SEAMANSHIP AND NAVIGATION IN THE MIDDLE AGES
When we consider all the wondrous achievements on the part of the
Ancients, when we consider how many centuries they were engaged in
maritime matters, it is a matter for some surprise that, with the
exception of what was done by the Phœnicians, there was practically no
maritime discovery made by them. They were content with the limitations
of the Mediterranean, and beyond the Gaditan Straits they did not
venture.
At first sight it certainly is a little strange. But the reason
is quite obvious. Their seamanship was good enough, but their
navigation was of an inferior order. The Romans, for example, were not
geographers, and without some knowledge of geography even the crudest
navigational methods lose their value. Among the Greeks and Romans
there existed curious and uncertain ideas concerning the earth. Some
thought that it floated on the water like a bowl. Some believed that
it was like to a column or stone pillar; others that it was hollow as
a dish. Some said it was as flat as a table; some that its shape was
similar to a drum. So with all these conflicting ideas there was no
accurate knowledge of the world.
Further, though there were astronomers, yet they were incompetent and
of little value from a practical point of view. Lastly, the ancients
had yet to learn the essential value of the loadstone. Hence their
mariners were not fitted for such long voyages as were to be made later
on by the Portuguese. The early Mediterranean mariners were efficient
so long as they kept within the confines of their own enormous lake,
for their voyaging was practically coastal. Even when they had to
sail North and South they had such places as Rhodes to enable them to
break their journey and make a good departure from. They could never
lose themselves for long, for they knew the aspect of the various
promontories and bays. They could “smell” their way through most
channels even when the light failed them. And remember, too, that
theirs were not big ships if compared with the caravels which were to
come later. There were plenty of oarsmen in the warships if it became
necessary to claw off a lee shore, and these shallow-draught vessels
could float in the most shallow channels.
But if they had been called upon to cross the Atlantic or, rounding
the South of Africa, traverse the Indian Ocean, they would have soon
lost themselves when out of sight of land for many days; so they kept
to their own sea and left the discovering of the world to others who
should come centuries later. Hipparchus had been the first to make a
catalogue of the stars about the year 150 B.C. Pass over a somewhat
barren interval till you come to the year A.D. 150 and you find Ptolemy
correcting the tables of Hipparchus. In Ptolemy we have the summit
of classical knowledge as reached during the times of the ancients.
His account of the universe and the movements of the heavenly bodies
had a great influence on the seafarers in the Middle Ages, and so on
the world’s discoveries. Now Ptolemy’s geography was based for the
most part on “itineraries.” These, in modern parlance, were simply
guide-books for travellers: that is to say, they consisted of tables
and routes showing the stopping-places. Such data as these afforded had
been obtained for the most part from military campaigns--especially
Roman--and from the voyages made by sailors, but also from merchants.
Ptolemy made a wonderful improvement in cartographical representation
by introducing correction with converging meridians, this method having
been commenced by Hipparchus. But Ptolemy was singularly fortunate to
have been living at the time when the Roman Empire was at its height,
and so enabled to obtain a mass of geographical details through the
extensive administration of this far-reaching dominion.
In Northern Europe the mists had not yet cleared. It was a long time
before they did. It is not till the eighth century of our era that
there is any certain mention in literature concerning the voyaging to
the Arctic Circle. This was when the good monks from Ireland discovered
the Faroe Isles and Iceland after setting forth across the sea, and
settled down there, baptising the inhabitants and teaching them
Christianity. Indirectly, they were doing more than this: they were
linking up one portion of world that was unknown to or by the other.
Already King Arthur, by his conquest of Scandinavia, Ireland, Gothland,
Denmark, and other northern territories, had caused an addition to
geographical knowledge by intercommunication. “Now at length,” to
quote Hakluyt, “they are incorporated with us by the receiving of our
religion and sacraments, and by taking wives of our nation, and by
affinitie, and mariages.”
Add to these the northern voyages of Octher, King Edgar, together
with the frequent raids of the Norsemen and the increasing number of
missionaries, and it is easy to see the world’s geographical knowledge
accumulating. But these, again, were mostly coasting voyages; or, at
any rate, the voyagers were not out of sight of land for many days.
