The only people left now were either with Jan and the others on one island, or with Wiebbe Hayes on High Island.
The remaining passengers were cowed and terrified. They dared say nothing to Corneliez or his supporters so they kept silent. And they looked at Jan differently, with eyes full of fear. No one mocked him now.
Jan closed his ears and his eyes to much of what went on around him. People disappeared. A sick boy was murdered one night – he’d overheard Corneliez order the killing. And a baby had been strangled for crying and disturbing the Under Merchant’s sleep. Sometimes, as he watched the Under Merchant, Jan wondered that he could be in such good spirits after each killing. Yet he himself never did any killing.
Jan knew that he must never show any sign of weakening; he’d seen what happened to others who faltered in their loyalty. Often Corneliez said to him, ‘We must be strong, Jan. Our band must be strong. We must get rid of the weak ones.’
Jan still lusted after the preacher’s daughter, Judith, but she was now beyond his reach. She had moved into the tent of one of the Council members and he appeared to treat her well.
But the preacher himself was a broken man. Jan observed him as he shuffled round the island with his holy books, muttering prayers.
Jan would sometimes go to the preacher’s tent and play with the baby boy. Although the toddler always welcomed Jan and stretched out his arms to him, the rest of the family looked at him with suspicion. But at least the older children didn’t taunt him, as they had in the past. They were too afraid.
‘Our preacher is a sad sight, is he not?’ said Corneliez one day, as he observed the man walking away from the tents, his head bowed.
‘Aye, sir,’ said Jan.
Corneliez smiled. He seemed amused by the powerlessness of this once-influential man.
‘We’ll cheer him up, then, shall we Jan?’ he said. ‘We’ll invite him to dine with us tonight.’
Jan looked up. ‘Shall I go and tell him?’
‘Yes, Jan. Tell him to come, and we’ll get that lovely daughter of his here, too.’
The preacher looked horrified when Jan told him that he and Judith were summoned to eat with Corneliez, but he could not refuse.
‘Am I to bring my wife, too?’
‘No,’ said Jan. He says just you and your eldest daughter.’
For the rest of the day, Jan was kept busy preparing what food he could muster for the evening meal. Corneliez and the Council members had the best of what was left of the stores from Batavia, but there was little enough and Jan had to cook seal meat to go with the salt pork and pickled vegetables.
When the preacher and Judith arrived, Corneliez was in high spirits. He opened a new barrel of wine and told Jan to offer it to the guests.
‘No, no,’ said the preacher, waving his hand and dismissing Jan, but Corneliez, still smiling, said. ‘Give the preacher wine, Jan.’ He paused. ‘And see that he drinks it.’
The preacher was about to protest again, but Judith looked over at him and shook her head. Jan filled the goblet.
‘Drink, Preacher!’ said Corneliez, and the preacher nervously raised the goblet to his lips.
‘Drain it, man!’ said Corneliez. The preacher obeyed, though Jan could see that he was hardly able to swallow.
‘Refill the preacher’s goblet, Jan,’ said Corneliez.
Judith looked over at her father and then at Corneliez. ‘Please,’ she said quietly. ‘Let him be.’
‘Nonsense, girl,’ said Corneliez. ‘Wine will improve his spirits.’
Again and again Jan was instructed to refill the preacher’s goblet. And again and again Corneliez forced him to drain it. It was only when the man was almost insensible that Corneliez seemed to tire of this amusement.
When the meal was nearly over, Jan went outside to sluice down some dishes in sea water and as he stood there, wiping the plates, thinking of Judith and wishing she could have been his, his reverie was shattered.
A terrible scream came from the tent of the preacher’s family. Jan froze, hugging a dish to his chest. There was another scream, and another and another, followed by the sound of men thumping and grunting. Then a horrible silence, worse even than the screaming.
Jan continued to stand rooted to the spot, until he saw a party of soldiers emerging from the preacher’s tent – a party that included Wouter Looes. It was only then that he forced himself to go back inside the Under Merchant’s tent.
The preacher had heard nothing; he was slumped unconscious on the ground. But Judith had certainly heard, and she sat by her father’s side, her hands held over her ears, moaning and rocking to and fro.
Later that evening, when the preacher had staggered away and Judith had been taken back to the tent of her protector, Wouter Looes came to report to Corneliez.
