeper sank the doomed craft, and
when well within the still waters of the bay she suddenly went down.
Then commenced a ruthless massacre; the pirates swimming for their lives
were shot, or if they reached the shore, stabbed. I could not have
stopped it. The Quadrucos had tasted blood too often, lately, and all
the savage in them was aroused.
CHAPTER XVI.
Hoogstraaten again--Zolca recovers--Visit to Wreck Bay--A Strange
Discovery.
Needless to say, Gunner Hessel was delighted with his success, and
undertook to teach the best of his natives the tricks of gunnery, so
that no vessel could ever enter the bay. This was good boasting, but
could be excused at such a time; moreover, stern Nature finally took it
out of all our hands, so far as this matter was concerned.
Zolca had momentarily benefited by the excitement of watching the fight,
but I prayed for the return of Hoogstraaten, who had a surgeon on board,
for a reaction set in, and the king seemed to grow weaker again.
Meantime the many busy hands had almost restored the town, and, although
it would take several years before the cocoa-nut trees grew to their
former height and beauty, nearly all other signs of invasion had
disappeared; so that when at last the welcome arrival of Hoogstraaten’s
vessels was announced, he could hardly believe that we could have done
so much in such a short time.
He was deeply grieved at the news of Zolca’s illness, and how it was
caused, and said viciously to me:
“Now, if you had let me hang that fellow with the others this would
never have happened!”
The surgeon, too, looked grave, and told me that the king would never
recover the use of his left arm. Otherwise, he would probably soon get
strong enough to go about.
Hoogstraaten was highly interested in the account of the discomfiture of
the junk, and the able manner in which Hessel had handled his guns. He
warmly praised him, and the burly fellow grinned all over his face with
pleasure, for Hoogstraaten was a man both loved and feared by his crew.
He was the man of that age and those seas, and I trust that his name as
a navigator and discoverer will live for ever.
In return he told me that they had been successful in their search for
the two casks of rix-dollars, and that he had been able to map out the
coast more accurately than his predecessors had done.
Under the care of the surgeon, Zolca grew better, and was able to walk
about with his useless arm in a sling. Hoogstraaten had delayed his
departure as long as he possibly could, in order that Zolca might have
the attendance of the surgeon. He now had to leave, and it was with the
deepest regret I parted from him. Vanstrooken had recovered, and the
little cloud between us had passed away.
Zolca, Azolta, and I stood on the beach after bidding Hoogstraaten
farewell, and watched his boat speed swiftly to his ship. Once he stood
up in the stern and waved his hat to us, then he went on board, the boat
was hoisted up, and with a favouring wind the two discovery-ships
threaded the entrance to the bay and so stood out to sea.
As they passed the headland Namoa and some of the trained men stationed
there fired the gun, in compliment to Hessel. The ships dipped their
flags and each fired a gun in reply; then they spread all canvas for the
north, and that was the last my companions ever saw of the gallant and
generous Captain Hoogstraaten. I saw him again, but under far different
circumstances.
The next few months were busy ones. Zolca fretted over the uselessness
of his arm; but his health was soon restored, and that made him more
contented with his lot.
Things began to smile once more in the valley; the girls danced and sang
as before in the calm, soft evenings, and wore flowers in their hair,
and the old peaceful life seemed to have come back again.
As I had never been along the coast to the north I proposed to Zolca to
take the largest boat we had, and with a few men sail up to the bay
where I first saw Hoogstraaten, or “Wreck Bay” as we had named it. Zolca
was tired of inactivity and gladly consented.
We started, taking some of our men with their firelocks, and a good
supply of provisions. Azolta could not accompany us on account of the
children.
Leaving the bay we found the shore to the north fringed with mangroves,
so that we could not see dry land. Creeks and openings were common
amongst these trees, and up some of them we went; but they led to
nowhere, and we always had to return. Dismal-looking places these creeks
were. Nothing could be seen on either hand but mud and ooze and the
stems of these strange trees which grow in a distorted manner from many
roots, and when the tide is low these roots are left bare.
