fast. The ice was as immoveable as the dry land, and she would not move
again that year even if she ever floated. Those pilgrims from the little
republic were to spend the winter in their arctic harbour. Resigning
themselves without a murmur to their inevitable fate, they set about
their arrangements with perfect good humour and discipline. Most
fortunately a great quantity of drift wood, masses of timber, and great
trees torn away with their roots from distant shores, lay strewn along
the coast, swept thither by the wandering currents. At once they
resolved to build a house in which they might shelter themselves from the
wild beasts, and from their still more cruel enemy, the cold. So
thanking God for the providential and unexpected supply of building
material and fuel, they lost no time in making sheds, in hauling timber,
and in dragging supplies from the ship before the dayless winter should
descend upon them.
Six weeks of steady cheerful labour succeeded. Tremendous snow-storms,
accompanied by hurricanes of wind, often filled the atmosphere to
suffocation, so that no human being could move a ship's length without
perishing; while, did any of their number venture forth, as the tempest
subsided, it was often to find himself almost in the arms of a polar bear
before the dangerous snow-white form could be distinguished moving
sluggishly through the white chaos.
For those hungry companions never left them so long as the sun remained
above the horizon, swarming like insects and birds in tropical lands.
When the sailors put their meat-tubs for a moment out upon the ice a
bear's intrusive muzzle would forthwith be inserted to inspect the
contents. Maddened by hunger, and their keen scent excited by the salted
provisions, and by the living flesh and blood of these intruders upon
their ancient solitary domains, they would often attempt to effect their
entrance into the ship.
On one such occasion, when Heemskerk and two companions were the whole
garrison, the rest being at a distance sledding wood, the future hero of
Gibraltar was near furnishing a meal to his Nova Zembla enemies. It was
only by tossing sticks and stones and marling-spikes across the ice,
which the bears would instantly turn and pursue, like dogs at play with
children, that the assault could be diverted until a fortunate shot was
made.
Several were thus killed in the course of the winter, and one in
particular was disembowelled and set frozen upon his legs near their
house, where he remained month after month with a mass of snow and ice
accumulated upon him, until he had grown into a fantastic and gigantic
apparition, still wearing the semblance of their mortal foe.
By the beginning of October the weather became so intensely cold that it
was almost impossible to work. The carpenter died before the house was
half completed. To dig a grave was impossible, but they laid him in a
cleft of the ice, and he was soon covered with the snow. Meantime the
sixteen that were left went on as they best might with their task, and on
October 2nd they had a house-raising. The frame-work was set up, and in
order to comply with the national usage in such cases, they planted,
instead of the May-pole with its fluttering streamers, a gigantic icicle
before their new residence. Ten days later they moved into the house and
slept there for the first time, while a bear, profiting by their absence,
passed the night in the deserted ship.
On the 4th November the sun rose no more, but the moon at first shone day
and night, until they were once in great perplexity to know whether it
were midday or midnight. It proved to be exactly noon. The bears
disappeared with the sun, but white foxes swarmed in their stead, and all
day and night were heard scrambling over their roof. These were caught
daily in traps and furnished them food, besides furs for raiment. The
cold became appalling, and they looked in each other's faces sometimes in
speechless amazement. It was obvious that the extreme limit of human
endurance had been reached. Their clothes were frozen stiff. Their
shoes were like iron, so that they were obliged to array themselves from
head to foot in the skins of the wild foxes. The clocks stopped. The
beer became solid. The Spanish wine froze and had to be melted in
saucepans. The smoke in the house blinded them. Fire did not warm them,
and their garments were often in a blaze while their bodies were half
frozen. All through the month of December an almost perpetual snow-
deluge fell from the clouds. For days together they were unable to
emerge, and it was then only by most vigorous labour that they could
succeed in digging a passage out of their buried house. On the night of
the 7th December sudden death had nearly put an end to the sufferings of
the whole party. Having brought a quantity of seacoal from the ship,
they had made a great fire, and after the smoke was exhausted, they had
stopped up the chimney and every crevice of the house. Each man then
turned into his bunk for the night, "all rejoicing much in the warmth and
prattling a long time with each other." At last an unaccustomed
giddiness and faintness came over them, of which they could not guess the
cause, but fortunately one of the party had the instinct, before he lost
consciousness, to open the chimney, while another forced open the door
and fell in a swoon upon the snow. Their dread enemy thus came to their
relief, and saved their lives.