The Norse discoveries are, in fact, the first great achievement of the
western maritime world between the time of Constantine and the first
Crusade. We have already alluded so fully to their seamanship that it
remains only to remind the reader that as early as A.D. 787 they had
landed in our country; in 874 had begun to colonise Iceland; in 877
had sighted Greenland; and in 888, or thereabouts, had reached the
White Sea. In Southern Europe there was nothing comparable to this.
Notwithstanding that the workmanship of the Italian shipbuilders was as
good as, if not better than, the work of the Norsemen; notwithstanding,
also, that the latter were further away from civilisation and
scientific knowledge, yet for all that the Vikings were peering into
the Unknown World, while the Southerners were content to leave the
curtain to hide a little longer the wonders of the universe from the
eyes of mankind.
As we look at the manner in which the world has been opened out,
discovered, revealed, linked up, we shall find that this was brought
about as follows: The Southerners, then, were too content with their
Mediterranean to leave it in quest of other seas, while the Vikings
were exactly the reverse in their own sphere. Then comes the influence
of Christian devotion. Not merely the missionaries, but the bands
of pilgrims begin for the first time in their lives to travel long
distances. The Crusades astound the Crusaders themselves. They marvel
at the possibilities of the world. A permanent link is forged between
the North and the near East. The Bay of Biscay and the Mediterranean
are accomplished in safety. Why should they not come back again, after
their vows have been filled, to trade? They have fought, they have said
their prayers. Why might they not buy and sell? Thus there is formed a
connection between the Levant and England which time was to develop.
We see, then, the merchants of the world getting restless for greater
wealth: anxious for new markets for their wares, new places whence to
gather fresh imports. Owing to the natural dread of the sea the land
routes were frequently patronised in preference to the sea lanes,
though this was not always. Now the great treasure-house of the world
in men’s estimation lay in India. There was to be found a rich store of
commodities, so thither merchants repaired by the long overland routes.
But there was a growing feeling among the Genoese, the Venetians, and
the Spanish that there ought to be a sea path to India just as there
was to Northern Europe. There was a great risk attached to the present
method of bringing goods across from India by land. There was the risk
of pilfering or of bandits, besides the great cost of transportation.
Furthermore, these sons of the Catholic Church longed to crush the
power of Islam, longed to place the ruling of the world in the hands
of a Christian Empire. It is necessary to bear in mind this potent
desire to find a sea route to India, because by this desire was given
an impetus which not only revealed India to seamen, but unfolded the
New World in the Western Hemisphere. As far back as the year A.D. 1281,
Vivaldi set forth from Genoa in his fruitless endeavour to reach the
Indies via the west coast of Africa; so also Malocello had sailed as
far as the Canary Isles about the year 1270; and there were numbers of
other gallant adventurers who had started forth optimistically. But the
sea route to India had not yet been ploughed by the ships of men.
Meanwhile there arrived on the scene the best friend mariner ever
had. Up till now the compass had not been used. It is possible and
extremely probable that from very early times the Chinese understood
the communicating of the magnetic fluid to iron, and the marvellous
and mysterious power which that iron possesses when thus magnetised.
One may take it that the Chinese introduced this notion to the famous
Arabian seamen sailing between the Far East and the east coast of
Africa. Thus, via the Red Sea, this information of the utility of the
magnetised needle for the use of seamen was brought into Europe. Prior
to the tenth century the invention had gone no further than placing a
bar of magnetised iron in the arms of a wooden figure on a pivot. In
China the South took the place of North, and the former was indicated
by the outstretched hand of the little man erected on the prow of the
vessel, or by the bar of pulverised iron which the image held like a
spear in its hands. With such magnetic indications the Chinese from the
third century A.D. voyaged from Canton to Malabar and the Persian Gulf.
By the second decade of the twelfth century the Chinese were using the
water-compass. It was not seen in Europe till about the year 1190; or
rather it is not mentioned till about that date. What is most probable
is the suggestion that the sailors of Northern Europe first saw it
at the time of the Crusades, and took back to their own ports the
idea which the Arabian dhow skippers had employed for so many years
in navigating the Indian Ocean. There is a clear reference in an old
French ballad of the late twelfth century to the Pole-star and magnet:--
“By this star they go and come
And their course and their way do keep:
They call it the polar star.