Here I saw for the first time the crocodile, such as I had seen in
pictures of Egypt. It was like a huge lizard, and it lay on a little
patch of sand, basking in the sun. Neither Zolca nor the Indians had
ever seen this gigantic reptile before, and they did not seem to like
to approach it; for these creatures never came in to our bay, being, for
aught I know, frightened of the sharks. I whispered to the men to fire
at it, and with one accord they fired a volley at it. This roused the
brute effectually, although it did not seem to be badly wounded, or
scarcely more than tickled. It lashed out its tail and plunged into the
water. When the men saw its great length and girth and enormous jaws,
they made sure it was coming to attack the boat and, taking to the oars,
pulled away with a will. I, too, thought it would have been better to
have let the brute alone; but it did not come near us, and we saw no
more of it.
However, we did not enter any more of these dismal creeks, and coming on
to a nice open beach without any surf, we landed and rested for the
night. About the middle of the following day we reached Wreck Bay.
All signs of the unfortunate _Selwaert_ had disappeared; but the camp on
the shore where the men had been working still remained. Here we camped
for the night and slept soundly enough, all save Zolca who was always
restless now. In the middle of the night he roused me up and drew my
attention to a light on the other side of the bay.
“Papoos!” he whispered.
I did not think so, for I knew from my experience that the Papoos made
many fires when they camped. Here there was but one. I persuaded Zolca
to wait until daylight, for he proposed to steal round and fire a volley
into the camp in the darkness. By my advice he agreed to wait until it
was light enough to find out the cause of the fire.
When morning came we went round and found that the Papoos had been there
and set fire to a dry log, which had been smouldering for some days; the
wind during the night had freshened it into a flame. But this was not
all, the Papoos had been there in large numbers and a fight had taken
place. A fight and more than a fight; a feast as well--for these black
Indians are cannibals and eat one another.
Zolca and the other Quadrucos looked at the remnants of human bodies in
deep disgust, for the Quadrucos were very dainty eaters; they preferred
the flesh of fish and fowls and, above all, the vegetables that they
grew and the green cocoa-nuts. But these wretched Papoos were, I knew,
often starving, although those that Paul and I lived amongst near the
Abrolhos were not cannibals.
Suddenly Zolca started and drew my attention to a dried and shrivelled
head, lying a short distance away. It was the head of a Mongol. One,
perhaps two, of the pirates had escaped and made their way overland to
this bay, where they had remained watching for another junk to come
along, and meanwhile living on the fish with which the bay swarmed.
Here, then, they had lingered until surprised and slaughtered by the
Papoos.
“This is a bay of evil omen,” said Zolca; “let us go home.”
We were soon skirting the mangroves once more and speedily reached our
own bay early the next morning.
The wet season was now approaching and by the following autumn, which in
Terra Australis is exactly opposite to ours, being in April and May, we
anticipated having our crops, of one sort or another, in good order
again.
Zolca was growing more resigned to his lot, and Azolta recovered some of
her wonted spirits, so that life promised to flow on in the same even
tide as before.
CHAPTER XVII.
The great Catastrophe--Extinction of the Quadrucos--The Death of Zolca
and of Azolta--I am left alone.
It was the month of March when the great catastrophe occurred. The wet
season had not been a particularly heavy one, and no sign was given us
of the impending calamity.
One morning the sun rose red in a haze which reminded me much of the
morning Hoogstraaten and I watched the _Selwaert_ dashed helplessly on
to the bar of Wreck Bay. The wind from the north-west began to moan
dismally about noon-tide. Then the rain-clouds commenced to scud across
the sky, and as darkness fell the rain commenced. This was nothing, snug
and secure in our well-built houses we heeded not the growing storm,
and slept soundly through all its increasing fury. In the morning we
found that a great gale was blowing, the river was running strong, and
the sea was raging on the outside coast.
All day the turmoil increased, and towards dusk the bay itself began to
feel the influence of the wind, and the rollers from the ocean swept in,
and broke in surf upon the beach, smashing our boats, and hurling them
on the sand.[B]
That night no one slept much, the river was overflowing its banks, and
flooding our plantations, and, sheltered though we were in the valley,
the tempestuous blasts that swept up from seaward, seemed to make the
very earth tremble. Never before did man witness such a war of the
elements.
