The Golden Cross (38 page)

“Get out of there!” Aidan whispered under her breath, her eyes fastened on Sterling’s broad form. “For heaven’s sake, row for your lives! They are waiting for you!”

As if he had heard her whispered plea, the lead man—she thought it was Holman, skipper of the
Heemskerk
, lunged back into the barge. The oars flashed like the wings of a dragonfly as the boat retreated; within the space of a few moments the men were scrambling up the netting, nervously looking over their shoulders toward the shore.

“
Sakerloot
, what a noise!”

“Did you ever hear the like? It curdled my blood!”

“Goejehelp!
We must be away from this place!”

Dr. Thorne came aboard quietly, with a relieved expression on his face. “I’m only glad no one was hurt,” he called up to the captain as he passed. “’Tis obvious they had set an ambush. I
would imagine that our presence in the harbor spooked them as much as they disturbed us.”

The sight of smoke rising from the treetops convinced the captain that a landing should be attempted elsewhere. At the moment, he urgently needed fresh water, not an armed confrontation with savages. He’d been commissioned to find new lands, gold, and silver, not native peoples. The Dutch had dealings with more than enough tribes already.

“Let us move away from here,” Tasman called, his voice ringing out over the now quiet sea. “Helmsman! Signal the
Zeehaen
, and indicate that we will move north in search of an uninhabited shore where we can refill the water casks.”

The helmsman ran to obey, and Aidan turned to Heer Van Dyck, who had watched the entire episode with an agonized expression on his distinguished face. “I had hoped they would be friendly,” he said sadly. “I had such high hopes.”

He had left his walking stick in the cabin, so Aidan gave him her arm and led him back to their quarters.

Quieter water and calmer weather allowed the two ships to anchor at a smaller, uninhabited island near “Van Diemen’s Land” and finally put ashore for supplies. When Sterling Thorne pointed out that no Dutchman had actually set foot on Van Diemen’s Land to officially claim it, Tasman considered his options. Rather than send another attention-attracting barge filled with seamen, he decided to send the ship’s carpenter overboard. The poor man, encumbered by a burden on his back and so frightened he could barely swim, bobbed between the ship and shore for what seemed an eternity, then scrambled to the beach and hastily erected a wooden marker emblazoned with the arms of the House of Orange. With Dutch possession thus officially established, the hapless man dove back into the surf and swam like a fiend to rejoin his comrades.

By December 4, Tasman had navigated three-quarters of the
island and convinced himself of its size and breadth. With bad weather looming in the north, he decided to quit Van Diemen’s Land and continue on his eastward tack.

Aidan knew Heer Van Dyck was bitterly disappointed that he was not able to explore the newly discovered land, but the elder gentleman shouldered his disappointment with a touching attempt at indifference. He pretended not to mind that one-quarter of Van Diemen’s Land remained uncharted. After the episode at Storm Bay, a measure of light dimmed in his eyes, and for the first time since she’d known him she felt his spirits begin to flag.

She knew he strongly disagreed with Tasman’s decision to quit the island before completely circumnavigating it. “He is a sailor, though, not a cartographer,” he explained to her in the privacy of their cabin, “so I must be patient and excuse him.” His lids drooped over the crescents of flesh beneath his eyes, and the hands upon his knees trembled. “But as an explorer, I would have thought the desire to know would have held him to his task. If a thing is only half done, it is not done at all, no?”

Aidan spoke in soothing tones, urging him to bed, to rest. During the journey she had come to play the part of confidante, daughter, and apprentice to her mentor. Apart from her, the old gentleman had no one in whom he could confide. His status as a gentleman automatically set him apart from the rough seamen, and his aspect as an artist effectively separated him even from the other officers.

Aidan alone understood. Like him, she was an outcast, but life on the fringe of shipboard society did not bother her. Occasionally she looked toward the
Zeehaen
for a glance of Tiy, thinking that it might be fun to play a hand or two of cards with the other ketelbinkie, but more often her eyes and ears were attuned for the sight and sound of Dr. Sterling Thorne. He had begun to call at their cabin before settling into his own cabin at night, for Heer Van Dyck’s failing health had also attracted the doctor’s attention. The old gentleman had developed a cough that would probably
not become serious, the doctor told Aidan, unless he allowed himself to dwell in a state of melancholy. He would have to lift his spirits, and the sooner the better.

On December 13, blessedly few days after their last sight of land, the lookout again gave a cry. The captain immediately stepped out of his cabin and was rapidly flanked by his officers. Aidan and Heer Van Dyck joined the crowd at the railing for a look at the majestic land that rose like a treasure from the sea.

A mountain range topped by pure white clouds towered on the horizon. The image struck Aidan with breathtaking intensity, and for the first time in weeks she felt an irresistible urge to paint.

“Surely this vast elevated land is the edge of the fabled continent,” Tasman called, too overcome by the grandeur of the scene even to reach for his spyglass. Absently he gestured toward the coxswain at the helm. “Take her northward along the shore, sir, until we find a suitable harbor. God did not will that we explore that miserable land we found earlier. This must be the haven we seek.”

