CHAPTER XV.
Henry Hudson’s Voyages—Projected Passage over the Pole—Second Expedition—A Mermaid Sighted—Third Voyage in the Dutch Service—Discovery of the Hudson River—Last Voyage—Discovery of Hudson’s Bay—Story of an Arctic Tragedy—Abacuk Pricket’s Narrative—Their Winter Stay—Rise of a Mutiny—Hudson and Nine Companions Set Adrift and left to Die—Retribution—Four of the Mutineers Killed—Sufferings from Starvation—Death of a Ringleader—Arrival in Ireland—Suspicious Circumstances—Baffin’s Voyages—Danish Expeditions to Greenland—Jens Munk and his Unfortunate Companions—Sixty-one Persons Starved to Death—Voyage of three Survivors Across the Atlantic—An unkingly King—Death of Munk—Moxon’s Dutch Beer-house Story—Wood and Flawes—Wreck of Wood’s Vessel—Knight’s Fatal Expedition—Slow Starvation and Death of the whole Company—The Middleton and Dobbs’ Agitation—£20,000 offered for the Discovery of the North-west Passage.
So many previous failures do not seem to have discouraged the London merchants, who, in 1607, renewed the search for a northern route to China and Japan. Hitherto neither the north-east nor north-west had held out much hopes of success, and they now determined on a bold and novel attempt at sailing over the Pole itself. For this expedition Henry Hudson—already known as an experienced and intrepid seaman, and well-skilled in nautical science—was chosen commander. This adventurous navigator left Gravesend on May 1st, in a small barque, with only ten men and a boy. The very name and tonnage of the vessel [pg 146]have been forgotten, but it is known to have been of the tiniest description. In the second week of June Hudson fell in with land—a headland of East Greenland—the weather at the time being foggy, and the sails and shrouds frozen. He examined other parts of this coast, feeling doubtful whether he might not reach open water to the northward, and sail round Greenland, a voyage never made up to this day. Later he reached Spitzbergen, where the ice to the north utterly baffled all his efforts to force a passage, and being short of supplies, he set sail for England. Next year we find him attempting a north-east passage. He landed on Nova Zembla, and as he says himself, his “purpose was by the Waygats (Strait) to passe by the mouth of the river Ob (or Obi), and to double that way the north cape of Tartaria, or to give reasons wherefore it will not be.” Finding quantities of morse or walrus, he delayed somewhat, hoping to defray part of the expenses of the voyage by obtaining ivory. Meantime he despatched a party up a large river flowing from the north-eastward, fancying, apparently, that it was an arm of the sea, which might lead them to the solution of the problem they sought. On this voyage, “one of our company,” says Hudson, “looking overboard, saw a mermaid, and calling up some of the companie to see her once more come up, and by that time shee was come close to the ship’s side, looking earnestly on the men; a little after a sea came and overturned her; from the navill upwards her backe and breasts were like a woman’s (as they say that saw her), her body as big as one of us; her skin very white, and long haire hanging down behind, of colour blacke; in her going downe they saw her tayle, which was like the tayle of a porposse, and speeckled like a macrell. Their names that saw her were Thomas Hilles and Robert Rayner.” All this is only another version of some walrus story. On this as on the previous voyage, Hudson made some observations on the inclination or “dip” of the magnetic needle, and he is probably the first Englishman who had done so.
The following year (1609) we find Hudson on a third voyage of discovery, in the service of the Dutch. His movements were very erratic, and the only record left us does not explain them. He first doubled the North Cape, as though again in quest of the north-east passage; then turned westward to Newfoundland; thence again south as far as Charleston (South Carolina); then north to Cape Cod, soon after which he discovered the beautiful Hudson River, at the mouth of which New York is now situated. Hudson’s fourth and last voyage is that most intimately associated with his name on account of the cruel tragedy which terminated his life, and lost England one of her bravest and most energetic explorers.
