yesterday evening, and we began to make the cables fast to the
anchors, which we finished this morning. As soon as the sun rose,
every one climbed aloft in order to look for land and some of them
immediately cried out "land," but they soon discovered they were
mistaken. Our course was north, with the wind E.N.E. I said the land
we would see was in front of us, and we could not see it yet because
it was in latitude 40 deg. 20', and we had 39 deg., a difference of eighty
miles, and as we had sailed only from twenty-four to twenty-eight
miles at the most during the night, we were still fifty-two to
fifty-six miles off, and if we continued to sail as we were doing, it
would be noon or two o'clock before we would see it. I must say a word
here in relation to our cat; how she was always sick and lame for some
days before a storm, and could not walk, and when the storm was over,
was lively and nimble again. She had now been very playful for
several days, running here and there over the ship, but this morning
she was unusually gay. She came running with a spring, leaping into
the rigging and going far aloft, turning her head about and snuffing
the land, as much as to say, there is the land you should look out
for; and causing great laughter among the folks, who said the cat was
on the lookout for land. When she came down she mewed. But a thick fog
coming from the land, cut off all view and hopes of going inside, as
we turned at once from the shore. I obtained, however, the latitude,
to wit: 40 deg. 5'. The distance was reckoned to be sixty-four miles. In
the mean time the deep lead was thrown many times, and 22, 21, 19, 17,
16, 14 fathoms of water found, at one time more and at another less,
for the bottom is uneven. We did this in order not to run ashore
during the fog. It, however, cleared away, and we wore over again, and
immediately saw the land distinctly, which caused new rejoicing. We
perceived clearly that we had been sailing, since yesterday, along the
shore, although it was too far off to be seen. Rentselaer's Hook,[88]
which adjoins Sandy Hook, was in front or north of us; and we had
sailed N.N.E. and N. by E. It was about one o'clock when we first saw
the land. It is not very high, but like a dome, only it is a little
higher. Long Island is not very high; Rentselaer's Hook, which is the
most westerly point of the bay, is the highest of all. Sandy Hook is
low, and stretches out about three miles eastwardly from Rentselaer's
Hook, and makes the channel. You must be close on Sandy Hook before
you can see Long Island. We intended to run in, but could not well do
so this evening, in consequence of the mist continually intercepting
the sight of the land. As the weather was calm, and the sea smooth, we
came to anchor, in thirteen fathoms of water, and lay there quietly
all night.
[Footnote 88: Navesink.]
_22d, Friday._ When the day began to break, they were all in an
uproar; but the weather continued misty, with a northeast wind, for
which reason we judged we could not make the channel. All those who
were so joyful and merry yesterday, were now more sober, as we were
compelled to keep off land, so as not to be caught on a lee shore,
from which it is very difficult to get away. The fog cleared up a
little about ten o'clock, and we sailed again towards the shore, when
we perceived we were approaching the west side. It rained a part of
the time, and was misty, so that sometimes we could only see the land
dimly, and for a moment, and Sandy Hook hardly at all. We durst not
yet venture to run in, and wore off again. About noon we saw a ketch
to the sea-ward of us, but we did not speak to her. She was laying her
course to the west. This coast surely is not very easy to enter,
especially in the autumn. Our captain had trouble enough, though our
mate did not agree with him. Sailing onward, we had 13, 14, 15, 16
fathoms of water, but very uneven bottom as we approached the shore.
We laid our course N.N.E. and N.E. by N. and from the shore, S.S.W.
and S. At four o'clock in the afternoon we determined to run in, if it
were possible. We could see the land a little better, and also
Rentselaer's Hook. Everybody, therefore, was very industrious, some in
looking after the sails, ropes and tackle, so as to be able to turn
and tack ship quickly; others were constantly on the lookout for land
and especially to discover Sandy Hook, in order to secure the best
channel which is next to that point; for not far from it, on the other
side, are the east banks, which are very dangerous. We did our best,
first in a calm, then with a little breeze, to enter. We caught sight
of Sandy Hook at last, but it was soon hid by the fog. We observed how
the land lay by the compass, and so sailed accordingly, expecting a
good flood tide which would begin to make at six o'clock. The deep
lead was thrown constantly, and we found five and four fathoms in the
shallowest places, near the channel. It was low water, and the wind
was N.E. and E.N.E., which took us soon inside, short around the point
of Sandy Hook, into the bay towards the highlands of Rentselaer's
Hook. Upon passing the Hook which was now west of us, we found deeper
water, 5, 6, 7 and 8 fathoms, and ran, as I have said, immediately for
the highlands, and came to anchor in ten fathoms of water, praising
the Lord again, and thankful for the many instances of His goodness
towards us. This is a very fine bay, where many ships can lie,
protected from all winds, except the S.E., which, however, cannot do
much damage, because the east banks lie before it; and at the worst,
the ship can only be driven in the wind. They determined this evening,
to go up early in the morning, in the jolly-boat, to Staten Island or
Long Island, for a pilot.
