Nathaniel's nutmeg (23 page)

A Pathan warrior from the frontier approached one of
the Emperor's sons for a job but, when asked what pay
he expected, said he would not work for less than 1,000
rupees a day. The prince was taken aback and asked how he
could justify asking for such a huge salary. 'Make trial with
me with all sorts of weapons,' he said, 'and if I do not
perform as much as I speak, then let me die for it.'

Later that evening, the prince went to visit his drunken
father and repeated this amusing story. The Emperor
immediately commanded that the Pathan be brought
before him and also asked for the strongest and most savage
lion he possessed to be led into the palace. When asked by
the emperor why the Pathan thought he was worth such a
great salary, the man repeated his earlier challenge. Jehangir,
bleary-eyed from drink and by now slurring his words said,
'That I will
...
go wrestle and buffet with this lion.'

The Pathan protested, saying that to fight a lion without
a weapon was no test of strength. But Jehangir was in no
mood to change his mind. 'The King,' writes Hawkins, 'not
regarding his speech, commanded him to buckle with the
lion, who did so, wrestling and buffeting ... a pretty while:
and then the lion being loose from his keepers, but not
from his chaines, got the poore man within his clawes, and
tore his body in many parts: and with his pawes tore the
one halfe of his face, so that the valiant man was killed by
this wilde beast. 'The Emperor so enjoyed the spectacle that
he called for ten of his horsemen to wrestle with the lion,
three of whom lost their lives.

He was no less unpredictable with his ministers. One of
Hawkins' friends at court, the Chief of the King's
Wardrobe, had the misfortune to smash one of Jehangir's
favourite Chinese dishes. Knowing the Emperor would be
furious if he discovered the accident, he sent a servant to
travel over the whole of China to find a replacement. The
man searched in vain. Two years after the accident — and
with still no sign of the servant — the Emperor asked the
Chief of the King's Wardrobe for the dish and was told it
was broken. 'Now when the king heard [this] he was in a
great rage, commanding him to be brought before him and
to be beaten by two men, with two great whips made of
cords: and after he had received one hundred and twenty of
these lashes, he commanded his porters, who he appointed
for that purpose, to beate him with their small cudgels till
a great many of them were broken. At least twenty men
were beating him, till the poore man was thought to be
dead, and then he was hauled out by the heels and
commanded to prison.'

The following morning the Emperor demanded to
know whether the man was still alive; when told that, yes,
the man had survived the ordeal, he ordered that he spend
the rest of his days in prison. At this point Jehangir's son
intervened, secured the poor man's release and nursed
him back to health. But still the Emperor was angry.
Summoning the trembling fellow into his presence once
again, he dismissed him from his court and told him 'never
to come again before him until he had found such a like
dish, and that he travel through China to seek it'. The man
voyaged the length and breadth of the country for fourteen
months but had no success in finding a copy. At length he
discovered that a similar dish was owned by the King of
Persia who sent it to him out of pity

Hawkins eventually tired of the constant bloodshed and
debauchery and grew fearful that the capricious Emperor
would turn against him. One minute he was in favour, the
next minute he was despised: 'Thus', he writes, 'was I
tossed and tumbled in the kind of a rich merchant,
venturing all he had in one bottom and, by casualtie of
storms or pirates, lost it all at once.' When he was told his
allowance had been annulled Hawkins knew it was time to
pack his bags. He headed back to Surat with Mrs Hawkins
and found himself in luck. A new English fleet under the
command of the recently knighted Sir Henry Middleton
had just arrived from Arabia and was presently at anchor
off the bar at Surat.

Hawkins sailed home a disappointed man. He had been
sent to India with high hopes of striking a deal with the
emperor but, after almost three years of constant
petitioning, he had left the court empty-handed. On a
personal level, the mission had also failed. Jealous of
Hawkins' influence over the Emperor, his fellow sailors did
their utmost to undermine his reputation on their return.
Purporting to be scandalised by his drunkenness, they told
the East India Company directors that his debauchery at
court had led to his disgrace. It was an unlikely charge but
it stuck. In any case, Hawkins was in no position to defend
himself for he fell sick on the long journey home and died
shortly before arriving in England. The loyal Mrs Hawkins
was distraught. Unable to live on her own she sold a very
valuable diamond, married a factor called Gabriel
Towerson, an experienced East India trader, and
accompanied him back to the East.

