From: L' Ermit (lhermit@hotmail.com)
Date: Sun Jan 20 2002 - 18:39:26 MST
An extract from the draft of a work of unpublished fiction by the Hermit,
which gives a taste of Mauritius, hurricanes and the late 17th Century. All
of the people, attitudes and locations are real (extracted from letters and
diaries), as are most of the stories (those about Roelof Deodati and
Mauritius are dramatized directly from his official diary); they have simply
been rearranged and some of the tales filled in with supposition and
attributed to different people in order to make the story flow better. It
has not been through the editing process and could probably be improved by
reducing it's length.
The narrator (and principle character) is a "skelm" (an amusing crook), the
kind of person who opened up the East (and the ladies of the East),
traveling in company of "Dion" a lieutenant in the VOC (Dutch East India
Company) and Willem van der Stel, son of the then Governor of the Cape
(later to be governor himself until dismissed for malfeasance) and an even
bigger crook. Perhaps you should know that by mass and by volume, ambergris
was much more valuable than gold, being used as the basis for many perfumes
which were used in 17th Century Europe to hide less salubrious odors.
As expected, on leaving the Cape we took a long dog leg to sea as Dion had
told us that Captain Schoeman was afraid, not only of the terrible shoals
along the Cape coasts, but also of the pirates who made their base on
Madagascar. As we approached landfall at Mauritius, I found myself even
more impressed with the natural beauty than I had been at the Cape. A range
of huge mountains, with quaint jagged peaks, rising straight up from the
sea, their heights covered in mist, the slopes in dense vegetation. As we
sailed towards them, their appearance continuously changed, as the mists
swirled about thickening and lightening, at times forming a belt around the
girth of the island, allowing us to see the peaks and the base, but not
their middle. Around the base of the island a lagoon is found, of the
clearest water I had ever seen, but surrounded by a fearsome reef. On the
beaches, giant palm trees stood in serene tranquillity. We anchored in a
sheltered bay called Warwyke’s Haven, beneath the impressive Lion Mountain.
The ostensible purpose on calling at Mauritius, aside from loading fowls,
bread, vegetables and water was to unload eleven convicts whom Simon had
banished from the Cape. Of course Willem and I had a certain barrel of
ambergris on our minds, and took the first trip on the pinnace to meet the
Governor. Having expected to find Roelof in a state of some concern,
instead we found him at the end of his tether. Despite its pleasant
appearance, the island was in chaos.
Inspecting his books while he organised the victualling, we found that a
hurricane had recently struck the island, and in his log he had written “The
wind was so loud, like the sound of terrible thunderbolts which came so hard
upon each other that we could not hear ourselves speak. There was heavy
rain such as I had never seen. The sea rose amazingly high, and two flood
tides followed each other without any ebb, the low ground of the island was
covered with water, so we could not escape to the mountains. On the plain
about the lodge the water stood nine feet deep, and rushed down from the
mountain so strongly that all the small cattle and stags were swept away to
sea. Next day we found many of them washed up on shore. Fifty-seven cows
and oxen of the company were lost. The roof of the lodge was blown off.”
As the roofs of the buildings were simply matted latanier leaves, and not
realising that he had entered the room, I made some remark that perhaps
Roelof had overdramatised the situation. “Of course!”, he said, “I always
exaggerate! Follow me.” He led us to the cemetery where a crew of slaves
was still busy reburying the bodies, which had been washed from the ground
and littered over the beaches. “Would you like to live in a place where not
even the dead can rest in peace? Where you are tortured by insects at all
times? Where bloody Frenchies come to cause trouble?” Roelof continued for
some time in this vein, before we had to return with the ship’s boats,
having arranged to meet again that evening.
As we returned to the beach we found Dion examining a strange vessel which
we were told had been blown to the island by the storm. Apparently the
savages who had sailed it had been enslaved, so Willem and I took the
opportunity to investigate it. A great Canoe had been fastened with timber
to a smaller float. Between these hulls a mast had been erected, upon which
a lateen like sail was positioned. The vessel had no rudder, but was
steered with an oar. It carried no ballast, and had no keel, relying only
on the resistance created by the hulls for stability. Dion, Willem and I
took the vessel into the bay, and discovered that it could sail faster than
any other boat that Dion had seen. Unfortunately it was too small to be
useful for any commercial purpose, and its rapid up and down bobbing made it
anything but comfortable.
