For my part, if it is permitted me to offer a conjecture, I think that this information may have resulted from the faithlessness of Don Miguel de Sylva, bishop of Viseo, and secretary of La Purité, a favourite of the king of Portugal, who, according to De la Clede, left the kingdom about 1542, carrying with him some papers of importance with which the king had intrusted him.^[5] This historian adds, that Don John was so indignant at the treachery of his favourite, that he outlawed him by a public decree, deprived him of all his benefices, and degraded him from his nobility. He decreed the same penalties against all his followers, and forbad all his subjects to hold any intercourse whatever with him, under pain of his displeasure. The count of Portalegre, the brother of the fugitive, was even confined as prisoner in the tower of Belem for having written to him, and kept under strict guard, until the Infanta Maria, on the point of her departure to marry Philip II, the son of the emperor Charles V, begged his liberation. The king granted the request, on condition that the count should go to Arzilla to fight against the Moors, and earn by his services the forgiveness of his fault.

The severity which the king Don John exhibited on this occasion, sufficiently shows the value which he attached to the papers which had been taken away. It is evident that they were of the greatest importance. They were secret papers; and may they not have been those which gave information of the discoveries of the Portuguese? Our atlases, therefore, may have been copied from these stolen documents; and it only remains for us to discover what has become of the originals.

Now, although the theories to which these maps have given rise have been so complacently accepted by successive geographical writers, the subject has never yet been minutely investigated by any English writer, nor, indeed, have the foregoing arguments of the French been ever before brought together into a focus. The editor, therefore, first proposes to answer the hypothesis of M. Barbié du Bocage respecting the voyage he adduces of Gomez de Sequeira, and then, finally, to deal with the general question of the suggestive evidence of the maps.

With respect to Gomez de Sequeira’s voyage, it is certainly surprising that M. Barbié du Bocage should have contented himself with referring to Castanheda and Maffei for a slight and loose description of this voyage, when it was equally competent to him to have resorted to the more ample description of Barros, the most distinguished of all the early Portuguese historians, who lived in the middle of the sixteenth century, and who has devoted a whole chapter to the minute description of the voyage in question. (See Dec. 3, liv. x, cap. 5.) So full and ample is Barros’ narrative that, with a modern map before us, we can track Sequeira’s course with a nicety which, so far as the main question is concerned, is not interrupted even by the accidents of the storm and the unshipping of his rudder. Let the reader for a moment consult any modern map of the Moluccas and neighbouring islands, and he will find that the island of Celebes, to which Sequeira directed his course from Ternate, presents the northernmost of the three horns of its oddly-shaped outline at a distance of about sixty leagues from Ternate. This is the distance which Barros states that he had to sail in order to reach that island. Had he sailed to the nearest of the two other points his voyage would have been, instead of sixty leagues, more than twice that distance; whereas the very nearness of the island was a leading inducement for undertaking the voyage, as the object was to relieve the immediate necessities of the settlement at Ternate. Upon landing at the point thus shown to be the northernmost one, the fact of his having carried with him stuffs for barter being discovered by the natives, converted the friendly feeling with which they had at first received him into hostility, as, having heard of some previous acts of greediness on the part of the Portuguese, they immediately concluded that the visit was not made in a spirit of friendship, but from selfish and ulterior motives. Hence Sequeira and his party were compelled to make their escape in haste, and proceeded to four or five other small islands in the neighbourhood, at which they met with a like reception. The map will show these plainly to the north of Celebes. Resolving after these rebuffs to return to Ternate, they encountered a terrific storm, which drove them, to the best of their calculation, three hundred leagues, into an open sea, with not a single island in sight, but constantly towards the east. At length one night they struck upon an island and unshipped their rudder. They met with a most friendly reception from the natives, who are described as of a light, rather than a dark, colour, and clothed. The island is stated to have been large, and the natives pointed to a mountain to the westward in which they said there was gold. The Portuguese remained in the island four months, until the monsoon enabled them to return to Ternate.

