To the part of New Holland these privateers touched at they gave no
name. Dampier speaks of the latitude of it being 16° 50', but his
reckonings are not to be trusted. To judge by the tracings of the map
of this portion of the world in his first volume, the coast which they
first sighted was that of North Australia, and they probably anchored
off either Bathurst or Melville Island. Be this as it may, they did
not linger long. Dampier endeavoured to persuade the men to sail to
some English factory, but in return for his advice they threatened to
leave him ashore on the sands of New Holland, “which,” says he, “made
me desist.” They soon saw as much of Terra Incognita as satisfied
them, and on March 12th, 1688, they weighed with the wind at north
north-west and steered their ship northwards. They arrived at Nicobar
on May 5th, and here Dampier resolved to leave the vessel. Obtaining
leave to go ashore, he was landed on the sandy beach of a small bay
where stood two untenanted houses; but he had not enjoyed an hour of
liberty when some armed men came from the ship to fetch him aboard
again. Resistance was as idle as entreaties, and he was forced to
return; but on his arrival he found the vessel in an uproar. Others,
taking courage by his example, had also determined to leave the ship.
Amongst them was the surgeon. This man the captain flatly refused to
part with, and the hubbub was great. All this confusion and quarrelling
seems to have helped Dampier, for, after a deal of squabbling, we find
him and two others obtaining permission to quit the ship. They were
put ashore with their effects, and entering one of the unoccupied
houses, hung up their hammocks to prepare for the night. Presently more
men arrived, and they were now numerous enough to protect themselves
against the natives. It was a fine clear, moonlight night, and the
little company of buccaneers walked down to the beach to wait until the
ship should weigh and be gone, fearing their liberty whilst she stayed.
At twelve o'clock they heard her getting her anchor and making sail,
and presently she was gliding slowly and silently seawards, glistening
white against the ocean darkness to the rays of the high moon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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