For the next four days the two ships slowly followed the shoreline of the promising land, and on the evening of December 17 Tasman gave the order to drop anchor. Convinced that he had found the uncharted continent he set out to discover, the sight of inland fires and smoke did not deter him. “God brought us here without losing the life of a single man,” he told the crew of the
Heemskerk
as they gathered on the deck at sunset. The officers of the
Zeehaen
had arrived by barge a few moments earlier. “Tomorrow morning we shall disembark and send a party ashore. We will not go bearing arms this time—no muskets, no swords, no weapons of any kind. The natives here will see our peaceable intentions, and God will honor us.”

“Captain.” Francois Visscher stepped forward and smiled briefly, the white of his teeth flickering in the torchlight. “If I might urge caution, would it not be wise to aim our cannon toward land in case of an attack? These natives, no matter what
sort they are, have never seen a cannon. They cannot know that we have aimed a weapon toward them, but our men will have the security of knowing we stand at their backs, ready to defend them.”

“God will know too.” Tasman pressed his hand to his chest. “And he will know the true intentions of our hearts. No, we will proceed as I have said.” He paused, hearing the murmur of discontent that rippled through the crowd, then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I cannot, however, send a man ashore without his dagger, for men are armed with a blade even in church. No visible weapons, then, though each man may carry his blade hidden behind his back or in his boot. But no muskets, no swords, no torches, and—” He looked pointedly at Visscher. “—no cannon. How can we be sure the Spanish have not found this place? We do not know these people; we do not know what they have seen.”

Visscher responded with a stiff salute, then stepped back into his place.

“One more question.”

Aidan jerked her head around as Dr. Thorne stepped forward, his countenance shining with resolve. The men shifted their positions to see him, respect and admiration on their faces. He’d set at least a half-dozen broken bones and applied poultices to two dozen bruises, so they had come to trust him completely.

“
Who
will go ashore?” he asked, his eyes snapping with curiosity. “I’m sure those who are going would like to spend the night with such knowledge before they depart in the morning.”

Tasman pressed his lips together, considering the question, then nodded.

“A good point,” he said. He gestured toward Gerrit Janszoon, skipper of the
Zeehaen
, who had come aboard for this meeting. “The
Zeehaen
will send her own barge, and Gerrit can make his own choice of men. As for us of the
Heemskerk
, you, doctor, shall surely be needed. Francois Visscher shall go, of course. We must send the chaplain to consecrate the shore, a carpenter, a pair of rowers—”

“Captain Tasman.”

Aidan’s heart froze in her throat when she realized that Heer Van Dyck had spoken.

“Please, sir.” The old gentleman stepped forward and gave the captain a gallant smile. “It would be a very great honor for me to venture aboard with your men. It is a story I would rejoice to tell my grandchildren when we return home. And,” he inclined his head toward Aidan, “my young apprentice would like to search for unusual flora and fauna. The V.O.C. would be very pleased if we were to bring back a pictorial record.”

Tasman’s gaze seemed distracted for a moment, then he shook his head. “You may go, Heer Van Dyck,” he said, frowning. “But not the ketelbinkie. A boy that scrawny can serve no practical purpose and is only likely to get in the way.”

“Pray reconsider, Captain.” Aidan flinched as a heavy voice broke into the conversation. Glancing behind her, she saw that the first mate of the
Zeehaen
, Witt Dekker, had stepped forward. With a thin smile on his lips, the
Zeehaen
’s first mate gestured toward Aidan. “Captain Tasman, the ketelbinkie would undoubtedly be of service to the old man. What’s the harm in letting him go ashore?”

Anxiety shot through her at the thought that Dekker had even noticed her existence, but the
Zeehaen
’s first mate barely glanced at her as he made his suggestion.

Tasman frowned for an instant, then nodded impatiently. “Very well, with the cartographer and his boy, the barge is filled. Once these seven are safely ashore, the boat may return for another party.”

“Dank u wel, mijn vriend,”
Heer Van Dyck answered, bowing again. Aidan watched, amazed, as the entire gathering silently watched him return to his cabin, almost as if they stood in awe of this regal man. Would she ever command that kind of respect as a great lady? Perhaps. If she was successful in this venture.

Tasman tweaked the end of his moustache, gave the foreign
shore a last appraising look, then nodded with an abrupt jerk of his head. “Sleep well,” he called, as a dull rumble echoed from the mountains in the distance. The meeting ended, and the men retreated to either their posts or their hammocks.

Aidan paused at the threshold of the cabin and studied the dark horizon. Stars gleamed like crystal diamonds in the cloudless black canopy. Why, then, did she hear thunder?

She shivered as the truth slammed into her—the rumbling sound was not thunder, but the rapid, staccato sounds of drums. For no reason she could name, the sound raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Her master’s insistent voice urged her forward. “Aidan! Get you to bed! We begin our work tomorrow!”

She stepped into the cabin and saw that the fire of passion burned again in Heer Van Dyck’s eye.

“Help me pack my little bag, will you?” he called, rocking on his hips as he looked around the cabin. “Where are my pencils? And the board with my Not paper?”

“Here, sir.” Aidan batted away the recurrent gnat of worry and stooped to help her master.

“Sakerloot
, Aidan! Rise and look!”

Startled by the urgent tone of her master’s voice, Aidan rose from her bunk and padded in her bare feet to the porthole. What she saw in the water froze her blood.

Sometime during the night, while the winds blew and the drums pounded, native warriors had entered their boats and pushed off from shore. Pods of natives rode the waves now, only a few yards away from the
Heemskerk
and
Zeehaen
, awaiting the strange visitors who had arrived with the evening tide.