Commercial prospects of Holland--Travels of John Huygen van
Linschoten Their effect on the trade and prosperity of the
Netherlands--Progress of nautical and geographical science--Maritime
exploration--Fantastic notions respecting the polar regions--State
of nautical science--First arctic expedition--Success of the
voyagers--Failure of the second expedition--Third attempt to
discover the north-east passage--Discovery of Spitzbergen--
Scientific results of the voyage--Adventures in the frozen regions--
Death of William Barendz--Return of the voyagers to Amsterdam--
Southern expedition against the Spanish power--Disasters attendant
upon it--Extent of Dutch discovery.
During a great portion of Philip's reign the Netherlanders, despite their
rebellion, had been permitted to trade with Spain. A spectacle had thus
been presented of a vigorous traffic between two mighty belligerents, who
derived from their intercourse with each other the means of more
thoroughly carrying on their mutual hostilities. The war fed their
commerce, and commerce fed their war. The great maritime discoveries at
the close of the fifteenth century had enured quite as much to the
benefit of the Flemings and Hollanders as to that of the Spaniards and
Portuguese, to whom they were originally due. Antwerp and subsequently
Amsterdam had thriven on the great revolution of the Indian trade which
Vasco de Gama's voyage around the Cape had effected. The nations of the
Baltic and of farthest Ind now exchanged their products on a more
extensive scale and with a wider sweep across the earth than when the
mistress of the Adriatic alone held the keys of Asiatic commerce. The
haughty but intelligent oligarchy of shopkeepers, which had grown so rich
and attained so eminent a political position from its magnificent
monopoly, already saw the sources of its grandeur drying up before its
eyes, now that the world's trade--for the first time in human
history--had become oceanic.
In Holland, long since denuded of forests, were great markets of timber,
whither shipbuilders and architects came from all parts of the world to
gather the utensils for their craft. There, too, where scarcely a pebble
had been deposited in the course of the geological transformations of our
planet, were great artificial quarries of granite, and marble, and
basalt. Wheat was almost as rare a product of the soil as cinnamon, yet
the granaries of Christendom, and the Oriental magazines of spices and
drugs, were found chiefly on that barren spot of earth. There was the
great international mart where the Osterling, the Turk, the Hindoo, the
Atlantic and the Mediterranean traders stored their wares and negotiated
their exchanges; while the curious and highly-prized products of
Netherland skill--broadcloths, tapestries, brocades, laces, substantial
fustians, magnificent damasks, finest linens--increased the mass of
visible wealth piled mountains high upon that extraordinary soil which
produced nothing and teemed with everything.
After the incorporation of Portugal with Spain however many obstacles
were thrown in the way of the trade from the Netherlands to Lisbon and
the Spanish ports. Loud and bitter were the railings uttered, as we know,
by the English sovereign and her statesmen against the nefarious traffic
which the Dutch republic persisted in carrying on with the common enemy.
But it is very certain that although the Spanish armadas would have found
it comparatively difficult to equip themselves without the tar and the
timber, the cordage, the stores, and the biscuits furnished by the
Hollanders, the rebellious commonwealth, if excluded from the world's
commerce, in which it had learned to play so controlling a part, must
have ceased to exist. For without foreign navigation the independent
republic was an inconceivable idea. Not only would it have been incapable
of continuing the struggle with the greatest monarch in the world, but it
might as well have buried itself once and for ever beneath the waves from
which it had scarcely emerged. Commerce and Holland were simply
synonymous terms. Its morsel of territory was but the wharf to which the
republic was occasionally moored; its home was in every ocean and over
all the world. Nowhere had there ever existed before so large a
proportion of population that was essentially maritime. They were born
sailors--men and women alike--and numerous were the children who had
never set foot on the shore. At the period now treated of the republic
had three times as many ships and sailors as any one nation in the world.
Compared with modern times, and especially with the gigantic commercial
strides of the two great Anglo-Saxon families, the statistics both of
population and of maritime commerce in that famous and most vigorous
epoch would seem sufficiently meagre. Yet there is no doubt that in the
relative estimate of forces then in activity it would be difficult to
exaggerate the naval power of the young commonwealth. When therefore,
towards the close of Philip II.'s reign, it became necessary to renounce
the carrying trade with Spain and Portugal, by which the communication
with India and China was effected, or else to submit to the confiscation
of Dutch ships in Spanish ports, and the confinement of Dutch sailors in
the dungeons of the Inquisition, a more serious dilemma was presented to
the statesmen of the Netherlands than they had ever been called upon to
solve.
For the splendid fiction of the Spanish lake was still a formidable fact.
Not only were the Portuguese and Spaniards almost the only direct traders
to the distant East, but even had no obstacles been interposed by
Government, the exclusive possession of information as to the course of
trade, the pre-eminent practical knowledge acquired by long experience of
that dangerous highway around the world at a time when oceanic navigation
was still in its infancy, would have given a monopoly of the traffic to
the descendants of the bold discoverers who first opened the great path
to the world's commerce.
The Hollanders as a nation had never been engaged in the direct trade
around the Cape of Good Hope. Fortunately however at this crisis in their
commercial destiny there was a single Hollander who had thoroughly
learned the lesson which it was so necessary that all his countrymen
should now be taught. Few men of that period deserve a more kindly and
more honourable remembrance by posterity for their contributions to
science and the progress of civilization than John Huygen van Linschoten,
son of a plain burgher of West Friesland. Having always felt a strong
impulse to study foreign history and distant nations and customs; he
resolved at the early age of seventeen "to absent himself from his
fatherland, and from the conversation of friends and relatives," in order
to gratify this inclination for self-improvement. After a residence of
two years in Lisbon he departed for India in the suite of the Archbishop
of Goa, and remained in the East for nearly thirteen years. Diligently
examining all the strange phenomena which came under his observation and
patiently recording the results of his researches day by day and year by
year, he amassed a fund of information which he modestly intended for the
entertainment of his friends when he should return to his native country.
