In this riveting account of the shipwreck of the Batavia, Leys travels to the site of the disaster and reveals the brutality and tragedy of the bloody island massacre which befell the ship's survivors.

In 1629, the Batavia was wrecked on a coral archipelago fifty miles from the Australian continent. Most of the people on board survived, only to become victims of a visionary psychopath who, with the help of a dozen followers, organised a methodical massacre of the hapless community. Following the wreck's discovery some forty years ago, Simon Leys travelled to the site. This is his riveting account of the shipwreck and its brutal aftermath. As well as a narrative of the disaster, it is also a subtle consideration of the nature of totalitarianism and our susceptibility to its visionary ideologues. This book also includes Leys' elegiac essay, Prosper, recalling a summer when he joined the crew of a tuna-fishing boat from Brittany, one of the last boats still working under sail. This remarkable piece vividly evokes the traditions, hardships and dangers of the oldest and finest form of seamanship.

Shipwreck Narratives: Out of Our Depth studies both the representation of shipwreck and the ways in which shipwrecks are used in creative, philosophical, and political works. The first part of the book examines historical shipwreck narratives published over a period of two centuries and their legacies. Michael Titlestad points to a range of narrative conventions, literary tropes and questions concerning representation and its limits in narratives about these historic shipwrecks. The second part engages novels, poems, films, artwork, and musical composition that grapple with shipwreck. Collectively the chapters suggest the spectacular productivity of shipwreck narrative; the multiple ways in which its concerns and logic have inspired anxious creativity in the last century. Titlestad recognizes in weaving in his personal experience that shipwreck—the destruction of form and the advent of disorder—could be seen not only as a corollary for his own neurological disorder, but also an abiding principle in tropology. This book describes how shipwreck has figured in texts (from historical narratives to fiction, film and music) as an analogue for emotional, psychological, and physical fragmentation.

'A big liner, brightly lit, passes us one or two cable-lengths ahead. 'Ow! They are guzzling champagne but cannot see what's in front of them!' grumbles Etienne, who has the helm and puts Prosper back on course. Our wooden boat, which one long wave can carry, is a mere cork in the wake of that ship, which crushes three dozen such waves under her uncaring steel plates. How many hundreds of men does she carry? Up there, people laugh, play, dream, eat and sleep . . . while we, a few feet above the water, surrounded by dancing lights, keep watch till dawn.' One summer, Simon Leys joined the crew of a tuna-fishing boat in Brittany, one of the last boats working under sail. In this exceptionally beautiful and elegiac essay, he evokes the traditions, hardships and dangers of the oldest and finest form of seamanship.

Reimagines the fields of transitional justice and cultural heritage, showing how law shapes cultural identities in unanticipated yet powerful ways.

For centuries before the arrival in Australia of Captain Cook and the so-called First Fleet in 1788, intrepid seafaring explorers had been searching, with varied results, for the fabled “Great Southland.” In this enthralling history of early discovery, Graham Seal offers breathtaking tales of shipwrecks, perilous landings, and Aboriginal encounters with the more than three hundred Europeans who washed up on these distant shores long before the land was claimed by Cook for England. The author relates dramatic, previously untold legends of survival gleaned from the centuries of Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, French, and Indonesian voyages to Australia, and debunks commonly held misconceptions about the earliest European settlements: ships of the Dutch East Indies Company were already active in the region by the early seventeenth century, and the Dutch, rather than the English, were probably the first European settlers on the continent.