At last the water became too shoal for further exploration and Hudson returned downstream. It was time to conclude his voyage and he consulted his men. They were greatly averse to returning to Holland, fearing without doubt that he would report their open mutiny and rebellious conduct as soon as they arrived. Hudson feared for his life, and indeed his fears were well founded; but with considerable astuteness he proposed that they return not to Holland but Ireland—a suggestion that was eagerly hailed by the crew. They set sail from Manhattan in October, and on November 7 arrived at Dartmouth, England, where Hudson had taken his vessel either through accident or design.
He sent word of his arrival to the Dutch East India Company and received an order to proceed to Holland without delay—but when he was about to set sail the English forbade him to do so and he was ordered henceforth to serve his own country and not to give help to a foreign power.
Already, though he had little idea of it, he had accomplished more than enough to rank him as the foremost explorer of his time, and his name was assured of immortality. He had opened up to the advances of the Dutch settlers a country enormously rich in natural resources and laid the primary foundation of perhaps the world's most wonderful city. He had established a "farthest north" that has only been equaled by modern explorers, and his voyages near Spitzbergen had resulted in profitable fisheries.
But Hudson was not yet satisfied, and indeed his recent voyage had impelled the English to equip him again for further explorations. They gave him a little vessel of some fifty-five tons named the Discovery and a mixed crew of Englishmen and Dutchmen, with whom he put forth once more in 1610 to see if an opening into southern seas could be found by means of the waterways discovered by the explorer, Davis.
Among these sailors, to Hudson's cost, was his former surly mate, Juet, and a young ne'er-do-well named Henry Greene, who had been cast off by his family for his evil ways and his dissolute living. Hudson had befriended this young man and had offered him a refuge in his own house—and now, to keep him out of mischief, took him along as a member of his crew. With the explorer also was a boy, John Hudson, who was undoubtedly his son and who had served under him as cabin boy on previous voyages.
That Hudson, for all his great qualities, was not a leader of men like the American Paul Jones, who could make convicts and prisoners of war serve him in battle against his enemies; and that he had always controlled his crew with a loose hand seems amply borne out by the events that took place on this voyage, which was destined to prove his last. Almost before he had quitted the river Thames he commenced to have trouble with his crew, sending one unruly member ashore before he was out of sight of land.
He turned his prow toward Iceland where he caught a great many fish and wild fowl and where he and his followers saw Mount Hecla, the volcano, pouring flame upon the snows. He then set sail for Greenland, rounded Cape Desolation and after a long and wearisome voyage found himself at last in the great body of water in northern Canada that is now called Hudson Bay. This he thought might be at last the long sought passage, for the great waterway ran toward the south. And Hudson, sailing onward, found himself at last in its southernmost part—a pocket now called James Bay. Storms were frequent and heavy fogs rolled upon him incessantly. On one occasion he anchored in a gale and lay buffeting enormous seas for eight long days. When he tried to hoist anchor against the wishes of the crew a great wave broke directly over the bow, breaking upon the deck with such force that all the men were swept from their feet and several were injured. The anchor was lost and only the quickness of the carpenter saved the cable, which he cut with an ax as it was running over the side. Staggering in the heavy sea the Discovery sailed northward, for Hudson had at last become convinced that no passage led to the orient through Hudson Bay.
Ice retarded them and they were compelled to seek winter quarters. Their provisions were nearly gone and all that saved their lives was skill in hunting whereby they secured several hundred white partridges, or ptarmigan. Discontent and mutiny were breaking out among the members of the crew, and the ringleader against Hudson was young Henry Greene whom he had befriended and fed at his own table. A house was built for winter quarters, but it was badly constructed and the biting Arctic blast swept through it, chilling to the bone the bodies that were weakened with hunger. In the spring, when the mariners were able once again to resume the voyage, they were at death's door from starvation.
What little food was left was distributed by Hudson, and, we are told, he wept as he doled it out. Disappointed in his hopes of a successful voyage, weakened with hunger and with a crew in almost open mutiny, it is not to be wondered at if he spoke harshly at times to his men and added to the grudge they harbored against him. The most assiduous of all in their efforts to do him injury was Henry Greene, his former beneficiary.
A plot was conceived to put Hudson and all the sick members of the crew in the shallop or small boat that the Discoverer carried and turn them adrift, and all the details of this were worked out by Greene and some other leading spirits among the mutineers. Hudson was seized and bound; the sick were told to get up from their bunks and take their places in the shallop. Even the boy, John Hudson, was placed there also,—and the carpenter, who preferred to face death with his master rather than remain with the mutineers, was put aboard as well. Then the painter was cut, and without food, clothing or provisions, Hudson and his companions floated away amid the ice fields. They were never seen again.