THE TRAGEDY OF SPITZBERGEN
Before I tell you the story of the first voyage to India I want to give
a short account of another Dutch expedition in the Arctic Sea which
ended even more sadly than that of Heemskerk and Barendsz.
On their voyage to Nova Zembla the two mariners had discovered a group
of islands which on account of their high mountains they had called the
"Islands of the Steep Peaks," or Spitzbergen in the Dutch language.
These islands provided an excellent center for the whaling fisheries.
During the first half of the seventeenth century a large Dutch fleet
went northward every spring to catch whales. The dead animals were
brought to Spitzbergen, where the blubber was turned into whale-oil,
and the rest of the huge animal was got ready for a market that was
not as finicky in its taste as in our own time.
Soon a small city was built around the large furnaces and the
rooming-houses for the workmen. This town was appropriately called
"Greaseville" (in Dutch, Smeerenburg). It consisted of the usual
gathering of saloons, eating-places, and small stores, that you might
find in a Western American town during a mining boom. When the autumn
came, the inhabitants moved back to Holland and left the city to the
tender mercies of the bears and foxes. Unfortunately, the owners of
this curious and somewhat motley settlement were not always the first
to arrive upon the scene in the summer. Other sailors, Scotch or
Norwegian, had often visited Greaseville before they arrived and either
appropriated what they wanted or destroyed what they could not carry
away. As early as 1626 a plan was discussed of leaving a guard on the
island during the winter. The men could live comfortably in one of the
houses and they could support themselves by hunting and fishing. It was
not a bad idea, but Nova Zembla still spooked in people's heads, and
nobody wanted to try a winter of darkness and cold such as had been
just described by De Veer. But in the year 1630 eight English sailors
were accidentally left behind from a ship, and next spring they were
found little the worse for wear. As a result the experiment was at last
made in the winter of the year 1633. Seven men were left on Spitzbergen
and seven others on the Jan Mayen, an island somewhat to the west and
farther away from the pole. The seven on Jan Mayen all died of scurvy.
When next spring a fleet came to relieve them they were found frozen
dead in their bunks. On Spitzbergen, however, all the men had passed a
comfortable winter. They had suffered a good deal from the cold, but
they had managed to keep out in the open, take a lot of exercise, and
pass the long winter as cheerfully as the heavy blizzards and storms
allowed. It was decided to leave a small guard upon the island every
year. When in September of 1634 the fleet of whalers sailed back for
Holland, seven new men, under the leadership of Adriaen Janzzoon, who
came from Delft, had agreed to remain behind and keep watch over
the little settlement of Smeerenburg. They were well provided with
supplies, but all perished before the spring of the next year. They
left a diary, and from this we copy a few items to show the quiet and
resigned courage with which they went to their death.
"On the eleventh of September of the year of our Lord 1634 the whaling
ships sailed for home. We wished them a happy voyage. We saw several
whales and often tried to get one, but we did not succeed. We looked
for fresh vegetables, foxes, and bears with great industry, but we did
not find any.
"Between the twentieth and the twenty-first of October the sun left
us. On the twenty-fourth of November we began to suffer from scurvy.
Therefore we looked for fresh vegetables, foxes, and bears with great
industry, but we did not succeed, to our great grief. Therefore we
consoled each other that the good Lord would provide. On the second of
December Klaes Florisz took a remedy against scurvy, and we set traps
to catch foxes.
"On the eleventh of December Jeroen Caroen also took a remedy against
scurvy, and we all began to eat separately from each other because some
suffered more from scurvy and others less. We looked every day, trying
to find fresh vegetables, but we found nothing. So we recommended our
souls into the hands of God.
"On the twelfth of December Cornelis Thysz took a remedy for scurvy. On
the twenty-third of December we saw our first bear. Just as the cook
was pouring out hot water from his kitchen the bear stood outside the
window, but when he heard a noise he hastily fled. On the twenty-fourth
we again heard a bear, and we at once ran for him with three men,
whereupon he stood upright on his hind legs and looked quite horrible;
but we shot a musket-ball through his belly, and he began to groan and
bleed quite badly, and with his teeth he bit one of our halberds to
pieces and then fled. We followed him with two lanterns, but we could
not get him, although we needed him sorely on account of the sick
people as well as of those who were still well, for nobody was quite
without pain. If things do not improve before long we shall all be
dead before the ships come back; but God knows what is best for us. On
the twenty-fifth of December Cornelis Thysz took a remedy for scurvy
for the second time, for things were going badly with him. On the
fourteenth of January Adriaen Janszoon died, being the first of the
seven of us to go; but we are now all very ill and have much pain.
"On the fifteenth Fetje Otjes died.
"On the seventeenth Cornelis Thysz died. Next to God we had put our
hope upon him. We who were still alive made coffins for the three dead
ones, and we laid them into their coffins, although we were hardly
strong enough to do this, and every day we are getting worse.
"On the twenty-eighth we saw the first fox, but we could not get him.
On the twenty-ninth we killed our red dog, and we ate him in the
evening. On the seventh of February we caught our first fox, and we
were all very happy; but it did not do us much good, for we are all too
far gone by now. We saw many bears, yes, sometimes we saw as many as
three, four, five, six, ten, twelve at the same time; but we did not
have strength enough to fire a gun, and even if we had hit a bear, we
could not have walked out to get him, for we are all so weak that we
can not put one foot before the other. We can not even eat our bread;
we have terrible pains all over our bodies; and the worse the weather
is the more pain we have. Many of us are losing blood. Jeroan Caroen is
the strongest, and he went out and got some coals to make a fire.
"On the twenty-third we laid flat on our backs almost all the time. The
end has come, and we commend our souls into the hands of God.
"On the twenty-fourth we saw the sun again, for which we praised God,
for we had not seen the sun since the twentieth or twenty-first of
October of last year.
"On the sixth of February the four of us who are still alive are lying
in our bunks. We would eat something if only one of us were strong
enough to get up and make a fire; we can not move from the pain we
suffer. With folded hands we pray to God to deliver us from this
sorrowful world. If it pleases Him we are ready; for we would prefer
not to stand this suffering much longer without food and without a
fire, and yet we cannot help each other, and each one must bear his own
fate as well as he can."
When the ships came to Spitzbergen in the spring of 1635 they found the
cabin locked. A sailor climbed into the house through the attic window.
The first things he found were pieces of the red dog hanging from the
rafters, where they had been put to dry. In front of the stairs he
stumbled over the frozen body of the other dog. Inside the cabin the
seven sailors rested together. Three were lying in open coffins, two
in one bunk, two others on a piece of sail on the floor, all of them
frozen, with their knees pulled up to their chins.
That was the last time an attempt was made to have anybody pass the
winter on the island.