Introduction by Cyndy Kitt VogelsangI am not at liberty to share how I came into possession of this apparent
log entry from Matthew Flinders circumnavigation of the continent that
would, after his suggestion, come to be known as Australia. I have only
taken a few liberties with my transcription and edit of the document,
but these were mostly for ease of understanding for a 21st century reader.
At the time the log entry was made The Investigator (Flinders's ship)
was anchored in the shallow sheltered pass between Bentinck and Sweers
Islands in the Gulf of Carpentaria. These islands are the traditional
country of the Kaiadilt people. I was reluctant to use the term "Indian"
for indigenous people, but as this is the term that Flinders used it seemed
dishonest to use a more modern term. I did, however, use the modern accepted
spelling for Kaiadilt as Flinders used two different phonetic spellings. |
| 21 November 1802 With our vessel securely anchored I went on a private expedition across Sweers Island to Inspection Hill in the late afternoon ostensibly to take bearings but I also wanted time away from my company to consider our options. There was not much in the way of the timber resources the carpenters may need to secure the hull in anticipation of the monsoon season; I fear The Investigator is in a more desperate state than anyone dares to imagine but the next few days will either allay or confirm my fears. The light was fading fast as is the norm at these latitudes as I returned to the longboat and meditated on my ship just visible in the distance. There is little to no coverage on the island so I must have been lost in my thoughts as they were interrupted by an stranger greeting me thus; "She is more reminiscent of a colander than a boat" The stranger's accent reminded me of Sir Joseph Banks and while the tone was mocking it was without malice-indeed it mirrored my own musings had I not also been despairing the need to return to Port Jackson for substantial repairs. As for the strangers appearance; it was an oddly dressed lad of 17 though short and slight even for that age. To meet an English lad on this shore rendered me speechless with surprise so the stranger continued with an introduction, "Capt. Merande of the Emelsa. You met with some friends of mine yesterday and I was asked to intercede." Merande let this information sit with me-the only people I had met were the Indians on Allen's Island-before adding "It is best your crew remain ignorant of my ship, but I believe you need me to complete your mission and we can be useful to each other." I admit I scoffed something along the lines of "Need you? You are a child! What possible assistance could you render?" as I tried to take the measure of this self proclaimed captain. Merande bubbled with laughter, "I am older than you Commander Flinders, by about four years I believe. You should know better than to judge a person by their appearance." I held my temper and took deeper measure of the stranger and realised the slight figure in front of me was female and though more tanned and muscular, not at all unlike my dearest Ann. Merande continued, "You need timber, ingredients for caulking and I am wagering your stores need replenishment." She paused, this time to take my measure, "I can also be an ambassador of sorts between yourself and my Kaiadilt friends. I will require payment of course for my service." This Capt Merande was an imperious sprite. It had become dark as pitch in the minutes since our meeting as there was no moon; the only light was from the stars. I could no longer read her expression, but her shadow sat down by some low scrub and it appeared to be an invitation to join her. Her tone was low and confidential as I sat beside her, "I'm an independent trader. Although I have been sailing this part of the world since before I could walk; copies of your charts would be useful." I wondered out loud if she were a French spy as she appeared far too familiar with my mission. There was that low bubbling laugh again and I felt a sharp pang of homesickness for Ann. "I doubt there are many who are completely ignorant of your mission Commander. So, not a spy, nor am I French . . . or English for that matter. I belong to no country. I sail under my own flag." "A pirate then?" Again, that laugh as she repeated, "Independent trader." "So a smuggler!" Merande's eyes glittered with starlight as she continued to laugh and shook her head. I don't think she took my accusations very seriously. "I have suspected for some time we'd understand each other Commander, indeed, I am counting on it." Her tone became serious, "There is something else. I need you to make these islands and the country of this gulf as unappealing as possible. This land belongs to people. You know the mess the British have made of Port Jackson and the other colonies down south. British would never survive up here, but they would ruin it for the Kaiadilt and all the other tribes." Even in the dark I could feel Merande's eyes burning into me like coals. There is truth to her appraisal. She was only asking me to be more honest than Capt Cook and my friend Sir Joseph had been when they surveyed Botany Bay. The charts were another matter. While my meeting with Capt Baudin on the southern coast was cordial, Napoleon has ambitions I'd rather were not assisted by my work. Merande let me sit with my thoughts for a minute or two. We could hear the crew on board the Investigator, I expected someone would be missing me soon. "I always keep my word Commander, ask your friend Bungaree. If we have an agreement, meet me at the base of that hill on the other side of the island. Best not mention me to your crew though, other than Bungaree, and I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow." I felt as though I was being dismissed so got to my feet and offered her my hand so she could either shake it like a gentleman or raise herself to her feet like a lady. Capt Merande acted both the gent and the lady. Before I took my leave I asked if Merande was her Christian or her surname. Once more that laugh that made me ache for Ann, her broad smile unnaturally white in the gloom as she took her leave after an enigmatic "Neither." As I rowed back to the ship I did wonder if the interview had been an hallucination, it all seemed so unlikely. I had so wanted Ann to accompany me on this mission, and she would have made a grand sailor, so practical, so charming. As I imagined Ann in trousers and a shirt and it was hard not to blur that image with Merande. By the time I had climbed back on deck I had all but convinced myself that the strain and worry of the last several months had led me to losing my reason but just to settle my curiosity I did seek out Bungaree to ask what he knew of a lady ship's captain, his glee and knowledge of the lady's name was as honest a confirmation as anyone could have that I was not suffering some tropical madness. Despite the assurances from Bungaree, I still don't trust Capt. Merande, but I will keep my appointment with her tomorrow as I had already planned a return to Inspection Hill (the only significant rise on the island) to make more observations for the rates of the time keepers. Bungaree is most eager to accompany me, saying he had been a crewmember of Emelsa shortly after my return to England and had found it a "jolly ship". |
| Please note that this tale is available as a chapbook edition from Anne Bonny's Locker |