It was his wish that "without stirring from their firesides or
counting-houses" they might participate with him in the gratification and
instruction to be derived from looking upon a world then so strange, and
for Europeans still so new. He described the manners and customs, the
laws, the religions, the social and political institutions, of the
ancient races who dwelt in either peninsula of India. He studied the
natural history, the botany, the geography of all the regions which he
visited. Especially the products which formed the material of a great
traffic; the system of culture, the means of transportation, and the
course of commerce, were examined by him with minuteness, accuracy, and
breadth of vision. He was neither a trader nor a sailor, but a man of
letters, a scientific and professional traveller. But it was obvious when
he returned, rich with the spoils of oriental study during thirteen years
of life, that the results of his researches were worthy of a wider
circulation than that which he had originally contemplated. His work was
given to the public in the year 1596, and was studied with avidity not
only by men of science but by merchants and seafarers. He also added to
the record of his Indian experiences a practical manual for navigators.
He described the course of the voyage from Lisbon to the East, the
currents, the trade-winds and monsoons, the harbours, the islands, the
shoals, the sunken rocks and dangerous quicksands, and he accompanied his
work with various maps and charts, both general and special, of land and
water, rarely delineated before his day, as well as by various
astronomical and mathematical calculations. Already a countryman of his
own, Wagenaar of Zeeland, had laid the mariners of the world under
special obligation by a manual which came into such universal use that
for centuries afterwards the sailors of England and of other countries
called their indispensable 'vade-mecum' a Wagenaar. But in that text-book
but little information was afforded to eastern voyagers, because, before
the enterprise of Linschoten, little was known of the Orient except to
the Portuguese and Spaniards, by whom nothing was communicated.
The work of Linschoten was a source of wealth, both from the scientific
treasures which it diffused among an active and intelligent people, and
the impulse which it gave to that direct trade between the Netherlands
and the East which had been so long deferred, and which now came to
relieve the commerce of the republic, and therefore the republic itself,
from the danger of positive annihilation.
It is not necessary for my purpose to describe in detail the series of
voyages by way of the Cape of Good Hope which, beginning with the
adventures of the brothers Houtmann at this period, and with the
circumnavigation of the world by Olivier van Noord, made the Dutch for a
long time the leading Christian nation in those golden regions, and which
carried the United Netherlands to the highest point of prosperity and
power. The Spanish monopoly of the Indian and the Pacific Ocean was
effectually disposed of, but the road was not a new road, nor did any
striking discoveries at this immediate epoch illustrate the enterprise of
Holland in the East. In the age just opening the homely names most dear
to the young republic were to be inscribed on capes, islands, and
promontories, seas, bays, and continents. There was soon to be a "Staten
Island" both in the frozen circles of the northern and of the southern
pole, as well as in that favoured region where now the mighty current of
a worldwide commerce flows through the gates of that great metropolis of
the western world, once called New Amsterdam. Those well-beloved words,
Orange and Nassau, Maurice and William, intermingled with the names of
many an ancient town and village, or with the simple patronymics of hardy
navigators or honoured statesmen, were to make the vernacular of the new
commonwealth a familiar sound in the remotest corners of the earth; while
a fifth continent, discovered by the enterprise of Hollanders, was soon
to be fitly baptized with the name of the fatherland. Posterity has been
neither just nor grateful, and those early names which Dutch genius and
enterprise wrote upon so many prominent points of the earth's surface,
then seen for the first time by European eyes, are no longer known.
The impulse given to the foreign trade of the Netherlands by the
publication of Linschoten's work was destined to be a lasting one.
Meantime this most indefatigable and enterprising voyager--one of those
men who had done nothing in his own estimation so long as aught remained
to do--was deeply pondering the possibility of a shorter road to the
opulent kingdoms of Cathay and of China than the one which the genius of
De Gama had opened to his sovereigns. Geography as a science was
manifesting the highest activity at that period, but was still in a
rudimentary state. To the Hollanders especially much of the progress
already made by it was owing. The maps of the world by Mercator of
Leyden, published on a large scale, together with many astronomical and
geographical charts, delineations of exploration, and other scientific
works, at the magnificent printing establishment of William Blaeuw, in
Amsterdam, the friend and pupil of Tycho Brahe, and the first in that
line of typographers who made the name famous, constituted an epoch in
cosmography. Another ardent student of geography lived in Amsterdam,
Peter Plancius by name, a Calvinist preacher, and one of the most zealous
and intolerant of his cloth. In an age and a country which had not yet
thoroughly learned the lesson taught by hundreds of thousands of murders
committed by an orthodox church, he was one of those who considered the
substitution of a new dogma and a new hierarchy, a new orthodoxy and a
new church, in place of the old ones, a satisfactory result for fifty,
years of perpetual bloodshed. Nether Torquemada nor Peter Titelmann could
have more thoroughly abhorred a Jew or a Calvinist than Peter Plancius
detested a Lutheran, or any other of the unclean tribe of remonstranta.