Foot by foot, the river began to rise with great rapidity. The rain
never ceased, but fell in continuous sheets. Now and again, a vivid
flash of lightning, followed almost instantaneously by a deafening peal
of thunder, illuminated the valley, and afforded a view of the
terrifying scene. Still the river encroached on the level ground, and
began to invade the houses.
Suddenly, a sound broke on my ear, coming from seaward, a roar, such as
I had never heard before--a roar that seemed to unite in its voice, sea,
storm, and flood! Some instinct told me what it was, and calling to the
others, I shouted to them to make for the ridge. Azolta had one child, I
had the other and had also to help poor, crippled Zolca. His wife
followed us, and in the darkness, we plunged into the muddy flood, and
made for the ridge.
I called to the rest of the Quadrucos, but they were watching the upper
part of the river, and did not heed the great roar rushing up from the
sea. Closer it came, and the water suddenly leapt up about us, and we
had to swim amidst eddies and whirlpools. We were torn apart, and the
child escaped from my grasp.
When I regained the surface I was swept against someone who was battling
helplessly against the furious tide, and felt that it was Zolca. A
flash of lightning showed me the ridge, close to us, and with my
assistance Zolca reached it, and sank exhausted on the muddy slope,
although the water still surged and swept around us.
Suddenly, I heard a cry! Yes! even through that din and confusion I
heard it, although now it seems scarcely believable.
“Deedreek! Deedreek! Save me!”
I left Zolca, and splashed through the water in the direction I had
heard the cry. Another kindly flash and glare, and cannonade of thunder,
showed me Azolta clinging to the stem of a tree. I plunged in, and
brought her to the land, and then literally felt my way back to where I
had left Zolca, and found him. He managed to get up and scramble to
higher ground, and in a short time, we three, the sole survivors of the
overwhelming calamity that had befallen us, met together.
As yet, in the darkness, we did not know the worst, but we knew, at
least, that the worst had befallen ourselves. Our children and Zolca’s
wife must have perished, and of the Quadruco people I dared not think. A
gleam of lightning showed me an overhanging rock which I knew, and
under its shelter I managed to get my two companions saved somewhat from
the pitiless rain and wind.
Zolca and Azolta sank down exhausted, and I could only sit with my back
against the rock and think. I knew what had happened. The long-continued
gale had backed the tide up in the gorge I have before mentioned as
terminating the end of the valley. This blocked the outflow of the
flood-waters of the river, and they, of course, commenced to overflow
the valley. Then, hurried on by the fierce blast from the north-west, an
immense tidal wave had swept into the bay, rushed up the gorge, beating
back the flood-waters, hurling them on to the doomed valley, and burying
everything under fathoms of salt water and mud-laden flood.
The fitful gleams of vivid lightning showed me the surface of a
storm-swept sea where once was our valley.
In abject misery the weary night passed over, and when the lagging dawn
at last asserted itself, I could see nothing but an estuary of tossing,
yellow water, still pelted by the terrible rainfall.
Zolca was still alive, and when the light was strong he looked
imploringly at me. I raised him in my arms, and he saw the water on the
slopes of the valley, covering everything belonging to him and his
people. He gave one cry when he realized all the disaster, and, sinking
back in my arms, his great heart broken, died without a shudder.
Roused by the death-wail of her twin-brother, Azolta rose from her sleep
of exhaustion. One glance at Zolca’s face and glazed eyes showed her the
truth. She threw herself on his body, and begged and prayed him to
return to her. I tried to loosen her arms from the corpse, but could not
do so without using force, and I had to stay there and listen to her
moans without being able to help her.
The gale had blown itself out by mid-day, and the rain ceased for a
while.
Azolta feebly called to me, and when I stooped over her I saw that I
should soon be truly alone. She put her arms around my neck, and as I
pressed my lips to hers, her soul went out to join Zolca’s in the great
Silent Country.
