UNLOADING, DRAGGING, AND CARRYING BOATS AND GOODS.
The following passage is only one of many indicating the laborious nature of their undertaking:—“The 22 of June in the morning it blew a good gale out of the south-east, and then the sea was reasonably open, but we were forced to draw our scutes ouer the ice to get vnto it, which was great paine and labour unto vs; for first we were forced to draw our scutes over a peece of ice of 50 paces long, and then put them into the water, and then againe to draw them vp vpon other ice, and after draw them at the least [pg 141]300 paces more ouer the ice, before we could bring them to a good place, where we might easily get out.” On the 25th and 26th of June a tempest raged, and they were driven to sea, being unable, as they had sometimes done before, to tie the boats to fast or grounded ice. They were nearly swamped at this time by the great seas which constantly broke over their open boats, and for some little time were separated in a fog, but by firing muskets at length found out each other’s position and joined company. One of the boats got into a dangerous place between fixed and driving ice, and the men had to unload it, and take it and the goods bodily across the masses to more open water. On June 28th, the narrative continues, “We laid all our goods vpon the ice, and then drew the scutes vpon the ice also, because we were so hard prest on all sides with the ice, and the wind came out of the sea vpon the land, and therefore we were in feare to be wholly inclosed with the ice, and should not be able to get out thereof againe. And being vpon the ice, we laid sailes ouer our scutes, and laie down to rest, appointing one of our men to keepe watch; and when the sun was north there came three beares towards our scutes, wherewith he that kept the watch cried out lustily, ‘Three beares! Three beares!’ at which noise we leapt out of our boates with our muskets, that were laden with small shot to shoote at birds, and had no time to reload them, and therefore shot at them therewith; and although that kinde of shot could not hurt them much, yet they ranne away, and in the meane time they gaue vs leisure to lade our muskets with bullets, and by that meanes we shot one of the three dead.... The 29th of June, the sun being south-south-west, the two beares came againe to the place where the dead beare laie, when one of them tooke the dead beare in his mouth, and went a great way with it ouer the rugged ice, and then began to eate it; which we perceauing, shot a musket at her, but she, hearing the noise thereof, ran away and let the dead beare lie. Then foure of vs went thither, and saw that in so short a time she had eaten almost the halfe of her.” It was as much as these four could do to carry away the half of the body left, although the bear had just before dragged the whole of it over the rough and hummocky ice with little exertion.
On July 1st they were again in great danger among the driving, grinding ice, their boats were much crushed, and they lost a quantity of goods, and, what was of vital importance at the time, a large proportion of their remaining provisions. A few days afterwards their little company was still further reduced by the death of one of the sailors. On July 11th, and a week afterwards, they were enclosed by ice, from which they could not extricate themselves. During this enforced delay they shot a bear, whose fat ran out at the holes made by the bullets, and floated on the water like oil. They obtained some seventy duck eggs on a neighbouring island, and for a time feasted royally. “The 18 of July,” says the narrator, “about the east sunne, three of our men went vp vpon the highest part of the land to see if there was any open water in the sea; at which time they saw much open water, but it was so farre from the land that they were almost out of comfort, because it lay so farre from the land and the fast ice.” They had on this occasion to row to an ice-field, unload, and drag and carry boats and goods at least three-fourths of a mile across; they then loaded and set sail, but were speedily entangled again, and had to repeat their previous experiences.
And so it went on for forty-four days, until, in St. Laurence Bay, behind a projecting point, they suddenly came on two Russian vessels with which they had met the previous year, and the crews of which wondered to see them in their present plight, “so leane and bare” and broken down. They exchanged courtesies, and provided them with a trifling supply of rye bread and smoked fowls, then sailing away on their own affairs. For thirty-five days longer they sailed westward, repeating many of their previous experiences, till at length, on September 2nd, they arrived at Kola, in Russian Lapland, and their troubles were really over. Cornelison’s ship happened to be in the port, and they rejoiced and made merry with their old companions, who had long given them up for lost.
Thus ended this remarkable voyage of nearly eighty days in two small open boats. It would seem nowadays utter madness to think of making a long voyage in such frail and unsuitable craft, and our adventurers had had the special perils of the Arctic seas superadded to the more ordinary dangers of the ocean. Eight weeks later they were enjoying the calm pleasures of their own firesides, after having been entertained at the Hague by the Prince of Orange.