Now, had Sequeira been driven by the storm towards Endeavour Strait, as presumed by M. Barbié du Bocage, a glance at the map will show us that his course would have been south-east instead of east, and that not through an open sea in which no island could be seen, but one bestudded with islands. In fact, so definite is the whole account as given in detail by Barros, that, as we have shown, his course under the driving of the tempest may be palpably traced in accordance therewith on modern maps as due east to the north of the Moluccas, and through an open sea, and is clearly at variance with the inference of M. Barbié du Bocage, who seems not to have consulted Barros at all upon the subject. To what island, the reader will ask, was Sequeira driven? Let the modern map be consulted, and the course described will bring us to the island Tobi, otherwise known as Lord North’s Island. A course so clearly defined is in itself a very strong point in the question, even though we may have to show some discrepancies between the description of the island on which Sequeira was thrown and that which we have in recent times received of Lord North’s Island. Let the reader, however, in connexion with Barros’ description of the course, take the following remarkable statement, as quoted in the 6th volume of the Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition, by H. Hale, in which, under the article “Tobi, or Lord North’s Island,” at p. 78, the following account is given, and he will perhaps not dissent from the editor in thinking it possible that this was the island on which Sequeira was driven.

“Tobi, or Lord North’s Island, is situated in about lat. 3° 2´ N., and long. 131° 4´ E. It is a small low islet, about three miles in circumference, with a population of between three and four hundred souls. Our information concerning it is derived from an American, by name Horace Holden, who, with eleven companions, after suffering shipwreck, reached the island in a boat, and was taken captive by the natives. He was detained by them two years, from December 6th, 1832, to November 27th, 1834, when he made his escape and returned to America, where he published in a small volume [which is in the British Museum], an interesting narrative of his adventures and sufferings, with a description of the island and its inhabitants.

“The complexion of the natives, says Holden in his narrative, is a light copper colour, much lighter than that of the Malays or Pelew Islanders, which last, however, they resemble in the breadth of their faces, high cheek bones, and broad flattened noses. Here we observe what has been before remarked of the Polynesian tribes, that the lightest complexion is found among those who are nearest the equator.

“According to the native traditions a personage, by name Pita-Ka’t (or Peeter Kart),^[6] of copper colour like themselves, ‘Came, many years ago, from the Island of Ternate, one of the Moluccas, and gave them their religion and such simple arts as they possessed. It is probably to him that we are to attribute some peculiarities in their mode of worship, such as their temple, with rude images to represent their divinity. The natives wear the Polynesian girdle of barb cloth.

“The houses of the natives are built with small trees and rods, and thatched with leaves. They have two stories, a ground floor and a loft, which is entered by a hole or scuttle through the horizontal partition or upper floor.

“For ornament they sometimes wear in their ears, which are always bored, a folded leaf, and around their necks a necklace made of the shell of the cocoa-nut and a small white sea shell.”

With reference to the cruelties detailed in Holden’s narrative, Mr. Hale goes on to say:

“It should be mentioned that the release of the four Americans who survived (two of whom got free a short time after their capture), was voluntary on the part of the natives, a fact which shows that the feelings of humanity were not altogether extinct in their hearts. Indeed, although the sufferings of the captives were very great, it did not appear that they were worse, relatively to the condition in which the natives themselves lived, than they would have been on any other island of the Pacific. Men who were actually dying of starvation, like the people of Tobi, could not be expected to exercise that kindness towards others which nature refused to them.”

We have quoted this somewhat long passage respecting Lord North’s Island, as having an incidental interest in connexion with M. Barbié du Bocage’s argument; but whatever may really have been the island on which Sequeira was driven, it seems clear that it could not have been in the direction of Endeavour Strait as inferred by that geographer.

Having thus shown the surmises which have been suggested by geographers of good repute with respect to the main question of the discovery of Australia in the early part of the sixteenth century, and explained, as he hopes satisfactorily, the errors into which they have fallen in their attempts at explanation, the editor will now lay before the reader his own reasons for concluding that Australia is the country which these maps describe.

The first question that will naturally arise is—how far does the country thus represented, correspond in latitude, longitude, and outline with the recognized surveys of Australia as delineated in modern maps? And if the discrepancies exposed by the comparison do not forbid the supposition that Australia is the country represented on the early maps, the inquiry will then suggest itself—how, with any satisfactory show of reason, may these discrepancies be accounted for? To both these questions, the editor believes that he can give acceptable answers.