That night, after separating from Dion, who had already discovered a bevy of
ladies quite happy to entertain him for an appropriate consideration, Willem
and I visited Roelof at the lodge. There he regaled us with his tale of
woe, and the troubles that he had had to survive.
Morrons, wild descendants of escaped slaves who lived in the mountains and
who preyed on his settlement. The collapse of the Ebony market which had
been the islands’ greatest source of income. The fact that Simon did not
care for him as he had been begging for years for a new saw to replace the
worn out blade which was all they had to cut timber. Sugar cane, which might
have been a useful product if his colonists had not discovered how to brew
arrack, a foul beverage on which most of them stayed drunk. British and
French vessels whose captains would anchor off the island and send boats
ashore to steal food and water without payment (the few who did pay the levy
were provided with a hunter and allowed to use the sluices to fill their
water casks.) Marauding bands of pirates attacked the outlying settlements
and stole away into the night before action could be taken to capture them.
Rats, wild pigs, monkeys and tortoises which destroyed the crops as they
were planted. The lack of a surgeon, so that he had to treat his men as
best he could; and watch the ‘best’ men die of evil tropical diseases.
‘Best’ being relative, as according to him, he only received brutal,
slothful creatures from the Cape. Roelof’s view was that Holland sent its
worst criminals to Batavia, Batavia sent their dregs to the Cape, and the
Cape was sending the very worst of its criminals to him.
On top of all this, the hurricane which had just passed had almost generated
a mutiny as the men wanted to abandon the station. The volcano on
neighbouring Reunion rumbled every year or two, causing the ground to shake
and always portending some further disaster.
Tired of this shabby little man’s excuses and hoping to find some other
topic of conversation, I asked about the French he had mentioned that
morning. Little did I expect the diatribe that followed, although I noted
it verbatim in my diary the next day in case I was required to repeat it at
some later stage.
“Well that’s a perfect example of the situations I get landed with. Only a
month after I arrived here, I took a voyage of inspection around the island,
trying to catch foreign vessels. When I got to the Black River area, what
should I find but a bunch of rubbishy Frenchmen living with our settlers.
Of course I tried to find out about them, and discovered that they’d told a
bunch of lies about being Huguenots who had been sent to settle the island
of Rodrigues by the Chamber.”
“You mean the V.O.C. Council of XVII?” asked Dion.
“Of course you young fool! Do you think I meant the bathroom?” expostulated
Roelof. “As I was saying, they claimed the Company had fooled them by
calling the island ‘Eden’, as if the honourable men in Amsterdam would ever
do a thing as dishonest as that. After three years they claimed to have
become ‘lonely’, so they decided to take a leisurely voyage here instead.”
“Anyway, I’m not a total fool, so I asked the settlers whether they had
brought anything with them, and that’s when I heard they had brought an
enormous lump of ambergris with them, worth a fortune, and had bartered it
with the settlers. Well, the leader, Jean de la Haye, a pirates name if
ever I heard one, then lost his temper and demanded the ambergris back,
claiming that he hadn’t known it’s value. Well I soon stopped that
nonsense, I confiscated it immediately, telling those fools that ambergris
is the exclusive monopoly of the company.”
“Then I brought the whole bunch of them back to the fort gave them a shack
and provided them with food, telling them that we felt sorry for them, and
would look after them till we could put them on a home bound ship. Of
course, this was because I was fairly sure they were survivors from a pirate
vessel and didn’t want them roaming about and becoming acquainted with the
island. When I found out they were still trying to do this, so I forbade
them to go out of sight of the lodge.”
“Then these traitors, not satisfied with what they’d already done proceeded
to plot with a company soldier to steal a boat, kill the crew and sail to
Bourbon, where the French are. Fameurs (that was the soldier’s name)
betrayed them though, once he had sobered up, probably hoping for a reward.
He got one all right, two months solitary bread and water and thirty
lashes.”
“I arrested the Frenchies, and under threat of torture, two of them sort of
confessed, saying that they were tired of being treated like enemies, but
asserted they had planned only to tie the sailors on the boat to a tree.
The rest claimed not to know anything about it. Now if that wasn’t proof of
piracy, then I don’t know what is. Well we fixed them good. I didn’t want
to execute them, just in case there was some truth in their story, so I
marooned them on an islet about an hour from the fort, with the ringleaders
in leg irons and manacles. This island is only a lump of rock some two
hundred paces long and one hundred wide with nothing but a small shack on
it, so what mischief could they get up to? That’s what I believed anyway.”