This guide is most certain.
All the others move
And change positions and turn;
But this star moves not.
An art they make, that cannot deceive,
By the power of the magnet:
A stone ugly and brown,
To which iron spontaneously is drawn,
They have: observing the right point.
After they have touched it with a needle
And in a straw have placed it
They put it in water without other support,
And the straws keep it afloat.”
This ballad was afterwards known as “The Song of the Compass.”
Doubtless this crude compass was used only when the sailors could not
see the sun in cloudy weather, or it may have been also used when
making night passages. It certainly cannot have been more than a frail
aid in stormy weather, when these clumsy ships were pitching and
rolling in the trough of the sea. Still, excepting this innovation,
there is not between the time of the ancient Greeks and that of the
fourteenth century more than the slightest advance in the seaman’s art.
Frankly, they hardly needed the compass in their coasting voyages,
and when its utility was demonstrated they declined, for a long time,
to put to sea in any ship having such an infernal and superstitious
article on board. Although the date 1190 has just been given as
the approximate period when the lodestone was employed in European
navigation, yet it was not till the beginning of the fourteenth century
that a Neapolitan pilot suspended the needle on a fixed pivot in a
box, though some authorities deny that this man accomplished so much.
The origin of the fleur-de-lys, which the reader still sees on every
compass card to this day--flower-de-luce, as the rude Elizabethan
sailors used to call it--is variously attributed to the fact that
this pilot was a subject of the King of Naples, who was of the
junior branch of the Bourbon family. Or it is possibly a conventional
representation of the dart which the Arabians called the needle.
Let us then sum up. Thanks to the Vikings and Crusaders, the warriors
and the traders, there was a greater knowledge of the world’s
geography. And now also men had the instrument which would enable
them to find their way across trackless oceans and reach home again
in safety. Concerning those places which they had never seen, they
had much hopeful curiosity, but there was little actual information.
All the time the East was calling in its magical way to the European
adventurers. The land travellers of the twelfth, thirteenth, and
fourteenth centuries had drawn back the veil hiding the golden harvest
of the East. Those who had been and seen related such wondrous yarns
that men of action and ambition longed to be away thither at once. The
effect of the Crusades had not yet passed away. The desire for travel
which has spread so enormously till it has reached the present-day
obsession was growing rapidly.
Understand, that since the time when those Phœnicians circumnavigated
the Continent there had been no repetition of this achievement,
and in fact no serious attempts. In 1270 Malocello had found the
Canaries. Ten or twenty years later the Genoese had made some sort of
effort to find a sea route to India, but they only reached Gozora in
Barbary. Various other explorers also found their way to the islands
of the Atlantic adjacent to the West African coast. In the history of
exploration there are plenty of instances where one man in a certain
century has discovered a new region. Many years later, after this has
been forgotten, some other explorer lands on this territory and claims
to have been there first. In other instances the secret of the first
adventurer has been well kept and well utilised by those who lived long
after the first man had died.
Take Madeira as a case in point. This was discovered not by a Genoese,
a Venetian, or a Portuguese, but by an Englishman of the name of
Macham. He eloped from England with a certain lady, went on board his
ship, reached Spain, and then arrived “by tempest” in Madeira, “and did
cast anker in that haven or bay, which now is called Machico after the
name of Macham. And because his lover was sea-sicke, he went on land
with some of his company, and the shippe with a good winde made saile
away, and the woman died for thought.” This was about the year 1344.
For years after, Madeira remained unknown to men’s minds. But Prince
Henry the Navigator knew of the Macham incident, and he put it to good
use.
It is true that before the close of the Middle Ages the tendency of
the Italian seamen-traders was to emerge from the limits of their
Mediterranean Sea. The voyages to the Canaries and to Barbary are
instances of this growing enterprise. They had for years established an
overseas trade also with Northern Europe, and every year the Venetians
made a voyage to Flanders and back. We have not space to deal in detail
with the voyage of the two Venetian brothers Zeno to Greenland in the
fourteenth century, though the record is still in existence for those
who wish to read.
