William Dampier

by William Clark Russell

The subsequent fate of Swan and his men is worth a brief reference. They remained for some considerable time on the island, and then some of them managed to obtain a passage to Batavia. Captain Swan and his surgeon, whilst rowing to a Dutch ship that was to convey them to Europe, were overset in their canoe by some natives, who stabbed them whilst they were swimming for their lives. Others of the men who remained at Mindanao were poisoned.

By this time Dampier was as heartily weary as ever Swan had been of the voyage, if not of privateering, and waited for a chance to give his comrades the slip. Meanwhile the vessel, after cruising off Manila, where they took a couple of Spanish craft, proceeded from one island to another, from one port to another, until, the monsoon being close at hand, they decided to skirt the Philippine Islands, and, heading southwards towards what was then known as the Spice Islands, enter the Indian Ocean by way of Timor. The object of all this roundabout navigation is not very plain. Dampier asserts that the crew were in great fear of meeting with English or Dutch ships; still it is difficult to understand their motive in straying so wide afield from the common maritime highways of that period. They were now on the Australian parallels, in the shadow of a world lying dark upon the face of the ocean. As privateersmen they had little to hope or expect from pushing into regions full of mystery and peril. Dampier says that being clear of the islands they stood off south, intending to touch at New Holland “to see what that country would afford us.” One would wish for his dignity as a navigator that he had avowed, on his own part at least, a higher motive for the exploration. It does not seem to enter his head, at this point of his career at all events, that the discovery of the true character and area of the Terra Australis Incognita might bring to the marine explorer of its rocky coasts honours scarcely less glorious, renown certainly not less enduring, than were won by the mightiest of the old navigators. It is proper to remember, however, that Dampier was but a common sailor in this ship that had been run away with, and that his expectations, and perhaps his ambition, scarcely rose above those of a privateersman; though how far he resembled his shipmates in other directions we may gather from his narrative, which he builds wholly upon the journal he faithfully kept throughout; never remitting his strict practice of laborious observation whether in storm or in shine, whether amidst the bustle and activity of a chase, or the languor and listlessness of a long spell of tropical calm.

“New Holland,” he says, “is a very large tract of land. It is not yet determined whether it is an island or a main continent; but I am certain that it joyns neither to Africa, Asia, or America.” Why he is certain he does not tell us, but he is too sagacious to err, though whilst he thus thinks, all that he sees of the vast territory is “low land with sandy banks against the sea.” He devotes several pages to descriptions of the natives, telling us that they have no houses, that they go armed with a piece of wood shaped like a cutlass, that their speech is guttural, that in consequence of the flies which tease and sting their faces, they keep their eyelids half closed; and so forth. One extract from several pages of most admirable, quaint description will, I trust, be permitted.

“After we had been here a little while, the Men began to be familiar, and we cloathed some of them, designing to have had some service from them for it: for we found some Wells of Water here, and intended to carry 2 or 3 barrels of it aboard. But it being somewhat troublesome to carry to the Canaos, we thought to have made these men to have carry'd it for us, and therefore we gave them some Cloathes; to one an old pair of Breeches, to another a ragged Shirt, to a third a Jacket that was scarce worth owning; which yet would have been very acceptable at some places where we had been, and so we thought they might have been with these People. We put them on, thinking that this finery would have brought them to work heartily for us; and our Water being filled in small long Barrels, about 6 gallons in each, which were made purposely to carry Water in, we brought these our new Servants to the Wells, and put a Barrel on each of their Shoulders for them to carry to the Canao. But all the signs we could make were to no purpose, for they stood like Statues, without motion, but grinn'd like so many monkeys, staring one upon another: For these poor Creatures seem'd not accustomed to carry Burdens: and I believe that one of our Ship Boys of 10 Years old, would carry as much as one of them. So we were forced to carry our Water ourselves; and they very fairly put the Cloaths off again, and laid them down, as if the Cloaths were only to work in. I did not perceive that they had any liking to them at first; neither did they seem to admire anything that we had.”

