Lands of Red and Gold #33: Sprouting Stalks
“The Nedlandj are covetous and cunning, loud and quickly-spoken, and sail to the uttermost reaches of the world. Of balance they know nothing, for they proclaim for one god yet ignore his rules in pursuit of gold.”
- Anonymous Nangu sailor, describing the Dutch after visiting Batavia
* * *
Azure Day, Cycle of Water, 392nd Year of Harmony (3.13.392) / 30 November 1631
Crescent Bay, The Island [Kingscote, Kangaroo Island]
“This place is no longer what it once was,” Yuma Tjula murmured.
He needed only to feel the extra weight on his shoulders to know that, or glance at the men escorting him. Once, Yuma had walked alone anywhere on the Island wearing whatever sumptuous clothes he liked, armed with nothing but the common Nangu dagger which was as much tool as weapon.
Now, he did not dare. Whenever he set foot on the streets of Crescent Bay, or almost anywhere outside of the lands of his own bloodline, at least four men came with him. Four men armed not with the usual knife but with swords and maces. Four bodyguards. It seemed surreal, even now, like something out of the old days of vendettas.
Those old days had returned, though. Yuma no longer wore a gem-studded headwreath to proclaim his wealth. Instead, he protected himself with a bronze helmet of Tjunini manufacture, traded despite the war which consumed the Cider Isle. To protect his body, he wore an iron skin: Gunnagal mail, obtained in Jugara at a greater cost in dyes and spices than he cared to think about.
Security had replaced ostentation. Oh, not entirely. He had still found time to have the helmet adorned with a few black and fire opals around the rim, and he still pondered what could be done to improve the appearance of the mail. But the fundamental problem remained: with the Island consumed by feuds, he had to protect himself, or the only adornment he wore would be blood.
He guided his bodyguards past the docks, warily watching if any people in the crowd tried to press too close and slip in a knife. That was how the Beard, the elder of the Kalendi, had been hastened to his next life.
Given the rumours of how the Beard had behaved in life, Yuma thought that his fate was an inevitable consequence, but the Kalendi did not see the outcome that way. They had declared a vendetta on the Nyumatta bloodline, the first called on the Island for many years. Inevitably, further death had followed in the wake of that call.
As they neared the shipyards beyond the docks, Yuma saw that two ships were being built. Great-ships, from the size of the timber that had been assembled for the construction. Strange, indeed. Most ship-building had moved to the Seven Sisters [Eyre Peninsula] or the Cider Isle [Tasmania], since wood on the Island was more valuable for other purposes.
Yuma almost stopped to see what purpose these new great-ships were meant to serve. Until he saw the banner hung between the ships, a scarlet triangle with stylised bone-white forked lightning in its centre. The symbol of the Manyilti bloodline. Who had declared a feud with his own Tjula bloodline, over Yuma’s actions in inviting the Raw Men to visit the Island. No, he did not dare go there. He was not yet ready to reach his next life, and the Island did not need another vendetta such as would follow from his death.
Instead, he directed his bodyguards to step away from the docks and the water, into a street which ran between two warehouses. He wanted to keep well away from the Manyilti and their knives.
In any case, he could guess why they were building new ships, if not why construction was taking place on the Island. Word of Werringi’s return was spreading, and the Manyilti must expect more trade as a result. They might even be right; the Raw Men were said to love kunduri, as their first visit had confirmed. The Manyilti were well-represented in the trade with Tjibarr, which would let them obtain it to trade to the Raw Men.
Yuma stopped at an unremarkable stone building a short walk beyond the warehouses. Four more armed men stood at the front door, another reminder of how times had changed on the Island. This building was the official town residence of the elder of the Tjula, and served as the town headquarters for the bloodline.
The residence was built of undecorated stone. The lack of ostentation suited its purpose. Almost all of the bloodlines, including the Tjula, maintained grand buildings and estates out in the country. A legacy of the old times when most of the Islanders lived in country holdings, not in the new cities. Those days had long passed, but most bloodlines chose to spend their wealth in country dwellings, not in the crowded environs of Crescent Bay.