Several gentlemen of influence, among them Sir John Wolstenholme and Sir Dudley Digges, were so satisfied of the feasibility of making the north-west passage, that they fitted out a vessel at their own expense, and gave the command to Henry Hudson. For reasons which will appear as we proceed, the accounts of the voyage itself are meagre. We know, however, that he discovered the Strait and “Mediterranean” Sea (the latter of which has since been called a bay, although somewhat improperly), and both of which still bear his name. The vessel appropriated for this service had the same name as one of those on Captain Nares’ late expedition—The Discovery—and was of fifty-five tons burden, victualled only, as it seems, for six months. She left the Thames on April 17th, 1610, and on June 9th was off the entrance of Frobisher’s Strait, where Hudson was compelled [pg 147]to ply to the westward, on account of the ice and contrary winds. During July and the early part of August several islands and headlands were sighted and named, and at length they discovered a great strait formed by the north-west point of Labrador and a cluster of islands, which led them into an extensive sea. Here Hudson’s own testimony ends, and we are dependent on the narrative of one Abacuk Pricket, which is perfectly useless as regards any discoveries made, but which is probably correct as regards the mutiny about to be described, and the circumstances which preceded and followed it. The reader will, we imagine, form his own conclusions very speedily in regard to Pricket’s own share in this brutal transaction, in spite of his constant protestations. The story in its sequel furnishes a significant example of the condition to which mutiny and lawlessness on board ship may bring the perpetrators.
Abacuk Pricket says that Hudson, being closely beset in the ice, and doubtful whether he should ever escape from it, brought out his chart, and showed the company that he had entered the strait a hundred leagues further than any Englishman before him, and, in spite of the dangers, very naturally wished to follow up his discoveries. He, however, put it to them whether they should sail forward or turn the ship’s head towards England. No decision appears to have been obtained, some wishing themselves at home, and others, sailor-like, saying they cared not where they were so long as they were out of the ice. The narrator admits, however, that “there were some who then spake words which were remembered a great while after.”
The slumbering embers of mutiny appear to have been first fanned into a flame when Hudson displaced the mate and boatswain “for words spoken when in the ice,” and appointed others. Still sailing southward, they entered a bay on Michaelmas day, and here the discontent was increased by Hudson insisting on weighing the anchor, while the crew was desirous of remaining there. Having voyaged for three months “in a labyrinth without end,” they at length, on November 1st, found a suitable place to winter, and were soon frozen in. Hudson had taken into his house in London, apparently from sheer kindheartedness, a young man named Greene, of good and respectable parentage, but of a very dissolute and abandoned life, and had brought him to act as a kind of captain’s clerk on this voyage. Greene was most undoubtedly an irreclaimable vagabond, as well as a most ungrateful person. He quarrelled with the surgeon and others on board, and was the leading conspirator in the mutinous proceedings against his benefactor, which were now fast ripening to a conclusion. Pricket speaks well of his “manhood”—which it is to be hoped he meant only as regarded his physical qualifications—“but for religion, he would say he was cleane paper, whereon he might write what he would.” Although the ship’s provisions were nearly exhausted, they obtained, during the first three months, as many as a hundred dozen white partridges, and, with more difficulty, in the early spring, a few swans, geese, and ducks. A little later these failed them, and they were reduced to eating moss and frogs. Later again, when the ice broke up, seven men were sent out with the boat, and returned with five hundred fish as big as good herrings. They were, however, unsuccessful afterwards, and when the ship left the bay in which they had wintered, had nothing left but short rations of bread for a fortnight, and five cheeses which gave three pounds and a half to each man. These were carefully and fairly [pg 148]divided by Hudson, and, as we are told in the narrative, “he wept when he gave it unto them.”
The vessel stood to the north-west, and on June 21st, 1611, while entangled in the drift ice, Pricket says that Wilson the boatswain and Greene came to him and told him that they and the crew meant to turn the master and all the sick into the boat, and leave them to shift for themselves; that they had not eaten anything for three days, that there were not fourteen days’ provisions left for the whole crew, and that they were determined “either to mend or end; and what they had begun they would go through with it or die.” Pricket says that he attempted to dissuade them, but that they threatened him, and Greene bade him hold his tongue, for he himself would rather be hanged at home than starved abroad. A little later, five or six of the mutineers came to Pricket—he lying, as he says, lame in his cabin—and administered the following oath to him:—“You shall swear truth to God, your prince, and country; you shall do nothing but to the glory of God, and the good of the action in hand, and harm to no man.” The signification of all this soon appeared, for on Hudson coming out of the cabin they seized him, and bound his arms behind him. He demanded what they meant, when he was told that he would find out when he was in the boat. The boat was hauled alongside, and Hudson, his son, and seven “sicke and lame men” were hustled into it; a fowling-piece, some powder and shot, a few pikes, an iron pot, a little meal, and some other articles, were thrown in at the same time. Only one man, John King, the carpenter, had the courage to face these fiends in human shape, and remonstrate with them. He wasted his words and efforts, and, determining not to abandon his captain, jumped into the boat, and the mutineers cut it adrift among the ice. We know the horrors that have overtaken strong and hearty men when obliged to trust to the boats in mid-ocean; in this case, of ten persons seven at least were helpless and crippled; and sad as is the fact, we can hardly wonder to find that nothing was ever gleaned concerning their fate. One shudders to think of their hopeless and inevitable doom, and that among them was lost one of the bravest and most intrepid of England’s seamen.
