Murderers Bay
They had the best of it
Although we did
Surprise them with our cannons, several times
Still, three men dead
One captured
And the Council of the Indies said
‘Use great care in all places with small craft’
Easy enough to say; they weren’t here
Easy enough in Fort Batavia
With native doxies at their beck and call
To blame all this misconsequence on me
‘Make contact properly and amicably’
So wrote Van Dieman and his councillors
Simple to say; and later they would say
‘Though we specifically instructed him
He went against us, fired off the guns
Aroused the native people’s enmity
Demote him! Punish him! He isn’t competent!
Abel, as seaman, but when all is said
He is a nobody; unworthy of command
Why did they give it then?
I know: it is because
Their ships are costly, and I bring them home
I’m careful, of the ships and of the men
That’s why I fired off the cannons on the upper deck
Abraham mewed: ‘Trumpets are sounded by ambassadors
Theirs might sound strange to us,
As ours to them, yet still mean peace’ I thought
‘No! Devil take it! These do not mean peace!
Darkness, and enemies around my ships
No rest for us all night; a host on shore
Yde and Isaac didn’t stay to talk to them
But hastened back, bending their backs, the Southlanders
In hot pursuit; in a pig’s eye they wanted peace!
Now: three men dead, one carried off alive
The milk’s been spilt; and nothing to be gained by argument
We’ve all agreed, at last
To hold this land’s inhabitants as enemies
I knew it when I first
Saw them. I’m not a sole commander, like an English admiral
Yet VOC will still hold me accountable
I’ve tailored my report. Both skippers have agreed
To mend their logs; if I’m to blame, we all are.
Let it be
Remembered as I have reported it:
The guns were fired on the night of the 18th
After the Southlanders went back to shore
‘Blown off’, in order to reload
With fresh dry powder, that we might prevent mischance.
Not scrupulously true, but true enough
For I believe it did prevent mischance:
Stopped their performance; sent them back to land
Of Gerrit’s leaving council, and his subsequent
unwise command, which I think were the nub of it
I’ve written that the Zeehaen’s skipper sent his quartermaster back
With rowers. Not a word about
Our gunner, bustled off to Zeehaen over Yde’s head
Those rogues! How well they watched for such an opportunity
We did not understand
Their shouting; looking back on it, they had it planned.
Halfway between us, all of their canoes
Converging on the boat, barring its way
Oh, cleverly they managed it, from start to finish, out of musket range
Before we even trained our cannon, by the time I reached the rail
It was over; screams
Of those left in the boat
Snuffed out, and one still struggling, carried off to land
So, tell the Council of the Indies that I left
A live man, prisoner in the hands
Of unknown Southlanders?
Why? What would be achieved? I’m sure I made
The right decision
By the time we got our anchors up
And took the ships inshore
To punish them, their victim would most probably be dead
In any case, rescue impossible
And the attempt would put us all at risk
We sailed east. It was the right
Decision. A flotilla of their boats, swarming with people, put out after us
Faster than us, and they outnumbered us
But once again, our cannons proved too hot
We killed the leader with a lucky shot
In my report on it I simply said
the man they captured was already dead