CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
MUTINY ON BOARD THE "BARBARA."
We have learned from the sad experience of centuries that nominalChristianity, which men call religion, is utterly powerless to stopwarfare; it may, in a few instances, have lessened some of its horrors,but only a few. The annals of the wars which have taken place for thelast three hundred years since the world has improved in civilisation,show that nations rush into war as eagerly as ever, and that crueltiesand abominations of all sorts, such as the fiercest savages cannotsurpass, are committed by men who profess to be Christians. Read theaccounts of the wars of the Duke of Alva and his successors in theNetherlands, the civil wars of France, the foreign wars of Napoleon, thedeeds of horror done at the storming and capture of towns during the warin the Peninsula, not only by Frenchmen and Spaniards, but by theBritish soldiers, and indeed the accounts of all the wars in the pagesof history, and we shall learn what a fearful and dreadful thing war is,and strive to assist the spread of the true principles of the Gospel asthe only means of putting a stop to it.
Such thoughts as these had been occupying my mind on board the brig, onthe morning of that eventful day of which I have just been speaking.Here was I, a peace-loving man, engaged in a peaceable occupation, andyet finding myself continually in the midst of fighting, and now therewas every probability of my having to engage in a desperate battle, thetermination of which it was impossible to foretell. As I reached thedeck I could see a number of dark phantom-looking objects gliding slowlyover the water towards us almost noiselessly, the only sound heard beingthat produced by their oars as they dipped into the water. The pirates,for such we were still certain they must be, expected, perhaps, to findus asleep. The guns were loaded and run out as before. The men stoodwith their muskets in their hands, and pikes and cutlasses ready foruse. The strangers drew closer and closer. They still hoped, weconcluded, to catch us unprepared. We, however, did not wish to beginthe combat unless they gave us indubitable signs of their intentions.
The elder Van Deck, who had, I found, been a naval man, took thecommand, and everybody on board looked up to him. We were not left longin doubt that the strangers were pirates, and purposed to destroy us.Not, however, till they were close to us with the evident intention ofboarding did our chief give the order to fire. The effect was to makethem sheer off, but only for a moment. Directly afterwards theyarranged themselves on our starboard bow and quarter, and commenced afire with gingalls, matchlocks, and guns of various sorts, sendingmissiles of all shapes and sizes on board us. Our men kept firing awaybravely, but in a short time, so rapid was the fire kept up on us, thatthree or four were killed and several wounded. I was standing near thebrave Dutchman when a dart shot from a gun struck him, and he fell tothe deck. I ran to raise him up, but he had ceased to breathe. Hisdeath soon becoming known among the crew, their fire visibly slackened.The pirates probably perceived this, and with fearful cries came dashingalongside. The Javanese are brave fellows, and though they knew thatdeath awaited them, they drew their swords and daggers and met the enemyas they sprang upon our deck. On came the pirates in overwhelmingnumbers, their sharp kreeses making fearful havoc among our poorfellows. I saw that all was lost. I was still unwounded. Rather thanfall alive into the hands of the pirates, as with the survivors of thecrew I was driven across the deck, I determined to leap overboard, andendeavour to swim to land. That was not a moment for considering thedistance or the dangers to be encountered. Death was certain if Iremained in the ship. Unnoticed by the enemy, I threw myself overboard,and struck out in the direction, as I believed, of the shore. I was agood swimmer, but light as were my clothes, I was not aware of theimpediment they would prove to me. Already I was beginning to growtired, and to feel that I could not reach the shore. Yet life wassweet, very sweet, in prospect I prayed for strength, and resolved tostruggle on as long as I could move an arm. I threw myself on my backto float. I could see the brig, at no great distance, surrounded by theprahus. All sounds of strife had ceased. Only the confused murmurs ofmany tongues moving at once reached my ears. Now that I had ceased fora few minutes to exert myself, two fearful ideas occurred to me: one,that I might be swimming from the land, the other, that at any moment ashark might seize me and carry me to the depths below. Had I allowed mymind to dwell on these ideas, I should speedily have lost courage, butinstead I had recourse to the only means by which, under similar trialsand dangers, a man can hope to be supported. I turned my thoughtsupwards, and prayed earnestly for protection and deliverance.
I was striking out gently with my feet to keep myself moving through thewater when my head struck something floating on the surface. I turnedround, and found that it was one of the long bamboo buoys employed bythe native fishermen on the coast to mark where their nets, or fishtraps, are placed. They are very long and buoyant, and capable ofsupporting more than one man with ease. I threw my arms over the one Ihad found, and was grateful that I had thus found an object by means ofwhich my life might possibly be preserved.
I looked round me; the prahus and brig were still to be seen, but afterwatching them for some time, they appeared to be drifting away with thefaint land breeze from the spot where I lay. Thus was the danger ofbeing seen by them at daylight lessened. Hitherto I had feared, amongother things, should I be unable to swim on shore, that when the piratesdiscovered me in the morning they would send a boat and give me aquieting knock on the head. Still my position was a very dreadful one.Any moment a passing shark might seize hold of me; that I escaped wasowing, I think, humanly speaking, to my having on dark clothes, and myhaving kept constantly splashing with my legs. I was afraid of resting,also, lest I should lose consciousness, and, letting go my hold of thebamboo, be swept away by the tide.
