by Australia’s oldest building is probably not where you think: located on a desolate, uninhabited island off the coast of West Australia.
To determine what is Australia’s oldest building, you have to define your terms.
What you are probably thinking is a colonial building of some kind: a farmhouse, or government building, still standing somewhere in New South Wales. And that would be right: there are intact buildings in Sydney, from the earliest days of colonial settlement (you can read about Melbourne’s version of these, here).
But if the question is considered in a broader sense, the answer can change.
The oldest existing structure, of any kind, is found instead on West Wallabi island, an isolated spot some 60 kilometres off the northwest coast of WA.
The structure is just a simple stone wall. But its back story is both fascinating, and horrific.
It is known as, the Wiebe Hayes Fort.
While the British were the European colonisers of Australia, they were not the discoverers of it.
Australia’s first nations peoples began to arrive approximately 60 000 years ago (possibly longer) arriving by boat and land bridge from southeast Asia. These original inhabitants spread throughout the continent, and the culture they developed was rich and diverse.
Europeans did not arrive until the 17th century. The first confirmed sighting of Australia by a European occurred in 1606, when the Dutch ship Duyfken, commanded by Willem Janszoon, reached the west coast of Cape York.
Janszoon initially thought this was part of New Guinea, later expeditions determined it was an entirely new landmass. The Dutch marked it on their charts as, ‘New Holland.’
At the time, the Dutch had a strong presence in the region. The Dutch East India Company (VOC), had a major trading post in Batavia, in present day Indonesia.
The surrounding islands were rich in spices, precious metals, and other natural resources, which the VOC sent back to Europe.
Dutch influence spread outward from there, eventually they exerted colonial control over the entire Indonesian archipelago. It would remain a Dutch possession until after World War II.
17th century Dutch explorers plied the region, and had several more significant encounters with New Holland.
In 1616, Dirk Hartog landed on an island off the coast of what would become West Australia, leaving behind an inscribed pewter plate. Between 1642 and 1644, Abel Tasman undertook major voyages that led to the European discovery of Tasmania, dubbed ‘Van Dieman’s Land’, and later New Zealand.
Tasman’s name would be given to the sea that separates the two countries.
Merchant ships would also have encounters with New Holland. One of these, was the ‘Batavia’.
Built in 1628, the Batavia was designed to be one of the flagships of the VOC. The following year she headed out on her maiden voyage, bound for her namesake city; leading a fleet of seven, on board were 341 sailors, citizens and soldiers.
The fleet was under the command of Francisco Pelsaert.
Bad weather dogged the expedition, and caused the ships to lose contact with one another. By the time the Batavia left Cape Town, for the final leg of the journey, it was sailing by itself.
It was also off course; navigational errors led to it drifting further south than intended.
On the night of June 4, 1629, Pelsaert was suddenly awakened by a loud crash. Rushing on deck he found the Batavia had run aground on a reef; a surprise as the ship was meant to be in the open ocean.
Instead, it had run into a group of small, low lying islands, off the coast of New Holland.
Pelsaert rapidly organised the crew, who worked through the night trying to save the ship. Attempting to lighten the vessel in the hope it would float free, the Batavia’s twenty four cannons were cast overboard, and it’s heavy main mast chopped down.
But these measures were ineffective.
The heavy seas quickly breached the ship’s hull, and water surged through its lower decks. At daybreak, Pelsaert ordered the ship abandoned: the survivors would make for the nearby islands, in a few small boats.
About 300 people made it to shore, with around 50 drowning in the wreck.
The survivors found themselves in an inhospitable place. The Wallabi Group is a series of small, flat, coral islands, largely devoid of trees, shelter and water.
Hardy, low lying plants scratch a living in the scant soil, otherwise the islands are largely arid.
The crew had salvaged some supplies and fresh water from the wreck, Pelsaert saw these would not last long. With a few of his officers, he shortly set out in one of the remaining boats, to search the other islands for a fresh water supply.
When this proved fruitless, he expanded his search to the mainland, faintly visible 60 kilometres away. The bulk of the survivors stayed on Beacon Island, to await their return.
In charge was the senior remaining officer, Jeronimus Cornelisz.
In the Netherlands, Cornelisz had been an apothecary, and had run a successful shop in the city of Haarlam.
But in 1627 he had become embroiled in a legal tangle: his infant son had died of syphilis, which had damaged his reputation. Trying to deflect blame, Cornelisz claimed the child had contracted it from his nurse; she refuted the charge and the case ended up in court.
The resulting scandal ruined Cornelisz’s business.
Close to destitute, in desperation he took employment with the Dutch East India Company. Two years later, Cornelisz was assigned to the Batavia, for its maiden voyage.
He embarked with a secret plan; embittered by what had happened to him, and likely mentally unstable, he intended to stage a mutiny in the southern seas, and abscond with the ship. He hoped to end up on some island paradise, where he would live out his days.
The shipwreck had occurred before he could put his plan in motion, but now stranded he saw an opportunity. He would take control of the survivors, wait for a rescue ship, then take it by force.