As the year drew to a close, the frost and the perpetual snow-tempest
became, if that were possible, still more frightful. Their Christmas was
not a merry one, and for the first few days of the new year, it was
impossible for them to move from the house. On the 25th January, the
snow-storms having somewhat abated, they once more dug themselves as it
were out of their living grave, and spent the whole day in hauling wood
from the shore. As their hour-glasses informed them that night was
approaching, they bethought themselves that it was Twelfth Night, or
Three Kings' Eve. So they all respectfully proposed to Skipper
Heemskerk, that, in the midst of their sorrow they might for once have a
little diversion. A twelfth-night feast was forthwith ordained. A
scanty portion of the wine yet remaining to them was produced. Two
pounds weight of flour, which they had brought to make paste with for
cartridges, was baked into pancakes with a little oil, and a single hard
biscuit was served out to each man to be sopped in his meagre allowance
of wine. "We were as happy," said Gerrit de veer, with simple pathos,
"as if we were having a splendid banquet at home. We imagined ourselves
in the fatherland with all our friends, so much did we enjoy our repast."
That nothing might be omitted, lots were drawn for king, and the choice
fell on the gunner, who was forthwith proclaimed monarch of Nova Zembla.
Certainly no men, could have exhibited more undaunted cheerfulness amid
bears and foxes, icebergs and cold--such as Christians had never
conceived of before--than did these early arctic pilgrims. Nor did
Barendz neglect any opportunity of studying the heavens. A meridian was
drawn near the house, on which the compass was placed, and observations
of various stars were constantly made, despite the cold, with
extraordinary minuteness. The latitude, from concurrent measurement of
the Giant, the Bull, Orion, Aldebaran, and other constellations--in the
absence of the sun--was ascertained to be a little above seventy-six
degrees, and the variations of the needle were accurately noted.
On the 24th January it was clear weather and comparatively mild, so that
Heemskerk, with De Veer and another, walked to the strand. To their
infinite delight and surprise they again saw the disk of the sun on the
edge of the horizon, and they all hastened back with the glad tidings.
But Barendz shook his head. Many days must elapse, he said, before the
declination of the sun should be once more 14 deg., at which point in the
latitude of 76 deg. they had lost sight of the luminary on the 4th
November, and at which only it could again be visible. This, according
to his calculations, would be on the 10th February. Two days of mirky
and stormy atmosphere succeeded, and those who had wagered in support of
the opinion of Barendz were inclined to triumph over those who believed
in the observation of Heemskerk. On the 27th January there was, however,
no mistake. The sky was bright, and the whole disk of the sun was most
distinctly seen by all, although none were able to explain the
phenomenon, and Barendz least of all. They had kept accurate diaries
ever since their imprisonment, and although the clocks sometimes had
stopped, the hour-glasses had regularly noted the lapse of time.
Moreover, Barendz knew from the Ephemerides for 1589 to 1600, published
by Dr. Joseph Scala in Venice, a copy of which work he had brought with
him, that on the 24th January, 1597, the moon would be seen at one
o'clock A.M. at Venice, in conjunction with Jupiter. He accordingly took
as good an observation as could be done with the naked eye and found that
conjunction at six o'clock A.M. Of the same day, the two bodies appearing
in the same vertical line in the sign of Taurus. The date was thus
satisfactorily established, and a calculation of the longitude of the
house was deduced with an accuracy which in those circumstances was
certainly commendable. Nevertheless, as the facts and the theory of
refraction were not thoroughly understood, nor Tycho Brahe's tables of
refraction generally known, pilot Barendz could not be expected to be
wiser than his generation.