_23d, Saturday._ It rained the whole night. Our ship lay quiet as if
she were made fast to the piles at Amsterdam, which was very unusual
for us. The wind being west in the morning, they changed their
resolution of going up for a pilot, and as the wind was so favorable
determined to take her up themselves. The anchor was therefore raised,
and we sailed on, for the purpose of passing between Staten Island and
Long Island, where there are two high points of land, for that reason
called the _Hoofden_.[89] We turned gradually from Sandy Hook to the
right, in order to avoid the shoals of the east bank, and so sailed to
the Hoofden. We had a good flood tide, and four to five fathoms of
water at the shoalest part; but the wind shifted again to the north,
and we were compelled to tack, which rendered our progress slow, for
it was quite calm. Coming to the Hoofden, and between them, you have
10, 11, and 12 fathoms of water. As soon as you begin to approach the
land, you see not only woods, hills, dales, green fields and
plantations, but also the houses and dwellings of the inhabitants,
which afford a cheerful and sweet prospect after having been so long
upon the sea. When we came between the Hoofden, we saw some Indians on
the beach with a canoe, and others coming down the hill. As we tacked
about we came close to this shore, and called out to them to come on
board the ship, for some of the passengers intended to go ashore with
them; but the captain would not permit it, as he wished, he said, to
carry them, according to his contract, to the Manathans, though we
understood well why it was. The Indians came on board, and we looked
upon them with wonder. They are dull of comprehension, slow of speech,
bashful but otherwise bold of person, and red of skin. They wear
something in front, over the thighs, and a piece of duffels, like a
blanket, around the body, and this is all the clothing they have.
Their hair hangs down from their heads in strings, well smeared with
fat, and sometimes with quantities of little beads twisted in it out
of pride. They have thick lips and thick noses, but not fallen in like
the negroes, heavy eyebrows or eyelids, brown or black eyes, thick
tongues, and all of them black hair. But we will speak of these
things more particularly hereafter. After they had obtained some
biscuit, and had amused themselves a little, climbing and looking here
and there, they also received some brandy to taste, of which they
drank excessively, and threw it up again. They then went ashore in
their canoe, and we having a better breeze, sailed ahead handsomely.
As soon as you are through the Hoofden, you begin to see the city,
which presents a pretty sight. The fort, which lies upon the point
between two rivers, is somewhat higher; and as soon as they see a ship
coming up, they raise a flag on a high flag-staff, according to the
colors of the sovereign to whom they are subject, as accordingly they
now flew the flag of the king of England. We came up to the city about
three o'clock, where our ship was quickly overrun with people who came
from the shore in all sorts of craft, each one inquiring and searching
after his own, and his own profit. No custom-house officers came on
board, as in England, and the ship was all the time free of such
persons. We came to anchor, then, before the city at three o'clock.
Every one wanted to go ashore immediately. We let those most in a
hurry go before us, when, leaving our property in charge of Robyn,[90]
we also went in company with a passenger, named Gerrit,[91] who took
us to the house of his father-in-law, where we lodged.
[Footnote 89: "Headlands," at the Narrows.]
[Footnote 90: Robert Sinclair.]
[Footnote 91: Gerrit Evertsen van Duyn, carpenter and wheelwright,
emigrated in 1649 from Nieuwerkerk in Zeeland, married Jacomina,
daughter of Jacob Swarts Hellekers, lived mostly in New Utrecht and
Flatbush, and died in 1706. He had returned to the Netherlands in
1670, but was now coming out for good.]