But to this Arctic tragedy there was a sequel. As soon as the boat was out of sight Pricket says that Greene came to him and told him that he, Pricket, had been elected captain, and that he should take the master’s cabin, which he pretends that he did with great reluctance. The mutineers soon began to quarrel about their course, and were for a whole fortnight shut in the ice, at the end of which time their provisions were all gone. They had to subsist on cockle-grass, which they found on some neighbouring islands. They now began to fear that England would be no safe place for them, and blustering “Henry Greene swore the shippe should not come into any place but keep the sea still, till he had the king’s majesties hand and seale to shew for his safety.” Greene shortly after dispossessed Pricket, and became captain, a position he did not enjoy long. Going ashore on an island near Cape Digges to get some more grass and shoot some gulls, a quarrel ensued with a number of the natives, wherein Greene was killed, and three others died shortly afterwards from wounds received in the scuffle. Pricket, after fighting bravely, according to his own statement, was also severely wounded. The survivors were now in a fearful plight, and, except some sea-fowl which they managed to [pg 149]procure, were almost entirely without provisions. They, however, stood out to sea, shaping their course for Ireland. At length all their supplies were gone, and they were reduced to eating candles and fried skins and bones. Just before reaching Galloway Bay one of the chief mutineers died of sheer starvation.
IN SMITH’S SOUND.
Such are the main points of Pricket’s story, and possibly out of compassion for the sufferings they had undoubtedly endured, no inquiry or punishment followed their arrival. But a very suspicious circumstance has to be related: Hudson’s journal, instead of terminating at the date, June 21st, on which he was thrust into the boat, finished on August 3rd of the previous year. Pricket had charge of the master’s chest, and there can be little doubt but that all portions of the journal which might have implicated them had been destroyed. A subsequent navigator shrewdly remarks of these transactions: “Well, Pricket, I am in great doubt of thy fidelity to Master Hudson.” Nevertheless, his character seems not to have suffered in the eyes of the merchant adventurers; for we find him employed next year in a voyage under Captain (afterwards Sir) Thomas Button, one object of which seems to have been to follow Hudson’s track. They discovered and wintered in Hudson’s River, but found no traces of the great navigator or his unfortunate companions. James Hall, who in 1612 left England on a voyage of northern discovery, and was mortally wounded by the dart of a Greenland Esquimaux, was accompanied by William Baffin, one of the most scientific navigators of his time. This expedition is noteworthy for having been the first on record where longitudes were taken by observation of the heavenly bodies. Baffin accompanied Bylot in 1615 on a voyage to the north-west. After sighting and leaving Greenland, many enormous icebergs were met, some upwards of two hundred feet out of the water. Baffin records one two hundred and forty feet high above the sea, and says that on the usual computation,[25] it must have been “one thousand sixe hundred and eightie foote from [pg 150]the top to the bottome.” A voyage made by the same navigators in 1616 is principally interesting on account of the discovery of Sir Thomas Smythe’s (now-a-days abbreviated to “plain” Smith) Sound. About this period also the pursuit of the whale and walrus was creating great attention from the large profits accruing to the merchants and companies engaged in it. Baffin accompanied an expedition sent out by the Muscovy Company, consisting of six ships and a pinnace, and off Spitzbergen they encountered no less than eight Spanish, four French, two Dutch, and some Biscayan vessels. Nevertheless, “the English having taken possession of the whole country in the name of his Majesty, prohibited all the others from fishing, and sent them away, excepting such as they were pleased to grant leave to remain.” Baffin expected that the Spanish would, at all events, have objected to this rather high-handed course, and “fought with us, but they submitted themselves unto the generall.” About this period there was a very large number of more or less important voyages made, which may be termed of a mixed character. Although sent out for purely commercial purposes, they were the means of adding something to our knowledge of geography. Baffin made more than one voyage after this, accompanying one whaling expedition which consisted of ten ships and two pinnaces. The results of some of these voyages will be more particularly mentioned when we come to consider the inhabitants of the Sea.