At length, when my legs became weary of moving about, I thought that Iwould try the effect of my voice in keeping the sharks at a distance. Ifirst ascertained that the pirate prahus had drifted to such a distancethat I was not likely to be heard by them, then I began shouting away atthe top of my voice.
What was my surprise, as soon as I stopped, to hear an answer! For amoment I fancied that it must be some mockery of my imagination; thenagain I heard the voice say, "What, Braithwaite! is that you?"
It must be, I knew, my friend Van Deck who spoke, yet the voice soundedhollow and strange, very unlike his.
I can scarcely describe the relief I felt at discovering, in the firstplace that my friend had escaped, and then on finding that a civilisedhuman being was near me. I could not tell whether he knew that hisbrother was killed. I did not allude to the subject. We did our bestto encourage each other. We would gladly have got nearer together totalk with more ease, but were afraid of letting go our hold of thesupport, frail though it seemed, to which we clung. Van Deck encouragedme by the assurance that it would soon be daylight, and that at earlydawn the fishermen would come off to examine the nets.
"They bear the Dutch, I am sorry to say, no good will," he observed."We are accused too justly of laying the produce of their industry undertribute; but they will respect you as an Englishman, and for your sakesave the lives of both of us. Till I found that you had escaped I wasvery anxious on that score."
As I have said, we talked continually, for silence was painful, as Icould not tell when my companion's voice was silent whether he had beendrawn down suddenly by a shark, or had sunk overcome by fatigue. Evenwith conversation kept up in this way the time passed very slowly by.How much worse off I should have been alone! At length Van Deckexclaimed that he saw the dawn breaking in the sky. Rapidly after thisobjects became more and more distinct; the tall bamboo buoys, with theirtufts of dry grass at the top, floating on the glassy water; then Icould distinguish my companion's head and shoulders just above thesurface; and the land about two miles off, on which, however, a surfbroke which would have made landing difficult, if not dangerous. Thetall trees and the mountains, range above range, seemed to rise directlyout of it.
Soon the fishermen's voices,
as they pulled out, singing in chorus,towards their buoys, greeted our ears. Two boats came close to us. Thefishermen exhibited much surprise at finding us, but instead of at oncecoming up and taking us on board, they lay on their oars, and appearedto be consulting what they should do with the strangers. How thediscussion might have terminated seemed doubtful, had not Van Deck toldthem that I was an Englishman, whose countrymen had just conquered theisland; that he was my friend; and that if any harm happened to us mypeople would come and cut off all the people in the district, whereas ifwe were well treated they would be munificently rewarded. This address,which, taken in its oriental meaning, was literally true, had thedesired effect; one of the boats approached me. Immediately that I wasin the boat I fainted, and I believe that my friend was much in the samecondition. He, however, quickly recovered, and by the promise of anincreased reward induced the fishermen to return at once to the shore.I did not return to consciousness till I found myself being lifted outof the boat and placed on a litter of wicker-work. Van Deck was carriedin the same way, as he was too weak to walk. We were thus conveyed tothe house of a chief, who resided not far from the shore, built on thesummit of a rising ground overlooking the sea.
The chief, who was every inch a gentleman, received us with the greatesthospitality, and, seeing what we most required, had us both put intoclean, comfortable beds in a large airy room, where, after we had takena few cups of hot coffee, we fell asleep, and did not awake again tillthe evening. Our host had then a sumptuous repast ready for us, ofwhich by that time we were pretty well capable of partaking. Poor VanDeck was naturally very much out of spirits at the loss of his brother,but the necessity of interpreting for me kept him from dwelling on hisown grief.
At the time of which I have hitherto been speaking, when I was in theeast, the spot on which Singapore, with its streets of stone palaces,its superb public edifices and rich warehouses, now stands, was a sandyflat, with a few straggling huts inhabited by fishermen or pirates. Iam about to give a piece of history posterior to my voyage as asupercargo. After the peace of 1814, when Java and its dependencieswere given up to the Dutch, their first act was to impose restrictionson British commerce in the Archipelago. They were enabled to effectthis object from the position of their settlements, those in the Straitsof Malacca and Sunda commanding all the western entrances to the Chinaand Java seas, and it therefore became evident that, without some effortto destroy their monopolies, the sale of British manufactures in theeastern islands would soon cease. Sir Stamford Raffles, who was at thattime Governor of Bencoolen, represented the case so strongly to theSupreme Government at Bengal that the governor-general gave him thepermission he asked to make a settlement near the north-east entrance ofthe Straits of Malacca. He accordingly, in the year 1819, fixed onSingapore, which stands on the south side of an island, about sixtymiles in circumference, separated by a narrow strait from the Malaypeninsula. Of course the establishment was opposed by the Dutch, who sostrenuously remonstrated with the British Government that the latterdeclined having anything to do with it, and threw the wholeresponsibility on Sir Stamford Raffles. It was not until it had beenestablished for three years--in the last of which the trade was alreadyestimated at several millions of dollars--that Singapore was recognisedby Great Britain.