It is not possible to describe how this bay swarms with fish, both
large and small, whales, tunnies and porpoises, whole schools of
innumerable other fish, which the eagles and other birds of prey
swiftly seize in their talons when the fish come up to the surface,
and hauling them out of the water, fly with them to the nearest woods
or beach, as we saw.
We had finally arrived where we had so long wished to be, but from
whence we were soon to depart, because we had come only to do the will
of Him who watches over us, and who after our longest voyage, will
cause us to arrive, by His favor, as it pleases Him. Meanwhile unto
Him be given all honor, and praise and glory for what He does, to all
eternity. Amen; yea, amen.
Leaving the ship on our arrival, it would seem proper that this
narrative concerning the voyage should here be brought to an end; but
as the sea over which we passed is wide and broad, and various things
are to be noted, which could only be found out in process of time, I
will here add them each by its kind.
_Observations upon the Sea and the Voyage._
1. I have uniformly found it true, that the bottom causes the change
in the color of the sea, and makes the color lighter or darker
according as it may happen to be; as we experienced from the beginning
to the end of our voyage. And this is the reason: the water of itself
has no color, but, as it is transparent, the bottom shows itself, such
as it is, through the clearness of the water, according to its depth;
but something must be allowed for the sky, clouds and other bodies in
the atmosphere, which, although they do not change the water,
nevertheless shine in it, and throw a shadow or reflection.
2. The banks or shoals of Newfoundland extend further south than they
are laid down on the charts, and as far as 36 deg. or less of latitude, as
we observed from the color of the water, although it may be deeper
there than about Newfoundland.
3. There is a stream running from the river Amazon, in fact from Cape
----, along the coast of Guiana, through the Gulf of Mexico and the
channel of the Bahamas, along the coast of Florida, Virginia and New
Netherland, to the banks of Newfoundland, where, uniting with another
stream, coming from the north out of Davis's Strait and river St.
Lawrence, it goes again south, and afterwards S.W., to the Bermudas,
but mostly to the east of them, the particular causes and reasons of
which we will notice in its proper place.
4. This stream has its course along the gulfs, capes and bays of the
coast, the same as we experienced near or west of Cape Cod or Staten
Hook, where for two days successively, without headway on the ship,
and in a calm, we were carried by it a degree to the north. This
should be kept in mind, and one should regulate himself accordingly.
5. The storm of the Bermudas has been mentioned in its place.[92]
[Footnote 92: The mate told him, September 1, off the Bermudas, that
one never failed to have storms there; and that one dark night "it
seemed as if the air was full of strange faces with wonderful eyes
standing out of them" (_cf._ Shakespeare's _Tempest_); and then he
remembered to have read the same, in his youth, in a little book
called _De Silver Poort-Klock_ (The Silver Gate-Bell).]
6. I have heretofore exposed mistakes on the large plane chart, and it
is not material to enter further into that subject.
7. After we approached and passed the Bermudas the wind did not turn
round the compass with the sun, which happened to us four or five
times, and frequently does so, as is said by experienced persons.
8. Therefore, in navigating this passage for this place, it is best,
when there are no reasons to the contrary arising from the Turks[93]
or otherwise, to run just above or below the Azores, to latitude 34
and 33, and even to 32 and 31, in order to get into the stream, and
yet I also consider it well to sail to the eastward of these islands;
or if you avoid the Azores, then to sail from Newfoundland or its
latitude, due south, or S.S.E., to the before mentioned latitude; but,
in returning, it is best to follow the coast to Newfoundland, in order
to fall into the stream and wind. The home voyage is almost always the
shortest, inasmuch as the stream runs mostly along the coast.
[Footnote 93: Corsairs from North Africa, who at that time constantly
infested the seas near England and concerning whom the narrative of
the first part of the voyage shows frequent alarms.]
9. When a change occurs in the color of the water, and at other times,
the deep lead should be much used. It should be of 25 or 30 pounds
weight. The ship or vessel should lie as still as possible, or the
jolly-boat should be used, whether the lead be thrown with a certainty
as to where you may be, or for the discovery of other bottom.
10. In storms or hurricanes never be without stern-sails, however
small, unless you can sail before the wind, but no longer than that;
for it is too dangerous, and too uncomfortable, both for the ship and
the persons in her.
