Early History of Arctic Discovery—The “Hardy Norseman”—Accidental Discovery of Iceland—Colony Formed—A Fisherman Drifted to Greenland—Eric the Red Head—Rapid Colonisation—Early Intercourse with America—Voyages of the Zeni—Cabot’s Attempt at a North-west Passage—Maritime Enterprise of this Epoch—Voyage of the Dominus Vobiscum—Of the Trinitie and Minion—Starvation and Cannibalism—A High-handed Proceeding—Company of the Merchant Adventurers—Attempts at the North-east—Fate of Willoughby—Chancelor, and our First Intercourse with Russia.
And now, having noted the results attained by the latest expedition which has dared to attempt the discovery of the North Pole,[19] let us glance at the progress of northern discovery from the very beginning, and watch the gradual steps by which such discoveries were rendered possible. We shall have to go back to a period when no compass guided the mariner on his watery way, when sextants and artificial horizons were undreamed of, when navigation, in a word, was but in its second stage of infancy. And although many of the earlier discoveries were the result of pure accident, we shall see much to admire in the enterprise and hardihood of explorers who ventured almost blindfold into unknown seas, abounding in special obstacles and dangers.
With the discovery of Iceland and Greenland virtually commences our knowledge of the northern and Arctic seas. The Romans, even as late as Pliny’s time, had no correct knowledge of the North Sea and Baltic, and whatever they did know seems to have been derived second-hand from the Carthaginians. In the days of our good King Alfred our ancestors did undoubtedly engage in the pursuit of the whale and sea-horse, but it is to the “hardy Norseman,” whose
“House of yore
Was on the foaming wave,”
that we are indebted for the first great discoveries. Conquering and ravaging wherever they went, spreading not merely terror and ruin, but also population and some of the ruder forms of civilisation, these Scandinavian pirates were the only rulers of the main in the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries, during which they incessantly ravaged our coasts, penetrated the very heart of France, established settlements, and even levied tribute on the reigning monarch. These bold Northmen ventured in vessels which now-a-days would be regarded as unsuitable for the most trifling sea voyages. In the year 861, Naddodr, a Norwegian Viking, bent on a piratical trip to the Faroe Islands, was driven by an easterly gale so far to the north-westward that he reached an utterly unknown island. Its mountains were snow-covered, and the first name suggested by this fact, and which he bestowed on the island, was Sneeland (Snowland). Certain Swedes ventured there three years afterwards, and on their return gave such a very lively account of its vegetation and soil that an emigration followed. One of the first adventurers thither was Flokko. The secret of the magnetic power, as applied to the compass, although known [pg 116]apparently in the earliest ages to the Chinese, was entirely unknown to the Scandinavians; and Flokko had provided himself with a raven, or, as some accounts say, four ravens, which, Noah-like, he let loose, and which guided him to the land of which he was in quest. He passed a winter there, and from the large quantity of drift-ice which encumbered the northern bays and coasts, changed its name to that which it at present bears—Iceland. In the year 874, Ingolf and other Norwegians, sick of the tyranny of their king, Harold, determined to settle in the new-found island. On approaching the coast, the leader, determining to be guided by chance in his selection of a locality, threw overboard a wooden door, which floated into a fiord on the southern side of the island, and the emigrants landed there. Others soon joined the little colony, bringing with them their cattle, implements, and household goods. From very early Icelandic records it is interesting to learn that these Norwegians found indications that others had preceded them, as on the shore were discovered crosses, bells, and books, and other relics of the Christian worship of those days. It is very generally believed that these were of Irish origin. While the new colony was yet young, one Gunbiörn, a fisherman, was drifted in his boat far to the westward, and he may perhaps be regarded as the real discoverer of Greenland, but, although he sighted the land, he did not attempt to explore it. About the year 982, Eric Rauda, or Eric the Red Head, a man who had been convicted of manslaughter in Iceland, was banished from the island for a term of years. Sailing with some companions to the westward, he reached Greenland, and spent three years in its examination, returning at the end of that time to Iceland, where he spread a somewhat high-flown account of “its green and pleasant meadows” and of its extensive fisheries. No less than twenty-five vessels were despatched from Iceland for the newly-discovered land, a significant proof of the early progress of the former colony. One-half of these were lost; the others reached Greenland in safety.