How long I remained stupefied with grief I know not. I was roused by
the noise of rushing water, and saw that the flood was now falling
rapidly. I looked languidly on; I felt no interest in it. I only wanted
to die, and be with my people again. I was weak and exhausted, without
enough energy to take my own life; so I sat on in stupid
semi-consciousness through the gloomy evening and the gloomier night,
until at last the morning broke, bright, sunny, and beautiful--a morning
that mocked the desolation it revealed.
Strange to say, Zolca had still the old cutlass in his belt, and taking
this I went a little way up the ridge, and commenced the weary task of
digging two graves. I need not recount my labour. I dug them side by
side, east and west, and when I had placed my dear ones in their last
home, I covered them in, and heaped stones above them, forming two
mounds. Some of the rocks I carried from a distance, as there were none
sufficiently large in the neighbourhood to secure my dead from being
disturbed by the Papoos.
When I had finished my grievous labour I went to look at the valley. The
river had returned to the confinement of its banks, but the whole of
the town had as completely disappeared as if it had never existed. The
mud houses, soaked through by being under water so long, had melted away
with the backward rush of the flood, and the mighty torrent had carried
everything out to sea, save what it had left buried under two feet of
mud. Mud covered everything in the valley, and I did not descend into
it.
I was faint from hunger, and remembered that at the cannon mounted on
the elevation commanding the bay, and at the one on the headland,
provisions had been safely stored in case of a surprise. There I turned
my steps, and found that the one on the elevation had escaped the fury
of the flood, but the great wave had swept over the headland and
destroyed our little battery. It mattered not--there was nothing now to
defend.
I found an ample supply of provisions of one sort or another--smoked
fish, and cocoa-nuts, and other things,--and some of these I conveyed to
the overhanging rock where my wife and brother died.
I determined to rest here for a while, until I had recovered from the
shock. I used to visit the graves daily, and occupy myself with adding
stones to the mounds, and making them square and level.
The idea of suicide had deserted me, and a kind of apathy had set in.
Perhaps Hoogstraaten might revisit the coast, and take me away.
I never went into the valley, even when the sun had hardened the mud. I
got the little food I wanted from the store at the cannon, and my
companions were the two graves, where I used to sit and talk to the dead
for many hours during the day.
One day, when sitting thus, it suddenly occurred to me that I was the
only European in this great mysterious land of the south, of which even
such a bold and experienced navigator as Hoogstraaten knew not the
limits. With the thought a great horror of loneliness came upon me, and
I shrieked aloud, calling on God to kill me at once and end my
sufferings. Then I knelt by Azolta’s grave, and whispered to her to come
out and keep me company in this awful solitude; and then--I knew no
more!
CHAPTER XVIII.
My Reason is Restored--Rescue by Dutch Ships--The return to Holland--I
settle down there.
Of the great blank that came into my life I can recall but little. I
have dim memories of the strange fancies I had during that time, but how
long it lasted I cannot say, or at least I had no clue when at last
reason reasserted itself. I have cause to believe since that it must
have been nearly two years. I do not think I was unhappy during that
time, and I suppose I had more than my natural strength and skill for
hunting. Often Azolta and Zolca, and sometimes Paul, were with me in my
distorted imaginings, but these ghosts never came at the same time; even
a madman could not imagine that.
When my senses returned--and they came back suddenly--my first discovery
was that I was lying on the sand of a strange shore. I looked around,
but all was new to me. I remembered everything of the flood that had
happened, but it seemed only yesterday that it had occurred. How then
did I come where I was?
I rose and began to pace the beach. I was naked, but beside me, where I
had been lying, was the old cutlass covered with rust. The tide was low,
and had left many large pools in the rocks; looking into one of these I
started with dismay, for I thought I was the victim of magic.
My hair, long and matted, hung down my back; my beard had grown far down
my breast, and both hair and beard were white as the foam of the sea! I
was burnt a deep brown by the sun, and my eyes seemed to look back at me
from the glassy water with an unnatural brightness. This is what
Nature’s mirror showed me, and I could scarcely credit my senses.
