Nearly four hundred and fifty years ago, there lived a man named Hendrick Vanderdecken, a captain, a sailor, a man devoted to the sea. Captain Vanderdecken lived in Amsterdam, in Holland, and for as many years as he could remember, he had loved to be at sea. He knew that was where he belonged, heart and soul, and he could not imagine his life anywhere else.One day Vanderdecken and his crew set off in their ship, the Flying Dutchman. They were heading toward Batavia, a Dutch port in East India, to which they went to buy spices, silks and dyes that they would resell at higher prices in their native Holland. Their course was set. The journey would take many months, or so they thought. They had no idea that this was a journey that would never end.After two days in which the sea had been raging and impeding the usually rapid advance of Van der Decken and his men, who were heading back to Europe, the captain ordered his ship to head towards the Cape of Good Hope, in South Africa, to take
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