That the intolerance of himself and his comrades was confined to fiery
words, and was not manifested in the actual burning alive of the
heterodox, was a mark of the advance made by the mass of mankind in
despite of bigotry. It was at any rate a solace to those who believed in
human progress; even in matters of conscience, that no other
ecclesiastical establishment was ever likely to imitate the matchless
machinery for the extermination of heretical vermin which the Church of
Rome had found in the Spanish Inquisition. The blasts of denunciation
from the pulpit of Plancius have long since mingled with empty air and
been forgotten, but his services in the cause of nautical enterprise and
geographical science, which formed, as it were, a relaxation to what he
deemed the more serious pursuits of theology, will endear his name for
ever to the lovers of civilization.
Plancius and Dr. Francis Maalzoon--the enlightened pensionary of
Enkhuizen--had studied long and earnestly the history and aspects of the
oceanic trade, which had been unfolding itself then for a whole century,
but was still comparatively new, while Barneveld, ever ready to assist in
the advancement of science, and to foster that commerce which was the
life of the commonwealth, was most favourably disposed towards projects
of maritime exploration. For hitherto, although the Hollanders had been
among the hardiest and the foremost in the art of navigation they had
contributed but little to actual discovery. A Genoese had led the way to
America, while one Portuguese mariner had been the first to double the
southern cape of Africa, and another, at the opposite side of the world,
had opened what was then supposed the only passage through the vast
continent which, according to ideas then prevalent, extended from the
Southern Pole to Greenland, and from Java to Patagonia. But it was easier
to follow in the wake of Columbus, Gama, or Magellan, than to strike out
new pathways by the aid of scientific deduction and audacious enterprise.
At a not distant day many errors, disseminated by the boldest of
Portuguese navigators, were to be corrected by the splendid discoveries
of sailors sent forth by the Dutch republic, and a rich harvest in
consequence was to be reaped both by science and commerce. It is true,
too, that the Netherlanders claimed to have led the way to the great
voyages of Columbus by their discovery of the Azores. Joshua van den
Berg, a merchant of Bruges, it was vigorously maintained, had landed in
that archipelago in the year 1445. He had found there, however, no
vestiges of the human race, save that upon the principal island, in the
midst of the solitude, was seen--so ran the tale--a colossal statue of a
man on horseback, wrapped in a cloak, holding the reins of his steed in
his left hand, and solemnly extending his right arm to the west. This
gigantic and solitary apparition on a rock in the ocean was supposed to
indicate the existence of a new world, and the direction in which it was
to be sought, but it is probable that the shipwrecked Fleeting was quite
innocent of any such magnificent visions. The original designation of the
Flemish Islands, derived from their first colonization by Netherlanders,
was changed to Azores by Portuguese mariners, amazed at the myriads of
hawks which they found there. But if the Netherlanders had never been
able to make higher claims as discoverers than the accidental and dubious
landing upon an unknown shore of a tempest-tost mariner, their position
in the records of geographical exploration would not be so eminent as it
certainly is.
Meantime the eyes of Linschoten, Plancius, Maalzoon, Barneveld, and of
many other ardent philosophers and patriots, were turned anxiously
towards the regions of the North Pole. Two centuries later--and still
more recently in our own day and generation--what heart has not thrilled
with sympathy and with pride at the story of the magnificent exploits,
the heroism, the contempt of danger and of suffering which have
characterized the great navigators whose names are so familiar to the
world; especially the arctic explorers of England and of our own country?
The true chivalry of an advanced epoch--recognizing that there can be no
sublimer vocation for men of action than to extend the boundary of human
knowledge in the face of perils and obstacles more formidable and more
mysterious than those encountered by the knights of old in the cause of
the Lord's sepulchre or the holy grail--they have thus embodied in a form
which will ever awaken enthusiasm in imaginative natures, the noble
impulses of our latter civilization. To win the favour of that noblest of
mistresses, Science; to take authoritative possession, in her name, of
the whole domain of humanity; to open new pathways to commerce; to
elevate and enlarge the human intellect, and to multiply indefinitely the
sum of human enjoyments; to bring the inhabitants of the earth into
closer and more friendly communication, so that, after some yet
unimagined inventions and discoveries, and after the lapse of many years,
which in the sight of the Omnipotent are but as one day, the human race
may form one pacific family, instead of being broken up, as are the most
enlightened of peoples now, into warring tribes of internecine savages,
prating of the advancement of civilization while coveting each other's
possessions, intriguing against each other's interests, and thoroughly in
earnest when cutting each other's throats; this is truly to be the
pioneers of a possible civilization, compared to which our present
culture may seem but a poor barbarism. If the triumphs and joys of the
battle-field have been esteemed among the noblest themes for poet,
painter, or chronicler, alike in the mists of antiquity and in the full
glare of later days, surely a still more encouraging spectacle for those
who believe in the world's progress is the exhibition of almost infinite
valour, skill, and endurance in the cause of science and humanity.