During the voyage, Cornelisz had discretely garnered supporters for his mutinous plan. This group now assumed control on Beacon Island, taking charge of the available stores and weapons.
The handful of remaining soldiers, numbering around 20, he ordered to explore another island nearby; nominally they were searching for fresh water, Cornelisz really just wanted them out of the way.
After their departure, he took his chance to liquidate anyone he perceived as an opponent.
‘In frenzied attacks, victims were stabbed, strangled, bashed, drowned, raped and tortured – a murderous orgy that showed no respect for human life. Cornelisz did not involve himself directly, instead manipulating his supporters into carrying out atrocities.’
‘Dampier, the Dutch, and the Great South Land’, Rob Mundle
The bloodbath was short and brutal.
Exact numbers are difficult to calculate, but it is estimated Cornelisz’s supporters killed around 125 of the survivors. They were buried in shallow graves around the island, which would subsequently be known as, ‘Batavia’s Graveyard’.
Meanwhile, the soldiers had unexpectedly found a small fresh spring. The island they had been sent to was, in fact, much larger than Beacon Island, and better suited to habitiation.
Sending smoke signals of their discovery, they were puzzled when they received no response.
Shortly afterwards, a small number managed to get away from Cornelisz, and made their way to the soldier’s island on an improvised raft. They reported the massacre, and warned that Cornelisz was now planning an attack.
The commander of the soldiers was twenty one year old Wiebe Hayes. He ordered the group to build a small stone fortification, on raised land overlooking the main beach.
Gathering rocks from around the island, they built a crude, circular wall about ten metres across, and two metres high. This would provide some kind of defensive protection.
The soldiers stationed themselves inside and took up improvised weapons, including cudgels, pikes, and planks of wood.
Cornelisz soon sent some of his men who besieged the fort. When they were unable to breakthrough, he came himself, with his four most capable lieutenants.
All five were captured by the soldiers.
The remaining mutineers, now commanded by Wouter Loos, prepared for an all-out assault to rescue them. Just as they were about to attack, a ship under the command of Pelsaert, suddenly appeared on the horizon.
Pelsaert’s mission to find freshwater had not been successful. The mainland was as barren as the islands.
And so he decided to make for Batavia, some 1500 kilometres to the north. Pelsaert reasoned this was everyone’s best chance for survival: for him to return with a well provisioned rescue ship.
Supplies were so limited there was no time to return to Beacon Island, and no other way to send the people there a message. He would simply have to go and come back as quickly as possible.
Sailing north, conditions were difficult; frequent rough seas broken by calm days and baking heat. Pelsaert’s crew often had to row when the wind died away; an arduous task in hot temperatures, with water limited to one cup per man, per day.
Incredibly, they managed to reach Batavia in only 22 days.
A few weeks after that, and oblivious to what had occurred in his absence, Pelsaert returned to the islands in the trading ship ‘Sardam’. Approaching from the north, he was relieved to see columns of smoke rising above two of the islands, indicating the continued presence of survivors.
Pelsaert himself lead a party ashore in a rowboat.
‘I sailed with the boat to the nearest island, taking with me a barrel of water, a keg of wine, ditto bread. I sprang ashore and saw four men; one of them, named Wiebe Hayes, ran towards me, calling from afar.’
Commander Pelsaert, from his diary
Hayes urgently filled the Commander in on recent events, and advised their position was perilous. Pelsaert ordered him to retrieve Cornelisz, still a prisoner, and retreat to the Sardam.
There they would wait for the mutineers to make their move. They did not have to wait long.
A boat soon approached, containing Loos and the remaining renegades. Noting they were armed, Pelsaert hailed them and asked why: receiving an unsatisfactory answer, he insisted they throw their weapons overboard.
They did so; when they boarded the Sardam they were then taken by surprise and easily subdued.
With the mutineers under lock and key, Pelsaert investigated what had occurred. He was shocked by the scale and barbarity of the massacre.
His own version of justice would be swift.
Not willing to wait for a trial back in Batavia, Pelsaert instead instigated a court martial on Beacon Island. Cornelisz and several other leaders were found guilty of murder and treason, and executed by hanging.
They had their hands cut off first, as an additional punishment.
Pelsaert remained in the islands for a few weeks, trying to salvage what he could of the Batavia’s cargo. Then he sailed back to Batavia with the remaining survivors, and the rest of Cornelisz’s group.
The remaining mutineers were subsequently tried, and given life imprisonment.
Pelsaert did not survive his adventure long. His health had been badly impacted by the shipwreck and subsequent events, he died in Batavia in 1630, aged only 35.
There was enormous interest in the ill-fated voyage in Europe; before he died Pelsaert published his account of the trip, which became a best seller.
Wiebe Hays was proclaimed a national hero, and promoted several times after his return to Batavia. He stayed in the VOC’s employ and became a wealthy young man, but shortly after events described, disappears from the public records.
His time and place of death are not known.
The Wiebe Hays Fort still stands where it was built, 100 metres from the shore on West Wallabi island.