By accident or design these Scandinavians were the great explorers of their day, and the colonisation of Greenland virtually led to the first European intercourse with North America. An Icelandic settler, one Bjarni, on a voyage by which he hoped to reach Greenland, encountered severe weather, and was driven on a part of the American coast, now believed to have been that of Nantucket Island, south of the State of Massachusetts. The account he gave on his return inflamed the ambition of Heif, or Heifr, the son of that Eric who had founded the colony on Greenland. He equipped a vessel, and set sail for the New World. On approaching the coast they observed a barren and rocky island, which they named Helleland, and to a low sandy shore beyond it, which was covered with wood, they gave the name Markland. “Two days after this they fell in with a new coast of land, to the northward of which they observed a large island. They ascended a river, the banks of which were covered with shrubs, bearing fruits of a most agreeable and delicious flavour. The temperature of the air felt soft and mild to the Greenland adventurers, the soil appeared to be fertile, and the river abounded with fish, and particularly with excellent salmon.”[20] To the island they gave the name Vinland, because wild grapes, or berries resembling grapes, were found there. They had reached [pg 117]some part of the coast of Newfoundland, in all probability. The intercourse between Greenland and America was kept up to the fourteenth century, principally for the purpose of obtaining wood, but no colony was formed. Meantime the Greenland colonies grew and flourished. Sixteen churches were erected, and nearly three hundred hamlets formed on the east and west sides. That on the west had increased till it numbered four parishes, containing one hundred villages, but being engaged in perpetual hostility with the native Esquimaux, then known as Skrœlings, the colony was ultimately destroyed. In 1721, when the excellent missionary, Hans Egede, visited that country, on its being re-colonised by the Greenland Company, the ruins of their edifices were still to be found. The fate of the eastern colony was, if possible, still more deplorable. It had, for a time, a greater population than that of the western side. “A succession of sixteen bishops is recorded in the Iceland annals,” says Barrow, “but when the seventeenth was proceeding from Norway, in 1406, to take possession of his see, a stream of ice had fixed itself to the coast, and rendered it completely inaccessible; and from that period to the present time no intercourse whatever has been had with the unfortunate colonists.” It is related in the “History of Greenland” by Thormoder Torfager, that Amand, Bishop of Skalholt, in Iceland, in returning to Norway from that island, about the middle of the sixteenth century, was driven by a storm near to the east coast of Greenland, and got so close that the inhabitants could be seen driving their cattle, but they did not attempt to land. The fate of the East Greenland colony has been the cause of much discussion, some contending that it never was on the eastern side, but on the western; but that there were two distinct colonies cannot be doubted. A field of ice has apparently blocked the eastern coast for centuries, and all attempts made to penetrate it have failed, as we shall see in the progress of our narrative. Up to the end of the last century, the Esquimaux of the western side spoke of a foreign race, taller than themselves, and of whom they were greatly afraid, regarding them as cannibals and as their natural enemies. When they had met, the former had always fled, the latter shooting after them with arrows. Crantz, a great authority on Greenland, says:—“If this report can be depended upon, we might suppose that these men were descended from the old Norwegians, had sheltered themselves from the savages in the mountains, lived in enmity to them out of resentment for the destruction of their ancestors, pillaged them in the spring when sustenance failed them, and were looked upon by the savages as man-eaters, and fabulously represented through excess of fear.”
The above introduction to our subject will pave the way for the period when the history of Arctic and northern voyages becomes more and more definite. We begin with those of the Zeni brothers, from which the mists of obscurity and error have only recently been cleared, through the patient researches of a most careful student and geographer.
