The Flying Dutchman

Amsterdam - September, 1686

Swish, slop, swish, slop, went the ripples against the stone dock as Johann looked at his reflection in the harbor waters. He stared, mesmerized by his image, for a time.  The reflection staring back at him showed many years of hard work, depression, and fatigue.  These thoughts had taken their toll on him.  At one time, he believed that he had no one to blame but himself; this is what he had been told by those closest to him.  But he had decided that the likeliest culprit was not himself, but God.  He blamed God for his miserable life.  He refused to appeal to God like so many men of the cloth had taught him to do throughout his life.  If God was truly sovereign, as these "holy" men had taught him, then why does the Almighty seemingly not care about his creation?  Besides, what did Johann have to lose by blaming God for his life situation?  His life was already a shamble, how could it get any worse?  Johann was completely without finances, had no wife, and had no family.  The only friend that never seemed to fail Johann was his rum bottle.  What could the Almighty possibly throw at him that he couldn't already handle or had never seen before?  Johann arose, returning to his business, hiding his face so that others wouldn't see the look of bitterness developing upon it.

He had an important job to do and nobody, not even God, was going to get in the way of his ship. The job assigned to him by the Dutch firm that hired him was to sail around the southern tip of Africa (the Cape of Good Hope), and make his way across the Indian Ocean to India to trade.  His trade had recently changed to be primarily involved in spices, because that was where the real money was to be found.  Most of his fellow shipmen were spice traders as well, traveling the globe as far as the West and East Indies, searching high and low for spices delectable to the rich man's palate in Europe.  Every ship before him had failed this long voyage on which he was now bent upon completing, either falling victim to foul weather or attacked by pirates from Madagascar, but the Dutch traders were not going to give up.  The merchants were motivated by pure greed and power, desiring to have all the bits of wealth available to be had at home and abroad and, after all, the man with the most 'stuff' was the most powerful and important. The greedy merchants would stop before nothing to get the wealth that they desired, no matter how many men needed to be sacrificed. A vast treasure in spices, jewels, and slaves laid to the east, to the Orient, and it called loudly to these Dutch merchants.

The vast majority of the traders, be they Spanish, English, or Portuguese, came to trade in the Orient during the warmer months, to avoid storms in hopes of fair sailing weather.  When men left too late in the season, or too early, doom was sure to follow.  Those sailors were generally never heard from again, either at the bottom of the sea or washed up on some part of the coast, taken captive by natives.  Now, as Johann prepared to leave, it was the month of September and storms would be in full force within the month it would take him to reach the Cape of Good Hope in southern Africa. A glint of optimism struck Johann though, namely the pirates would not be operating.  However, this was only because of the same reason that traders were not out in any great number: storms. Any sailor with sense would not sail during this time, pirates or no pirates, but Johann's ship was going to set sail. He gave no heed to warnings from anybody and steeled himself against any objections to his voyage, especially from the crew, who would be prone to fear.

So on September 2, 1686, Johann set sail for India. As he was preparing to leave, a young minister made his way up the gangplank to the deck of the ship, there on the request of his sailors.  Johann's crew was very afraid of the voyage to come and they needed reassurance that the Almighty would not leave them as they embarked on this perilous journey.  As the minister stood, exhorting from the scriptures the crew that had gathered to listen, Johann stepped into the middle of the gathering, interrupted the minister, cursing him saying, "Be gone! You foul messenger of a foul God! I do not require the blessing of any God to make my voyage a success! I demand you leave!" The minister began to respond by appealing to Johann to not "harden his heart against the council of the Lord." Johann defiantly retorted, "I curse God! He will not stop me from completing my voyage! I will FLY in the face of God!" The minister, startled by what was said, his eyes filled with grief at the blasphemy before his eyes, stammered to the crew that he was sorry.  He immediately turned around hastily made his way back over the gangplank. 

Johann's ship encountered nothing noteworthy during the trip down the western coast of Africa.  Johann kept his crew in line harshly, flogging any member of the crew that hinted at the least bit of disagreement with his plan.  Johann had every man who uttered the name of God to be beaten in front of the crew.  Johann's confidence was bolstered by this, believing that his rebellion against the 'superstition' of the crew had somehow quieted the powers that be and granted him a safe voyage.  Even if bad weather did come, he would overcome that as well.  Johann refused to be defeated. 

When the ship arrived off of the coast of the Cape of Good Hope, the southernmost tip of Africa, clouds began to turn black, rain began to pour down in sheets and giant waves began to lift the ship high and low.  The poor sailors of the ship were terrified as they labored to save their small ship amidst the growing power of the storm.  The storm would not relent, increasing in its strength.  Lightning began to strike all around the ship, creating a deafening crack and roar, amplified by the relentless pouring of the rain.  Yet, even as the storm grew in rage, the sailors desperately worked, knowing their lives were on the line.  Johann, still defiant, grabbed hold of the climbing ropes held down to the deck that ran up to the mast. Johann began to climb, screaming out to God while rain dropped heavily like small beads, stinging his face and skin. Johann held on to the ropes with all of his strength as the ship was tossed to and fro. Lightning cracked across the sky, lighting up the darkness in terrifying flashes of brightness.  Johann made his way to the top of the mast, and began to scream repeatedly that he would "FLY in the face of God!" Johann brandished his clenched fist in defiance and began to beat at the sky as if fighting an invisible foe.  The crew, terrified of his belligerence, trembled as a great roar shook their embattled ship. Despite the roar, Johann continued to scream until his lungs and throat failed him.  He nevertheless kept on wailing until a foreboding wave appeared as an ominous black shape, larger than anything he had ever seen. As he stared into the wave, the strength to even wail suddenly left him.  Johann saw an image of what was to become his eternal home, the dark and cold depths of the ocean. He gathered enough strength to scream again, but this time not in defiance, but in terror.  As he screamed, the foaming hand of the wave crashed up his ship, swallowing it in a quick display of power.  The water muffled out Johann's cry and dragged him underneath the water as he clung to the rigging.  Eventually, all went dark. The ship was pushed down, down through the inky black of the depths until it came to rest inside of a sea cave, inhabited by something so terrible and horrific, I cannot tell what it was.

During storms at sea, many sailors even to this day, claim to see a ship navigating the large waves. Its sails are ragged and torn and at the top of the rigging is a man, with clenched fist held high screaming into the tumultuous sky. When the sailors on the ship see this, they scramble down into the cabins of their ship and fervently pray, all the while shaking from uncontrollable fear... Even in death does he mock God...