And first as respects latitude. In all of these maps, the latitude of the north of Java, which is the first certain starting point, is correct. The south coast of Java, or “the lytil Java,” though separated from “Java la Grande,” or the “Londe of Java,” by a narrow channel, as shown in the maps here given, has no names which indicate any pretension to a survey. There is enough proximity between the two to suggest alike the possibility of a connection or of a separation of the two countries. In the absence of so many words, the maps show as plainly as possible that it was as yet an unsettled question. With this fact, therefore, before us, implying, as it does, both conscientiousness in the statements on the maps, and the confession of an imperfect survey of the whole of the coasts supposed to be laid down, we have no difficulty in giving credence to the pretension that the great southern land there represented was, with all its errors, a reality and not a fiction. In all fairness, therefore, we pass the question of junction between the little and the great Java, as a point virtually declared to be unsettled, and supposing the latter to be Australia, test our supposition by inquiring as to the correctness of the latitude in which the coast line terminates on the western side. Here again we find exact correctness. In the one (Rotz’s map), the line ceases altogether at 35°, the real south-western point of Australia, and in the other at the same point all description ceases, and a meaningless line is drawn to the margin of the map, implying that no further exploration had been made. On the eastern side, we have in every respect greater inaccuracy; but for the present we deal only with the question of latitude. For the sake of convenience, our reduction of Rotz’s map is made to terminate at the point where the eastern coast line of “the londe of Java terminates,” namely in the sixtieth degree, a parallel far exceeding in its southing even the southernmost point of Tasmania, which is in 43° 35´; but if we look to the Dauphin map, we find that about ten degrees of the southernmost portion of the line is indefinite, and it must not be forgotten that for the Portuguese this was the remotest point for investigation, and consequently the least likely to be definite. There is, however, strong reason for supposing that the eastern side of Tasmania was included within this coast line.

With respect to longitude, it may be advanced that with all the discrepancies observable in the maps here presented, there is no other country but Australia lying between the same parallels, and of the same extent, between the east coast of Africa and the west coast of America, and that Australia does in reality lie between the same meridians as the great mass of the country here laid down. In Rotz’s map we have the longitude reckoned from the Cape Verde islands, the degrees running eastward from 1 to 360. The extreme western point of “the Londe of Java” is in about 126° (102 E. from Greenwich), whereas the westernmost point of Australia is in about 113° E. from Greenwich. The extreme eastern points of “the Londe of Java” is in about 207° (or 183° E. from Greenwich). The extreme eastern point however is on a peak of huge extent, which is a manifest blunder or exaggeration. The longitude of the easternmost side, excluding this peak, is in about 187° (or 163° E. from Greenwich), whereas the easternmost point of Australia is in something less than 154° E. from Greenwich. The difficulty of ascertaining the longitude in those days is well known, and the discoveries which these maps represent were, in all probability, made on a variety of occasions, and had a continuous line given to them on maps, not so much as an exact, but as an approximative guide to subsequent explorers. It were hard indeed, therefore, if sufficient concession were not made to the pioneers of maritime exploration, for the reconciliation of these comparatively light discrepancies, when inaccuracies as striking are observable in surveys made as late as in the eighteenth century.

But while examining these indications of a discovery of Australia in the sixteenth century, it will be asked what explorations had been made by the Spaniards in that part of the world in the course of that century. From the period of the voyage of Don Alvaro de Saavedra to the Moluccas in 1527, already alluded to, we meet with no such active spirit of exploration on the part of the Spaniards in the South Seas. Embarrassed by his political position, and with an exhausted treasury, the emperor, in 1529, definitely renounced his pretensions to the Moluccas for a sum of money, although he retained his claim to the islands discovered by his subjects to the east of the line of demarcation now confined to the Portuguese. In 1542 an unsuccessful attempt to form a settlement in the Philippine Islands was made by Ruy Lopez de Villalobos, but its failure having been attributed to mismanagement, a new expedition in 1564 was despatched with the like object under Miguel Lopez de Legaspi, which was completely successful, and a Spanish colony was established at Zebu. It is not impossible that this settlement gave rise to voyages of discovery about this time by the Spaniards, of which no accounts have been published. In 1567 Alvaro de Mendana sailed from Callao on a voyage of discovery, in which he discovered the Solomon Islands and several others. There are great discrepancies in the different relations of this voyage. In 1595 he made a second voyage from Peru, in which he discovered the Marquesas, and the group afterwards named by Carteret Queen Charlotte’s Islands. The object of this expedition was to found a colony on the Solomon Islands, which he had discovered in his previous voyage, but from the incorrectness of his reckoning he was unable to find them. In the island of Santa Cruz he attempted to establish a colony, but without success, and in this island he died. In this second voyage he had for his chief pilot Pedro Fernandez de Quiros, who may be regarded as the last of the distinguished mariners of Spain, and whose name claims especial notice in a work treating of the early indications of Australia, although he himself never saw the shores of that great continental island.^[7]