‘Are they all dead, Wouter?’
‘Aye, sir. Every one.’
Jan couldn’t sleep that night. He kept imagining the preacher when he finally reached his tent and discovered that his family had been slaughtered while he was at table with the Under Merchant.
He thought that nothing more could shock him until the next day he saw Judith, white-faced and sobbing, clinging to her father, who seemed to have become an old man overnight.
Jan went looking for Wouter, and when he found him, he asked, ‘Was the baby boy killed, too?’
Wouter nodded. ‘Skull smashed,’ he said gruffly. He wouldn’t meet Jan’s eye.
Jan turned away, remembering the happy little boy who had smiled at him on Batavia. Then he straightened his shoulders. Corneliez was their leader. He knew what he was doing. He had told Jan that they had to get rid of any who were weak, any who would be a drain on their diminishing resources. His words still echoed in Jan’s head. ‘You wait, Jan,’ he’d said. ‘My loyal band and I will have a high time when we are away from here and living in the Indies.’
‘A high time,’ repeated Jan to himself. And he tried to forget the face of that smiling child.
Meanwhile, the smoke on High Island continued to rise and taunt Corneliez, and his fury mounted. When he could stand it no longer, he appointed one of his councillors to lead an attack on High Island. So a few days later, when all the weapons had been gathered and prepared, a group of soldiers set off.
Corneliez did not go with them but stayed back at base, pacing up and down the shore. Jan was beside him.
‘We shall defeat the traitors, Jan, then everyone on these islands will be loyal to me. I shall force them to sign an oath.’
Jan shaded his eyes and looked towards High Island, but it was too far away to detect any movement. All he could see was the smoke still rising from the fires there.
For a moment, Jan remembered the kindness shown to him by Wiebbe Hayes, but he quickly put the memory out of his head. Corneliez had told everyone that Wiebbe was a traitor. And Jan was Corneliez’s loyal follower, his Assistant. He had killed for him – not just the cabin boy on Seals’ Island: he had helped kill two others as well. And he would kill again, whenever he was asked.
All day they waited for the boats to return. It was early evening before the first of them rounded the point and, as soon as they were in sight, Corneliez waded out into the water. Jan watched him.
‘What news? Are they defeated?’ shouted Corneliez.
‘Sir, they are armed!’ said the first man out of the boat. ‘Weibbe Hayes has armed his men.’
‘Armed?’ shouted Corneliez. ‘What with, man? They had no weapons when they left.’
‘They have now,’ said the man. ‘They have catapults and pikes and other weapons they have made from driftwood and barrel hoop-iron. We could not overcome them. They are too strong. They are well-fed and healthy. There are wild beasts and mutton birds on the island, and plenty of water.’
Corneliez’s face twisted with rage.
‘Could you not defeat Hayes and a handful of soldiers? And you call yourselves men?’
‘There are over forty men with Hayes,’ said a Lance Corporal.
‘Forty!’ exploded Corneliez. ‘But he left with only twenty-four.’
‘Aye, but many have joined him – from Seals’ Island – and the carpenters and sailors from here.’
‘Traitors!’ spat out Corneliez.
‘What would you have us do now?’ asked the Lance Corporal. ‘Shall we try again?’
‘Let me think on it,’ said Corneliez, and he turned and walked back to his tent.
A week later, they tried again, and this time Corneliez went with them, watching from a boat on the water. But again, they were repelled by Hayes.
During the next few weeks, Corneliez was in a vile mood. His temper was becoming increasingly short and Jan kept out of his way, serving him as unobtrusively as he could and never speaking unless spoken to.
Then one day Corneliez’s temper improved. He slapped Jan on the shoulders.
‘Today, Jan, each man shall sign an oath of allegience to me. Go and round them up and bring them here to my tent. Every one of them, mind.’
Although they grumbled, no one dared disobey. Even the preacher signed the oath. Jan watched as his pen wavered over the piece of parchment, and saw him glance in the direction of the tent where Judith stayed as, finally, he put his name to the document.
After the preacher had signed, Corneliez took him aside. Jan had been throwing sand on each signature to dry it, and he overheard their conversation.
‘It is good that you have sworn loyalty to me, Preacher, for I have a special job for you,’ he said.