Some other observations in regard to the art of navigation and the
management of ships, of minor importance we will reserve for another
occasion.
_The Persons with whom we made our Voyage._
Although this is such a miserable subject, that I deliberated long
whether it were worth while to take any notice of it, yet since one
does not know when a matter can be serviceable, I will nevertheless
say something.
The persons who belonged to the ship were:
The captain, Thomas Singelton, an Englishman, and a Quaker, from
London, I believe. He had his wife with him, who was quite young,
about 24 or 26 years old, and he was surely a person of 40 or 45. He
was not the best or most experienced seaman by a long distance. He was
proud and very assiduous or officious to please people, especially
Margaret and her man; yet he had some amiable qualities, he was
affable. He was stingy; for when many mackerel were caught, he would
not give one to the poor sailors; they all hung there and spoiled. He
was even displeased if the sailors came with their fish lines to fish
too near the place where he was, because the fish might come to their
lines instead of his. His wife was a young, worldly creature, who had
not the least glimmer of Quakerism, of which nevertheless she made
profession, but entirely resembled an English lady fashioned somewhat
upon the Dutch model. She was so proud that she wore much silver and
gold; and when Margaret once spoke to him about it, he said, "I did
not give it to her." Whereupon Margaret asked, "Why did you give her
money to buy them?" To which he replied, "She wanted it."
The English mate, who afterwards became captain, was a passionate
person, inwardly still more than he showed outwardly, a great
man-pleaser where his interest was to be promoted. He was very close,
but was compelled to be much closer in order to please Margaret.
The Dutch mate, Evert, was a wicked, impious fellow, who also drank
freely. He was very proud of his knowledge and experience, which were
none of the greatest.
The boatswain, Abram, of Plymouth, was rough and wicked in his orders,
but he was a strong and able seaman. Robyn was the best.
I cannot permit myself to go further; it is too unpleasant a subject.
The passengers and crew were a wretched set. There was no rest, night
or day, especially among the wives--a rabble I cannot describe. Day
and night without cessation it was as if one were in the fish market
or apple market, where, indeed, some of them had obtained their
living, or as if indeed one were in still worse places. There were
nine or ten of them always together. Among the men there were some who
drank like beasts, yes, drank themselves dead drunk, as you may judge
from the fact that two or three of them drank 3-1/2 ankers[94] of
brandy, from the time we left England or Holland, besides the wine
which they had with them--it is too horrible. As to Margaret and Jan,
it is not to be told what miserable people Margaret and Jan were, and
especially their excessive covetousness. In fine, it was a Babel. I
have never in my life heard of such a disorderly ship. It was
confusion without end. I have never been in a ship where there was so
much vermin, which were communicated to us, and especially not a few
to me, because being in the cordage at night I particularly received
them. There were those whose bunks and clothes were as full as if they
had been sown. But I must forbear.
[Footnote 94: An anker was about ten gallons.]
When we first came on board the ship we ate where we were, and with
those we found there, but afterwards the messes were regulated, and we
were placed on deck with five or six uncouth youngsters; where,
nevertheless, we continued. This so exercised the other passengers,
seeing us submit so willingly, that they themselves could no longer
endure it, and desired us to come with them, and make a mess of eight.
We had been compelled to buy our stores in England, as what we had
were spoiled, or not sufficient. There was not a bit of butter or
vinegar on the food during the whole voyage, except what we had
purchased at Falmouth. I do not know how long it was we had nothing to
eat except heads of salt fish, and those spoiled for the most part. We
had to eat them till they were thrown overboard. Most of the time we
had white peas, which our cook was too lazy to clean, or were boiled
in stinking water, and when they were brought on the table we had to
throw them away. The meat was old and tainted; the pork passable, but
enormously thick, as much as six inches; and the bread was mouldy or
wormy. We had a ration of beer three times a day to drink at table.
The water smelt very bad, which was the fault of the captain. When we
left England they called us to eat in the cabin, but it was only a
change of place and nothing more. Each meal was dished up three times
in the cabin, first for the eight passengers, then for the captain,
mate and wife, who sometimes did not have as good as we had, and
lastly for Margaret and Mr. Jan, who had prepared for them hardly any
thing else except poultry and the like. But this is enough.