The discovery of the island of Santa Cruz suggested to the mind of Quiros that the great southern continent was at length discovered, and in two memoirs addressed by him to Don L. de Velasco, viceroy of Peru, we meet with the first detailed argument upon this great geographical question, which, though he himself was not destined to demonstrate it by an actual discovery, may nevertheless be said to have been indirectly brought to a solution through his instrumentality. It is true that it is difficult in dealing with these vague surmises respecting the existence of a southern continent to draw distinctions between Australia itself and the great continent discovered in the present century, some twenty or thirty degrees to the south of that vast island. It has been already stated, p. xxxi, that Dalrymple, nearly two centuries later, earnestly advocated the same cause as De Quiros had done, and speaking of that navigator he says: “The discovery of the southern continent, whenever and by whomsoever it may be completely effected, is in justice due to this immortal name.” It should be premised that there are, in fact, three points of ambiguity in connexion with the name of that navigator, which it is well at once to state, as they might mislead the judgment of the superficial reader of the history of navigation of that period as to his connexion with the discovery of Australia. In the first place, though generally reputed to be a Spaniard, he is described by Nicolas Antonio, the author of the Bibliotheca Hispana, himself a Spaniard, and not unwilling, it may be supposed, to claim so distinguished a navigator for his countryman, as “Lusitanus. Eborensis, ut aiunt Lusitani” (a Portuguese, stated by the Portuguese to be a native of Evora), and the style of his writings bears out the supposition. Secondly, Antonio de Ulloa, in his Resumen, p. 119, quotes from an account of the voyage of Quiros, said to be given in the Historia de la Religion Serafica of Diego de Cordova (a work which the editor has not met with), the discovery of a large island in twenty-eight degrees south latitude, which latitude is farther south than Quiros or his companions are otherwise known to have made in any voyage. Thirdly, the printed memoirs of Quiros bear the title of Terra Australis Incognita, while the southern Tierra Austral, discovered by Quiros himself, and surnamed by him “del Espiritu Santo,” is none other than the “New Hebrides” of the maps of the present day.

At the same time, to both Quiros and Dalrymple we are indirectly indebted for the earliest designation which attaches in any sense to the modern nomenclature connected with Australia, viz., for the name of Torres Straits. That Quiros, whether by birth a Portuguese or a Spaniard, was in the Spanish service, cannot be doubted. The viceroy of Peru had warmly entertained his projects, but looked upon its execution as beyond the limits of his own power to put into operation. He therefore urged to Quiros to lay his case before the Spanish monarch at Madrid, and furnished him with letters to strengthen his application. Whether Philip III was more influenced by the arguments of De Quiros, as to the discovery of a southern continent, or rather by the desire to explore the route between Spain and America by the east, in the hope of discovering wealthy islands between New Guinea and China, we need not pause to question. It is possible that both these motives had their weight, for Quiros was despatched to Peru with full orders for the carrying out of his plans, addressed to the Viceroy, the Count de Monterey; and he was amply equipped with two well-armed vessels and a corvette, with which he sailed from Callao on the 21st of December, 1605. Luis Vaez de Torres was commander of the Almirante, or second ship, in this expedition. The voyage was looked upon as one of very great importance; and Torquemada, in his account of it in the Monarquia Indiana, says that the ships were the strongest and best armed which had been seen in those seas. The object was to make a settlement at the island Santa Cruz, and from thence to search for the Tierra Austral, or southern continent.

After the discovery of several islands, Quiros came to a land which he named Australia del Espiritu Santo, supposing it to be a part of the great southern continent. At midnight of the 11th of June, 1606, while the three ships were lying at anchor in the bay which they had named San Felipe and Santiago, Quiros, for reasons which are not known, and without giving any signal or notice, was either driven by a storm, or sailed away from the harbour, and was separated from the other two ships.