It was believed by the Dutch cosmographers that some ten thousand miles
of voyaging might be saved, could the passage to what was then called the
kingdoms of Cathay be effected by way of the north. It must be remembered
that there were no maps of the unknown regions lying beyond the northern
headlands of Sweden. Delineations of continents, islands, straits,
rivers, and seas, over which every modern schoolboy pores, were not
attempted even by the hand of fancy. It was perhaps easier at the end of
the sixteenth century than it is now, to admit the possibility of a
practical path to China and India across the pole; for delusions as to
climate and geographical configuration then prevalent have long since
been dispelled. While, therefore, at least as much heroism was required
then as now to launch into those unknown seas, in hope to solve the dread
mystery of the North; there was even a firmer hope than can ever be
cherished again of deriving an immediate and tangible benefit from the
enterprise. Plancius and Maalzoon, the States-General and Prince Maurice,
were convinced that the true road to Cathay would be found by sailing
north-east. Linschoten, the man who knew India and the beaten paths to
India better than any other living Christian, was so firmly convinced of
the truth of this theory, that he volunteered to take the lead in the
first expedition. Many were the fantastic dreams in which even the wisest
thinkers of the age indulged as to the polar regions. Four straits or
channels, pierced by a magic hand, led, it was thought, from the interior
of Muscovy towards the arctic seas. According to some speculators,
however, those seas enclosed a polar continent where perpetual summer and
unbroken daylight reigned, and whose inhabitants, having obtained a high
degree of culture; lived in the practice of every virtue and in the
enjoyment of every blessing. Others peopled these mysterious regions with
horrible savages, having hoofs of horses and heads of dogs, and with no
clothing save their own long ears coiled closely around their limbs and
bodies; while it was deemed almost certain that a race of headless men,
with eyes in their breasts, were the most enlightened among those distant
tribes. Instead of constant sunshine, it was believed by such theorists
that the wretched inhabitants of that accursed zone were immersed in
almost incessant fogs or tempests, that the whole population died every
winter and were only recalled to temporary existence by the advent of a
tardy and evanescent spring. No doubt was felt that the voyager in those
latitudes would have to encounter volcanoes of fire and mountains of ice,
together with land and sea monsters more ferocious than the eye of man
had ever beheld; but it was universally admitted that an opening, either
by strait or sea, into the desired Indian haven would reveal itself at
last.
The instruments of navigation too were but rude and defective compared to
the beautiful machinery with which modern art and science now assist
their votaries along the dangerous path of discovery. The small yet
unwieldy, awkward, and, to the modern mind, most grotesque vessels in
which such audacious deeds were performed in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries awaken perpetual astonishment. A ship of a hundred
tons burden, built up like a tower, both at stem and stern, and
presenting in its broad bulbous prow, its width of beam in proportion to
its length, its depression amidships, and in other sins against symmetry,
as much opposition to progress over the waves as could well be imagined,
was the vehicle in which those indomitable Dutchmen circumnavigated the
globe and confronted the arctic terrors of either pole. An
astrolabe--such as Martin Beheim had invented for the Portuguese, a
clumsy astronomical ring of three feet in circumference--was still the
chief machine used for ascertaining the latitude, and on shipboard a most
defective one. There were no logarithms, no means of determining at sea
the variations of the magnetic needle, no system of dead reckoning by
throwing the log and chronicling the courses traversed. The firearms with
which the sailors were to do battle with the unknown enemies that might
beset their path were rude and clumsy to handle. The art of compressing
and condensing provisions was unknown. They had no tea nor coffee to
refresh the nervous system in its terrible trials; but there was one
deficiency which perhaps supplied the place of many positive luxuries.
Those Hollanders drank no ardent spirits. They had beer and wine in
reasonable quantities, but no mention is ever made in the journals of
their famous voyages of any more potent liquor; and to this circumstance
doubtless the absence of mutinous or disorderly demonstrations, under the
most trying circumstances, may in a great degree be attributed.
Thus, these navigators were but slenderly provided with the appliances
with which hazardous voyages have been smoothed by modern art; but they
had iron hearts, faith in themselves, in their commanders, in their
republic, and in the Omnipotent; perfect discipline and unbroken
cheerfulness amid toil, suffering, and danger. No chapter of history
utters a more beautiful homily an devotion to duty as the true guiding
principle of human conduct than the artless narratives which have been
preserved of many of these maritime enterprises. It is for these noble
lessons that they deserve to be kept in perpetual memory.
And in no individual of that day were those excellent qualities more
thoroughly embodied than in William Barendz, pilot and burgher of
Amsterdam. It was partly under his charge that the first little
expedition set forth on the 5th of June, 1594, towards those unknown
arctic seas, which no keel from Christendom had ever ploughed, and to
those fabulous regions where the foot of civilized men had never trod.
Maalzoon, Plancius, and Balthaser Moucheron, merchant of Middelburg, were
the chief directors of the enterprise; but there was a difference of
opinion between them.
The pensionary was firm in the faith that the true path to China would be
found by steering through the passage which was known to exist between
the land of Nova Zembla and the northern coasts of Muscovy, inhabited by
the savage tribes called Samoyedes. It was believed that, after passing
those straits, the shores of the great continent would be found to trend
in a south-easterly direction, and that along that coast it would
accordingly be easy to make the desired voyage to the eastern ports of
China. Plancius, on the contrary, indicated as the most promising passage
the outside course, between the northern coast of Nova Zembla and the
pole. Three ships and a fishing yacht were provided by the cities of
Enkhuizen, Amsterdam, and by the province of Zeeland respectively.
Linschoten was principal commissioner on board the Enkhuizen vessel,
having with him an experienced mariner, Brandt Ijsbrantz by name, as
skipper. Barendz, with the Amsterdam ship and the yacht, soon parted
company with the others, and steered, according to the counsels of
Plancius and his own convictions; for the open seas of the north. And in
that memorable summer, for the first time in the world's history, the
whole desolate region of Nova Zembla was visited, investigated, and
thoroughly mapped out. Barendz sailed as far as latitude 77 deg. and to
the extreme north-eastern point of the island. In a tremendous storm off
a cape, which he ironically christened Consolationhook (Troost-hoek), his
ship, drifting under bare poles amid ice and mist and tempest, was nearly
dashed to pieces; but he reached at last the cluster of barren islets
beyond the utmost verge of Nova Zembla, to which he hastened to affix the
cherished appellation of Orange. This, however, was the limit of his
voyage. His ship was ill-provisioned, and the weather had been severe
beyond expectation. He turned back on the 1st of August, resolving to
repeat his experiment early in the following year.