Inside waited Wirnugal, elder of the Tjula, and a half-dozen other trading captains. Wirnugal half-rose from his seat to acknowledge Yuma’s entrance. “Be welcome in my house, most senior of my captains.”
Yuma returned the greeting with equally polite forms, but those words still brought a twist to his heart. Once, not so long before, Yuma had been only the third most senior of the Tjula captains. That had been before the swelling fever [mumps] and the red breath [tuberculosis] swept through the Island. Now the bloodline had been deprived of the knowledge and skills of those former two most senior captains, at a time of great troubles.
For that matter, Wirnugal himself bore the marks of struggle; his face had more lines, his hair was white, and his voice lacked its former power. He had survived the red breath, but his days in this turn of life grew few. Which left Yuma feeling even more uncertain. He had always wanted to lead the Tjula, given time, but not so soon, and not this way.
Wirnugal said, “You have all heard, by now, of what Werringi claims to have done.”
“A very bold move, to sail around the world,” one of the captains said.
“If he speaks truth,” another captain answered.
“If what he says is true, he has not sailed around the world at all,” Yuma said. “He has only sailed across a small part of the world.”
Werringi had been coy about many of the things which he had discovered on his voyage. Doubtless he had carefully prepared charts, and those would be shared only amongst his bloodline’s friends. He had met with the Raw Men, and maybe he had established private bargains and obtained other secret knowledge
But what Werringi had revealed had been amazing enough. Yuma was still trying to fit his head around the idea of how big the world might be. A year to sail to the homeland of the Raw Men? Twice that, or more, to sail around the world?
Oh, he had always known that the world was round, as did any learned captain or other great man. To see that, a man only needed to stand on the hill of the Temple of the Five Winds and watch distant ships disappear below the horizon, their hulls vanishing first and only afterward their sails and mast. The scale, though...
“Can that be true?” said Njirubal, now the second-most senior Tjula captain, and a man who Yuma thought had reached that rank too soon.
Wirnugal provided the answer, though. “It can be. The world curves beneath our feet; this we have always known. Perhaps the Raw Men have told only half the truth, and they exaggerate the size of the world to dishearten us from sailing to their homeland. But this much my heart knows to be true: the world is much larger than we have ever known, and there are peoples whose wealth and power dwarfs that of the Yadji or Atjuntja.”
The pause which followed was long. Each man filled it with his own thoughts. Yuma wondered how the Raw Men had so much decisiveness, that they could sail so far. The others, no doubt, had other things in mind.
Sure enough, one of the captains said, “If we find them, the trade which would follow would surpass anything which the Atjuntja have, too.”
“Or it may bring us nothing but torment instead,” Njirubal said. “Witness how the Island seethes with feuds since the Raw Men first visited.”
That was a thought more worthy of the second-most senior trading captain. Yuma added, “And what if some kinds of Raw Men would bring war to the Island? The White City is full of stories of the war-making brought by some new group of Raw Men.”
Wirnugal said, “My heart tells me that the Raw Men will come to us again, no matter what. Better that we find them, too, no matter what else may happen. To act otherwise would bring only discord from their visits, without any counterbalance to bring harmony.”
Yuma nodded. As always, Wirnugal saw clearly. But then, what else was an elder expected to do? He said, “We need only decide, then, how best to contact the Raw Men.” Remembering Wirnugal’s words about balance, he added, “And whether to do it alone or in alliance with other bloodlines.”
Wirnugal frowned. “Truth indeed. Feuds bring disharmony. Perhaps only through joint action can we bring back balance on the Island.”
The Tjula settled down to discuss how best to reach the Raw Men.
* * *
For the first decade after de Houtman landed on the western shores of what they now called the South Land, the Dutch had only limited contact with the eastern inhabitants of the Third World. Failures of early exploration, the intransigence of Governor-General Coen and the disruption of the plagues combined to delay any regular contact with the east.
