A few days later, while Jan was preparing food for Corneliez, he heard raised voices. The Council were meeting and there was clearly some disagreement. Jan stopped plucking the gull he was holding and listened. Corneliez was speaking.
‘Caught red-handed, I tell you. The gunner confessed. He has been stealing our wine. Stealing what should be shared equally. He must be punished.’
‘Aye, punished perhaps. But not executed!’
Jan stood, rooted to the spot, holding the half-plucked gull. A cold knot of fear gripped his stomach.
‘Harsh times, harsh punishment, gentlemen.’ This was Corneliez again.
‘And what of the other boy – the other gunner? He didn’t steal the wine. He was merely offered it.’
‘He, too, will be executed.’
There was uproar then.
‘He’s only a boy! He does not deserve this.’
‘We cannot agree to this punishment, Corneliez.’
‘Then you are all dismissed,’ shouted Corneliez. ‘You are no longer my Council. I shall appoint those who will agree.’
Jan edged as far away as he could. He knew that two young soldiers had been found stealing from the wine supply. He’d never had much to do with them, but he knew who they were.
There were more angry voices, and then the meeting broke up and Corneliez came through to find him. Jan’s hands shook as he plucked again at the gull’s feathers.
Corneliez was smiling. ‘When you have served my food, Jan, I have a job for you.’
For an instant, Jan froze, as Corneliez put a hand on his shoulder. The Under Merchant, sensing his fear, spun him round and stared at him.
‘Do you remember the disorder on this island, Jan, before I came? The drunkenness and chaos?’
Jan nodded, unable to meet the Under Merchant’s gaze.
‘And I have brought order to this place, have I not?’ His voice was rising.
Jan nodded again.
‘So I cannot allow any disobedience.’
‘No, sir,’ Jan whispered.
‘Good lad. Now, when I have eaten, we shall open more of those chests from the ship and I shall choose some clothes to wear. But, meanwhile, I wish to see my new Council.’ Then he read Jan a list of names. ‘As soon as you have served my meal, Jan, go and fetch these men to me.’
Left alone again, Jan went on with his work, his mind in turmoil. Had Corneliez really just ordered the death of two young soldiers? He had seemed so light-hearted. But he was right. Of course he was right. Any disobedience must be punished. Jan remembered his temptation to steal jewels when they were first shipwrecked, and shuddered. Would he, too, have been executed if he had been discovered?
Later, Jan set off to find the men that Corneliez had named – the men to be his new Council. Jan couldn’t help noticing that many of them had been on the gun deck with Jacobsz that night when Jan had pretended to be asleep.
Aye, we are with the Under Merchant. We are with Corneliez.
The men came as soon as they were called, the new Council convened and, with no dissent, the executions were agreed. They would take place at noon the next day.
During the afternoon, Corneliez called Jan to help him prise open some of the chests from the ship. His tent was large and airy, with salvaged wooden struts to support the canvas and a second tent at the back to store the valuable cargo. It was here that they knelt to unpack some of the fine clothes from the chests.
Jan stared in wonder at the contents. Pieces of ivory, dishes in gold and silver, precious stones, agate ornaments, boots of soft leather, scarlet tunics bright with gold braid, great silver buckles and felt hats with ostrich feathers.
Corneliez strutted about, wearing first this cloak, this ruff, this sword and hat, then others, until he was satisfied.
‘There, Jan,’ he said at last. ‘Now I am the Honourable High Commandant.’ He swished the fine red cloak about him. ‘And you are my Assistant.’
Jan clapped his hands in pleasure.
He had forgotten that two young men were about to lose their lives.
The next day he was sent to order everyone on the island to attend the execution.
There was a shocked muttering among the crowd as the two boys were led shivering to the shore and forced to kneel.
Jan stared at the ground. He did not want to see who the executioner was and he didn’t want to watch the deed, but the screams of the two gunners would echo in his head for hours afterwards.
When the screaming stopped, a dreadful hush descended on the huddled group. Then, at last, the preacher stepped forward and, with some of the officers, removed the bodies for burial on the other side of the island.
Things changed after those first killings. From that day, no one dared to doubt Corneliez’s authority and no one challenged him or his supporters. It was obvious who the supporters were now, for Corneliez gave them fine clothes to wear from the salvaged Company chests and they strutted about the island like so many peacocks.