To the part of New Holland these privateers touched at they gave no name. Dampier speaks of the latitude of it being 16° 50', but his reckonings are not to be trusted. To judge by the tracings of the map of this portion of the world in his first volume, the coast which they first sighted was that of North Australia, and they probably anchored off either Bathurst or Melville Island. Be this as it may, they did not linger long. Dampier endeavoured to persuade the men to sail to some English factory, but in return for his advice they threatened to leave him ashore on the sands of New Holland, “which,” says he, “made me desist.” They soon saw as much of Terra Incognita as satisfied them, and on March 12th, 1688, they weighed with the wind at north north-west and steered their ship northwards. They arrived at Nicobar on May 5th, and here Dampier resolved to leave the vessel. Obtaining leave to go ashore, he was landed on the sandy beach of a small bay where stood two untenanted houses; but he had not enjoyed an hour of liberty when some armed men came from the ship to fetch him aboard again. Resistance was as idle as entreaties, and he was forced to return; but on his arrival he found the vessel in an uproar. Others, taking courage by his example, had also determined to leave the ship. Amongst them was the surgeon. This man the captain flatly refused to part with, and the hubbub was great. All this confusion and quarrelling seems to have helped Dampier, for, after a deal of squabbling, we find him and two others obtaining permission to quit the ship. They were put ashore with their effects, and entering one of the unoccupied houses, hung up their hammocks to prepare for the night. Presently more men arrived, and they were now numerous enough to protect themselves against the natives. It was a fine clear, moonlight night, and the little company of buccaneers walked down to the beach to wait until the ship should weigh and be gone, fearing their liberty whilst she stayed. At twelve o'clock they heard her getting her anchor and making sail, and presently she was gliding slowly and silently seawards, glistening white against the ocean darkness to the rays of the high moon.

Next day Dampier and his associates purchased a canoe, and passed over to the south end of the island, where they victualled their little boat with fruit loaves, cocoa-nuts, and fresh water, so that when the monsoon came on to blow they might be in readiness to sail for Acheen. It is consistent that a man who had traversed on foot the dangerous and poisonous Isthmus of Panama should parallel that accomplishment by a remarkable boat-voyage. The craft was a canoe of the size of a London wherry, deeper but not so broad, sharp after the whaling pattern at both ends, and so thin and light that when empty four men could lift her. She carried a mat-sail, and outriggers to prevent her from capsizing. In this little ark Dampier and his shipmates embarked—eight men, four of whom were Malays—and started for Acheen on May 15th, 1688. The breezes were light, the atmosphere sultry. Sometimes they rowed, sometimes left the sail to do its work, but at the end of two days, to their great mortification, they found the Island of Nicobar still in sight a little over twenty miles distant. On the 18th they remarked a great circle round the sun, an appearance that caused Dampier to suppose that bad weather was at hand. His foreboding was true; wind and sea rose, and but for the outriggers the canoe must have been swamped. Still the gale freshened, and there was nothing for it but to scud. There occurs here a characteristic passage. It reads like an extract from Robinson Crusoe, and nothing in all Dampier so conclusively proves the source whence Defoe drew the colours which he employed in the composition of his chief and most engaging work.

“The Evening of this 18th day was very dismal. The Sky looked very black, being covered with dark Clouds, the Wind blew very hard, and the Seas ran very high. The Sea was already roaring in a white foam about us; a dark night coming on and no Land in sight to shelter us, and our little Ark in danger to be swallowed by every Wave; and what was worse for us all, none of us thought ourselves prepared for another World. The Reader may better guess, than I can express, the Confusion that we were all in. I have been in many eminent Dangers before now, some of which I have already related, but the worst of them all was but a Play-Game in comparison with this. I must confess that I was in great Conflicts of Mind at this time. Other Dangers came not upon me with such a leisurely and dreadful Solemnity: A Sudden Skirmish or Engagement, or so, was nothing when one's Blood was up, and push'd forward with eager expectations. But here I had a lingering view of approaching Death, and little or no hopes of escaping it; and I must confess that my Courage which I had hitherto kept up, failed me here; and I made very sad Reflections on my former life; and looked back with Horrour and Detestation on actions which before I disliked, but now I trembled at the remembrance of. I had long before this repented me of that roving course of my life, of which kind, I believe, few Men have met with the like. For all these I returned Thanks in a peculiar manner, and this once more desir'd God's assistance, and Composed my Mind as well as I could, in the hopes of it, and as the Event shew'd, I was not disappointed of my hopes.”