“I thought I’d seen the last of my troubles, and about three months later
had managed to forget them, when our ship the Perseverance arrived. There I
was having a comfortable evening talking with their officers, rather like
tonight, when what should the guards bring in? Nothing but two of these
miserable excuses for half humans, who had made a raft out of some water
barrels and seaweed to try to get ashore.”
“The Perseverance’s Captain wanted to know what was happening, at which
these Frenchies told the same sob story as they told me. As I had not had a
chance to explain the situation to the ship’s officers, the Captain was
sympathetic towards them. He wanted me to let them return to Europe with
him. Well of course I said this was impossible, discipline would
immediately break down if my men saw that these bastards could get away with
making a fool out of me. Then the Captain wanted me to let them back onto
the land, saying that my punishment had been inhumane, so I explained to him
that I’d only one or two soldiers I could trust, and I couldn’t spare them
as prison guards. I’d been as lenient as I could, and the Frenchies were
lucky not to have been executed. Naturally the Captain then was full of
stories about the injustice of my having punished all of these liars as one,
since only two of them had confessed. How could I have done otherwise, I
ask you. I could see they were all as guilty as sin, but I told the Captain
that it was impossible to tell the guilty from the innocent.”
“What does that sentimental fool do next? Off he goes to the island where
he gives the pirates a load of ship’s food, biscuits, rice, even wine and
tobacco. Then he promises to bring their ‘plight’ to the attention of the
chamber. Of course I confiscated the goods as soon as the Perseverance
departed, but having forced me into this untenable situation what could I do
but write a letter giving my side of the case and addressing it to your
father.” He said to Willem, “Did he say anything to you about it?” Willem
directed a look at me, as if to say “What a sniveling jerk” and only
answered “The matter has been directed to Batavia for a decision.”
I saw Roelof blanch, and realising that he was off balance asked him “Do you
still have the ambergris?”
“Oh yes.” He said, and then understanding what he had done, looked even more
disconcerted. “Is it in the Captain’s report?” he asked.
Willem who is as sharp as a needle if he sees a gain for himself, replied
“Yes, my father was surprised that you had not included the cask with your
letter.”
“My God, what am I going to do, I’ll be charged with corruption.” Said
Roelof. “The last Governor of this hell, Isaac Lamotius spent six years in
chains, on a convict island, for that.”
Not telling him that we had the report with us, or that the punishment
sounded appropriate, I suggested that we could possibly take the ambergris
with us to Batavia, and hand it to an officer of the company. He behaved as
if he had been reprieved from the scaffold, and leading us to a storeroom
showed us the barrel and asked if we really meant that we would take it with
us.
“Of course we will, and that will stop the corruption charges,” Willem said,
“but why don’t you recompense the colonists for it too, which will stop them
from laying charges of theft against you.”
“What, those pirates accuse me?” his voice trailed off. “Colonists?”
“Oh yes,” said I, “did we forget to tell you, their story is true, they were
installed as settlers by the company in 1691. Dropped off by L’Hirondelle
on Rodrigues - but in order to make it more marketable they called it Eden.”
“But, but why didn’t they tell me?”
“They did.” I said, calling for the servants to carry the barrel to the
pinnace.
Knowing that we had ensured slightly better treatment for his prisoners, and
a profit worth several years income for ourselves, quite aside from having
avoided the pox in the overplowed fields of these islands, Willem and I
headed straight back to the pinnace. There abandoning Dion for the night, we
consoled ourselves with the sleep of the just.
The next morning we hoisted anchor and set sail, with a very unsteady
looking Dion asking where we’d been. Willem took delight in saying “Luke
2:49.”
“What the hell?” asked Dion.
“Oh, taking care of his father’s business.” I said.
As we left the Reunion behind us an alert lookout spotted a frigate which
had been tacking towards us, as she came closer, she turned and ran. A
little discussion and it was decided that she was a pirate or privateersman,
indistinguishable as the difference so often is. Captain Schoeman decided,
with a great deal of encouragement from Dion, Willem and myself to pursue,
but as evening fell she was almost hull down to us. We abandoned the chase
and instead determined to anchor off Rodrigues and investigate this desert
island for ourselves.