[Illustration: THIRTEENTH-CENTURY MERCHANT SAILING SHIP.]
But still, in spite of the voyages of Viking and Venetian, the
Crusading expeditions, and the enterprising travels which had been
undertaken, yet the real progress in navigation, as a science and an
art, was made not by the sailors of Christendom, but by the Arabians.
The latter had calculated their tables of latitude and longitude by
astronomical observations. They had produced rough coast-charts; and
what was more, they had been using the compass and other nautical
instruments for some time. But thanks to the travel craze which had
set in, the Christian ships which were seen in the Mediterranean about
the beginning of the fifteenth century were supplied with the compass,
an astrolabe, a timepiece, and charts just as you would have found on
board an Arabian trading to the Indian Ocean. At length the Christian
seamen overcame their prejudice, and were glad to avail themselves of
the magnetised needle; but its use was by no means universal.
Bear in mind, also, the wave of the New Learning that was spreading
over Europe. Mathematics and astronomy had already begun to be studied
in Portugal at the beginning of the fourteenth century. And with regard
to cartography, or map-making, something new was happening. Already
by 1306 a Venetian map had been made which put into form the ideas
which inspired the first Italian voyages in the Atlantic. These charts
were made for the purpose of recording the discoveries of the great
contemporary seamen. It is indeed surprising to note how accurate
these charts really are. The Italians with all their artistic ability
were now the great map-makers, and they managed to produce a number of
portolani which were of the greatest use to the mariners and merchants
of the Mediterranean. These were made by means of the knowledge and
assistance of seamen, and were intended to be of service to the latter
in their navigation.
[Illustration: FOURTEENTH-CENTURY PORTOLANO OF THE MEDITERRANEAN.
Showing vague idea of the shape of Africa]
A portolano was nothing more or less than a plan or map-sketch. That
which is here given is from a reproduction in the Map Room of the
British Museum. When we consider that this was made as far back as the
year 1351, or one hundred and thirty-five years before the Cape of
Good Hope was rounded, it is wonderfully accurate, and the shape given
to Southern Africa is a curiously clever guess. But it should be
remembered that though the continent had never been rounded (except
in Phœnician times), yet there was a vague idea of the probable shape
of the west coast from those who had been to Barbary; and it is most
probable that by the information received from the Arabs, who knew the
East African coast intimately, this side of the continent would be
described to them. Thus a not wholly incorrect idea was conveyed of the
shape of the whole of Africa’s coast-line.
But if we examine the configuration of the portions depicted as being
in Europe, notably the northern shores of the Mediterranean, this
portolano is most pleasing and accurate, and cannot have failed to have
saved the skippers of that time many an anxious moment. That which is
here reproduced dates from the year 1351, but portolani were in use
as far back as the twelfth century as practical guides to seamen. The
next improvement occurred when the compass began to be used in the
Mediterranean, and so the portolani began to be drawn with this aid.
Gradually, with practice, they were beautifully finished, and contained
practically no large error or any wrong proportion, while the mariner
had very full details given him regarding the coastlines, rivers,
mouths, headlands, bays, and so on.
But everything that we have written in this chapter has been leading
up to a consideration of the most important epoch in the whole history
of seamanship or navigation. It is necessary to have in mind that
south-west extremity of Portugal which is now so well known to students
of naval history as Cape St. Vincent. On this strip of territory were
to dwell a community that would, so to speak, dictate the maritime
policy of the world. Here was to be the finest naval college which
ever existed even to this day. Here were brought together the pick
of the world’s seamen and navigators of that time. From here were to
issue both great explorers and the influence which caused all those
other navigators to open up the world as a man opens a closed book.
To this day civilisation has not realised one tithe of what it and
the seafaring nations especially owe in respect of shipbuilding,
navigation, and overseas commerce to that small stretch situated at the
end of the Spanish peninsula. The success which followed was the result
of a wonderful personality. It was the triumph of a man who possessed
in one combination the gifts of a far-seeing imagination, a scholarly
mind, and a genius for organisation allied to a passion for the sea and
the finding of new lands.