After a rest of a couple of days, poor Van Deck and I were sufficientlyrecovered to commence our journey back to Batavia. He was anxious to bethere that he might take charge of his late brother's affairs--I, that Imight report the loss of the brig, and make fresh arrangements forsecuring a cargo for Sydney. We met with no adventures worthy of noteon our journey.
On our return to Batavia much sympathy was excited for my friend VanDeck among the merchants at the loss of his brother, and the navalcommander-in-chief, returning soon after from Sourabaya, dispatched twofrigates and a brig of war in search of the pirates. They were supposedto belong to some place on the coast of Borneo, which has for many yearsabounded with nests of these desperadoes. The fleet in question wassupposed to belong to a famous chief, the very idol of his followers onaccount of the success of his expeditions. His title was the RajahRaga, and he was brother to the Sultan Coti, a potentate of Borneo. TheRaja Raga had subsequently some wonderful escapes, for he probably gotdue notice that an English squadron was looking after him, and took goodcare to keep out of their way. He was afterwards cruising with threelarge prahus, when he fell in with an English sloop-of-war, which he wascompelled to engage. Two of his prahus, by placing themselves betweenhim and the enemy, held her in check a sufficient time to enable him toescape, and were themselves then sent to the bottom; indeed, they musthave expected no other fate.
On another occasion the rajah remained on shore, but sent his own prahu,which carried upwards of a hundred and fifty men and several large guns,on a cruise, under the command of his favourite panglima, or captain.Falling in after some time with a brig merchantman, as he supposed, andwishing to distinguish himself by her capture, he fired into her, andmade preparations to board. Great was his dismay when he saw a line ofports open in the side of his expected prize, and he found himself underthe guns of a British man-of-war. The panglima hailed, and with manyapologies tried to make it appear that he had acted under amisapprehension, but his subterfuge was of no avail; a broadside fromthe man-of-war sent his vessel at once to the bottom, and he and all hiscrew perished, with the exception of two or three who, clinging to apiece of the wreck, were picked up by a native craft, and carried anaccount of the disaster to their chief.
Piracy had been the bane of these seas for years.
We were fortunate in obtaining the full amount of the goods we requiredwithout having to wait much longer at Batavia. There is an old proverb,"It is an ill wind that blows no one good." The vessel for which theywere intended had lost her master and both mates by sickness, and themerchant therefore sold them to me. We had not altogether escaped, andseveral of our men who were perfectly healthy when we entered theharbour fell victims to the fever engendered by the pestiferous climate.We were compelled to fill up their places with others, who afterwardsgave us much trouble.
It was with sincere regret I parted from my friend Van Deck. I wasglad, however, to find that he was likely to obtain employment suited tohis talents under the English Government. The most direct course forNew South Wales would have been through Torres Straits, but the easttrade wind still blowing, compelled us to take the longer route roundthe south of New Holland, and through Bass's Straits, not many yearsbefore discovered, between that vast island and the smaller one of VanDiemen's Land. A northerly breeze at length coming on, enabled us tosight the south-west point of New Holland, and thence we sailed alongthe coast, occasionally seeing tall columns of smoke ascending from thewood, showing the presence of natives.
On approaching Bass's Straits, the captain was one day expressing hisregret to me that we had not time to anchor off one of the islands in itto catch seals, great numbers of which animals frequented the place inthose days. He had known, he remarked, considerable sums made in thatway in a very short time. Our conversation, it appeared, was overheardby one of the men we had shipped at Batavia. We had had a good deal ofinsubordination among the crew since we left that place, and we tracedit all to that man, Miles Badham, as he called himself. He was aboutthirty, very plausible and insinuating in his manner, a regularsea-lawyer, a character very dangerous on board ship, and greatlydisliked by most captains. He had managed to gain a considerableinfluence over the crew, especially the younger portion. His appearancewas in his favour, and in spite of the qualities I have mentioned, Iwould not have supposed him capable of the acts of atrocity which werewith good reason laid to his charge. Ben Stubbs, the second mate, hadcharge of the deck one night, and, unable to sleep, I was taking a turnwith him, when Mr Gwynne, the surgeon, came up to us.
"There is something wrong going on among the people below," hewhispered. "I cannot make out what it is exactly, but if we do not lookout we may possibly all have our throats cu
t before morning."
"You must have been dreaming, Gwynne," answered Stubbs; "there isn't aman in the ship would dare do such a thing."
"I am not certain of that," I observed; "at all events, let us be on theright side. Forewarned, forearmed. We will let the captain know, and Itrust that we may thus defeat the plot, whatever it is."