HUDSON FINDS HIS BAY
Henry Hudson was another victim to perish in the hopeless search for
a passage to China by the north. John Davis had been dead two years,
but not till after he had piloted the first expedition undertaken by
the newly formed East India Company for commerce with India and the
East. It was now more important than ever to find a short way to these
countries other than round by the Cape of Good Hope. So Henry Hudson
was employed by the Muscovy Company "to discover a shorter route to
Cathay _by sailing over the North Pole_." He knew the hardships of
the way; he must have realised the fate of Willoughby, the failure
of Frobisher, the sufferings of Barents and his men, the difficulties
of Davis--indeed, it is more than probable that he had listened to
Davis speaking on the subject of Arctic exploration to the merchants
of London at his uncle's house at Mortlake.
Never did man start on a bolder or more perilous enterprise than did
this man, when he started for the North Pole in a little boat of eighty
tons, with his little son Jack, two mates, and a crew of eight men.
"Led by Hudson with the fire of a great faith in his eyes, the men
solemnly marched to St. Ethelburga Church, off Bishopsgate Street,
London, to partake of Holy Communion and ask God's aid. Back to the
muddy water front, opposite the Tower, a hearty God-speed from the
gentlemen of the Muscovy Company, pompous in self-importance and lace
ruffles--and the little crew steps into a clumsy river-boat with
brick-red sails."
After a six weeks' tumble over a waste of waters, Hudson arrived off
the coast of Greenland, the decks of the little _Hopewell_ coated with
ice, her rigging and sails hard as boards, and a north-east gale of
wind and snow against her. A barrier of ice forbade further advance;
but, sailing along the edge of this barrier--the first navigator to
do so--he made for the coast of Spitzbergen, already roughly charted
by Barents. Tacking up the west coast to the north, Hudson now explored
further the fiords, islands, and harbours, naming some of
them--notably Whale Bay and Hakluyt Headland, which may be seen on
our maps of to-day. By 13th July he had reached his Farthest North,
farther than any explorer had been before him, farther than any to
be reached again for over one hundred and fifty years. It was a land
of walrus, seal, and Polar bear; but, as usual, ice shut off all further
attempts to penetrate the mysteries of the Pole, thick fog hung around
the little ship, and with a fair wind Hudson turned southward. "It
pleased God to give us a gale and away we steered," says the old ship
log. Hudson would fain have steered Greenland way and had another try
for the north. But his men wanted to go home, and home they went, through
"slabbie" weather.
But the voice of the North was still calling Hudson, and he persuaded
the Muscovy Company to let him go off again. This he did in the following
year. Only three of his former crew volunteered for service, and one
of these was his son. But this expedition was devoid of result. The
icy seas about Nova Zembla gave no hope of a passage in this direction,
and, "being void of hope, the wind stormy and against us, much ice
driving, we weighed and set sail westward."
[Illustration: HUDSON'S MAP OF HIS VOYAGES IN THE ARCTIC. From his
book published in 1612.]
Hudson's voyages for the Muscovy Company had already come under the
notice of the Dutch, who were vying with the English for the discovery
of this short route to the East. Hudson was now invited to undertake
an expedition for the Dutch East India Company, and he sailed from
Amsterdam in the early spring of 1609 in a Dutch ship called the
_Half-Moon_, with a mixed crew of Dutch and English, including once
more his own son. Summer found the enthusiastic explorer off the coast
of Newfoundland, where some cod-fishing refreshed the crews before
they sailed on south, partly seeking an opening to the west, partly
looking for the colony of Virginia, under Hudson's friend, Captain
John Smith. In hot, misty weather they cruised along the coast. They
passed what is now Massachusetts, "an Indian country of great hills--a
very sweet land." On 7th August, Hudson was near the modern town of
New York, so long known as New Amsterdam, but mist hid the low-lying
hills and the _Half-Moon_ drifted on to James River; then, driven back
by a heat hurricane, he made for the inlet on the old charts, which
might lead yet east.
It was 2nd September when he came to the great mouth of the river that
now bears his name. He had been beating about all day in gales and
fogs, when "the sun arose and we saw the land all like broken islands.
From the land which we had first sight of, we came to a large lake
of water, like drowned land, which made it to rise like islands. The
mouth hath many shores and the sea breaketh on them. This is a very
good land to fall in with, and a pleasant land to see. At three of
the clock in the afternoon we came to three great rivers. We found
a very good harbour and went in with our ship. Then we took our nets
to fish and caught ten great mullets of a foot and a half long each,
and a ray as great as four men could haul into the ship. The people
of the country came aboard of us, seeming very glad of our coming,
and brought green tobacco--they go in deer skins, well-dressed, they
desire clothes and are very civil--they have great store of maize,
whereof they make good bread. The country is full of great and tall
oaks." To this he adds that the women had red copper tobacco pipes,
many of them being dressed in mantles of feathers or furs, but the
natives proved treacherous. Sailing up the river, Hudson found it a
mile broad, with high land on both sides. By the night of 19th September
the little _Half-Moon_ had reached the spot where the river widens
near the modern town of Albany. He had sailed for the first time the
distance covered to-day by magnificent steamers which ply daily
between Albany and New York city. Hudson now went ashore with an old
chief of the country. "Two men were dispatched in quest of game," so
records Hudson's manuscript, "who brought in a pair of pigeons. They
likewise killed a fat dog and skinned it with great haste with shells.