The startling discovery that in the latitude of 76 deg. the sun
reappeared on the 24th January, instead of the 10th February, was
destined to awaken commotion throughout the whole scientific world,
and has perhaps hardly yet been completely explained.
But the daylight brought no mitigation of their sufferings. The
merciless cold continued without abatement, and the sun seemed to mock
their misery. The foxes disappeared, and the ice-bears in their stead
swarmed around the house, and clambered at night over the roof. Again
they constantly fought with them for their lives. Daily the grave
question was renewed whether the men should feed on the bears or the
bears on the men. On one occasion their dead enemy proved more dangerous
to them than in life, for three of their number, who had fed on bear's
liver, were nearly poisoned to death. Had they perished, none of the
whole party would have ever left Nova Zembla. "It seemed," said the
diarist, "that the beasts had smelt out that we meant to go away, and had
just begin to have a taste for us."
And thus the days wore on. The hour-glass and the almanac told them
that winter had given place to spring, but nature still lay in cold
obstruction. One of their number, who had long been ill, died. They
hollowed a grave for him in the frozen snow, performing a rude burial
service, and singing a psalm; but the cold had nearly made them all
corpses before the ceremony was done.
At last, on the 17th April, some of them climbing over the icebergs to
the shore found much open sea. They also saw a small bird diving in the
water, and looked upon it as a halcyon and harbinger of better fortunes.
The open weather continuing, they began to hanker for the fatherland. So
they brought the matter, "not mutinously but modestly and reasonably,
before William Barendz; that he might suggest it to Heemskerk, for they
were all willing to submit to his better judgment." It was determined to
wait through the month of May. Should they then be obliged to abandon
the ship they were to make the voyage in the two open boats, which had
been carefully stowed away beneath the snow. It was soon obvious that
the ship was hard and fast, and that she would never float again, except
perhaps as a portion of the icebergs in which she had so long been
imbedded, when they should be swept off from the shore.
As they now set to work repairing and making ready the frail skiffs which
were now their only hope, and supplying them with provisions and even
with merchandize from the ship, the ravages made by the terrible winter
upon the strength of the men became painfully apparent. But Heemskerk
encouraged them to persevere; "for," said he, "if the boats are not got
soon under way we must be content to make our graves here as burghers of
Nova Zembla."
On the 14th June they launched the boats, and "trusting themselves to
God," embarked once more upon the arctic sea. Barendz, who was too ill
to walk, together with Claas Anderson, also sick unto death, were dragged
to the strand in sleds, and tenderly placed on board.
Barendz had, however, despite his illness, drawn up a triple record of
their voyage; one copy being fastened to the chimney of their deserted
house, and one being placed in each of the boats. Their voyage was full
of danger as they slowly retraced their way along the track by which they
reached the memorable Ice Haven, once more doubling the Cape of Desire
and heading for the Point of Consolation--landmarks on their desolate
progress, whose nomenclature suggests the immortal apologue so familiar
to Anglo-Saxon ears.
Off the Ice-hook, both boats came alongside each other, and Skipper
Heemskerk called out to William Barendz to ask how it was with him.
"All right, mate," replied Barendz, cheerfully; "I hope to be on my legs
again before we reach the Ward-huis." Then' he begged De Veer to lift
him up, that he might look upon the Ice-hook once more. The icebergs
crowded around them, drifting this way and that, impelled by mighty
currents and tossing on an agitated sea. There was "a hideous groaning
and bursting and driving of the ice, and it seemed every moment as if the
boats were to be dashed into a hundred pieces." It was plain that their
voyage would now be finished for ever, were it not possible for some one
of their number to get upon the solid ice beyond and make fast a line.
"But who is to bell the cat?" said Gerrit de Veer, who soon, however,
volunteered himself, being the lightest of all. Leaping from one
floating block to another at the imminent risk of being swept off into
space, he at last reached a stationary island, and fastened his rope.
Thus they warped themselves once more into the open sea.
