Watchandi Man. Robert Hallsworth
over the low hills in the east to illumine a scene of great significance, which would go unnoticed and unrecorded by its unlikely cast of participants, for this would be the first full day of residence by white Europeans on the mainland of Terra Australis.
As the sun’s rays grew stronger, it drew them slowly back from their dream world. For an instant, the sensation of awakening to warmth and stillness was pleasing and comfortable in a way Wouter hadn’t felt in a long time. He lay still for a few moments, savoring the peace, the quiet, only disturbed by the distant sound of surf pounding on the beach and the occasional cry of a seabird.
A flicker of contentment crossed his mind for a second or two before the plight of their situation returned to bring him back to reality with a jolt. He rolled from his bed to stretch and yawn before wandering off into the scrub to relieve himself and gather dry kindling.
Returning, he found his companion sitting up gazing across the creek, his face devoid of expression.
Wouter poked and blew on the fire’s embers until the kindling he had gathered caught on, he glanced then, at Jan, but there was still no reaction from him, so in an effort to rouse him from his lethargy, he said, jokingly,
‘You look as if you are lost, just been marooned or something’ Jan glanced at him then and retorted with a sneer,
‘You think that’s funny, do you.’
Wouter shrugged and gave a grin,
‘Well, we have to stay positive, don’t we? look on the bright side, we could be dead, here now, come on, fetch that bag of groats from the boat and I will make us some porridge for breakfast, we may as well eat it while it lasts’.
Wouter fetched some water from the creek and poured it into an iron pot on the fire, ‘pour a handful into that’ Jan opened the bag, grabbed a handful and looked hard at it, ‘weevils’ he said,
‘don’t worry’ replied Wouter ‘beggars can’t be choosers, chuck it in any way and keep stirring, now, didn’t I see a jar of blackjack treacle’ he went to the boat, rummaged around among their supplies and found it, returning with a grin he declared
‘This’ll make the critters easier to eat. After we have eaten, I am going to go for a walk, a bit of a reconnoiter, see what I can see, you stay here and watch the gear.’
‘I don’t want to stay here on my own; I’ll come too.’
‘No, if the natives come along and steal our gear, what will we do?’
‘If they come when I am here on my own what can I do to stop them, anyway?’
‘Left all your bravado on the islands, did you? You were full of it there, running around with a knife threatening everybody. Not so bold without your precious master, Cornelizs behind you, eh?’
Finishing his porridge, Wouter went down to the creek and rinsed his bowl, returning, he donned his hat, stuck a knife in his belt and grabbed a flask of water. Turning back to Jan he remonstrated with his finger pointing to the ground,
‘Stay here, they probably won’t come near anyway, but if they do, stay calm, try to talk to them, remember what Pelsaert said, besides we need them’.
Jan’s only response was a surly look from beneath hooded eyes.
Wouter walked away, calling back,
‘I shouldn’t be too long, just a short recce to start with’, and with that, he was gone.
Jan looked around himself furtively, he drew his knees up to his chest in a subconscious symbol of self-protection, his thoughts drifting to his friend Pieter, now sailing to Java on the Sardam.
Peter, who had promised to come back and rescue him. ‘Hurry Pieter’ he thought, ‘Please hurry.’
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