In 1619 Christian IV. of Denmark sent out an expedition to Greenland, and for northern discovery generally, under the command of Jens Munk, an experienced seaman. The two vessels employed were mainly manned by English sailors who had served on previous Arctic voyages. Munk left Elsinore on May 18th, and a month afterwards made Cape Farewell. He endeavoured to stand up Davis’s Strait, but the ice preventing he retraced his course, eventually passing through Hudson’s Strait, to which, with the northern part of Hudson’s Bay, he attached new names, in apparent ignorance of previous discoveries. He made the coast of America in latitude 63° 20′, where he was compelled to seek shelter in an opening of the land, which he named Munk’s Winter Harbour. To the surrounding country he gave the name of New Denmark. The year being advanced—it was now September 7th—huts were immediately constructed, and his company were at first very successful in obtaining game—partridges, hares, foxes, and white bears. Several mock suns were observed, and on December 18th an eclipse of the moon occurred, during which this luminary was surrounded by a transparent circle, within which was a cross quartering the moon. This phenomenon was regarded with alarm, and as a harbinger of the misfortunes which soon followed. The weather was intensely cold; their wine, beer, and brandy, were frozen, and the casks burst. The scurvy made its appearance in virulent form, and a Danish authority states it was mostly occasioned by the too free use of spirituous liquors. Their bread and provisions became exhausted, and none of them had strength to hunt or seek other supplies. One by one they succumbed, till out of sixty-four persons hardly one remained. When Munk, who, reduced to a skeleton, had remained for some time alone in a little hut in an utterly hopeless and broken-hearted condition, ventured to crawl out, he found only two others alive. But the spring had come, and, making one last effort, they went forth, and removing the snow found some roots and plants, which they eagerly devoured. They succeeded in obtaining a few fish, [pg 151]and, later, killed some birds. Their strength returning, they equipped the smaller vessel as well as they were able, and set sail on an apparently hopeless voyage, but in spite of storms and other perils succeeded at length in reaching Norway, where they were received as men risen from the grave. Munk must have possessed an undaunted spirit, for we find him almost immediately proposing to make an attempt at the north-west passage, in spite of all the sufferings he had just undergone. A subscription was raised, and a vessel prepared. On taking leave of the court, the king, in admonishing him to be more cautious, appeared to ascribe the loss of his crew to some mismanagement. Munk replied hotly, and the king, forgetting his own proper dignity, struck the brave navigator with a cane. The old sailor left the presence of this unkingly king, smarting under a sense of outrage which he could not forget; and we are told that he took to his bed and died of a broken heart very shortly afterwards. The story, however, is discredited by some authorities. Some thirty years later Denmark again furnished an expedition, under the command of Captain Danells, to explore East Greenland. He could rarely approach the ice-girt coast nearer than eighteen or twenty miles, and subsequent attempts have been little more successful.
MOCK SUNS.
The establishment of the Hudson’s Bay Company, in 1669, appears to have diverted the spirit of adventure and discovery from the far north, and we hear of few voyages to the Arctic at this period, and for some time afterwards, although the discovery of a northern passage to the Pacific is really included in the objects for which the charter to that Corporation was granted.
One attempt at a north-eastern passage in 1676 deserves to be mentioned, principally on account of the circumstances which brought it about. There was a considerable amount of rivalry in the East Indian, Chinese, and Japanese trade at that time, between the Dutch and ourselves, and some reports had reached England that a company of merchants in Holland was agitating the subject of a north-eastern passage to the Orient once more. Further, Mr. Joseph Moxon, a Fellow of the Royal Society, had just published his “Brief Discourse,” wherein he records the following story, from which he concluded “that there is a free and open sea under the very pole.” “Being about twenty-two years ago in Amsterdam,” says he, “I went into a drinking-house to drink a cup of beer for my thirst, and sitting by the public fire among several people, there happened a seaman to come in, who seeing a friend of his there whom he knew went in the Greenland voyage, wondered to see him, because it was not yet time for the Greenland fleet to come home, and asked him what accident brought him home so soon; his friend (who was the steer-man aforesaid in a Greenland ship that summer) told him that their ship went not out to fish that summer but only to take in the lading of the whole fleet, and bring it to an early market. But, said he, before the fleet had caught fish enough to lade us, we, by order of the Greenland Company, sailed unto the north pole, and came back again. Whereupon (his relation being novel to me) I entered into discourse with him, and seemed to question the truth of what he said; but he did ensure me it was true, and that the ship was then in Amsterdam, and many of the seamen belonging to her to justify the truth of it; and told me, moreover, that they had sailed two degrees beyond the Pole.” The Hollander also stated that they had an open sea, free from ice, [pg 152]and that the weather was warm. Whatever amount of truth there might be in this beerhouse story, its publication had an influence at the time, and an expedition, partly provided by the Government and partly by the Duke of York and several other noblemen and gentlemen, was despatched at the end of May, 1676. The Speedwell and Prosperous, under the command respectively of Captains Wood and Flawes, were the vessels employed. The first struck on a ledge of rocks off Nova Zembla, and Wood had scarcely time to get the bread and carpenter’s tools ashore before she went to pieces. Two of the crew were lost, and the rest safely landed. They had almost concluded to attempt a boat voyage, similar to that made by the brave Hollanders of Barents’ third expedition, when the Prosperous, attracted by a great fire which they had made on the shore, hove in sight, and took them on board. The two crews reached England safely, and the voyage, in the words of a distinguished writer, “seems to have closed the long list of unfortunate northern expeditions in that century; and the discovery, if not absolutely despaired of, by being so often missed, ceased for many years to be sought for.”