One day, Corneliez gave Jan special clothes to wear, too, made of fine cloth that didn’t scratch his skin, and when Jan stuttered his thanks, he clapped him on the back.
‘Well, Jan,’ said Corneliez. ‘We shall have more of this when we settle in the Indies.’
Jan frowned, puzzled.
Corneliez laughed at him. ‘Why boy, my loyal supporters and I are strong, are we not? We have sailors and soldiers and carpenters and cooks among our company, don’t we?’
Jan nodded.
‘Then we shall overpower any ship that comes to rescue us. We shall sail the seas and one day we shall settle as rich men in the warm islands of the Indies. You are with me, are you not, Jan?’
‘Aye, sir, to the death,’ said Jan, stumbling over his words, but he couldn’t control the shiver that went through him.
‘Good boy,’ said Corneliez. ‘From now on, anyone who is not with me is against me. Anyone who is not with me is a traitor and we must be rid of them.’
Jan nodded. Of course he is right, he thought. Any whiff of disloyalty, any mutterings against him, any criticism of him, must be punished. He is in charge now.
As time went on, there were more executions. Nearly every day someone was accused of disloyalty to the Under Merchant and killed. Men – and women too – were hacked to death or drowned. The soldiers were the worst murderers. They showed no mercy and hunted down their victims, sometimes only because of a glance or an imagined slight.
Once, when Jan was coming back to Corneliez’s tent, he saw one of the young deck hands blindfolded, kneeling on the ground in front of the Under Merchant, his head bowed. One of the soldiers handed Corneliez a bayonet which he’d just sharpened.
Corneliez glanced up as Jan approached.
‘How loyal are you to me, Jan?’ he asked, fingering the bayonet.
Jan started to tremble. He couldn’t look at the kneeling boy. ‘To the death, sir,’ he muttered automatically.
Corneliez thrust the bayonet into Jan’s hands. ‘Then test this weapon’s sharpness on that traitor’s neck,’ he whispered, pointing at the young deck-hand.
Still trembling, Jan took the bayonet. It was so heavy! He swallowed and tried to stop his hands shaking. He must obey. He would do it, he would show himself to be a man. He forced himself to hold the bayonet steady and walked forwards.
But then Corneliez laughed, and beckoned the soldier to come over. ‘The cabin boy’s not used to using weapons. You test its sharpness, soldier,’ he said, taking the bayonet from Jan. The soldier needed no urging and ran towards the kneeling boy, the bayonet’s blade glinting in the sun, and in no time the deed was done and the soldier was wiping the blade clean.
Jan sank to his knees and burst into tears. ‘I would have done it for you, sir,’ he shouted, between sobs, holding on to the folds of Corneliez’s red cloak. ‘I was ready to do it.’
Corneliez pushed him away. ‘You’ll have another chance, boy,’ he said curtly. Then he turned to the soldier, laughing. ‘Take the body away.’
That day, another ruling was made. Corneliez sent Jan round to the remaining passengers.
‘All young women are to be under the protection of one of the Council members,’ announced Jan to every family.
‘What does this mean?’ whispered the mother of a fifteen-year-old girl.
Jan knew very well what it meant, and he looked boldly at the girl. ‘It means that your daughter must go to live with one of the Council members so that she is better protected. It is the Under Merchant’s decree,’ he said, suddenly wishing that he, too, was a member of the Council.
The girl looked despairingly at her mother, who wept silently as Jan left.
When Jan went back to tell Corneliez that he had made the announcement, Corneliez put his arm round Jan’s shoulders. ‘And you, too, Jan,’ he said. ‘You can take one of the women to be with you. It is time you became a man.’
Jan blushed. No woman had ever looked at him twice. But there was someone he wanted. He wanted the beautiful daughter of the preacher. She was called Judith, and he’d often watched her as she walked with her father or played with her younger brothers and sisters. But she’d only ever looked at him with disgust. Well, she wouldn’t be able to do that now. If he chose her, she would have to obey. It was the Under Merchant’s decree. And everyone knew what happened now if you went against that.
‘Well, Jan, who is it to be?’
‘Judith, sir,’ said Jan. ‘The preacher’s daughter, Judith.’
Corneliez laughed. ‘No, Jan, I’m afraid you are too late. She is already taken by one of the Council members. You’ll have to look elsewhere.’
Jan knew better than to get on the wrong side of a Council member. There were plenty of other women – and none of them would dare resist him now that he had the ear of the Under Merchant – but there were none so fair as Judith. Even the pretty fifteen-year-old wasn’t as lovely as Judith.
