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The story of the two men, Jan Pelgrom and Wouter Loos, begins with one of the most infamous incidents in maritime history, and its repercussions stretch to the present day. The ripples from this alien presence can still be detected more than three centuries on.
The Batavia Mutiny, as it has become known, may be perhaps more accurately described as the Batavia Bloodbath. The mutiny never really got off the ground, but there is a pressing need in history for readily understandable labels, regardless of precision. Whatever you call it, the Dutch East India Company's (VOC) new flagship, The Batavia, is central to the telling.
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Click to listen to the documentary |
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The Batavia, a splendid merchantman which shared its name with the capital of the Dutch East Indies, had been built in a hurry. Vessels were needed to ferry precious cargoes of spices and other exotic goods back from Holland's budding colonies in the east to a Europe desirous of luxury. The command structure of the Batavia and its companion vessels was, in keeping with Dutch maritime tradition, slightly odd. There was both a skipper and a commanding merchant on board. Such a divided hierarchy had its weaknesses, as would be demonstrated in the case of the Batavia. "There were overlapping authorities, so there was always a bit of conflict between the captain, who thought he was the boss, and the merchant, who thought he was the boss," says Stefanie Schneider of the Geraldton Museum. Piracy plotting
The Batavia set out to the Indies in a fleet under the command of merchant Francisco Pelsaert, but became separated from its companion vessels after leaving the Cape of Good Hope. The disgruntled skipper Adriaen Jacobsz plotted with the undermerchant Jeronimus Cornelius and other members of the crew to overthrow Commander Pelsaert and go a-pirating, but before they could put their plans into action, the ship ran aground in what appeared to be mid-ocean.
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Replica of the Batavia at sea |
They had struck the Abrolhos Islands, a low chain of reefs and atolls 60 kilometres west of the Australian mainland.
Islands of horror
Almost everyone on board - families, soldiers, and sailors - made it onto the islands alive. Pelsaert, along with most of the officers and Captain Jacobsz, left these 200-odd survivors to go in search of water. He eventually made it all the way to the Dutch colonial capital Batavia (now Jakarta), secured a rescue ship, and returned to the islands three months later. What greeted Pelsaert on his return at the Abrolhos was horrific.
The undermerchant Cornelius, the highest ranking officer left behind, had gone on an insane rampage. He and his henchmen had slaughtered at least 125 of Batavia's survivors, preying on fears of food and water shortages, manipulating and controlling others to ignore the infamous crimes that were going on all around. Some had resisted, others had collaborated. Among the killers were cabin boy Jan Pelgrom and soldier Wouter Loos. Caught up in Cornelius' evil tide, they raped and killed with a ferocity equal to the worst.
Saved from death
Pelsaert discovered all that had gone on in his absence, and was horrified. He rounded up the killers, tried them, and decided to execute ten of them on the spot. Max Cramer, who discovered the wreck of the Batavia in 1963, explains what happened next:
"He [Pelsaert] set up the gallows and was all ready, and they lopped off their hands prior to hanging them. I can imagine just seeing the cruelty... and there were two young boys, the ninth and the tenth, they would be probably having quite a bit to say that they were innocent - I imagine you'd try anything to avoid the gallows. And Pelsaert was obviously distressed."
Pelsaert's solution was to commute their death sentences and instead maroon the two "young boys" - Pelgrom was 18 and Loos in his mid-20s - on the mainland. So, on that November morning in 1629, they were put ashore in the middle of the vast West Australian coast with water, food, a small dinghy and some items to trade with the locals. Pelsaert's advice to them: "Man's luck is found in strange places."
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It has to be stated from the outset that what happened to the two marooned murderers next is speculation. Nothing concrete is known about them after Pelsaert sailed away from the beach, there is no unequivocal record of their existence from that point on. But there are some fascinating hints.
Impact of the strangers
Rupert Gerritsen is one of the foremost experts in Dutch-Aboriginal cohabitation, the study of how shipwrecked and marooned Dutch sailors joined with the original Australians well before colonisation. Gerritsen believes Loos and Pelgrom had a big impact on the local Nhanda people, genetically and culturally. He finds the cultural evidence in both the local language - which he claims is influenced by Old Dutch - and myths widespread among the tribes of the region at the time of British contact in the 19th century. These myths told that white people were dead ancestors returned.
"It's quite possible that these two mutineers, and the other Dutch sailors who found themselves stranded, might have been the people who triggered those myths," Gerritsen says: "Aboriginal people, when something new comes along, they try to incorporate that into their system of explanation. So quite logically, with alien beings, they would paint them as being mythological beings and so the stories the sailors would try to get across to them would then start to form the content of those myths." The genetic evidence focuses mainly on the 'European' features displayed by Nhanda people, noted by early European explorers in the region. Philip Playford, a geologist and respected expert on Dutch-Aboriginal cohabitation, believes that this type of genetic evidence is the most compelling argument for the survival of Dutchmen in Western Australia. There are also other arguments based on genetic disorders appearing in Nhanda people even today which are said to have a Dutch origin.
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But one of Gerritsen's most spectacular pieces of evidence is a plant, a type of native yam found in the region the two murderers were marooned and known locally as "adjuko" or "warren". Gerritsen claims this species, Dioscorea hastifolia, is descended from yams brought ashore by Pelgrom and Loos as part of their provisions. He also claims that a process of cultivation observed by early British explorers is the direct result of the Dutch influence.
"I think these sailors helped to kick off an agricultural revolution, which of course once they died, it developed its own trajectory, its own momentum. By the time British colonisation happened, they were coming across what is in fact an early agricultural economy."
If Gerritsen is right, the implications for Australian history and historical thinking are profound, and many do not agree with his findings. What is certain is that any nascent "revolution" in the local Aboriginal population was swept away in the flood of 19th century British colonisation, along with language, land and - finally - most of the Nhanda people. At best, only traces of Australia's first Europeans remain.
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Click to listen to the documentary |
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Those interviewed in the radio documentary are: Stefanie Schneider, Philip Playford, Violet Drury, Max Cramer, Jeremy Green, Corioli Souter, Howard Gliddon, Bill Mallard, Rupert Gerritsen and Deborah Wilmoth. |
Tags: aborigines, Abrolhos, Adriaen Jacobz, Australia, Batavia, Dioscorea hastifolia, discovery, Dutch, Jan Pelgrom, mutiny, Netherlands , Nhanda, Pelsaert, VOC, Wouter Loos, yam