After we left England, I took upon myself, out of love of the thing,
and because there were so few persons to work the ship, namely, ten in
all, including the captain, to watch and attend the rudder, as well as
to make observations in navigation; but when I perceived the sailors,
on this account, became lazy and depended upon me, I left the
rudder-gang. Nevertheless, when an English ship came near running us
down in the watch off Cape Cod, causing thereby much uproar and
confusion in our ship, I did my best to unfasten a rope which they
could not make loose, at which the mate raved and swore, and for which
he would have almost struck or killed me. When my comrade heard of it
he wished me not to do any thing more, and that was my opinion. I
could not, however, refrain from helping to the last, but I abandoned
the watch, and so caused the mate to feel that we were not insensible,
for there was nothing else to be done to him. He, nevertheless,
invited us daily more than any one else. Finally, when the voyage was
completed, there was no one, either captain, or mate, or sailor, or
Margaret, who said "We thank you," except our poor Robyn. We had a
little package put in the ship at Falmouth, about a foot and a half
square, on which the captain charged us four guilders freight, in the
money of Holland. We represented to Margaret how we had managed with
only one chest between us, although each passenger was entitled to
have one of his own, but it was all to no purpose. Four guilders it
must be. It was not that we had any difficulty in giving it, but it
was only to be convinced of her unblushing avarice. The mate's wife
was the least evil-inclined, and listened most to what was said to
her, which we hope will bear fruit. We have truly conducted ourselves
towards all in general and each one in particular, so that not only
has every one reason to be edified and convinced, but, by the grace of
God, every one renders us testimony that we have edified and convinced
them as well by our lives as our conversation. Let Him alone who is
the author of all grace, receive therefore all the glory, to all
eternity. Amen.[95]
[Footnote 95: After this the original manuscript begins a new
pagination. See introduction to this book.]
JOURNAL OF OUR TRAVELS THROUGH NEW NETHERLAND,
_From the Time of our Arrival until our Departure for the
Fatherland._
Having then fortunately arrived, by the blessing of the Lord, before
the city of New York, on Saturday, the 23d day of September, we
stepped ashore about four o'clock in the afternoon, in company with
Gerrit, our fellow passenger, who would conduct us in this strange
place. He had lived here a long time and had married his wife here,
although she and his children were living at present at Zwol.[96] We
went along with him, but as he met many of his old acquaintances on
the way, we were constantly stopped. He first took us to the house of
one of his friends, who welcomed him and us, and offered us some of
the fruit of the country, very fine peaches and full grown apples,
which filled our hearts with thankfulness to God. This fruit was
exceedingly fair and good, and pleasant to the taste; much better than
that in Holland or elsewhere, though I believe our long fasting and
craving of food made it so agreeable. After taking a glass of Madeira,
we proceeded on to Gerrit's father-in-law's, a very old man, half
lame, and unable either to walk or stand, who fell upon the neck of
his son-in-law, welcoming him with tears of joy. The old woman was
also very glad. This good man was born in Vlissingen, and was named
Jacob Swart.[97] He had been formerly a master carpenter at Amsterdam,
but had lived in this country upwards of forty-five years. After we
had been here a little while, we left our travelling bag, and went out
to take a walk in the fields. It was strange to us to feel such
stability under us, although it seemed as if the earth itself moved
under our feet as the ship had done for three months past, and our
body also still swayed after the manner of the rolling of the sea; but
this sensation gradually passed off in the course of a few days. As we
walked along we saw in different gardens trees full of apples of
various kinds, and so laden with peaches and other fruit that one
might doubt whether there were more leaves or fruit on them. I have
never seen in Europe, in the best seasons, such an overflowing
abundance. When we had finished our tour and given our guide several
letters to deliver, we returned to his father-in-law's, who regaled us
in the evening with milk, which refreshed us much. We had so many
peaches set before us that we were timid about eating them, though we
experienced no ill effects from them. We remained there to sleep,
which was the first time in nine or ten weeks that we had lain down
upon a bed undressed, and able to yield ourselves to sleep without
apprehension of danger.
[Footnote 96: Zwolle in the Netherlands.]
[Footnote 97: _I.e._, "black Jacob." His name was Jacob Hellekers, and
his house, in which the Labadists lodged while in New York, stood
where now stands no. 255 Pearl Street, near Fulton Street.]