Free Batavia by Peter Fitzsimons

of them, crammed into a tiny space stretching from the galley to the bows. Never are the common sailors allowed to move from their position for’ard of the mainmast to aft of it, where the constabel , master-gunner, and his under-officers hold sway.
    The constabel is ultimately responsible for all of the weaponry on board – the muskets and cannons – and all of the gunpowder, which is to be found in the armoury. If ever there is a battle, it will be his men who will fill the kardzoen , the paper sacks, with that gunpowder, to be delivered to each cannon as it is needed, and it is he who is ultimately responsible for the security of that armoury. Hence, the particular insistence that none of the common sailors venture aft, to get even remotely close to that armoury. If they breach that strict regulation, a lashing is a bare beginning to the punishment they can expect. It is equally verboden , forbidden, to wander to any other part of the ship, and even up to one of the top decks if it is not their watch, without being escorted by a petty officer.
    At least the sailors can get some fresh air and light when the gun ports are open, but those ports have to be firmly closed at the first sign of foul weather. They must void their bowels through one of two latrines – small holes in planks cantilevered over the bow of the ship, entirely public in nature and exposed to the elements. An optional extra is to haul up a line that trails in the seawater below and, through assiduous application of its frayed end, roughly clean one’s nether region before tossing it back in the sea. As desperately uncomfortable as this process of allemanseindje , literally ‘all men’s end’, may be, there is no alternative.
    The gun deck has the only open fire on the entire ship, which is to be found in the galley, right near the middle, where the mainmast finds its way through to rest on the keel far below. This galley, filled with shining copper cauldrons, is heavily lined with firebricks to stop a stray spark escaping and setting fire to the whole wooden vessel. It is here that nigh on a thousand meals a day are cooked.
    Just opposite the galley is a small room where the daily amount of food required – brought up every morning from the storerooms in the hold – is put to be prepared. A little along from that room is the surgeon’s room, and though it is not necessarily a reflection of the VOC’s view that the food produced by the galley is likely to make the ship’s company sick, it is still a propitious proximity.
    The role of the sailors is of course to raise and lower the sails at the skipper’s command, set them to the wind, swab the decks, repair the sails and the lines, and do those myriad things necessary to keep the ship moving around the clock through all weathers and climes.
    As to the sailors who are also gunners, theirs is primarily a defensive role, to repel any attacks from those hostile Portuguese or Spanish ships they might encounter. The gunners may even, if the occasion warrants, be required to fire upon the Javanese, who have reportedly been troublesome of late, around the citadel of Batavia.

    The various craftsmen necessary to maintain the ship share cabins that are scattered all over her, often below the gun deck. They are the carpenters, constantly checking, repairing and replacing the Batavia ’s multitude of wooden fittings, from deck board to stump atop the mainmast, from the truck at the taffrail to the head of the prow, not to mention all the stays and the yardarms, the halyards and braces; the caulkers, to pack the seams of the hull with pitch mixed with oakum (unpicked rope) or moss, to ensure that it remains absolutely watertight; the sailmakers, to constantly repair the set of the ship’s sails not currently in use, together with their attendant lines, which are always wet and always rotting; the cooks and their helpers, to turn the ever more rancid stores into three hopefully palatable meals a day; and