A further interest attaches to the voyage from the recent discovery made by Captain Carlsen, while circumnavigating Nova Zembla, of the very house erected at Ice Haven by these adventurers, with many interesting relics, which had remained in tolerable preservation, and had been evidently unvisited for this great length of time. “No man,” says Mr. Markham, “had entered the lonely dwelling where the famous discoverer of Spitzbergen had sojourned during the long winter of 1596 for nearly three centuries. There stood the cooking-pans over the fireplace, the old clock against the wall, the arms, the tools, the drinking-vessels, the instruments, and the books that had beguiled the weary hours of that long night, 278 years ago.... Perhaps the most touching is the pair of small shoes. There was a little cabin-boy among the crew, who died, as Gerrit de Veer tells us, during the winter. This accounts for the shoes having been left behind. There is a flute, too, once played by that poor boy, which will still give out a few notes.”[24] The relics brought home by Carlsen were eventually taken to the Hague, where they are now preserved with jealous care.
In chronological order, a voyage of which there is little record left comes next. There is little doubt that William Adams—who, afterwards cast away on the coast of Japan, is inseparably connected with the history of that country, and whose adventures will be considered in the proper place—did, in 1595 or 1596, make an attempt at the north-east passage. The Prince of Orange had ordered him to try for a northern route to Japan, China, and the Moluccas, considering that it would be shorter, and safer from the attacks of the pirates and corsairs who infested the more southern seas. Adams averred that he had reached 82° N., but that “the cold was so excessive, with so much sleet and snow driving down those straits, that he was compelled to return.” And he asserted that if he had kept close to the coast of Tartary, and had run along it to the eastward, to the opening of Anian, between the land of Asia and America, he might have succeeded in his undertaking.
Next comes the attempt of George Weymouth in 1602. He was despatched by the worshipful merchants of the Muscovy and Turkey Companies to attempt a north-west passage to China. This voyage was an utter failure, and he never reached a higher latitude than 63° 53′ N. While proceeding to the north-west they passed four islands of ice “of a huge bignesse,” and about this time the fog was so thick that they could not see two ships’ lengths before them, and the sails, shrouds, and ropes were frozen so stiff that they could not be handled. On July 19th the crew mutinied, and conspired to keep the captain confined to his cabin, while they reversed the ship’s course and bore for England. Weymouth discovered this, and punished the ringleaders. The boats were on one occasion sent to an iceberg, to load some of it for fresh water, and as the men were breaking it “the great island of ice gave a mightie cracke two or three times, as though it had been a thunderclappe; and presently the island began to overthrow,” which nearly swamped the boats. The whole account of Weymouth’s voyage is confused and indefinite, but he evidently did nothing beyond cruising among the islands north of Hudson’s Strait, and off Labrador.
In 1605, 1606, and 1607, three expeditions, of which James Hall, an Englishman, was pilot, were despatched to the Greenland coasts by the King of Denmark. They fancied on the first voyage that they had discovered a silver mine in Cunningham’s Fiord, Greenland, and the second voyage was instigated in the hopes of filling the royal coffers with the precious metal. These voyages were in effect most fruitless. Several natives were carried off by Hall, who in return left three Danish malefactors on the Greenland coasts, a severe mode of banishment. While these voyages were in progress, the Muscovy and East India merchants had despatched a small barque, under the command of John Knight, for the discovery of the north-west passage. Near Cape Guinington, on the coast of Labrador, a northerly gale, which brought down large quantities of drift ice, did much damage to the vessel, and she lost her rudder. Knight took the vessel into the most accessible cove in order to repair her, and went ashore with the mate and four sailors, all well armed, to endeavour to find some more suitable harbour. On landing, Knight, the mate, and another, went up towards the highest part of the island, leaving the others to take charge of the boat. The latter waited some thirteen hours, but the captain and his companions did not return. Next day, a well-armed party from the ship went in search of them, but were unable to reach the island on account of the ice. No tidings were ever gleaned concerning their fate, but it was concluded that the savage natives had killed them, as later a number of these people came down and attacked the crew with great ferocity. They had large canoes, and the narrator describes them as “very little people, tawnie coloured, thin or no beards, and flat-nosed, and man-eaters.” After patching up their vessel, they steered for Newfoundland, and later for England, which they reached in safety.