I walked up and down, and exhausted myself in speculations regarding
this wondrous transformation, but could only at last come to the
conclusion that I had been wandering about in a demented condition for
some time. But for how long? And above all where was I?
It was early in the morning, and the sun was on my right hand as I
looked seaward. I was, then, on the northern coast of Terra Australis,
and must have made my way up with some mad idea of reaching Java.
I found a pile of shell-fish I had collected, and a smouldering fire; so
that I must have been amongst the Papoos and got fire from them, and
carried a burning stick with me always, after their fashion.
I roasted the shell-fish on the coals and ate them with satisfaction,
for I was hungry. Searching about I came on a spring of fresh water,
emerging from the bank where it met the beach. Of this I drank heartily,
and then, climbing the bank, looked around at the new country where I
found myself. An open plain, with many of the tall, white mounds on it
made by the ants, ran back for some distance, and beyond, many miles
away, rose a lofty tier of mountain ranges higher than any I had yet
seen in Terra Australis. These lay to the south; had I crossed that
great barrier during my madness? I know now that I must have done so.
There was no smoke to be seen anywhere, no sign of life, and I returned
to the beach and sat down to try and think out the past. But, beyond the
point I have recounted, my memory failed me, and I found that it only
fatigued me to try and piece my scattered fancies together.
I desisted, and went along the shore to gather food. I was fortunate
enough to find a large fish, stranded by the tide, in a hole in a flat
rock, and in addition easily obtained a large quantity of shell-fish.
I returned to my lair where the fire was smouldering, gathered wood to
keep it burning all through the night, and when darkness fell, lay down
to sleep on the sand. All fear or dread of loneliness had departed, I
felt almost contented as I lay and watched the beautiful southern
constellations, until sleep gradually stole over me, and I slumbered
dreamlessly until morning. The air was soft and balmy, and the sun just
rising when I awoke. There was a little ripple on the water and I stood
gazing out on the peaceful scene, and drinking in the fresh morning air.
I felt strong and well, refreshed by my night’s sleep, and turned to go
and hunt for my breakfast.
But what was that! I gasped with astonishment and then--shouted for joy!
Three large ships, standing close inshore, were coming up slowly from
the eastward. I ran to my fire and piled all the wood on I had, then
gathered green boughs, bushes, and anything that would make a good
smoke. I worked hard at this until I had a dense column of smoke
ascending in the now calm air; for the light breeze had fallen on the
land, although out at sea the ships seemed to still carry it, for they
were nearly abreast of me before it dropped altogether, and they furled
their sails and anchored.
I felt confident they would send ashore for water, even if my smoke did
not attract them, which they might put down to the Papoos. I was right;
two or three boats were soon coming towards the land.
As the foremost one neared the shore I went to meet it. The men lay on
their oars, and stared at me with fear and amazement; and no wonder, for
I must have presented a strange figure indeed, with bronzed body,
flowing white hair and beard, and in my hand the rusty cutlass.
I shouted to them in Dutch, and the officer immediately ordered the men
to pull in.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“I am Diedrich Buys,” I returned, “and have been living in another part
of this country for many years.”
“Diedrich Buys! Why, we have orders, I believe, to call at your
settlement and see if you require anything.”
“My settlement exists no longer,” I replied sadly, and shortly told the
officer of the calamitous flood that had overwhelmed us.
“You must come on board to De Witt at once,” he said. “Is there any
water about here?”
I pointed out the place and, after directing the men to it, we were
rowed back to the ship, the officer handing me a large cloak to cover
myself with.
Once on deck the officer led me to a dignified looking man, who with the
others was staring at me in some amazement.
“Captain De Witt,” he said, “this is Herr Diedrich Buys, whom I have
been fortunate enough to rescue from these barren shores.”
De Witt stepped forward, and shook me warmly by the hand.
“I see,” he said, “that some terrible misfortune must have happened; but
before you say anything, you must first be clothed and refreshed.”