The land is the finest for cultivation that ever I in my life set foot
upon."
Hudson had not found a way to China, but he had found the great and
important river that now bears his name. Yet he was to do greater things
than these, and to lose his life in the doing. The following year,
1610, found him once more bound for the north, continuing the endless
search for a north-west passage--this time for the English, and not
for the Dutch. On board the little _Discovery_ of fifty-five tons,
with his young son, Jack, still his faithful companion, with a
treacherous old man as mate, who had accompanied him before, with a
good-for-nothing young spendthrift taken at the last moment "because
he wrote a good hand," and a mixed crew, Hudson crossed the wide
Atlantic for the last time. He sailed by way of Iceland, where "fresh
fish and dainty fowl, partridges, curlew, plover, teale, and goose"
much refreshed the already discontented crews, and the hot baths of
Iceland delighted them. The men wanted to return to the pleasant land
discovered in the last expedition, but the mysteries of the frozen
North still called the old explorer, and he steered for Greenland.
He was soon battling with ice upon the southern end of "Desolation,"
whence he crossed to the snowy shores of Labrador, sailing into the
great straits that bear his name to-day. For three months they sailed
aimlessly about that "labyrinth without end" as it was called by Abacuk
Prickett who wrote the account of this fourth and last voyage of Henry
Hudson. But they could find no opening to the west, no way of escape.
[Illustration: A SHIP OF HUDSON'S FLEET. From his _Voyages_, 1612.]
Winter was coming on, "the nights were long and cold, and the earth
was covered with snow." They were several hundred miles south of the
straits, and no way had been found to the Pacific; they had followed
the south shore "to the westernmost bay of all," James Bay, but lo!
there was no South Sea. Hudson recognised the fact that he was
land-bound and winter-bound in a desolate region, with a discontented
crew, and that the discontent was amounting to mutiny. On 1st November
they hauled up the ship and selected a wintering place. Ten days later
they were frozen in, and snow was falling continuously every day. "We
were victualled for six months, and of that which was good," runs the
record. For the first three months they shot "partridges as white as
milk," but these left with the advent of spring, and hunger seized
on the handful of Englishmen wintering in this unknown land. "Then
we went into the woods, hills, and valleys--and the moss and the frog
were not spared." Not till the month of May did the ice begin to melt
and the men could fish. The first day this was possible they caught
"five hundred fish as big as good herrings and some trout," which
revived their hopes and their health. Hudson made a last despairing
effort to find a westward passage. But now the men rose in mutiny.
"We would rather be hanged at home than starved abroad!" they cried
miserably.
So Hudson "fitted all things for his return, and first delivered all
the bread out of the bread room (which came to a pound apiece for every
man's share), and he wept when he gave it unto them." It was barely
sufficient for fourteen days, and even with the fourscore small fish
they had caught it was "a poor relief for so many hungry bellies."
With a fair wind in the month of June, the little _Discovery_ was headed
for home. A few days later she was stopped by ice. Mutiny now burst
forth. The "master" and his men had lost confidence in each other.
There were ruffians on board, rendered almost wild by hunger and
privation. There is nothing more tragic in the history of exploration
than the desertion of Henry Hudson and his boy in their newly discovered
bay. Every detail of the conspiracy is given by Prickett. We know how
the rumour spread, how the crew resolved to turn the "master" and the
sick men adrift and to share the remaining provisions among themselves.
And how in the early morning Hudson was seized and his arms bound behind
him.
"What does this mean?" he cried.
"You will know soon enough when you are in the shallop," they replied.
The boat was lowered and into it Hudson was put with his son, while
the "poor, sick, and lame men were called upon to get them out of their
cabins into the shallop." Then the mutineers lowered some powder and
shot, some pikes, an iron pot, and some meal into her, and the little
boat was soon adrift with her living freight of suffering, starving
men--adrift in that icebound sea, far from home and friends and all
human help. At the last moment the carpenter sprang into the drifting
boat, resolved to die with the captain sooner than desert him. Then
the _Discovery_ flew away with all sail up as from an enemy.
And "the master" perished--how and when we know not.
Fortunately the mutineers took home Hudson's journals and charts.
Ships were sent out to search for the lost explorer, but the silence
has never been broken since that summer's day three hundred years ago,
when he was deserted in the waters of his own bay.