This man was Prince Henry, the third son of King John I of Portugal and
nephew of Henry IV of England. His life is the old story of a man who
wishes to do good work, and in order to bring out the best which is in
him, finds it essential to retire from the world. Just as the monastic
finds it desirable to withdraw from the hurly-burly of his age; just
as the scientist in search of some new invention applies himself to no
other study and lets every other consideration slide, so Prince Henry
the Navigator, as he came to be called, thrust aside the attractions of
Court life and wedded himself to a work which has benefited humanity
to an extent that it does not yet and perhaps never will appreciate.
It is not too much to say that it is entirely owing to Prince Henry’s
influence that ships now sail backwards and forwards to India, South
Africa, America, Australia, and elsewhere. If only people understood
half they owed to this man they would commemorate his name in every
important seaport of the world.
[Illustration: PRINCE HENRY THE NAVIGATOR.
After a print by SIMON DE PASSE.]
By nature a student and seaman, he retired (as his biographer, Mr.
Raymond Beazley, appositely remarks) “more and more from the known
world that he might open up the unknown.” That exactly sums up his
life. In olden times, what is now called Cape St. Vincent was known
as the Holy Promontory. Just to the right of this comes Sagres, and a
little further east is Lagos. In the year 1415 Prince Henry settles
at Sagres, a cold, barren, dreary, inhospitable promontory, but one
singularly suitable for quiet study and research, with the whole
extent of the Atlantic to look out upon, and the fresh sea breezes to
invigorate the mind away from the insincerities of civilised life. The
fifteenth century has always been regarded as the last of the “Dark
Ages,” but few more wonderful things happened either then or after than
the activities which emanated from the Sagres community. For here the
Prince had brought and sifted all the geographical knowledge inherited
from the ancients. Here were studied the subjects of mathematics,
navigation, cartography in a manner and on such a scale as had never
before been attempted. From Italy and Spain were sent the practical
men--the boldest and most experienced seamen and navigators that could
be found.
Sagres was a kind of international bureau created for the future
development of the world, but especially and primarily it had for its
object the reaching of India. Henry’s countrymen who had been about
over the continent of Europe had encountered in the markets of Bruges
and London travellers and merchants from other parts of the world, and
in course of conversation managed to pick up a good deal of information
regarding the overland trade to India and the Far East. Henry’s
chief-of-staff was his own brother Pedro, who also had travelled
extensively and had visited all the countries in the west of Europe.
He, too, had come back not empty-handed, but with maps and plans, books
and much verbal information regarding the places visited. All this
information went to swell the general geographical knowledge which
Henry was accumulating and systematising.
Close to Sagres was the naval arsenal of Lagos, over which the Prince
was governor. Here he built those caravels which were to carry out
the theories that he had worked out for his captains. On their return
he set to work to sift the data which his ships and men had brought
back with them, to correct the maps according to this new information,
to readjust the instruments, to compare the accounts of travellers
ancient and modern, and then to hand the conclusions of all these
to the captains of the next ships that went forth to explore. Thus
the Sagres naval college was at once highly theoretical and highly
practical. It was also founded on a strong religious basis. Besides the
palace, observatory, and study which he built for himself, Henry had
erected a chapel, a village for his helpers, and among the instructions
to those whom he sent out to explore was the admonition to bring
Christianity into all new territory. Here were men engaged in teaching
navigation to seamen; here were others instructing pupils how to draw
maps and nautical instruments. Even Arabians and Jews were imported
to give the Portuguese the benefit of their learning in astronomical
and mathematical subjects. It was indeed a cosmopolitan crowd which
collected at this Atlantic village. Orientals and Portuguese, veteran
pilots from Italy, shipbuilders, seamen, and students of all kinds,
cartographers and instrument-makers. But they were assembled there
for one purpose. Led by the example and patience and single-hearted
enthusiasm of their governor, who guided their labours with prudence
and forethought, this little band was to be the nucleus which should
form that magnificent race of Portuguese seamen who were to achieve so
much during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
We cannot but admire Prince Henry for his admirable enthusiasm, for his
patience, his wisdom, and his solid hard work. Nevertheless we respect
him possibly even more for having begun at the right end. Instead of
sending out his fleets to blunder their way along, they set forth more
adequately fitted both as to ships and men than any which had ever put
to sea since the beginning of the world. In the schools of Sagres, the
shipyards of Lagos, and the voyages of Prince Henry’s ships, we have
one of the finest combinations of theory and practice which the mind
of man could ever devise. It must indeed have been a most fascinating
institution. From this school graduated a fearless race of sailors,
who for their daring and enterprise have never been surpassed either
in Elizabethan or Nelsonian times when we consider the limitations of
their equipment.
