In February 1766, the Indian Ocean became the stage of one of the most remarkable revolts in the history of the transoceanic slave trade. Aboard the Dutch slave ship Meermin, Malagasy captives rose against their Dutch enslavers in a desperate fight for freedom that would last three weeks.
The Meermin belonged to the Dutch East India Company (VOC), which between 1658 and 1795 transported over 63,000 Africans to its Cape Colony in southern Africa. Built in 1759 in Amsterdam, the 480-ton vessel was one of several ships used to carry human cargo from Madagascar to the Cape.
In January 20, 1766, the ship set sail under Captain Gerrit Cristoffel Muller, bound for the Cape Colony, with a crew of 56 men and over 140 Malagasy captives, men, women, and children bound for enslavement. They came from different parts of Madagascar, some snatched during violent raids, others sold to Dutch traders who worked the coast in the service of the VOC.
Two days into the voyage, Meermin’s chief merchant, Johann Godfried Krause, persuaded the captain to release the Malagasy captives from their shackles. The conditions below deck were unbearable, disease and death spread quickly in the suffocating heat. But Krause’s concern had nothing to do with mercy. His fear was financial. Each life lost meant less profit when they reached the Cape. To him, the captives were not human, they were merchandise. So he argued that bringing them on deck would “preserve their health,” not out of care, but to make sure enough of them survived the trip to be sold.
The Malagasy were brought up to work the sails, dance, and sing for the crew’s amusement. In mid-February, he ordered some of the Malagasy to clean a collection of traditional spears, assegais, and swords that had been brought on board from Madagascar. But once armed, the Africans seized their chance for freedom.
Within minutes, chaos erupted. Krause was among the first to die. Captain Muller was stabbed three times but survived. Several Dutch crew members were also killed as the captives overpowered the remaining sailors. For the first time since leaving Madagascar, the Meermin was no longer under Dutch control. The enslaved Africans had seized the ship and taken command of their fate.
The mutiny was led by a man whose name remains unknown, alongside two others remembered in Dutch records as Massavana and Koesaaij. Their plan was simple but courageous: kill the crew and return home to Madagascar.
The surviving Dutch crew members, wounded and terrified, retreated into the gunroom at the back of the ship. After days of tension, they negotiated a truce with the Malagasy. The Africans agreed to spare the remaining crew if the ship was sailed back to Madagascar. But Captain Muller, gambling on their lack of navigational knowledge, secretly ordered the crew to steer toward the southern coast of Africa instead.
The deception worked because the Malagasy captives couldn’t read the stars or the compass. For three weeks, the two groups lived in a fragile and tense standoff aboard the same ship, the Africans controlling the deck, the Dutch navigating below, each side watching the other.
Eventually, land appeared on the horizon. Believing they had reached Madagascar, the Malagasy ordered the crew to drop anchor near the Cape Colony settlement of Struisbaai. Unaware that they were still deep in Dutch-controlled territory, about seventy Malagasy went ashore to scout the area.
When the Malagasy landing party reached land, they were met not by freedom but by armed Dutch farmers. The farmers, believing the ship was in distress, had formed a militia. Once they realized what had occurred, they opened fire. Some Malagasy were killed, others captured, and the rest fled.
Meanwhile, the wounded captain and his men sent secret messages to the farmers by placing notes inside bottles. The crew begged them to light signal fires along the shore to trick the Malagasy still aboard into thinking they had reached their homeland. The ruse worked.
Seeing the fires, the remaining Malagasy cut the ship’s anchor cable and let Meermin drift toward the coast. The ship ran aground on a sandbank. From there, the Malagasy saw the Dutch militia preparing to board. Realizing they had been deceived once again, they gave up hope and surrendered.
By the end of the revolt, nearly half of Meermin’s crew and about thirty Malagasy had been killed. The ship was salvaged for supplies, but the hull was left to rot in the sand.
Captain Gerrit Muller, ship’s mate Daniel Carel Gulik, and merchant assistant Olof Leij were brought before the Dutch East India Company’s Council of Justice to answer for their actions. The Company held them responsible for the mutiny, accusing them of negligence and poor judgment that led to heavy losses. All three men were dismissed from service. Muller and Gulik were stripped of their rank, banned from the Cape Colony, and ordered back to Amsterdam to work their passage home.
The Malagasy survivors faced a different fate. In a rare move for the VOC, they were not put on trial. Normally, enslaved people who resisted were tortured or executed to set an example. Instead, the two surviving leaders, Massavana and Koesaaij, were sent to Robben Island for “observation.” Massavana died there three years later. Koesaaij lived on for another twenty years before dying in captivity, a quiet end for a man who had once dared to fight for freedom on the open sea.
Sources:
https://open.uct.ac.za/items/0801394d-143b-4a5c-b7a0-9db8f17f06c7