Meantime Linschoten, with the ships Swan and Mercury, had entered the
passage which they called the Straits of Nassau, but which are now known
to all the world as the Waigats. They were informed by the Samoyedes of
the coast that, after penetrating the narrow channel, they would find
themselves in a broad and open sea. Subsequent discoveries showed the
correctness of the statement, but it was not permitted to the adventurers
on this occasion to proceed so far. The strait was already filled with
ice-drift, and their vessels were brought to a standstill, after about a
hundred and fifty English miles of progress beyond the Waigats; for the
whole sea of Tartary, converted into a mass of ice-mountains and islands,
and lashed into violent agitation by a north easterly storm, seemed
driving down upon the doomed voyagers. It was obvious that the sunny
clime of Cathay was not thus to be reached, at least upon that occasion.
With difficulty they succeeded in extricating themselves from the dangers
surrounding them, and emerged at last from the Waigats.
On the 15th of August, in latitude 69 deg. 15', they met the ship of
Barendz and returned in company to Holland, reaching Amsterdam on the
16th of September. Barendz had found the seas and coasts visited by him
destitute of human inhabitants, but swarming with polar bears, with
seals, with a terrible kind of monsters, then seen for the first time, as
large as oxen, with almost human faces and with two long tusks protruding
from each grim and grotesque visage. These mighty beasts, subsequently
known as walrusses or sea-horses, were found sometimes in swarms of two
hundred at a time, basking in the arctic sun, and seemed equally at home
on land, in the sea, and on icebergs. When aware of the approach of their
human visitors, they would slide off an iceblock into the water, holding
their cubs in their arms, and ducking up and down in the sea as if in
sport. Then tossing the young ones away, they would rush upon the boats,
and endeavour to sink the strangers, whom they instinctively recognised
as their natural enemies. Many were the severe combats recorded by the
diarist of that voyage of Barendz with the walrusses and the bears.
The chief result of this first expedition was the geographical
investigation made, and, with unquestionable right; these earliest arctic
pilgrims bestowed the names of their choice upon the regions first
visited by themselves. According to the unfailing and universal impulse
on such occasions, the names dear to the fatherland were naturally
selected. The straits were called Nassau, the island at its mouth became
States or Staten Island; the northern coasts of Tartary received the
familiar appellations of New Holland, New Friesland, New Walcheren; while
the two rivers, beyond which Linschoten did not advance, were designated
Swan and Mercury respectively, after his two ships. Barendz, on his part,
had duly baptized every creek, bay, islet, and headland of Nova Zembla,
and assuredly Christian mariner had never taken the latitude of 77 deg.
before. Yet the antiquary, who compares the maps soon afterwards
published by William Blaeuw with the charts now in familiar use, will
observe with indignation the injustice with which the early geographical
records have been defaced, and the names rightfully bestowed upon those
terrible deserts by their earliest discoverers rudely torn away. The
islands of Orange can still be recognized, and this is almost the only
vestige left of the whole nomenclature. But where are Cape Nassau,
William's Island, Admiralty Island, Cape Plancius, Black-hook,
Cross-hook, Bear's-hook, Ice-hook, Consolation-hook, Cape Desire, the
Straits of Nassau, Maurice Island, Staten Island, Enkhuizen Island, and
many other similar appellations.
The sanguine Linschoten, on his return, gave so glowing an account of the
expedition that Prince Maurice and Olden-Barneveld, and prominent members
of the States-General, were infected with his enthusiasm. He considered
the north-east passage to China discovered and the problem solved. It
would only be necessary to fit out another expedition on a larger scale
the next year, provide it with a cargo of merchandize suitable for the
China market, and initiate the direct polar-oriental trade without
further delay. It seems amazing that so incomplete an attempt to overcome
such formidable obstacles should have been considered a decided success.
Yet there is no doubt of the genuineness of the conviction by which
Linschoten was actuated. The calmer Barendz, and his friend and comrade
Gerrit de Veer, were of opinion that the philosopher had made "rather a
free representation" of the enterprise of 1594 and of the prospects for
the future.
Nevertheless, the general Government, acting on Linschoten's suggestion,
furnished a fleet of seven ships: two from Enkhuizen, two from Zeeland,
two from Amsterdam; and a yacht which was to be despatched homeward with
the news, so soon as the expedition should have passed through the
straits of Nassau, forced its way through the frozen gulf of Tartary,
doubled Cape Tabin, and turned southward on its direct course to China.
The sublime credulity which accepted Linschoten's hasty solution of the
polar enigma as conclusive was fairly matched by the sedateness with
which the authorities made the preparations for the new voyage. So
deliberately were the broadcloths, linens, tapestries, and other assorted
articles for this first great speculation to Cathay, via the North Pole,
stowed on board the fleet, that nearly half the summer had passed before
anchor was weighed in the Meuse. The pompous expedition was thus
predestined to an almost ridiculous failure. Yet it was in the hands of
great men, both on shore and sea. Maurice, Barneveld, and Maalzoon had
personally interested themselves in the details of its outfitting,
Linschoten sailed as chief commissioner, the calm and intrepid Barendz
was upper pilot of the whole fleet, and a man who was afterwards destined
to achieve an immortal name in the naval history of his country, Jacob
Heemskerk, was supercargo of the Amsterdam ship. In obedience to the
plans of Linschoten and of Maalzoon, the passage by way of the Waigats
was of course attempted. A landing was effected on the coast of Tartary.