But Dampier was a thoroughbred seaman. The canoe was superbly handled, and after a terrible time of violent storms the low land of Sumatra was descried on the morning of the 20th. Fever-stricken by the excessive hardships and fatigues they had endured, insomuch that they were too weak to stand up in their canoe, our adventurers drifted into a river, and were supported by some natives to an adjacent village. Here Dampier stayed for ten or twelve days in the hope of recovering his health, but finding that he did not improve, he made his way to Acheen, where he was so dosed by a Malay doctor that he came very near to expiring. On regaining his health, he entered with Captain Weldon of the ship Curtana for a voyage to Tonquin. The first part of his second volume is devoted to a description of his travels in Tonquin, Acheen, Malacca, and other places. [13] There is but little narrative, nevertheless the work is singularly interesting, and as literally accurate as a Chinese painting.

Dampier was very willing to accept Captain Weldon's offer of this voyage, as the vessel carried a surgeon whose advice he was in great need of. Moreover Weldon promised to purchase a sloop at Tonquin and make him master of her for a trading voyage to Cochin China. Nothing noteworthy marked their passage. On their arrival at the Bay of Tonquin they navigated the ship about twenty miles up the river and anchored. The chief markets and trade of the country were then at Cachao, a city eighty miles distant from the highest point at which the river is navigable by vessels of burthen. Dampier, in company with the captains of other ships, proceeded in large boats towards Cachao. It was scarcely more than a jaunt for our hero, whose main business in going the journey was to talk over the proposed voyage to Cochin China with the chief of the English factory. Dampier remained for a week with the Englishmen at the factory, and then returned to his own ship, “where,” says he, “I lay on board for a great while, and sickly for the most part; yet not so but that I took a boat and went ashoar one where or other almost every day.” The result of this intrepid observation is a full and interesting account of Tonquin, the habits and customs of the people, their attire, sports, punishments, religion, and literature. His health hindered him from several undertakings which he might have pursued with advantage. For example, rice being dear at Cachao, Weldon hired a vessel to procure that commodity at adjacent places to supply the markets. It was a speculation by which Dampier might have got money, but he was too ill to bear a part in it. He lay five or six weeks in a miserable condition, then flattered himself that he was sufficiently recovered to go on a walking tour through the country. To this end he hired a native guide, who charged him a dollar for his services, “which,” he says, “tho' but a small matter, was a great deal out of my Pocket, who had not above 2 Dollars in all, which I had gotten on board by teaching some of our young Seamen Plain Sailing.” He started about the end of November 1688, and the proverbial heedlessness of the seaman is not less suggested by his poverty than by his resolution to attempt such a trip as this. He has but a dollar in his pocket with which not only to bear his own but his guide's charges, and yet he is fully aware that his weakness is bound to increase the cost of his travels by obliging him to proceed by short stages. He says he was weary of lying still and impatient to see something that might further gratify his curiosity. They took the east side of the river, and trudged along mutely enough, as we may suppose, since the guide could not speak a word of English, whilst Dampier did not understand a syllable of Tonquinese. At the villages they arrived at they were sufficiently fortunate to procure rooms to sleep in and a couch of split bamboos to lie on. The people treated Dampier very civilly; they cooked his repasts of rice for him, and lent him whatever they had that was serviceable to him. His practice was to ramble about all day, and return to his lodging when it was too dark to see anything more. His luggage was small—limited to what he terms a “sea-gown,” which his guide carried, and which served him as a blanket at night, whilst his pillow was often a log of wood. “But,” he says, “I slept very well, though the weakness of my body did now require better accommodation.”

On the afternoon of the third day of his travels he arrived in view of a small wooden tower such as the Tonquinese erect as funeral pyres to persons of distinction. He had never seen such a thing before, and as his guide could not talk to him, he continued ignorant of its meaning. There was a crowd of men and boys near it, and he also noticed a number of stalls covered with meat and fruit. He very naturally concluded that it was a market-place, and entered the crowd partly with the intention of inspecting the tower, and partly with the idea of purchasing a dish of meat for his supper. After satisfying his curiosity he approached the stalls and laid hold of a joint of meat, motioning to a person whom he supposed was the salesman to cut off a piece that should weigh two or three pounds. In an instant the crowd fell upon him. They struck out at him right and left, tore his clothes and ran away with his hat. The guide, shrieking unintelligible protests and apologies, dragged Dampier away, but they were followed for some distance by a number of surly-looking fellows whose cries and gesticulations were full of menace. It was not until long afterwards that Dampier gathered the meaning of all this; when he was informed that what he had taken to be a market was a funeral feast, and that the tower was a tomb which was to be consumed along with the body in it after the feast was over. “This,” says he, “was the only Funeral Feast that ever I was at amongst them, and they gave me cause to remember it: but this was the worst usage I received from any of them all the time that I was in the Country.”