On the 20th June William Barendz lay in the boat studying carefully the
charts which they had made of the land and ocean discovered in their
voyage. Tossing about in an open skiff upon a polar sea, too weak to sit
upright, reduced by the unexampled sufferings of that horrible winter
almost to a shadow, he still preserved his cheerfulness, and maintained
that he would yet, with God's help, perform his destined task. In his
next attempt he would steer north-east from the North Cape, he said, and
so discover the passage.
While he was "thus prattling," the boatswain of the other boat came on
board, and said that Claas Anderson would hold out but little longer.
"Then," said William Barendz, "methinks I too shall last but a little
while. Gerrit, give me to drink." When he had drunk, he turned his eyes
on De Veer and suddenly breathed his last.
Great was the dismay of his companions, for they had been deceived by
the dauntless energy of the man, thus holding tenaciously to his great
purpose, unbaffled by danger and disappointment, even to the last instant
of life. He was their chief pilot and guide, "in whom next to God they
trusted."
And thus the hero, who for vivid intelligence, courage, and perseverance
amid every obstacle, is fit to be classed among the noblest of maritime
adventurers, had ended his career. Nor was it unmeet that the man who
had led those three great although unsuccessful enterprises towards the
North Pole, should be laid at last to rest--like the soldier dying in a
lost battle--upon the field of his glorious labours.
Nearly six weeks longer they struggled amid tempestuous seas. Hugging
the shore, ever in danger of being dashed to atoms by the ice, pursued by
their never-failing enemies the bears, and often sailing through enormous
herds of walrusses, which at times gave chase to the boats, they at last
reached the Schanshoek on the 28th July.
Here they met with some Russian fishermen, who recognised Heemskerk and
De Veer, having seen them on their previous voyage. Most refreshing it
was to see other human faces again, after thirteen months' separation
from mankind, while the honest Muscovites expressed compassion for the
forlorn and emaciated condition of their former acquaintance. Furnished
by them with food and wine, the Hollanders sailed in company with the
Russians as far as the Waigats.
On the 18th August they made Candenoes, at the mouth of the White Sea,
and doubling that cape stood boldly across the gulf for Kildin. Landing
on the coast they were informed by the Laps that there were vessels from
Holland at Kola.
On the 25th August one of the party, guided by a Lap, set forth on foot
for that place. Four days later the guide was seen returning without
their comrade; but their natural suspicion was at once disarmed as the
good-humoured savage straightway produced a letter which he handed to
Heemakerk.
Breaking the seal, the skipper found that his correspondent expressed
great surprise at the arrival of the voyagers, as he he had supposed them
all to be long since dead. Therefore he was the more delighted with
their coming, and promised to be with them soon, bringing with him plenty
of food and drink.
The letter was signed--
"By me, JAN CORNELISZ RYP."
The occurrence was certainly dramatic, but, as one might think,
sufficiently void of mystery. Yet, astonishing to relate, they all fell
to pondering who this John Ryp might be who seemed so friendly and
sympathetic. It was shrewdly suggested by some that it might perhaps be
the sea-captain who had parted company with them off Bear Island fourteen
months before in order to sail north by way of Spitzbergen. As his
Christian name and surname were signed in full to the letter, the
conception did not seem entirely unnatural, yet it was rejected on the
ground that they had far more reasons to believe that he had perished
than he for accepting their deaths as certain. One might imagine it to
have been an every day occurrence for Hollanders to receive letters by a
Lapland penny postman in those, desolate regions. At last Heemskerk
bethought himself that among his papers were several letters from their
old comrade, and, on comparison, the handwriting was found the same as
that of the epistle just received. This deliberate avoidance of any
hasty jumping at conclusions certainly inspires confidence in the general
right accuracy of the adventurers, and we have the better right to
believe that on the 24th January the sun's disk was really seen by them
in the ice harbour--a fact long disputed by the learned world--when the
careful weighing of evidence on the less important matter of Ryp's letter
is taken into account.