Jan looked up and saw the preacher’s drained, anxious face as Corneliez went on. ‘You, of all the men here, are the one whom those traitors will trust, so tomorrow you shall go to High Island to negotiate peace with Hayes and his men.’
‘Peace?’ whispered the preacher, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
‘Aye,’ said Corneliez. ‘Peace.’ And he walked off, smiling. Then he turned and spoke quietly to Jan. ‘You shall go with him, Jan. You shall be my eyes and ears.’
Jan didn’t want to go, but he was proud to be trusted by the Under Merchant.
Later that day, when Jan was looking for shellfish to cook, he saw the preacher at his prayers on the far side of the island, tears running down his pale cheeks. Again Jan remembered the little boy. He turned away and went to another part of the island.
The next day, a boatload of soldiers and sailors rowed Jan and the preacher to High Island.
Jan was expecting to stay in the boat, but the preacher asked him to go with him. Nervously, they walked together up from the beach.
‘No wonder Hayes and his men have survived here,’ said the preacher, looking about him as they headed inland.
Jan nodded. The terrain here looked different. There were rocks and much more vegetation.
They were hardly out of sight of the boat when they heard someone call, ‘Are you alone, Preacher?’
It was Hayes!
The preacher cleared his throat. ‘I have Jan Pelgrom with me.’ He paused. ‘Jan Pelgrom the cabin boy.’
Jan’s mouth was dry and his legs would not obey him. He could see that the preacher, too, was shaking. At last, Wiebbe showed himself and waited for them, leaning against a rock. Behind him, Jan noticed a roughly constructed wall offering protection from attack. They were clearly organised, these men of Wiebbe’s.
‘Don’t be afraid, man,’ said Wiebbe to the preacher, as they drew closer. ‘I know that you are no murderer.’
At first, the preacher was too scared to do anything except shake his head, but at last he found his voice.
‘I have been sent to negotiate peace with you and your men, Wiebbe,’ he said.
‘On what terms?’
‘Corneliez has offered to bring wine and blankets for you and your soldiers in exchange for your boat.’
For a long time Wiebbe didn’t reply. Then, at last, he spoke again and, as he did, he looked at Jan and smiled. Jan had missed that smile!
‘Very well. Tell the Under Merchant that I will meet him on the shore tomorrow. He is to bring the promised goods himself and in exchange, I shall let him take our boat.’ He smiled. ‘We have plenty of carpenters here to make another.’
Then he looked at Jan. ‘Did you look out for the smoke rising from our island, Jan, as I said?’
Jan looked up and met his eyes. ‘Aye, Wiebbe,’ he said. ‘And I was glad for you.’
Wiebbe put his hand briefly on Jan’s arm, then turned and strode away. Jan felt tears coming to his eyes, but he wiped them away angrily. He must remember that Weibbe was a traitor!
Relieved to have delivered the message and still frightened that they would be attacked, Jan and the preacher made their way quickly back to the boat over the uneven ground.
When they reported back to Corneliez, he received the information thoughtfully. To the preacher he said, ‘Well done, man. Now we shall have some peace.’
But later, he gathered some of the soldiers to his tent and Jan heard him giving them instructions.
‘As soon as I land with the goods tomorrow, attack again. They won’t be expecting it. We shall have them this time,’ he said, and he rubbed his hands together until the knuckles cracked.
The next day, Jan watched as the boats were loaded with wine and blankets before they set off again for High Island. This time, Corneliez was on board and Jan was left behind.
‘Only fighting men this time,’ said Corneliz curtly, when Jan begged to go too.
All day Jan paced up and down the shoreline waiting for the boats to return but when, at last, they came into view and those left on the island shouted at the sailors and soldiers for news, there were no answering shouts. The men simply rowed on in grim silence.
The silence made Jan nervous. He stared at the boats looking for Corneliez, but there was no sign of him.
He waded out into the water as far as he dared. ‘Where is the Under Merchant?’ he yelled, as the boats came in closer. But his words were snatched away by the wind.
The people on the shore crowded round the returning sailors and soldiers, and Jan found himself shoved out of the way.
‘What news? Is Weibbe defeated?’
Jan didn’t hear the answer, but he did hear a shout of disbelief from the man standing next to him.