Chapter Five

'Admiral,
We Are
Betrayed!'

To the handful of
observers gathered on Dover's cliffs there had rarely been a more magnificent sight.

A flotilla of ships was flying up the Channel, the
wind filling their sails and their pennants streaming behind
them. But these were not English vessels, nor were there any
English sailors on board. The fleet was commanded by a
Dutchman, Jacob van Neck, who was about to bring untold
wealth to his mercantile masters in Amsterdam.

Rarely would expeditions pass as smoothly as Jacob van
Neck's, which returned to Holland in the summer of 1599.
He sailed to the East without any untoward incident and
successfully bought an enormous quantity of spices in
Bantam before heading for home. On later voyages he
would find himself accused of sodomy, would lose his hand
in a gun battle and eat a poisonous fruit which temporarily
afflicted him with 'madnesse, seeing angels, devils, serpents,
all things and nothing'. But on this occasion he was spared
such troubles and his return was a cause for joyous
celebration, for 'as long as Holland has been Holland there
have never arrived ships as richly laden as these.' Indeed
they were: nearly a million pounds in weight of pepper and
cloves as well as half a ship-load of nutmeg, mace and
cinnamon. The commander and his men were feted as
heroes: led by a band of trumpeters they were paraded in
triumph through the streets of Amsterdam while the city's
church bells rang out in celebration. The merchants
presented van Neck with a glittering golden beaker (a
generosity somewhat marred by the discovery that it was
only gold-plated) and the crew were given as much wine
as they could drink.

The success of the voyage was due to van Neck's skill
in dealing with the natives in Bantam. Three years
previously the choleric Cornelis Houtman had battered
the town with his formidable firepower, slaughtered
hundreds of the local population, and even had the
audacity to train his largest cannon on the King's palace.
Van Neck was a shrewd enough operator to realise that
any redress for Houtman's behaviour would be welcomed.
Not only did he agree to the King's prices, he boldly
suggested that he pay over the odds for the goods in order
to cement their new-found relationship. 'Some may
think', he wrote in his journal, ‘that we are a bit too liberal
with the money of our masters. But if they will look at it
soberly, they will have to agree that, at places where our
nation previously left as an enemy, a certain amount of
goodwill is not misplaced.' He was aided in his task of
mending fences by Bantam's merchants who had recently
captured three Portuguese vessels, stripped them of
everything of value, and set fire to them. Aware that the
Portuguese were sure to avenge this wanton act of piracy,
the Bantamese were desperately in need of a powerful ally.

A brisk trade followed van Neck's arrival and within
four weeks the three ships under his direct command were
filled with spices. His only concern was what had
happened to the second squadron of his fleet, not sighted since Madagascar. But as New Year's Eve approached and
van Neck planned festivities for his crew, these other ships,
commanded by the splendidly named Vice Admiral
Wybrand van Warwyck and the Arctic explorer Jacob van
Heemskerck, sailed into view. 'They were joyously
received,' records the ship's journal, 'and made welcome.'

None was happier than Jacob van Heemskerck who, just
two years earlier, had been stranded in the Arctic when his
search for the fabled North-East Passage was brought to an
icy halt. Now, basking in the tropical heat of Bantam,
Heemskerck found himself in considerably more genial
surroundings. Back among old friends, he threw himself
into the festivities. His own voyage had been better than
many; stumbling across a paradisal island in the middle of
the Indian Ocean — which he named Mauritius — his men
stuffed their bellies with the easy-to-catch wildlife and
amused themselves by lounging on the beaches and riding
four-abreast on giant tortoises. Realising that Mauritius
could be a valuable port of call for Dutch ships
Heemskerck put a rooster and some hens ashore and
planted orange and lemon seeds, invoking 'the Almighty
God's blessing that He may lend His power to make them
multiply and grow for the benefit of those who will visit
the island after us'.