Motivation for more extensive contact came from several sources: the shock of the Spanish raid on Fort Nassau in 1631, obtaining copies of the charts of the first Islanders to circumnavigate the continent later that same year, and a growing appreciation of the native drug called kunduri. Rumours of more gold and spices to the east only added to the growing desire.
Lars Knudsen, the governor of Fort Nassau who had taken office in 1631, had been instructed as part of his orders to establish trade links with the Islanders and any other peoples of commercial interest in the east. While he spent most of his time rebuilding the damaged outpost, he also discreetly gathered what intelligence he could obtain about the eastern peoples, their languages, and their habits.
By a stroke of good fortune, one of the labourers obtained to help rebuild Fort Nassau had previously been drafted to work in the Foreign Quarter of the White City, and had gained a basic knowledge of the Islander language. With the help of generous gifts of steel, Knudsen arranged for the labourer to work permanently for the Company.
With this, copies of charts obtained from the Islanders, and other information garnered from Atjuntja sources, Knudsen decided that he knew enough to organise another expedition to the east. Using authority which was not formally his, he redirected two of the next group of ships to visit Fort Nassau, the Fortuin and the Zuytdorp.
The two ships were loaded with a variety of trade goods, particularly steel swords and other metal goods, textiles, and two rather expensive clocks procured by Knudsen after their original owners failed to interest Atjuntja merchants in trading for them. Knudsen had a hunch (correctly, as it turned out), the eastern peoples might find them of more value.
Knudsen gave command to Willem Cornelis, a young man [1] who showed talent, and gave him the services of several interpreters, most of whom spoke only the Atjuntja language, but including the one Nangu speaker available. The governor issued only broad orders. Renew contact with the Islanders and their neighbouring peoples. Validate the charts which the Company has received. Explore the potential for extending the Netherlands’ protection to any of the eastern peoples you may visit. Obtain a good price for the trade goods which you have been provided, and gather information about what goods are in most demand and of highest value in the east. Establish trade agreements or at least ongoing trade relationships, particularly for kunduri.
The two ships left Fort Nassau in February 1632, just as a chickenpox epidemic was sweeping through the Middle Country, brought either by those ships or others in the same fleet. After a quick voyage in strong winds, they reached the coast of what the Dutch knew as Valk Land [Eyre Peninsula], a shoreline dominated by bleak cliffs but with occasional openings. Venturing into one of those openings, they discovered a sheltered bay [Venus Bay] with tidal flats, islands and lagoons, but enough deep channels to let them sail further in.
On the shore, they discovered a city and port nestled among flat expanses of yam and cornnart [wattle] fields. The city’s inhabitants proved friendly enough, and through the Nangu-speaking interpreter, explained that this was the city-state of Luyandi [Port Kenny, South Australia]. Its elected ruler was named Maralinga, and he offered warm greetings to the newcomers, along with an invitation to trade food for any goods they might have to offer.
Luyandi was a Mutjing city-state, and like all of those cities it was under the economic hegemony of the Islanders, although it took some time for the Dutch to discover this fact. Islander hegemony had never been exercised through direct rule, only through trade contacts, religious pressure where required, and through mediating disputes between the Mutjing cities.
Always a man with an eye for opportunity, Cornelis extended a tempting offer to Maralinga: gifts of steel and textiles in exchange not just for food, but for a trade agreement with the Company. The Lords Seventeen are powerful, he explained, and their influence reaches across the world. They offer you their friendship, and more besides. Exclusive access to these trade goods, the only Mutjing city which would be granted that privilege. And protection from your enemies, if needed.
To cement his offer, Cornelis provided a demonstration of what sort of protection the Company could offer: first muskets, then cannon. Maralinga was most impressed, and indicated that he would welcome a trade agreement. With one codicil: Luyandi would not fight against the Island, and if the Dutch attacked the Island, the trade agreement would be void.
The Company offers only friendship and trade with the Island, Cornelis assured Maralinga. Wars are nothing but trouble and interrupt peaceful trade.