‘Captured! Captured, you say? Who is captured?’
‘Corneliez.’
Everyone spoke at once, and the crowd surged forward to hear more.
‘Quiet!’ It was one of the Council members. ‘Let us hear what happened.’ He pointed to one of the sailors. ‘You, man. Tell us.’
The sailor had a gruff voice. ‘We were fools,’ he said. ‘We should have known Wiebbe for the slippery eel he is.’
‘What happened?’
The sailor cleared his throat. ‘Weibbe must have suspected something,’ he said. ‘As soon as Corneliez and his party landed, Wiebbe’s men rushed at them.’
‘Didn’t you fire from the boat?’ asked someone.
The sailor nodded. ‘Our covering fire caught some of Weibbe’s men, but not before Corneliez was overpowered and taken prisoner.’
Another soldier continued, ‘As soon as we saw what was happening, we went ashore, but we were driven back. Wiebbe’s men were too strong for us.’
Jan felt as though a knife had been turned in his innards. The Under Merchant captured! What would happen to them now? Without the Under Merchant they were nothing.
Now there was no one to cook for, wash and clean for, and strike the ship’s bell for.
He wandered around in a daze.
A little way off he saw a group of soldiers talking urgently outside one of the tents. After a while, they went their separate ways. Wouter Looes headed towards Jan.
‘What are you going to do, Wouter?’ asked Jan.
Wouter looked at Jan. ‘We must attack Hayes again and rescue the Under Merchant,’ he said. ‘The others have put me in charge.’ Then, as he was walking away, he stopped briefly and turned back. ‘We can do nothing without Corneliez,’ he said. ‘We must have leadership.’
Later that night there was a commotion in one of the womens’ tents. It seemed that, as soon as Lucretia had heard of Corneliez’s capture, she had left his tent and gone to sleep with some of the other women who had not been selected by members of the Council. Now some of the soldiers had come looking for her, intent on forcing themselves on her.
But they had reckoned without Wouter. Jan heard his voice raised in anger. ‘I am your leader now!’ he yelled. ‘You have elected me, and I give the orders. Leave the lady alone! That is my order, and anyone who disobeys it will feel my dagger in their heart.’
There was a sullenness now among the mutineers, and the atmosphere was worse than ever. There was not much left of the food salvaged from Batavia, but they had all learnt to gather what little the island afforded and to preserve the rainwater. Even so, many had sores and infections, and blisters from exposure to sun and wind.
The soldiers talked of having seen leaping, furry creatures on High Island with huge back legs, tiny front legs and doe-like eyes. These, and the big birds that nested nearby, had clearly provided Hayes and his men with a good supply of meat – and Hayes had sunk wells on the island so water was plentiful too. It was no wonder that they were stronger.
These were compelling reasons for defeating Weibbe and his men. Everyone was desperate, not only for vengeance, but also for good food and fresh water.
Two weeks after Corneliez’s capture by Wiebbe, Wouter was ready to attack, and once again, the boats set off for High Island. This time, Jan was pressed into action.
‘Make yourself useful, Jan,’ Wouter said. ‘You say you enjoy killing. Let’s see what you are made of.’
Reluctantly, Jan climbed into one of the boats. His lust for blood wasn’t as strong now and he didn’t feel brave at all without the Under Merchant’s protection. The soldiers with him were working themselves into a frenzy – boasting of what they would do to those they captured.
Jan joined in their talk, but he knew he was no match for a fighting man. He might have killed a half-dead cabin boy and he had helped kill a couple of other passengers, but he was a weakling. Wiebbe Hayes’s men were sure to be well-disciplined, and Jan would be cut down in an instant. The soldiers in the boat had muskets and sharpened bayonets, but Jan was only given a dagger with which to defend himself.
‘No good wasting good weapons on you, boy,’ joked one of the soldiers, drawing a horny hand across the sharp blade of his bayonet.
As they drew closer to High Island, Jan could hear his heart pounding and feel the blood singing in his ears.
At last they rounded the point, the island came into view and the sailors guided the home-made craft through the breaking waves and on to the shore.
Wouter went round each group in turn.
‘You have your orders,’ he said quietly. ‘See that you carry them out. If you kill traitors, so much the better, but we must rescue Corneliez.’