At a word from him the officer conducted me to a large, roomy cabin,
under the high poop. Here a sailor brought in a tub, which he filled
with salt water, and the officer, who had gone away, returned with a
suit of clothes, shoes, and linen. I enjoyed the bath, and found that
the clothes fitted me to perfection. When nearly dressed, the captain’s
servant came to the door, bringing with him comb and scissors. He cut my
luxuriant locks off, and reduced my beard to the short, pointed peak now
worn.
When I emerged from the cabin, and saw myself in a large mirror there
was in the main cabin, I could scarce believe in the transformation.
Refreshment had been provided, and after partaking of some the officer
who had brought me on board came down to conduct me on deck. I saw him
give a start at my appearance, then he laughed cordially.
“Truly, Herr Buys, you look more like the man described by Captain
Hoogstraaten than you did some short time back.”
I smiled in return, and we went on deck.
Here we found the captains and some of the officers of the other two
ships, who had been signalled to come on board. Grave, dignified men
they all were, as befitted the scientific navigators of a great maritime
nation.
De Witt presented me to them, and I told my tale. There were many
expressions of sorrow and sympathy at the extinction of such an
interesting race.
The chart compiled by Hoogstraaten was then produced, and our situation
found. The valley of the Quadrucos was marked on it, and we found that,
if I had come in a straight line, I must have come over three hundred
miles, whereas I probably wandered about and made it three or four times
as much.
On inquiry, I learned that Hoogstraaten had left the Company’s service,
and now lived on his estate in Holland.
The ships being watered, and a fair wind having sprung up, we made sail,
and in time came to Wreck Bay. Here we landed, and found that it had
suffered like the other bay, and that every vestige of the old
encampment had been obliterated. Making sail once more we finally
reached the bay of the Quadrucos, and I piloted the ships in.
De Witt and the others landed to visit the valley, but I could not bear
to go. Instead, I made a journey to the graves of my lost ones; I found
them untouched, and knelt down and shed some bitter tears over them.
The party which had gone to the valley did not return until late, as I
had told them of the upper portion, where probably the cocoa-nut trees
had not been destroyed. This proved to be the case, and we were able to
obtain a good supply from there for all the ships.
De Witt told me that, but for knowing the truth, he could not have
believed that the town had ever existed. Luxuriant grass, up to a man’s
waist, now grew all over the site. The only relics they had found were
two or three of the roughly-made Quadruco swords. We visited the
batteries, and De Witt had the two brass cannons conveyed on board his
vessel.
“These are your private property, Herr Buys,” he said, “and it is no
good leaving them here for the Mongols; the Company will pay you good
rix-dollars for them when we reach Batavia.”
Next morning early we sailed, and I said farewell for ever to the bay
where I had undergone so many vicissitudes, and to the desolate land of
Terra Australis or New Holland, as I now heard it was called.
As De Witt’s discovery-voyage had been on the north coast of the great
continent, and he had only been instructed to call at the Quadruco Bay
to see how we were progressing, his work was over, and we shaped a
straight course to Batavia.
I was cordially welcomed by the Governor, who obtained for me a passage
in a homeward-bound ship, and furnished me with letters to influential
people in Holland. Having bade good-bye to my many kind friends, I
sailed for home.
The voyage was uneventful; and after some months I found myself once
more in my native Harlem.
I put up at a tavern and made inquiries as to my family. Alas! I found
that a sickness, which had visited the town some years back, had carried
off my father, mother, and elder brother--in fact, they had died soon
after Hoogstraaten’s visit. My father’s estate, which was somewhat
considerable, had descended, in my absence, to my young brother, who was
but a child when I left home in the ill-fated _Batavia_. I turned my
steps towards my home and asked for my brother.
I was shown into his private office. I found him a young man with a
somewhat hard face, who gazed curiously at me and asked my business.
“I am your brother Diedrich,” I replied, “just returned from Batavia.”
He sprang up from his chair, to welcome me, as I foolishly thought, but
it was quite otherwise.
“I know no brother Diedrich!” he cried. “There was one of our family of
that name, but he is an outlaw, and dare not show his face in Holland.
You are some impostor who has heard of him, and come here to claim my
property.”