So Willem Cornelis became the second Company officer to strike a trade agreement with a South Land people, and started what would become a very long period of Company presence in Luyandi.
After sailing on from Luyandi, the expedition charted the coast of Valk Land, making brief contact with other Mutjing ports, but making no attempts to engage in further trade. Cornelis steered his ships along the eastern side of Valk Land, in the gulf which opened before him [Spencer Gulf], and thus he and his crew became the first Europeans to discover Dogport [Port Augusta] at the head of the gulf. This ancient port linked to the opal mines inland, and while under nominal Tjibarr rule, in practice it was controlled by the local Nangu port captain. Here, Cornelis traded for opals and other goods, and found that textiles and steel were again profitable goods, but he received only evasions when he tried to set up any more lasting trade agreements.
Sailing down the eastern shore of the gulf, which he named Brouwer Gulf after the new head of the Company in Asia, he had more contact with areas which were genuinely ruled by Tjibarr, but had no more fortune in securing trade agreements. Whenever he tried to find out who ruled any particular city, he would provoke an argument amongst the inhabitants, which would usually never be resolved.
He only had more success when he worked far enough along the coast to reach Jugara [Victor Harbor], a port which had previously been visited by François Thijssen in 1626, and where the Nangu port captain was only too eager to allow trade. The local Gunnagal factions quickly bid against each other to obtain European goods, and most particularly the two clocks. The holds of the Fortuin and Zuytdorp were nearly emptied and refilled with a large weight of kunduri, and smaller amounts of Gunnagal jewellery, perfumes, dyes, new flavours of sweet peppers unlike those grown in the west, and a new spice somewhat reminiscent of ginger [native ginger].
With his trading triumph, Cornelis deemed this an auspicious time to visit the Island, where he planned only to renew contact before sailing west for home. His reception on the Island was much less welcoming than he had expected; the Islanders had heard of his visits to Valk Land and Jugara, and expressed opinions varying between puzzlement and resentment about why he had not reserved his best goods to trade on the Island. Cornelis had held a few goods back, but they were the least valued of his ships’ contents, and the astute Islander captains recognised it. He secured some vague agreements from some of the bloodlines to consider his goods next time, but for the immediate time, most of them refused to take trade goods which they viewed as leftovers.
Worse was to follow. Cornelis wanted to sail directly home from the Island, but to do that, he needed a favourable wind. The prevailing winds blew out of the west, and his ships could not sail effectively into those winds. He waited for what he hoped would be a brief time, but week after week passed, with no sign of a change in the winds. His ships remained effectively trapped in Crescent Bay, unable to return to Fort Nassau.
The Islanders’ reactions changed from resentment to amusement, and in time to mockery. Cornelis and his crew were held on the Island while Nangu trading ships set out, week after week, including the departure of the main trading fleet to the Atjuntja lands. One less than tactful captain asked Cornelis how he expected to trade if he had only ships which were at the mercy of the winds [2].
Still, the time which his expedition spent in Crescent Bay was not wasted. Cornelis was not idle; he learned much of the Nangu language, and discovered much more of their customs and beliefs. He evinced a polite interest in the Pliri faith, enough to visit several of their temples, and established friendly relations with some of the priests. He built his knowledge of the bloodlines and the commercial rivalries which dominated Nangu society, and he kept detailed descriptions of what he had seen.
After four months on the Island, Cornelis in increasing desperation began to consider even sailing east around the South Land and returning to Batavia that way. He was spared that decision when, a few days later, the winds changed to blow steadily out of the northeast, and he launched the Fortuin and Zuytdorp back into the west. He returned to Fort Nassau after a total of eight months voyage, much longer than he had originally planned, and with a much greater appreciation for Islander seamanship.
* * *
[1] The Company has a lot of young men in its service at this time, since many of its more experienced employees have died of the plagues.
[2] The Nangu ships use a variation of the Polynesian crab claw sail (adopted from the Maori) which allows them to tack easily even into strong winds.
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Thoughts?