The next day we spent on Rodrigues, which has no natural harbour, although a
most beautiful coal reef surrounds the island. Having passed the reef, we
found that while the island has a black volcanic cliff all the way around
it, this cliff is pierced with many delightful bays. Each one of these is a
gem of nature, with clear sea water, having scarcely a ripple, running up to
a small beach invariably headed by a cluster of palms standing sentry duty.
On the north-north-west coast, we finally found the abandoned settlement,
where a stream ran down a small, well-wooded valley, ending in a marshy
area; but the lack of an harbour explained why there had been so little
interest in the colonists. These settlers had built crude houses of
latanier trunks, but they were already collapsing back into their natural
state, and their garden had been devastated. In the remnants we found a
giant among tortoises, fully 6 feet across. We slaughtered it, and sent it
back to the ship with a party of sailors. From this tortoise we obtained
over three hundred and fifty pounds of meat. The settlers had left a record
of their occupation inside a bottle, placed in a niche they had carved in a
tree. We made a fair copy and witnessed it, adding as a codicil that of
their subsequent history with which we were familiar. We removed the
original to take as evidence to Batavia, but placed the copy back into the
receptacle as a memorial to these brave (or stupid) souls. While exploring
the area, we found a gigantic cavern, quite filled with stalactites and
stalagmites, to say nothing of delicate waterfalls of crystal, with a stream
running through the centre. A little further up the cave I found a dry
area, accessible only via a natural construction that looked like a crystal
pulpit, in which skeletons of strange animals and birds were scattered.
Willem and I looked for signs of a predator, but finding nothing, assumed
that this area must have fulfilled a similar function for these creatures as
the legendary elephant graveyards in Africa.
At dusk we stood off from the island, and finding the first hints of the
great south-east winds proceeded on our long journey.
In less than two months we passed through the perilous Sundra Strait, and
set our anchors again, this time in the anchorage at Jakarta. Willem and I
dressed in our court clothes and were landed together with the captain and
his friend the dour cleric, whence we proceeded directly to the Council
chambers. The Captain to arrange unloading of our cargo of Spanish silver
cob money, building materials and wine; the priest to do whatever priests
do; Willem and I to deliver the despatches and report on the situation we
had found at Mauritius.
The town of Batavia is laid out in classical form, with wide gravelled roads
meandering alongside canals and streams of water. All the water is yellow
in colour, due to the clays on which the island is formed. The Company
buildings stand in a cluster of whitewashed severity, appealingly combined
with the Roman bricks with are used as ballast by our vessels coming out
from Holland. As we walked, we were stared at by the coolies, as if we were
curiosities, and dressed in our finery, we might have been, as everyone we
saw was wearing sombre clothes and accompanied by picanins bearing thatched
umbrellas with which they shaded their masters’ heads.
Due to the severity of the pending case, Willem and I were detailed to
attend on a court of inquiry, scheduled for the next afternoon, and in the
meantime we were told to educate ourselves about the situation in Batavia.
This, of course, suited us to the ground, and no sooner had we been
dismissed than I set out (Willem in tow) to locate Hans Vermaak, my contact
for silver supplies. Late that afternoon, we finally met up with him in a
spice house, and arranged to stay with him while in Batavia. Willem
returned to the ship to arrange transportation of our property to Hans’
house.
That evening a right royal repast was laid out for us, where we all drank
rather more beer and wine than we normally would, as it is the only way to
prevent tropical disease. Over brandy and pipes Hans, Willem and I
discussed the opportunities that the “silver mine” could provide us. The
first item we arranged to convert to silver was the cask of ambergris. Hans
had all the needed contacts, and was a lot less concerned about the
possibilities of being found out than I, claiming that the only likely
consequence of being discovered would be that the amount paid in bribes
would have to increase.
As Willem and I had been deprived of nubile entertainment for the previous
month we were greatly relieved to discover that the evening entertainment
included the use of three young slaves of the female persuasion. I was even
more pleased to discover that they were clean and presentable
thirteen-year-olds with Hans had purchased two weeks earlier. Hans had
personally broken them in to harness, and they were as yet unused by anyone
else.
These girls were trained in the strange art of sexual dancing, and it was a
delight to watch them perform to the strange music of a local band. Hans
had renamed them as Delta, Epsilon and Zeta, which he said was much simpler
than the fifty syllable names they had previously responded to. When I
asked him why they were not Alpha, Beta and Gamma, he responded that like
Cato, he believed that old slaves should be sold and the previous three had
been worn out.