Whatever geographical information could be obtained from such a source
was imparted by the wandering Samoyedes. On the 2nd of September a party
went ashore on Staten Island and occupied themselves in gathering some
glistening pebbles which the journalist of the expedition describes with
much gravity as a "kind of diamonds, very plentiful upon the island."
While two of the men were thus especially engaged in a deep hollow, one
of them found himself suddenly twitched from behind. "What are you
pulling at me for, mate?" he said, impatiently to his comrade as he
supposed. But his companion was a large, long, lean white bear, and in
another instant the head of the unfortunate diamond-gatherer was off and
the bear was sucking his blood. The other man escaped to his friends, and
together a party of twenty charged upon the beast. Another of the
combatants was killed and half devoured by the hungry monster before a
fortunate bullet struck him in the head. But even then the bear
maintained his grip upon his two victims, and it was not until his brains
were fairly beaten out with the butt end of a snaphance by the boldest of
the party that they were enabled to secure the bodies of their comrades
and give them a hurried kind of Christian burial. They flayed the bear
and took away his hide with them, and this, together with an ample supply
of the diamonds of Staten Island, was the only merchandize obtained upon
the voyage for which such magnificent preparations had been made. For, by
the middle of September, it had become obviously hopeless to attempt the
passage of the frozen sea that season, and the expedition returned,
having accomplished nothing. It reached Amsterdam upon the 18th of
November, 1595.
The authorities, intensely disappointed at this almost ridiculous result,
refused to furnish direct assistance to any farther attempts at arctic
explorations. The States-General however offered a reward of twenty-five
thousand florins to any navigators who might succeed in discovering the
northern passage, with a proportionate sum to those whose efforts in that
direction might be deemed commendable, even if not crowned with success.
Stimulated by the spirit of adventure and the love of science far more
than by the hope of gaining a pecuniary prize, the undaunted Barendz, who
was firm in the faith that a pathway existed by the north of Nova Zembla
and across the pole to farthest Ind, determined to renew the attempt the
following summer. The city of Amsterdam accordingly, early in the year
1596, fitted out two ships. Select crews of entirely unmarried men
volunteered for the enterprise. John Cornelisz van der Ryp, an
experienced sea-captain, was placed in charge of one of the vessels,
William Barendz was upper pilot of the other, and Heemskerk, "the man who
ever steered his way through ice or iron," was skipper and supercargo.
The ships sailed from the Vlie on the 18th May. The opinions of Peter
Plancius prevailed in this expedition at last; the main object of both
Ryp and Barendz being to avoid the fatal, narrow, ice-clogged Waigats.
Although identical in this determination, their views as to the
configuration of the land and sea, and as to the proper course to be
steered, were conflicting. They however sailed in company mainly in a
N.E. by N. direction, although Barendz would have steered much more to
the east.
On the 5th June the watch on deck saw, as they supposed, immense flocks
of white swans swimming towards the ships, and covering the sea as far as
the eye could reach. All hands came up to look at the amazing spectacle,
but the more experienced soon perceived that the myriads of swans were
simply infinite fields of ice, through which however they were able to
steer their course without much impediment, getting into clear sea beyond
about midnight, at which hour the sun was one degree above the horizon.
Proceeding northwards two days more they were again surrounded by ice,
and, finding the "water green as grass, they believed themselves to be
near Greenland." On the 9th June they discovered an island in latitude,
according to their observation, 74 deg. 30', which seemed about five
miles long. In this neighbourhood they remained four days, having on one
occasion a "great fight which lasted four glasses" with a polar bear, and
making a desperate attempt to capture him in order to bring him as a show
to Holland. The effort not being successful, they were obliged to take
his life to save their own; but in what manner they intended, had they
secured him alive, to provide for such a passenger in the long voyage
across the North Pole to China, and thence back to Amsterdam, did not
appear. The attempt illustrated the calmness, however, of those hardy
navigators. They left the island on the 13th June, having baptised it
Bear Island in memory of their vanquished foe, a name which was
subsequently exchanged for the insipid appellation of Cherry Island, in
honour of a comfortable London merchant who seven years afterwards sent a
ship to those arctic regions.
Six days later they saw land again, took the sun, and found their
latitude 80 deg. 11'. Certainly no men had ever been within less than ten
degrees of the pole before. On the longest day of the year they landed on
this newly discovered country, which they at first fancied to be a part
of Greenland. They found its surface covered with eternal snow, broken
into mighty glaciers, jagged with precipitous ice-peaks; and to this land
of almost perpetual winter, where the mercury freezes during ten months
in the year, and where the sun remains four months beneath the horizon,
they subsequently gave the appropriate and vernacular name of
Spitzbergen. Combats with the sole denizens of these hideous abodes, the
polar bears, on the floating ice, on the water, or on land, were
constantly occurring, and were the only events to disturb the monotony of
that perpetual icy sunshine, where no night came to relieve the almost
maddening glare. They rowed up a wide inlet on the western coast, and
came upon great numbers of wild-geese sitting on their eggs. They proved
to be the same geese that were in the habit of visiting Holland in vast
flocks every summer, and it had never before been discovered where they
laid and hatched their eggs. "Therefore," says the diarist of the
expedition, "some voyagers have not scrupled to state that the eggs grow
on trees in Scotland, and that such of the fruits of those trees as fall
into the water become goslings, while those which drop on the ground
burst in pieces and come to nothing. We now see that quite the contrary
is the case," continues De Veer, with perfect seriousness, "nor is it to
be wondered at, for nobody has ever been until now where those birds lay
their eggs. No man, so far as known, ever reached the latitude of eighty
degrees before. This land was hitherto unknown."