Meantime while they were slowly admitting the identity of their friend
and correspondent, honest John Cornelius Ryp himself arrived--no
fantastic fly-away Hollander, but in full flesh and blood, laden with
provisions, and greeting them heartily.
He had not pursued his Spitzbergen researches of the previous year, but
he was now on a trading voyage in a stout vessel, and he conveyed them
all by way of the Ward-huis, where he took in a cargo, back to the
fatherland.
They dropped anchor in the Meuse on the 29th October, and on the 1st
November arrived at Amsterdam. Here, attired in their robes and caps of
white fox-skin which they had worn while citizens of Nova Zembla, they
were straightway brought before the magistrates to give an account of
their adventures.
They had been absent seventeen months, they had spent a whole autumn,
winter, and spring--nearly ten months--under the latitude of 76 deg. in a
frozen desert, where no human beings had ever dwelt before, and they had
penetrated beyond 80 deg. north--a farther stride towards the pole than
had ever been hazarded. They had made accurate geographical,
astronomical, and meteorological observations of the regions visited.
They had carefully measured latitudes and longitudes and noted the
variations of the magnet. They had thoroughly mapped out, described, and
designated every cape, island, hook, and inlet of those undiscovered
countries, and more than all, they had given a living example of courage,
endurance, patience under hardship, perfect discipline, fidelity, to
duty, and trust in God, sufficient to inspire noble natures with
emulation so long as history can read moral lessons to mankind.
No farther attempt was made to discover the north-eastern passage. The
enthusiasm of Barendz had died with him, and it may be said that the
stern negation by which this supreme attempt to solve the mystery of the
pole was met was its best practical result. Certainly all visions of a
circumpolar sea blessed with a gentle atmosphere and eternal
tranquillity, and offering a smooth and easy passage for the world's
commerce between Europe and Asia, had been for ever dispelled.
The memorable enterprise of Barendz and Heemskerk has been thought worthy
of a minute description because it was a voyage of discovery, and
because, however barren of immediate practical results it may, seem to
superficial eyes, it forms a great landmark in the history of human
progress and the advancement of science.
Contemporaneously with these voyages towards the North Pole, the
enlightened magistrates of the Netherland municipalities, aided by
eminent private citizens, fitted out expeditions in the opposite
direction. It was determined to measure strength with the lord of the
land and seas, the great potentate against whom these republicans had
been so long in rebellion, in every known region of the globe. Both from
the newly discovered western world, and from the ancient abodes of
oriental civilization, Spanish monopoly had long been furnishing the
treasure to support Spanish tyranny, and it was the dearest object of
Netherland ambition to confront their enemy in both those regions, and
to clip both those overshadowing wings of his commerce at once.
The intelligence, enthusiasm, and tenacity in wrestling against immense
obstacles manifested by the young republic at this great expanding era of
the world's history can hardly be exaggerated. It was fitting that the
little commonwealth, which was foremost among the nations in its hatred
of tyranny, its love of maritime adventure, and its aptitude for foreign
trade, should take the lead in the great commercial movements which
characterized the close of the sixteenth and the commencement of the
seventeenth centuries.
While Barendz and Heemskerk were attempting to force the frozen gates
which were then supposed to guard the northern highway of commerce,
fleets were fitting out in Holland to storm the Southern Pole, or at
least to take advantage of the pathways already opened by the genius and
enterprise of the earlier navigators of the century. Linschoten had
taught his countrymen the value of the technical details of the Indian
trade as then understood. The voyages of the brothers Houtmann, 1595-
1600, the first Dutch expeditions to reach the East by doubling the Cape
of Good Hope, were undertaken according to his precepts, and directed by
the practical knowledge obtained by the Houtmanns during a residence in
Portugal, but were not signalized by important discoveries. They are
chiefly memorable as having laid the foundation of the vast trade out of
which the republic was to derive so much material power, while at the
same time they mark the slight beginnings of that mighty monopoly, the
Dutch East India Company, which was to teach such tremendous lessons in
commercial restriction to a still more colossal English corporation,
that mercantile tyrant only in our own days overthrown.