Nor did the eighteenth century open much more auspiciously. Mr. Knight, an old servant of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and for a long time governor of their leading establishment on Nelson’s River, had learned from the Indians that in the extreme [pg 153]north of their territory, and on the banks of a navigable river, there was a rich mine of native copper. Knight was so impressed with the value of this information, that, after much trouble, he induced the Company to send out an expedition for the purpose of investigating the matter. Knight himself, nearly eighty years of age, had a general charge of the expedition, the vessels of which were commanded by Captains Barlow and Vaughan. The expedition left in the spring of 1719, and never returned; it was not till forty-eight years afterwards that any information was gleaned concerning the melancholy fate of the whole party. In the year 1767 some of the Company’s men employed in whaling near Marble Island stood in close to the shore, where in a harbour they discovered the remains of a house, the hulls of two ships under water, and guns, anchors, cables, an anvil, and other heavy articles, which had not been removed by the natives. The following, from a work by Samuel Hearne,[26] sufficiently indicates the misery to which the party had been reduced, before death terminated their sufferings. It was obtained through the medium of an Esquimaux interpreter from the natives.
When the vessels arrived at Marble Island it was very late in the fall, and in getting them into the harbour the largest received much damage, but on being fairly in the English began to build the house; their number at that time seeming to be about fifty. As soon as the ice permitted in the following summer (1720), the Esquimaux paid them another visit, by which time the number of the English was very greatly reduced, and those that were living seemed very unhealthy. According to the account given by the Esquimaux, they were then very busily employed, but about what they could not easily describe, probably in lengthening the long boat, for at a little distance from the house there was now lying a great quantity of oak chips, which had been made most assuredly by carpenters.
A sickness and famine occasioned such havoc among the English that by the setting in of the second winter their number was reduced to twenty. That winter (1720) some of the Esquimaux took up their abode on the opposite side of the harbour to that on which the English had built their houses, and frequently supplied them with such provisions as they had, which chiefly consisted of whale’s blubber, seal’s flesh, and train oil. When the spring advanced the Esquimaux went to the continent, and on their visiting Marble Island again, in the summer of 1721, they only found five of the English alive, and those were in such distress for provisions that they eagerly ate the seal’s flesh and whale’s blubber quite raw as they purchased it from the natives. This disordered them so much that three of them died in a few days, and the other two, though very weak, made a shift to bury them. Those two survived many days after the rest, and frequently went to the top of an adjacent rock and earnestly looked to the south and east, as if in expectation of some vessels coming to their relief. After continuing there a considerable time together, and nothing appearing in sight, they sat down close together and wept bitterly. At length one of the two died, and the other’s strength was so far exhausted that he fell down and died also in attempting to dig a grave for his companion.
THE REMNANTS OF KNIGHT’S EXPEDITION.
In 1741 Captain Middleton made a northern voyage of little importance, and on his [pg 154]return was publicly accused by one Mr. Arthur Dobbs, of having acted in bad faith to the Government, and of having taken a bribe of £5,000 from the Hudson’s Bay Company, his old employers, not to make discoveries. The captain denied having accepted any bribe, but almost admitted that he had said no one should be much the wiser if he did make the north-west passage. The agitation, however, stirred by Dobbs, led to the passing of an Act of Parliament offering the large sum of £20,000 for the discovery of a north-western route to the Indies. Two vessels—the Dobb’s Galley and California—were equipped by subscription, and left in the spring of 1746. The expedition wintered near Fort York, but although absent seventeen months, virtually accomplished nothing. The result was that the ardour of the public as well as of explorers received a decided check, and for nearly thirty years we hear of no Arctic voyage being despatched for purposes of discovery.