On 4 June 1629, the Dutch East Indies Company (VOC) ship Batavia slammed into a reef off the Western Australian coast, stranding over 300 men, women and children far from any immediate hope of rescue. But that was just the beginning of one of maritime history’s most appalling chapters. About 40 died when the ship ran aground, or in the immediate aftermath, as waves pounded her until she broke apart. But a nightmare far, far worse awaited those survivors who thought they had escaped disaster by reaching ashore alive.
The 650-ton merchant ship Batavia was launched in 1628 and was immediately adopted as the VOC’s flagship. She sailed from Texel, in Holland, on 29 October of the same year, with a flotilla of six other vessels, all bound for the Dutch East Indies (present-day Indonesia). The ship’s hold was filled with a general cargo, but also included a fortune in gold and silver coins. Passengers on board the Batavia included several women and children, all family members of VOC officials. Counting the sailing crew, a complement of soldiers, there were, in all, 341 souls.
Shortly after setting off, the convoy became separated during a powerful storm. The Batavia and two other ships remained together as they sailed South until they reached the Cape of Good Hope. There, the Batavia was beset by a problem of a more human character.
While stopped at the Cape of Good Hope, Francisco Pelsaert had cause to reprimand the Batavia’s captain, Adriaen Jacobsz for drunkenness. Pelsaert was the VOC’s most senior merchant in the flotilla and had overall command of the Batavia, including its captain, Adriaen Jacobsz. The incident would leave the captain with lingering bitterness toward Pelsaert. Another VOC official travelling to the East Indies was a man named Jeronimus Cornelisz, but more about him a little later.
After leaving Cape of Good Hope, Pelsaert fell ill and spent much of the time confined to his cabin. Meanwhile, Jacobsz and Cornelisz are thought to have formulated a plan to seize the ship and its treasure of gold and silver and do away with Pelsaert and anyone else who got in their way. The first step was to lose the two other VOC ships it was sailing with. One night in the middle of the Indian Ocean, Jacobsz bore away from them before returning to a westerly course. But, before he and Cornelisz could fully implement their plan and take control of the Batavia, she ran aground on Morning Reef in the Houtman Abrolhos Islands about 60 km off the Western Australia coast.
Around two hours before dawn, Pelsaert was thrown from his bunk as the ship struck the reef. Shortly after sunrise, Pelsaert, Captain Jacobsz and about 40 others set up camp on what would later be known as Traitors Island by those who were left behind. Most of the passengers, the soldiers and the rest of the crew were ferried to nearby Beacon Island along with what food and water could be saved from the wreck. Cornelisz and about 70 or so sailors opted to remain on the Batavia now stranded high on the reef.
Rather than consolidate the survivors in one place and provide leadership when it was most needed, Pelsaert decided he would take the Batavia’s longboat and go in search of water. With him went every senior officer, a small number of passengers, and several sailors to work the boat, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves.
The longboat with 48 people crammed on board made for the mainland but failed to find fresh water. They then ventured north possibly as far as Northwest Cape before Pelsaert ordered the captain to make for the Dutch East Indies to seek help. The journey took 33 days, and they arrived without any loss of life, which, to be fair, was no small accomplishment. On reporting the loss of the Batavia, Pelsaert was provided with a vessel to go and rescue the remaining people and bring back the gold and silver and anything else of value that could be salvaged.
Meanwhile, an unimaginable struggle was playing out among the castaways. Jeronimus Cornelisz had finally landed and taken control of the survivors. He had remained on the Batavia plundering its treasures and alcohol until it finally broke apart, spilling those still on board into the sea. Cornelisz spent two days adrift clinging to a timber plank before he was washed ashore on Beacon Island. Of the 70 or so who had remained on the ship, only 30 made it to dry land.