The girls were Taoists and this belief system includes the idea that the
more women a man sleeps with, the more benefit both partners will receive
from the act. In fact their book of philosophy states that ‘If in one night
he can have intercourse with more than ten women, it is best.’ Hans claimed
to have converted to this religion, but felt that if we wanted more than
three girls we should procure them for ourselves.
Retiring to a more secluded room with the girls, we practiced Marcantonio’s
positions, some of which Hans had not seen before. In return, he and the
girls demonstrated a number of eastern positions, some of which could only
be carried out by acrobats as skilled as these girls so pleasantly were.
All three had the most powerful and controlled cunts that I had ever
experienced. They could inspire the same pleasure by manipulating these
organs, as western girls achieve with their mouths. When I asked Zeta how
she achieved such marvellous control, she showed me a set of ‘Burmese bells’
or Ben Wah as they term them. These are two small silver gloves, one having
a tiny vibrating tongue, and the other being partly filled with quick
silver. These balls are inserted into the love canal, and by dint of much
practice the girls learn to move them up and down its length, by squeezing
the muscles of the vagina. She claimed that the sensations available from
this exercise are almost as pleasing as the delights available with a man,
and I can certainly attest to their efficiency in improving the sensations
available during coition.
The next morning we rose late, and Hans in his usual organised fashion had
already arranged to have our barrel emptied, filled with wax and resealed as
a substitute for the ambergris. This we took to the Companies main store,
and handed it in for safekeeping. In return we received a receipt for
‘goods confiscated at Mauritius, one small cask and contents, sealed’,
written out by Willem, as the clerk was barely literate. The receipt would
serve to protect us if ever there were an inquiry and Hans guaranteed us
that cask, contents and probably receipt would have disappeared within a
week, as the chaos, disorganisation and corruption in the stores would
operate in our favour.
We then proceeded to the square before the court, where the judges were
seated at a table, shaded with umbrellas, before the gibbets and torture
stakes. As we arrived, they had achieved a confession of theft from a young
savage by means of the heated pincers. Willem and I were interested to
discover that the judges passed sentence while the young man was still tied
to the stake, and that rather than hanging him, he was executed with a
garrotte in the Spanish style. In the same way they then executed a number
of other convicts who had already been found guilty of various offences.
After the execution the bodies were suspended at the gibbets on flensing
hooks. Willem and I introduced ourselves to the judges and in the course of
our discussion we discovered that it was impossible to leave the bodies for
more than a day, as the heat and humidity caused rapid putrefaction to set
in. For this reason it was permitted to remove the bodies each evening,
unless the crime had been particularly vile, in which case the head was
severed and impaled upon a stake at the marketplace as a warning to the
coolies. We were relieved to be told by Hans that Dutchmen were hanged as
Christians, rather than being garrotted, which punishment was reserved for
slaves and savages.
During the noon meal, which we held at the club, Hans offered a bet that no
action would be taken after the hearing that afternoon, as a consequence of
the Governor being friends with Deodati. Willem and I declined the bet as
he knew more about the eastern ways of doing business than we, and thereupon
returned to the company offices for the hearing into Roelof Deodati’s
conduct. The council had considered the report from Simon, and once they
had read the journal we had brought with us, Willem and I were called in to
personally testify to what we had seen and heard. The Governor went to some
lengths to explain to us that we should not judge too harshly, as the norms
that prevail in civilised countries cannot be adhered to when dealing with
savages. He told us too, that the Island of Mauritius had a negative effect
on the personality, and that every person to have held the post of Governor
there had come to an unfortunate end, so that he personally felt the Roelof
was performing well under difficult circumstances. After we had reported
(with some moderation after perceiving the Governors partiality) we were
lead out of the chamber and enjoyed some refreshments while waiting on the
deliberations of the council. Eventually, we were called in and the
Governor explained to us that the matter could not be resolved. Deodati
would remain as Governor, insufficient evidence of his incompetence having
been officially presented, but that the matter of the Frenchmen would be
reported to Holland. In the mean time, the council did not feel they should
override the judgement of the man on the spot. So much for our famed
justice system.
All rights reserved, Hermit, 1998-2002. This document is not to be reposted
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