The scientific results of this ever-memorable voyage might be deemed
sufficiently meagre were the fact that the eggs of wild geese did not
grow on trees its only recorded discovery. But the investigations made
into the dread mysteries of the north, and the actual problems solved,
were many, while the simplicity of the narrator marks the infantine
character of the epoch in regard to natural history. When so illustrious
a mind as Grotius was inclined to believe in a race of arctic men whose
heads grew beneath their shoulders; the ingenuous mariner of Amsterdam
may be forgiven for his earnestness in combating the popular theory
concerning goslings.
On the 23rd June they went ashore again, and occupied themselves, as well
as the constant attacks of the bears would permit, in observing the
variation of the needle, which they ascertained to be sixteen degrees. On
the same day, the ice closing around in almost infinite masses, they made
haste to extricate themselves from the land and bore southwards again,
making Bear Island once more on the 1st July. Here Cornelius Ryp parted
company with Heemskerk and Barendz, having announced his intention to
sail northward again beyond latitude 80 deg. in search of the coveted
passage. Barendz, retaining his opinion that the true inlet to the
circumpolar sea, if it existed, would be found N.E. of Nova Zembla,
steered in that direction. On the 13th July they found themselves by
observation in latitude 73 deg., and considered themselves in the
neighbourhood of Sir Hugh Willoughby's land. Four days later they were in
Lomms' Bay, a harbour of Nova Zembla, so called by them from the
multitude of lomms frequenting it, a bird to which they gave the
whimsical name of arctic parrots. On the 20th July the ice obstructed
their voyage; covering the sea in all directions with floating mountains
and valleys, so that they came to an anchor off an islet where on a
former voyage the Hollanders had erected the precious emblem of Christian
faith, and baptised the dreary solitude Cross Island. But these pilgrims,
as they now approached the spot, found no worshippers there, while, as if
in horrible mockery of their piety, two enormous white bears had reared
themselves in an erect posture, in order the better to survey their
visitors, directly at the foot of the cross. The party which had just
landed were unarmed, and were for making off as fast as possible to their
boats. But Skipper Heemskerk, feeling that this would be death to all of
them, said simply, "The first man that runs shall have this boat-hook of
mine in his hide. Let us remain together and face them off." It was done.
The party moved slowly towards their boats, Heemskerlk bringing up the
rear, and fairly staring the polar monsters out of countenance, who
remained grimly regarding them, and ramping about the cross.
The sailors got into their boat with much deliberation, and escaped to
the ship, "glad enough," said De Veer, "that they were alive to tell the
story, and that they had got out of the cat-dance so fortunately."
Next day they took the sun, and found their latitude 76 deg. 15', and the
variation of the needle twenty-six degrees.
For seventeen days more they were tossing about in mist and raging
snow-storms, and amidst tremendous icebergs, some of them rising in
steeples and pinnacles to a hundred feet above the sea, some grounded and
stationary, others drifting fearfully around in all directions,
threatening to crush them at any moment or close in about them and
imprison them for ever. They made fast by their bower anchor on the
evening of 7th August to a vast iceberg which was aground, but just as
they had eaten their supper there was a horrible groaning, bursting, and
shrieking all around them, an indefinite succession of awful, sounds
which made their hair stand on end, and then the iceberg split beneath
the water into more than four hundred pieces with a crash "such as no
words could describe." They escaped any serious damage, and made their
way to a vast steepled and towered block like a floating cathedral, where
they again came to anchor.
On the 15th August they reached the isles of Orange, on the extreme
north-eastern verge of Nova Zembla. Here a party going ashore climbed to
the top of a rising ground, and to their infinite delight beheld an open
sea entirely free from ice, stretching to the S. E. and E.S.E. as far as
eye could reach. At last the game was won, the passage to Cathay was
discovered. Full of joy, they pulled back in their boat to the ship, "not
knowing how to get there quick enough to tell William Barendz." Alas!
they were not aware of the action of that mighty ocean river, the
Gulf-stream, which was sweeping around those regions with its warm
dissolving current.
Three days later they returned baffled in their sanguine efforts to sail
through the open sea. The ice had returned upon them, setting southwardly
in obedience to the same impulse which for a moment had driven it away,
and they found themselves imprisoned again near the "Hook of Desire."
On the 25th August they had given up all the high hopes by which they had
been so lately inspired, and, as the stream was again driving the ice
from the land, they trusted to sail southward and westward back towards
the Waigats. Having passed by Nova Zembla, and found no opening into the
seas beyond, they were disposed in the rapidly waning summer to effect
their retreat by the south side of the island, and so through the Straits
of Nassau home. In vain. The catastrophe was upon them. As they struggled
slowly past the "Ice-haven," the floating mountains and glaciers,
impelled by the mighty current, once more gathered around and forced them
back to that horrible harbour. During the remaining days of August the
ship struggled, almost like a living creature, with the perils that,
beset her; now rearing in the air, her bows propped upon mighty blocks,
till she absolutely sat erect upon her stern, now lying prostrate on her
side, and anon righting again as the ice-masses would for a moment float
away and leave her breathing space and room to move in. A blinding
snow-storm was raging the while, the ice was cracking and groaning in all
directions, and the ship was shrieking, so that the medley of awful
sights and sounds was beyond the power of language. "'Twas enough to make
the hair stand on end," said Gerrit de Veer, "to witness the hideous
spectacle."