Cornelisz was perhaps the worst possible person to lead the survivors. He was a follower of the heretic artist Johannes van der Beeck. Van der Beeck believed that God had put people on earth so they could enjoy their lives in sensual gratification and that religions, including Christianity, restricted those pleasures. It’s thought that Cornelisz may have fled Holland, fearing imminent arrest for his heretical beliefs. And, now that he was stranded on the Abrolhos Islands in the middle of nowhere and free of any moral constraints, he was determined to see out his life in hedonistic bliss. That was, of course, unless Pelsaert returned to rescue the survivors. In that case, Cornelisz planned to seize that ship and make his escape with the Batavia’s gold.
As the most senior VOC official on the island, Cornelisz took charge and ordered the soldiers to hand in their weapons. He also placed all the food and other supplies under his control. Cornelisz ordered Corporal Wiebbe Hayes and about 20 soldiers to go across to West Wallabi Island to search for water, promising he would send the boat back for them in due course. Cornelisz didn’t expect them to find any water and had sent them on their way so they would no longer pose a threat to him and his plans. He assumed they would be unable to get back off the island and eventually die of thirst.
He then sent his henchmen out to begin systematically murdering the survivors. Some of the castaways were taken to Long Island ostensibly to look for food and water, where they were abandoned. Others were taken out in boats where they were drowned, and yet other men, women and children were simply butchered in their camp. Interestingly, Cornelisz did not personally kill anyone, preferring to have others do his dirty work for him. Several of the women were kept as sex slaves, including the beautiful 27-year-old wife of a senior VOC official in Batavia named Lucretia Jansz. Cornelisz claimed her for himself. The massacres essentially had two aims. The first was to remove any challengers to his authority, and the second was to reduce the population to make their supplies last longer.
To Cornelisz’s surprise, Hayes eventually signalled that they had found water on the island. The soldiers had also sustained themselves hunting wallabies, which they found in plentiful numbers. But before Cornelisz thought to send some of his men to investigate, Hayes had already been warned of the terror unfolding on Beacon Island by some of the survivors who had made the perilous passage to West Wallabi on pieces of wreckage.
When Cornelisz and his men finally went to deal with the soldiers, they found that Hayes had organised his men, armed them with makeshift weapons and they had built a breast-high redoubt from which they could repel attackers.
The skirmish proved disastrous for the mutineers. Several were killed by Hayes and his men when they tried to storm their fortification. The rest withdrew in defeat, abandoning the island to the soldiers.
Cornelisz then went to meet with Hayes in person to try and persuade him to join the mutineers, but to no avail. In a second skirmish, Hayes took Cornelisz and several of his men prisoner, but the rest escaped in the boat they had come to West Wallabi Island on. From then on, the two parties were at an impasse; neither had the strength to defeat the other. But in October, more than three months after abandoning the Batavia survivors, Pelsaert sailed into sight. The fate of the remaining survivors now rested on a race to reach the rescuers. It was a close-run affair, but Hayes got to Pelsaert first and reported what had taken place in his absence. Finally, the reign of terror came to an end, but not before more than 100 men, women, and children had been brutally murdered.
Cornelisz’s remaining men were quickly rounded up. Cornelisz and six others had their hands cut off and were then hanged on Long Island after confessing their crimes. Two more were left to their fate on the Australian mainland near present-day Kalbarri, and the rest were taken to Batavia, where they were tried and later executed. Captain Jacobsz steadfastly denied ever conspiring with Cornelisz to mutiny, but he appears to have seen out his days in Batavia’s prison.
Far from emerging as a hero, Pelsaert was found partly responsible for the tragedy. A VOC inquiry condemned his decision to leave in the longboat, feeling he should have remained with the Batavia survivors, where his leadership could have prevented what took place. Pelsaert lost his entire life savings in fines, and less than twelve months later, he died a broken man. The true hero of the terrible tale was Corporal Wiebbe Hayes. He and some of his men were promoted in rank for their actions. A statue of Hayes stands on Geraldton’s foreshore, 90 km away from the islands, as a testament to his humanity, devotion to duty and courage.
The Batavia Tragedy is one of the 60 stories that can be found in “Tales from the Quarterdeck.”
© Copyright C.J. Ison / Tales from the Quarterdeck, 2023.
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