Jacob van Neck's frantic buying had left the port of
Bantam bereft of spices. Before sailing for home he
suggested that the rest of the fleet sail east to the Spice
Islands where it was certain they would be able to procure
a full cargo of nutmeg and mace. This they duly did:
Warwyck headed for the northernmost island of Ternate
where he fired so many rounds of ammunition in
celebration of his safe arrival that the very island was said
to quake. Heemskerck, meanwhile, had sailed into even
remoter seas. Fearless and daring, he had his eye on the
Banda Islands - as yet unvisited by either the Dutch or
English — and sailed eastwards with a bravado that was not
always appreciated by his on-board merchants. When one
of their number suggested that the captain should be more
careful with his ships, Heemskerck exploded: 'When we
risk our lives,' he said, 'the Lords of the Company may
damn well risk their ships!'

He also had to risk a monster, a creature of 'devillish
possession' which was said to live in the Banda Islands and
prey on passing ships. Fortunately his Indian pilot knew
just the method of dealing with such monsters: 'With a
terrible ghastly countenance [he] thrust forward the boat-
hook' as if to kill the devil. This did the trick, the monster
remained out of sight and in mid-March, 1599,
Heemskerck dropped anchor at Great Banda and
petitioned the local chieftain for trade. The Bandanese were less than happy to see this band of
Dutchmen arrive at their shores. Almost ninety years of
contact with the Portuguese had taught them to treat all
foreigners with mistrust and the arrival of the Dutch
seemed to portend some new and menacing threat.
Scarcely had Heemskerck's vessels dropped anchor in the
huge natural harbour at Neira than Gunung Api, a volcano
which had lain dormant for centuries, suddenly burst into
life and sent a spectacular display of fireworks into the
tropical sky. 'The hill cast forth such hideous flames, such
store of cinders, and huge streames that it destroyed, burnt,
and broke downe all the thicke woods and mightie trees,
overwhelming them as it were her owne vomiting so that
a greene leafe could not be seene in all that part of the
iland.'The locals were reminded of a prophecy, told them
five years earlier by a Muslim holy man, that an army of
white strangers would shortly arrive at the islands and take
them by force. Since the Dutch ships were heavily armed,
and Heemskerck appeared to take a keen interest in the
local feuding, it was widely agreed that this was that white
army.

After the presentation of lavish gifts, and repeated
assurances from Heemskerck that he was a sworn enemy of
the Portuguese, his men were allowed to land on Great
Banda and barter their knives and mirrors for nutmeg and
mace. The Dutchmen spent almost a month buying spices
and were allowed to trade peacefully and undisturbed,
though not without quarrels: A man needs seven eyes,'
recorded Heemskerck, 'if he does not want to be cheated.
These people are so crooked and brazen that it is almost
unbelievable.' Nevertheless, the prices they paid for nutmeg
were laughably low (less than one English penny for ten
pounds of nutmeg) and their cargo would increase many
thousand-fold in value by the time they arrived back in
Holland.

A house was rented on Great Banda and soon local
boats began arriving from the neighbouring island of
Neira. Trading was temporarily halted when the Banda
Islands were plunged into war as rival chieftains

embarked
on a series of ambitious head-hunting expeditions. The
menfolk of Neira, together with their allies on nearby Ai
Island, went on the rampage, killing their enemies and
adorning their boats with the bloody trophies of battle.
They even chopped off women's heads, contrary to
tradition, although they had the good grace to 'burie these
heads in cotton clothes'. On their return, 'with their
swords yet bloody, [they] made glorious muster of
themselves four or five days together.'

Such localised wars were a recurring feature in the Banda Islands and the Dutch were soon to exploit them to
devastating effect. But for the moment Heemskerck was
happy to watch from the sidelines and gather intelligence
for future expeditions. When he finally set sail on his
homeward journey he left behind a party of twenty-two
Dutchmen and instructed them to stockpile nutmeg in
preparation for the next Dutch fleet. His parting
conversation with the headman of Great Banda provoked
an unusual request: drawing Heemskerck to one side the
headman confessed to an abiding passion for horology and
begged the Dutch commander to return to the island with
a large grandfather clock, adding the proviso that any
representation of man or beast must be removed since it
would cause offence to his Muslim islanders. Heemskerck
agreed, but as there is no further mention of the clock, the
request seems to have been conveniently forgotten.

The Dutch captain finally arrived back in Amsterdam
in the spring of 1600 and was accorded a welcome no less
rapturous than had been given to van Neck. When his
nutmeg was finally unloaded into the city's warehouses,
'the air of the whole neighbourhood was sweetened by
their savoury smell.'