“I never thought of your property,” I returned hotly. “I am no impostor,
and no outlaw; I have long since been pardoned for a crime I never
committed.”
“I will not listen to you,” he said nervously; “I do not believe you.
When we last heard of my brother he was living with a tribe of savage
Indians in some wild country, and he is there still. Leave this house,
or the servants shall thrust you out.”
I stepped up to him in red-hot rage.
“Since this is my reception I will assert my rights. I will leave my
house now, and when I return it will be you who will have to leave. Look
here!” I went on, drawing from my pocket the letters I had from the
governor of Java, which I had not yet delivered; “does an impostor
usually carry such credentials as these?” and I showed him the
superscriptions, and the great seal of the Company on the back.
He blenched visibly, and muttered something about “forgeries”. I gave
him a look of contempt, and left the house.
I was cut to the heart. From savages, from strangers, from everyone,
even pirates, I had received gentle, kindly treatment, and now my own
brother, my sole relation, cast me out as an impostor seeking to rob
him.
A handsome, richly-dressed man came by and gazed curiously at me, as
many people did on account of my dark face and white hair and beard. He
turned, followed, and spoke to me.
“What ails it, friend?” he asked, in a cordial voice. “You look like a
stranger, and one who has travelled far and suffered much, and in such
men I am always interested.”
I looked at him, but there was nothing in his face but the most manly
sympathy.
“True! I have travelled farther than most men, and suffered more,” I
replied; “but never so much as I have during the last half-hour.”
He gazed earnestly at me, and then at the house I had just left.
“That is the house of the merchant Buys,” he said, “and you--surely it
cannot be that you are Diedrich, of whom my dear friend, Captain
Hoogstraaten, has so often told me.”
“I am Diedrich Buys,” I replied.
He held out both hands and shook mine warmly.
“I am Count Van de Burg,” he said, “and you must at once return home
with me, and tell me your tale at leisure.”
I accompanied him to his mansion, and on the way asked after
Hoogstraaten.
“He lives on his estate outside of Amsterdam,” he returned, “where we
will soon visit him, and also see the great chart of his voyages laid
down in the Groote Zaal in the Stadhuys of that city.”
The count, I found afterwards, was an enthusiatic patron of
oversea-discovery. He was the soul of generosity, and no broken-down
sailor or penniless adventurer ever appealed to him for assistance in
vain.
I have little more to add. Hoogstraaten heard my account of the disaster
with the most profound grief and sorrow.
My brother, when he found what friends I had, surrendered at discretion;
but I merely took enough of my father’s property to supply my simple
wants.
I live near Hoogstraaten’s estate, and he and Count Van de Burg are the
only friends I have, or want; for my heart is far away in two graves in
the lonely land of Terra Australis.
APPENDIX.
De Gonneville left Honfleur in the month of June of the year 1503, in
the good ship _L’Espoir_; and after having rounded the Cape of Good Hope
he was assailed by tempestuous weather and driven into calmer latitudes.
A tedious spell of calms forced him, for want of water, to make for the
first land he could sight. The flight of some birds coming from the
south decided him to run a course to the southward, and after a few
days’ sail he landed on the coast of a large territory, at the mouth of
a fine river which he compared to the river Orne at Caen. There he
remained six months, repairing his vessel, holding meanwhile amicable
relations with the natives. He left the great Austral land, to which he
gave the name of “Southern Indies”, on the 3rd July, 1504, taking with
him two of the natives, one of these being the son of the chief of the
tribe amongst whom he had resided. On the return voyage no land was
seen until the day after the Feast of St. Denis, on the 10th of October
of the same year; but, on nearing the coast of France the ship was
attacked, off the islands of Guernsey and Jersey, by an English
privateer, who robbed the navigators of all they had brought with them
from the land they had visited: the most important loss being the
journal of the expedition. On their arrival at Honfleur De Gonneville
immediately entered a plaint before the Admiralty Court of Normandy, and
wrote a report of his voyage which was signed by the principal officers
of the vessel.
