The Golden Cross by Angela Elwell Hunt

Author:Angela Elwell Hunt [Hunt, Angela Elwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-45937-4
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 1998-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

Abel Tasman called a meeting that night. The men of the smaller Zeehaen crowded aboard the Heemskerk, filling the upper deck while Aidan’s shipmates hung from the yardarms and peered from hatchways that led below decks. Tasman stood on the high forecastle and looked down at his men … and one woman.

“Most honorable and courageous men,” Tasman began, his eagle eye roving over the assorted crew assembled below and around him. “Anthony Van Diemen, governor general of Batavia, commands us to go forth into the unknown to make a complete picture of lands north and west of the continent of Nova Hollandia. Tomorrow at high tide we shall sail first to Mauritius. From that point we will sail eastward at the southern latitude of fifty-two or fifty-four degrees until land is sighted.” The corner of his mouth quirked as he glanced at Francois Visscher, who stood next to him. “Though we are not expressly commanded to search for silver and gold, should we find it, we are not to dissuade any man from bringing aboard as much as he can carry.”

A great cheer rose from the men, and Aidan clung to a cable as the particularly robust sailor next to her thumped her enthusiastically on the back.

Tasman held up his hand and waited until the cheering died down. When the only sounds were the slapping, sucking noises of the tide beneath the dock, he pressed his hand to his chest. “Sleep well when your watch is relieved,” the captain went on, his gaze sweeping the crowd. “Work hard at your duties. We are well-provisioned and well-commanded. Let me introduce the officers of the command, so that every man, whether he sails aboard the Heemskerk or the Zeehaen, will know his officers.”

Tasman turned behind him to Francois Visscher, and introduced him as first mate of the flagship. In a surge of loyalty, the men of the Heemskerk, who had worked under Visscher’s strict discipline for the last week, gave a rousing cheer. Next Tasman introduced T’jercksen Holman, skipper of the Heemskerk, and Aidan rose on tiptoe to see him. A trim, self-confident presence, the skipper had spent most of the past week in Tasman’s cabin, doubtless planning the voyage. Aidan had passed the captain’s cabin several times and glanced through the portal, only to see the two men bent over charts spread out on the captain’s table.

Next Tasman introduced two men Aidan had not seen before. The first, Gerrit Janszoon, served as skipper of the Zeehaen. The skipper was tall, rawboned, and beardless, and looked about with an ingenuously appealing face. A small spattering of light applause sounded among the men, and Aidan marveled that the men of the Zeehaen showed so little enthusiasm for their skipper. When the weak applause ceased, Tasman gestured to a man who stood in the shadows of the foremast. The officer stepped forward, moving with nonchalant grace toward the forecastle railing. Towering over Tasman by a full eight inches, he wore no coat or uniform, only dark breeches and a full-cut shirt with the sleeves cut off at the elbow.

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