Subsequently to the separation, Torres found that the Australia del Espiritu Santo was an island, and then continued his course westward in pursuance of the exploration. In about the month of August, 1606, he fell in with a coast in 11½ degrees south lat., which he calls the beginning of New Guinea; apparently the south-eastern part of the land afterwards named Louisiade by M. de Bougainville, and now known to be a chain of islands. As he could not pass to windward of this land, Torres bore away along its south side, and himself gives the following account of his subsequent course. “We went along three hundred leagues of coast, as I have mentioned, and diminished the latitude 2½ degrees, which brought us into 9 degrees. From hence we fell in with a bank of from three to nine fathoms, which extends along the coast above one hundred and eighty leagues. We went over it, along the coast, to 7½ south latitude; and the end of it is in 5 degrees. We could not go further on for the many shoals and great currents, so we were obliged to sail south-west, in that depth, to 11 degrees south lat. There is all over it an archipelago of islands without number, by which we passed; and at the end of the eleventh degree the bank became shoaler. Here were very large islands, and there appeared more to the southward. They were inhabited by black people, very corpulent and naked. Their arms were lances, arrows, and clubs of stone ill fashioned. We could not get any of their arms. We caught, in all this land, twenty persons of different nations, that with them we might be able to give a better account to Your Majesty. They give much notice of other people, although as yet they do not make themselves well understood. We were upon this bank two months, at the end of which time we found ourselves in twenty-five fathoms, and 5 degrees south latitude, and ten leagues from the coast; and, having gone four hundred eighty leagues here, the coast goes to the north-east. I did not search it, for the bank became very shallow. So we stood to the north.”

The very large islands seen by Torres in the 11th degree of south latitude, are evidently the hills of Cape York; and the two months of intricate navigation, the passage through the strait which separates Australia from New Guinea. A copy of this letter of Torres was fortunately lodged in the archives of Manilla; and it was not till that city was taken, in 1762, by the English, that the document was discovered by Dalrymple; who paid a fitting tribute to the memory of this distinguished Spanish navigator, by giving to this dangerous passage the name of Torres’ Straits, which it has ever since retained. The editor has striven in vain to learn into whose hands Dalrymple’s copy of this letter has fallen. He has been compelled, therefore, to reprint it from Dalrymple’s translation, supplied to Admiral Burney, as inserted at the end of vol. ii of his Discoveries and Voyages in the South Sea.

De Quiros himself reached Mexico on the 3rd of October, 1606, nine months from his departure from Callao. Strongly imbued with a sense of the importance of his discoveries, he addressed various memoirs to Philip III, advocating the desirableness of further explorations in these unknown regions; but, after years of unavailing perseverance, he died at Panama in 1614, leaving behind him a name which for merit, though not for success, was second only to that of Columbus; and with him expired the naval heroism of Spain. “Reasoning,” as Dalrymple says, “from principles of science and deep reflection, he asserted the existence of a southern continent; and devoted with unwearied though contemned diligence, the remainder of his life to the prosecution of this sublime conception.” In the first document printed in this collection, which is from the hand of the Fray Juan Luis Arias, is given an account of his earnest advocacy of the resuscitation of Spanish enterprise in the southern seas, and especially with reference to the great southern continent.

But while the glory of Spanish naval enterprise was thus on the wane, the very nation which Spain had bruised and persecuted was to supplant her in the career of adventure and prosperity. The war of independence had aroused the energies of those provinces of the Netherlands which had freed themselves from the Spanish yoke; while the cruelties perpetrated in those provinces which the Spaniards had succeeded in again subduing, drove an almost incredible number of families into exile. The majority of these settled in the northern provinces, and thus brought into them a prodigious influx of activity. Among these emigrants were a number of enterprising merchants, chiefly from Antwerp,—a town which had for many years enjoyed a most considerable, though indirect, share in the transatlantic trade of Spain and Portugal, and was well acquainted with its immense advantages. These men were naturally animated by the bitter hatred of exiles, enhanced by difference of faith and the memory of many wrongs. The idea which arose among them was, to deprive Spain of her transatlantic commerce, and thus to cripple her resources, and strengthen those of the Protestants, and by this means eventually to force the southern provinces of the Netherlands from their oppressors. This idea, at first vaguely entertained by a few, became general when the Spaniards forbad Dutch vessels to carry on any traffic with Spain. This traffic had existed in spite of the wars, and had furnished the Dutch with the principal means of carrying it on.