Jan knew who Corneliez had chosen. A few days earlier he had seen the Under Merchant speaking to Lucretia and had overheard snatches of their conversation.
‘I can protect you, Lucretia. Come and stay with me.’
She had replied steadily, ‘You know I have a husband waiting for me in Java.’
‘Java!’ Corneliez had laughed. ‘You will never see Java now.’
She had said nothing, and Corneliez had gone close to her and started to play with her hair. It had begun to grow back after its brutal hacking on board Batavia.
‘You know that I cannot protect you if you do not do as I say, Lucretia,’ he whispered. There was a pause. ‘Those who are not with me, are against me.’
Lucretia had stared coldly into his eyes. ‘Very well,’ she said at last.
But she had not wanted this, Jan knew it. She had simply chosen to live rather than to die. Even Wouter Looes would not have been able to help her if she had refused the Under Merchant.
It was Wouter Looes who brought the news to Corneliez.
‘Smoke, sir! Smoke on High Island.’
Jan looked up from chopping seal meat. What had Wiebbe Hayes said as he left? ‘When you see smoke rising from High island. Then you’ll know we’ve found food and water.’
Jan’s heart leapt, but he kept his head down and went on chopping. Weibbe was alive. And not only alive, but they had found food and water!
But Corneliez was furious. He strode down to the shore to look across to the distant island. There was no doubt about it: a thin column of smoke was rising from the island into the blue sky.
Seeing the Under Merchant’s fury, no one dared to cheer, though many were secretly heartened.
‘It is a trick!’ yelled Corneliez. ‘They are traitors and they are pretending they have found food and water. That is what this means.’ He wiped the spittle from around his lips with his red and gold cloak and continued, ‘They will lure us to the island and then they will kill us.’
‘Surely not,’ muttered the preacher, but his wife silenced him.
‘Well, we’ll play them at their own game,’ shouted Corneliez. ‘We shall gather our troops and attack them.’
He turned once more to look at the smoke and then spat on the ground.
‘And we’ll root out all the other traitors, too,’ he cried. ‘Those on Seals’ Island and the other island. They were all against me. They are all traitors.’
Wouter Looes was standing near Jan. ‘They won’t have survived, those others,’ he said quietly. ‘The Under Merchant knew there was no water on those islands.’
Jan said nothing. He did not know what to think.
The next day there was more bad news for Corneliez, and no one wanted to break it to him – one of the soldiers told Jan instead.
‘Some of the sailors and a couple of carpenters have taken the boat they built. They got away last night under cover of darkness, and we think they’ve gone to High Island to join Weibbe. You tell the Under Merchant, Jan. You are his favourite. It will be better coming from you.’
Jan’s hands shook as he relayed the message to Corneliez but, to his surprise, Corneliez remained calm. He smiled grimly.
‘Then I was right, Jan. It proves I was right. More traitors have gone to join the others. We shall seek them out and destroy them.’ He gathered his cloak about him and strode out of his tent, and as he did so, he shouted, ‘But first we shall have a game with those others nearer to us, eh, Jan?’
‘Sir?’ said Jan.
‘Why, all those wretches on Seals’ Island and the other island who fled from here.’
Jan frowned. Surely Corneliez had sent them to the near islands, hadn’t he? But perhaps he had misunderstood. Perhaps those people all went because they were not loyal to the Under Merchant.
Jan had little time to reflect on this, because later that day he found himself armed with a dagger and loaded into the remaining boat with a group of soldiers. As the sailors rowed them away from shore, Jan looked back, Corneliez’s instructions ringing in his ears.
‘I want none of those wretches left alive, do you understand?’
Some of the soldiers had grinned, feeling the blades of their bayonets with their calloused thumbs.
‘Aye, sir!’
Corneliez had given them all generous portions of wine before they left and there was much lewd talk and laughter among the men.
‘They won’t give much resistance,’ said one.
‘Lambs to the slaughter,’ said another.
Jan wasn’t used to wine and it had gone to his head. The Under Merchant had given him special instructions:
‘I expect you to kill one of those traitors for me Jan,’ he had said, clapping him on the back. ‘You are a grown man now, so it’s time you proved yourself.’