But the agony was soon over. By the 1st September the ship was hard and
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.
At the same time and at the other side of the world seven ships, fitted
out from Holland by private enterprise, were forcing their way to the
South Sea through the terrible strait between Patagonia and Fire Land;
then supposed the only path around the globe. For the tortuous mountain
channel, filled with whirlpools and reefs, and the home of perpetual
tempest, which had been discovered in the early part of the century by
Magellan, was deemed the sole opening pierced by nature through the
mighty southern circumpolar continent. A few years later a daring
Hollander was to demonstrate the futility of this theory, and to give his
own name to a broader pathway, while the stormy headland of South
America, around which the great current of universal commerce was
thenceforth to sweep, was baptized by the name of the tranquil town in
West Friesland where most of his ship's company were born.
Meantime the seven ships under command of Jacob Mahu, Simon de Cordes,
and Sebald de Weerdt; were contending with the dangers of the older
route. The expedition sailed from Holland in June, 1598, but already the
custom was forming itself of directing those navigators of almost unknown
seas by explicit instructions from those who remained on shore, and who
had never navigated the ocean at all. The consequence on this occasion
was that the voyagers towards the Straits of Magellan spent a whole
summer on the coast of Africa, amid pestiferous heats and distracting
calms, and reached the straits only in April of the following year.
Admiral Mahu and a large proportion of the crew had meantime perished of
fevers contracted by following the course marked out for them by their
employers, and thus diminished in numbers, half-stripped of provisions,
and enfeebled by the exhausting atmosphere of the tropics, the survivors
were ill prepared to confront the antarctic ordeal which they were
approaching. Five months longer the fleet, under command of Admiral de
Cordes, who had succeeded to the command, struggled in those straits,
where, as if in the home of Eolus, all the winds of heaven seemed holding
revel; but indifference to danger, discipline, and devotion to duty
marked the conduct of the adventurers, even as those qualities had just
been distinguishing their countrymen at the other pole. They gathered no
gold, they conquered no kingdoms, they made few discoveries, they
destroyed no fleets, yet they were the first pioneers on a path on which
thereafter were to be many such achievements by the republic.
At least one heroic incident, which marked their departure from the
straits, deserves to be held in perpetual remembrance. Admiral de Cordes
raised on the shore, at the western mouth of the channel, a rude memorial
with an inscription that the Netherlanders were the first to effect this
dangerous passage with a fleet of heavy ships. On the following day, in
commemoration of the event, he founded an order of knighthood. The chief
officers of the squadron were the knights-commanders, and the most
deserving of the crew were the knights-brethren. The members of the
fraternity made solemn oath to De Cordes, as general, and to each other,
that "by no danger, no necessity, nor by the fear of death, would they
ever be moved to undertake anything prejudicial to their honour, to, the
welfare of the fatherland, or to the success of the enterprise in which
they were engaged; pledging themselves to stake their lives in order,
consistently with honour, to inflict every possible damage on the
hereditary enemy, and to plant the banner of Holland in all those
territories whence the King of Spain gathered the treasures with which he
had carried on this perpetual war against the Netherlands."
Thus was instituted on the desolate shores of Fire Land the order of
Knights of the Unchained Lion, with such rude solemnities as were
possible in those solitudes. The harbour where the fleet was anchored was
called the Chevaliers' Bay, but it would be in vain to look on modern
maps for that heroic appellation. Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego know the
honest knights of the Unchained Lion no more; yet to an unsophisticated
mind no stately brotherhood of sovereigns and patricians seems more
thoroughly inspired with the spirit of Christian chivalry than were those
weather-beaten adventurers. The reefs and whirlwinds of unknown seas,
polar cold, Patagonian giants, Spanish cruisers, a thousand real or
fabulous dangers environed them. Their provisions were already running
near exhaustion; and they were feeding on raw seal-flesh, on snails and
mussels, and on whatever the barren rocks and niggard seas would supply,
to save them from absolutely perishing, but they held their resolve to
maintain their honour unsullied, to be true to each other and to the
republic, and to circumnavigate the globe to seek the proud enemy of
their fatherland on every sea, and to do battle with him in every corner
of the earth. The world had already seen, and was still to see, how nobly
Netherlanders could keep their own. Meantime disaster on disaster
descended on this unfortunate expedition. One ship after another melted
away and was seen no more. Of all the seven, only one, that of Sebald de
Weerdt, ever returned to the shores of Holland. Another reached Japan,
and although the crew fell into hostile hands, the great trade with that
Oriental empire was begun. In a third--the Blyde Boodachaft, or Good
News--Dirk Gerrits sailed nearer the South Pole than man had ever been
before, and discovered, as he believed, a portion of the southern
continent, which he called, with reason good, Gerrit's Land. The name in
course of time faded from maps and charts, the existence of the country
was disputed, until more than two centuries later the accuracy of the
Dutch commander was recognised. The rediscovered land however no longer
bears his name, but has been baptized South Shetland.
Thus before the sixteenth century had closed, the navigators of Holland
had reached almost the extreme verge of human discovery at either pole.