‘Look behind you, Wouter,’ said one of the soldiers, pointing. They all looked – and Jan tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. On the dunes above them, Wiebbe’s men had appeared and were lined up, ready. There were no muskets or bayonets to be seen, but they were armed with homemade clubs and slings and pikes.
‘We knew they’d be expecting us,’ said Wouter fiercely. ‘Just remember what we agreed.’
‘Aye’, said the men with one voice. Then Wouter shouted orders and Corneliez’s followers swarmed up the beach, some swinging bayonets round their heads and others firing muskets.
Jan ran with them, but all at once he stumbled and tripped, and by the time he had righted himself he was behind the rest. Weibbe’s men might be stronger, but Wouter and the others were desperate. This was their last chance. Without Corneliez they would not survive. Without food and water they would not survive.
Jan tried to run forward to join the others. He must not be branded a coward! But when he put weight on his ankle, he realised that he could hardly walk, let alone fight.
Desperately he looked about him. The fighting above and beyond him was fierce. There were screams and shouts and gunfire. As he listened, the noise grew more distant. What did that mean? Had Wouter and the others gained ground?
Miserably, he limped a little way towards the sound of the battle, but every step was agony. Furious with himself, he retraced his steps, hoping to huddle out of sight beside one of the boats. But no – the sailors with the boats had rowed a little way out to keep them safe from Wiebbe’s men.
Jan sat in the shade of a rock at the water’s edge trembling with fear. What would Wouter and his men do to him when they returned? He would be branded a coward.
He sat there for what seemed like hours, straining his ears. Occasionally he heard the sound of fighting, but it was far away now.
And then he heard a noise much nearer. Clasping his dagger, he tried to flatten himself against the rock.
Two men were running down the shore, keeping low and dodging between the dunes. They were running straight for him. They couldn’t avoid seeing him and he could do nothing to defend himself.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow. Then they were upon him.
‘Ye gods,’ said one. ‘Who’s this?’
Fearfully, Jan opened his eyes and looked up.
It was Weibbe! Wiebbe with one of his soldiers.
The soldier raised the club in his hand, but Wiebbe stopped him.
‘No. Not yet, soldier. I know this lad.’
Wiebbe crouched down beside him. ‘Oh, Jan,’ he said. ‘What have they made you do, boy? What has Corneliez turned you into?’
Slowly, still trembling, Jan raised his eyes and looked up at Wiebbe’s grizzled face. As he stared at him he remembered all the small kindnesses Wiebbe had shown him on board, speaking to him when others ignored him, offering him the last of his water when Jan was desperate with thirst.
Jan felt a sob rising in his throat. As he looked into Weibbe’s eyes, he began to realise the horror of what he had done. The terror and confusion of the last weeks welled up in him and he clung to Wiebbe, choking and heaving.
‘Jan, Jan,’ sighed Weibbe again, shaking his head.
Then he turned to the soldier. ‘Give me your club and leave us for a moment.’
‘But Wiebbe, the ship! We must warn them!’
‘Only a moment, I promise you.’
Then Wiebbe said to Jan. ‘Ask God to forgive you your sins, Jan.’
‘Are you going to kill me?’ sobbed Jan.
Wiebbe shook his head. ‘No, I’m going to tell you something, Jan. We have sighted the Company’s rescue ship, the Sardam, and we’re going to row out to warn those on board what is happening on these islands.’
He pulled Jan to his feet and pointed. ‘Look, boy. Look over there.’
Jan rubbed the tears from his eyes and stared at the ship clearly visible a little way off.
‘Wiebbe, we must go!’ said his companion. ‘The ship has been sighted by others, too. The Under Merchant’s followers will row out to the Sardam. We must get there first and warn Pelsaert.’
‘Aye. I’m coming.’ Then Wiebbe turned to Jan. ‘This is the last favour I shall do for you, boy.’
And saying that, he swung the club down on to Jan’s head. It was not hard enough to crush his skull, but strong enough to render him senseless. He fell to the ground.
For a moment Wiebbe stood over him. ‘When they find him, they’ll think he was in the fight. At least those barbarians won’t brand him a coward.’
Then he and his companion ran on, round the next point to where their homemade boat was hidden.