As the boat skimmed over the shallow waters above the coral and then into the sea beyond, Jan felt proud. He was a man now, and the Under Merchant’s trusted Assistant. No, not Under Merchant – he mustn’t forget that Corneliez liked Jan to address him as High Commandant now. He was Assistant to the High Commandant.
The soldiers leapt ashore as the boat grounded, leaving the sailors to pull it up on to the beach. Shouting and swinging their bayonets round their heads, they ran this way and that.
As Wouter had predicted, there were hardly any people left alive and the survivors were in no state to put up a fight. Roaring and whooping, the soldiers struck down any soul who showed a sign of life.
Jan looked around desperately. The soldiers were doing it all. There would be no one left for him to kill.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny movement behind a bush. It could have been a bird – or it could be another of the traitors. His head still fuddled with wine, Jan tried to focus. The soldiers had overtaken him by now and gone ahead, making a systematic search of the island.
If this was another traitor, they had missed him – or her. Even in his drunken state, Jan hoped it was not a woman. Whoever it was, would be weakened by thirst and starvation, for there was even less vegetation on this barren island than on the one they had just come from. Jan ran towards the bush, the wine giving him courage.
But when he reached the place, he hesitated. Nothing moved. Maybe there was no one there. Maybe it had just been the flutter of a seabird.
He walked forward cautiously, his dagger clutched in his hand, and peered behind the bush.
Then he jumped back. There was someone there! And it was someone he recognised – but only just. It was one of his fellow cabin boys from Batavia. Now the lad was nothing but skin and bone, his exposed flesh blistered and his eyes closed. But he was still breathing.
Jan closed his mind to everything but the command he’d been given. He raised his dagger.
The boy moaned and tried to open his eyes.
Jan hesitated. Then suddenly he remembered that this boy had been one of those who’d taunted him for his pockmarked skin and stinking breath.
With an angry strength, Jan drove his dagger into the boy’s chest.
There was a ghastly noise. Not so much a scream – for the boy’s throat was so parched that he couldn’t scream; rather a convulsive gurgle. Just for a moment he looked at Jan, then his head lolled on to the ground, his body twitched and was still.
Jan pulled out the dagger and plunged it in the ground to clean it. He turned and ran back to the shore. Then he vomited into the waves.
Well, he was a man now. He had killed for Corneliez. It was easy. He could kill again.
Back on their own island, the landing party reported to Corneliez that every person on Seals’ Island was now dead from lack of food and water, or had been murdered.
‘Every one?’
Jan looked at the soldiers and wondered whether they would tell Corneliez what they’d learnt. Apparently, one of the men on Seals’ Island, the one who had put up most resistance, had yelled at them as they struck him down: ‘You won’t kill us all, you murderers. Some of us have escaped to be with Hayes and his men.’
Jan watched as the soldiers glanced at one another.
‘Every one?’ repeated Corneliez.
‘It seems that a few have escaped from the island. They made a boat from driftwood,’ said a Lance Corporal.
‘Pah!’ spat Corneliez. ‘They won’t have got far. They will have drowned.’
Corneliez was full of praise for Jan when he heard about the cabin boy.
‘Now you are bloodied, Jan,’ said Corneliez, giving him a goblet of wine. “Now you are indeed my man – my Chief Assistant.’
Jan looked at his feet. He couldn’t forget the look in the cabin boy’s eyes as the dagger struck him.
But when he had gulped down the wine, he felt braver. Brave enough to run round the island threatening to kill anyone who annoyed him. And brave enough to go and seek out that young girl he had seen with her mother when he had gone to tell them of the Under Merchant’s plans for unprotected women and girls.
He lurched into their tent, his dagger drawn, and looked about him.
There was no sign of the girl. ‘Where is she?’ he shouted at her mother, slurring his words. ‘I want your daughter – where is she?’
The mother slowly rose to her feet, her eyes on Jan’s dagger.
‘She is not here,’ she said quietly.
‘I can see that,’ yelled Jan. ‘Where is she?’
The woman looked straight into Jan’s eyes.
‘Take me, boy,’ she said, her voice steady, though her whole body trembled. ‘I can quench your passion.’
For a moment Jan was speechless. He stared at the woman through blurred eyes. Although she was not as pretty as her daughter, she was not that old, and she was good-looking.
She came up to him and stroked his face. Jan didn’t see the disgust in her eyes. He was conscious of her body close to his and of the shape of her breasts under her tattered dress.
His grip loosened on the dagger and it fell to the ground.