The following is a translation of the title of this document:--
“_Judicial declaration made before the Admiralty Court of Normandy by
Sieur de Gonneville, at the request of the King’s Procurator, respecting
the voyage of the good ship ‘L’Espoir’, of the port of Honfleur, to the
Southern Indies._”
The account of the erection of the great Cross runs thus:--
“Intending to leave some memorial that this country had been visited by
Christians, they erected a large wooden cross, thirty-five feet high,
and painted over, placed on an eminence in view of the sea. This they
did with much ceremony on the day of Pentecost, 1504; the Cross being
carried by the captain and his officers, all barefooted, accompanied by
the King Arosca and the principal Indians. After them followed the crew
under arms, and singing the Litany. They were accompanied by a crowd of
Indians, to whom they gave to understand the meaning of the ceremony as
well as they could. Having set up the Cross, they fired volleys of their
cannon and small arms, charging the Indians to keep carefully and honour
the monument they had set up.
“Having refitted the ship, and being willing, after the manner of those
who discover strange countries, to bring some of the natives back with
them, they persuaded the King Arosca to let them have one of his sons,
promising the father that they would bring him back in twenty moons,
with others who should teach them the use of firearms, and how to make
mirrors, axes, knives, and other things they used amongst Christians.”
* * * * *
Being unable to keep his word as to the return of Prince Essomeric, the
tradition goes that De Gonneville settled some of his property on him,
gave him his name, and married him to a relative, as some compensation.
What the relative thought of it does not appear. The grandson of
Essomeric by this marriage is said to have been a priest, and, under the
name of J. B. Paulmier, was canon of the Cathedral Church of St. Pierre
de Lizieux.
* * * * *
The fact of the carven stone head is thus told by Sir George Grey, who
discovered it in the north-west, about that part of the coast where De
Gonneville was supposed to have landed:--
“I was moving on when we observed the profile of a human face and head
cut out in a sandstone rock which fronted the cave. This rock was so
hard that to have removed such a large portion of it with no better
tools than a knife and hatchet made of stone, such as the Australian
natives generally possess, would have been a work of great labour. The
whole of the work was good, and far superior to what a savage race could
be supposed capable of executing. The only proof of antiquity that it
bore about it was that all the edges of the cutting were rounded, and
perfectly smooth--much more so than they could have been from any other
cause than long exposure to atmospheric influences.”
The two graves in which I have buried Zolca and Azolta were also
discovered by Sir George Grey, and thus described by him:--
“_April 6._ We halted a few hundred yards from two remarkable heaps of
stones of the same kind as those I have before mentioned.
“_April 7._ This morning I started off before dawn, and opened the most
southern of the two mounds of stone, which presented the following
curious facts. 1st. They were both placed due east and west with great
regularity. 2nd. They were both exactly of the same length, but
different in breadth and height. 3rd. They were not formed altogether of
small stones from the place on which they stood, but many were portions
of very distant rocks, which must have been brought by human hands. My
own opinion concerning these heaps of stones had been that they were
tombs: and this opinion remains unaltered, though we found no bones in
the mound, only a great deal of fine mould, having a damp, dank smell.
The antiquity of the one we opened appeared to be very great--I should
say two or three hundred years.”
Whether these strange discoveries of Grey’s, including the well-known
cave paintings, point to the existence once of a colony of
semi-civilized people cannot well be determined. The non-existence of
ruins of any sort can easily be accounted for by the fact that they
built their houses of mud which, after being abandoned to the mercy of
successive tropical wet seasons, would soon disappear. The work found
differs so entirely from the ordinary rude memorials of the aborigines
that there is room for speculation on the subject.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] On his second voyage of discovery Tasman was instructed to call at
the Abrolhos, and endeavour to find the two men left by Pelsart; to
learn from them all they had found out about the country, and if they
desired it, to give them a passage to Java. The record of this second
voyage of Tasman’s has, however, been either lost or destroyed.
[B] The hurricanes that break on the north-west coast of Australia
equal in fury the typhoons of the northern tropic. Vessels belonging to
the pearling fleet have been carried far into the mangroves and left
high and dry. They are locally known as “willy-willys”.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Marooned on Australia" ***
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