Being thus violently thrust out of their share in transatlantic commerce, the Dutch determined to gain it back with interest. Geography and hydrography now became the subjects of earnest study and instruction; and the period was distinguished by the appearance of such men as Ortelius, Mercator, Plancius, De Bry, Hulsius, Cluverius, etc., whom we are now bound to regard as the fathers of modern geography. Among these the most earnest in turning the resources of science into a weapon against the oppressors of his country, was Peter Plancius, a Calvinist clergyman, who opened a nautical and geographical school at Amsterdam for the express purpose of teaching his countrymen how to find a way to India, and the other sources whence Spain derived her strength. We do not here dwell on their efforts to find a northern route to the east. Their knowledge of the direct route to that wealthy portion of the world had become greatly increased by the appearance of Jan Huyghen van Linschoten’s great work. (Amst., 1595–96.) Linschoten had, for fourteen years, lived in the Portuguese possessions in the East, and had there collected a vast amount of information. The Dutch East India Company was established in 1602; and in 1606 we find a vessel from Holland making the first authenticated discovery of that great south land which in our own time has been designated—at the suggestion of that worthy navigator, Matthew Flinders, to whom we are so largely indebted for our knowledge of the hydrography of that country—by the distinct and appropriate name of Australia.

Of the discoveries made by the Dutch on the coasts of Australia, our ancestors of a hundred years ago, and even the Dutch themselves, knew but little. That which was known was preserved in the Relations de divers voyages curieux of Melchisedech Thevenot (Paris, 1663–72, fol.); in the Noord en Oost Tartarye of Nicolas Witsen (Amst., 1692–1705, fol.); in Valentyn’s Oud en Nieuw Oost Indien (Amst., 1724–26, fol.); and in the Inleiding tot de algemeen Geographie of Nicolas Struyk (Amst., 1740, 4to.). We have, however, since gained a variety of information through a document which fell into the possession of Sir Joseph Banks, and was published by Alexander Dalrymple, at that time hydrographer to the Admiralty and the East India Company, in his collection concerning Papua. This curious and interesting document is a copy of the instructions to Commodore Abel Jansz Tasman for his second voyage of discovery. That distinguished commander had already, in 1642, discovered not only the island now named after him, Tasmania (but more generally known as Van Diemen’s Land, in compliment to the then governor of the Dutch East India Company at Batavia), but New Zealand also; and, passing round the east side of Australia, but without seeing it, sailed on his return voyage along the northern shores of New Guinea. In January 1644 he was despatched on his second voyage; and his instructions, signed by the Governor-General, Antonio Van Diemen, and the members of the council, are prefaced by a recital, in chronological order, of the previous discoveries of the Dutch. The document is reprinted in the present volume.

The second expedition mentioned in the Dutch recital for the discovery of the great south land, was undertaken in a yacht in the year 1617, by order of the Fiscal d’Edel, “with little success,” and the journals and remarks were not to be found; but various ships outward bound from Holland to the East Indies, in the course of the years 1616, 1618, 1619, and 1622, made discoveries on the west coast of the great unknown south land, from 35° to 22° south latitude, and among them the ship Eendragt (the Concord), commanded by Dirk Hartog, Hertoge, or Hartighs, of Amsterdam, fell in with land in about 25 degrees south, which afterwards received its name from this ship. The president, De Brosses, has fallen into the error of describing Dirk Hartog, as a native of Eendragt, adding that this coast has preserved the name of the vessel, and that of the country of its commander. The Dutch recital which mentions the voyage of the Eendragt, does not give Hartog’s name, but we learn it from a MS. chart by Hessel Gerritz, of Amsterdam, 1627, referred to by Dalrymple in his collection concerning Papua, note, page 6. An important part of Hartog’s discovery was Dirk Hartog’s Roads, at the entrance of the sound, afterwards called by Dampier Shark’s Bay, in 25°; and on Dirk Hartog’s island, one of the islands forming the road, he left a tin plate, bearing the following inscription: Aº. 1616 den 25sten October is hier vangecomen het schip de Endracht van Amsterdam, den Oppercoopmen Gilles Mibais Van Luyck, Kapitein Dirk Hartog, van Amsterdam, den 27sten. dito t’ zeijl gegaen na Bantam, den Ondercoopman Jan Stoyn, Opperstiermann Pieter Dockes van Bil Aº. 1616. Of which the following is a translation: On the 25th of October, 1616, arrived here the ship Endraght, of Amsterdam: the first merchant, Gilles Mibais Van Luyck; Captain Dirck Hartog, of Amsterdam; the 27th ditto set sail for Bantam; undermerchant, Jan Stoyn; upper steersman, Pieter Dockes, from Bil. Aº. 1616.