The voyages of the Zeni have generally been either ignored or considered worse than mythical. For some three centuries these noble Venetian adventurers have indeed been subjected to an amount of contumely and abuse sufficient to have made them turn in their graves. But a champion has arisen in the person of R. H. Major, Esq., F.S.A., one of the secretaries of the Royal Geographical Society, who, clearing their narratives from subsequent interpolations, has shown that their own voyages, and those of others recorded by them were both genuine and important. Their history, in brief, is as follows:—[pg 118]Towards the close of the fourteenth century, Nicolo Zeno, a member of a distinguished Venetian family, sailed on a voyage of discovery in the northern seas. Wrecked on the Faroe Islands, Sinclair, the Earl of Orkney and Caithness, a noble pirate, ambitious as any sovereign for conquest, took him into his service as pilot, and, later, Nicolo was joined by his brother Antonio. Many of the journals and documents of the Zeni were subsequently lost, and their narrations were edited by a descendant, who mixed with them much of the false geography of the day and conjectures of his own. This was the point of trouble. The narrative cleared of a mass of error by Mr. Major’s investigations, there can now be no doubt that Nicolo visited Greenland, where he found a monastery of friars, preachers, and a church of St. Thomas close by a volcanic hill. There was also a hot-water spring, which the monks used for heating the church and the entire monastery, and by which they cooked their meat and baked their bread. By a judicious use of this hot water they raised in their small covered gardens the flowers, fruits, and herbs of more temperate climates, thereby gaining much respect from their neighbours, who brought them presents of meat, chickens, &c. They were indebted, the narrative says, to the volcano for the very materials of their buildings, for by throwing water on the burning stones while still hot they converted them into a tenacious and indestructible substance, which they used as mortar. They had not much rain, as there was a settled frost all through their nine months’ winter. They lived on wild fowl and fish, which were attracted by the warmth of that part of the sea into which the hot water fell, and which formed a commodious harbour. The houses were built all round the hill, and were circular in form and tapering to the top, where was a little hole for light and air, the ground below supplying all necessary heat. In summer time they were visited by ships from the neighbouring islands and from Trondheim, which brought them corn, cloths, and other necessaries in exchange for fish and skins. The narrative goes on to speak of the fishermen’s boats, in shape like a weaver’s shuttle, and made of the skins and bones of fishes, and other points indicating a confirmation of the facts already mentioned concerning the early history of Greenland. On the death of Nicolo Zeno, his brother Antonio succeeded to his property, dignities, and honours, with which latter, it seems, he would have gladly dispensed, wishing to return to his own country, but the earl would not hear of it. Antonio therefore remained in his service, and has recorded the accounts of some fishermen who had undoubtedly reached North America; as also a voyage made by the Earl Sinclair and himself, wherein the former at least appears to have reached Newfoundland and Labrador. A part of these voyages may with more propriety be considered when we come to the discoveries in regard to the New World made by Columbus and the Cabots. And here a fact little known may be briefly recorded, on account of the absence of almost any history, that Cristoforo Colon (Columbus), prior to those great voyages which have made his name immortal, did undoubtedly make a northern voyage, visiting both Greenland and Iceland. The object of this voyage is unknown; but, judging from the ruling ambition of the navigators of those days, it was to attempt a north-west or north-east passage to the Indies. As our next voyage will show, it is a question to whom belongs the honour of having first made this attempt.
Giovanni Cabota, or Cabot, a Venetian, had settled in Bristol during the reign of [pg 119]Henry VII., and being a skilful pilot and navigator, the king encouraged him to attempt discoveries by granting him a patent, in virtue whereof he had leave to go in search of strange lands, and to conquer and settle them. One-fifth of the profits was to be the king’s. The patent bears date March 5th, 1496, and is granted to Cabot and his three sons, Ludovico, Sebastian, and Sancio. There is some little difficulty in collating the various accounts collected by Hakluyt, but the voyage reported by Sebastian to the Pope’s legate in Spain is distinct enough. He says in effect that the discoveries of Columbus had inflamed his desire to attempt to reach India by the north-west. By studying the globe—“understanding by reason of the sphere,” he terms it—he thought that he must, theoretically at least, reach India that way, if no land intervened. He, of course, knew nothing of the icy barriers that stopped Franklin and M’Clure from actually taking a vessel that way. The king favoured his ideas, “and immediately commanded two caravels to bee furnished with all things appertayning to the voyage,” which was made, as far as he could remember, in 1496. Sailing to the north-west, he encountered land in latitude 56°. Then, despairing to find the passage, he turned back, sailing down the coast of America as far as Florida, when, his provisions failing, he returned to England. The Cabots brought home three natives of Newfoundland, who “were clothed in beasts’ skins, and did eate raw flesh, and, spake such speach that no man could understand them; and in their demeanour like to bruite beastes.” The attempt of Cabot furnishes a clue to the object of many subsequent voyages, which were intended to have been made viâ the Arctic Seas to the Pacific and Indian Oceans. It must be remembered that it was not till 1498 that the route to the Indies viâ the Cape of Good Hope was discovered. That viâ Cape Horn, as we shall see, was discovered still later.