Here at last, then, the seaman’s art, for the first time in the history
of the world, had a chance of being taught properly. From 1415 to 1460,
with the exception of brief intervals, Prince Henry remained here doing
this splendid work till death released him from his labours. What then
was the aim of his life’s labour? What, in fact, were the results which
accrued? Let us see first of all his aims.
He wished to find a way round Africa to India partly for the love of
the new knowledge itself, just as any scientist shares the world’s
delight in having discovered some invaluable invention. But also it
would mean greater dominion, and Portugal would add to her distinctive
position among the nations of the world. Already at least a century
before his time it had been suggested by Raymond Lulli, a famous
Majorcan alchemist, who lived from 1235 to 1315, that India might
probably be reached by rounding Africa on the west and east, and it
is curious how that idea persisted without any apparent reason or
justification before it was actually proved to be correct. Secondly,
Henry wanted to find out what was the shape of the world, and to put an
end to the rival theories which existed. Marco Polo had done something
for the southern coast-line of Asia, and the shape of Africa had been
fairly guessed by the portolano, as already seen. On the east coast
of Africa there were the Arab settlements, and there was a vague sort
of knowledge concerning the west coast so far south as Guinea. This
information had been obtained through the Sahara caravan trade.
But there was a third reason for Henry’s enterprise. The research
work, the education of his seamen, the making of maps, the providing
of instruments, the building and fitting out of ships and so forth
could not possibly go on without some sort of financial basis. Such
a project, however philanthropic, could not be allowed to continue
without some means of sustenance. Henry’s idea was to make the overseas
trade pay for all of this. There were riches enough in India and
elsewhere to cover handsomely the cost of making Portugal a race of
sailors, the leader of the world in maritime exploration. The land
route across Asia along which were brought such rich commodities of
eastern goods alone proved that India was worth aiming at. If only
these goods could be brought by water, then not only would delay,
pillage, and money be saved, but Portugal would become the owners of
the Indian carrying trade, and the richest of the eastern merchants.
One cannot emphasise too strongly the fact that in the minds of the
people of the Middle Ages India was the prize of the world, the
depository of the greatest wealth. India, then, was the inspiration,
Sagres the medium by which the countries of the globe outside Europe
have been discovered and developed.
And there was another reason. The political power of the Catholic
Church was very considerable. A Portuguese seaman was a true son of
the Church, whether skipper or deck-hand. Wherever he colonised,
wherever he discovered or traded, he was anxious to spread the Catholic
religion. He hated Islam, he wanted to add the territory of the world
to the great Christian empire. In no heart did such aspirations
flourish so strongly as in Prince Henry the Navigator. India was to
become not merely the means of encouraging seafaring, but an invaluable
possession.
But what were the results of Henry’s great organisation and activities?
Indirectly he was the cause of Columbus finding the New World when
looking for India in 1492; of Da Gama reaching India in 1498; of
Magellan encircling the globe in 1520–2: less directly still to him
may be traced the round-the-world voyages of Drake and Anson. To
Prince Henry the Navigator may be ascribed at least half the honour in
conquering the islands of the Atlantic and the western coast of Africa,
the doubling of the Cape of Good Hope, the founding of transoceanic
empires and magnificent cities. To his genius may be traced the opening
up of the Western Hemisphere, and the sea path to India and the Far
East, the discovery of Australia, and other voyages embraced within the
limits of a century. In fact, but for Henry the Navigator we should
have remained for a much longer period ignorant of one-half of the
world. The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries are essentially a sea
epoch more than any age in history, and their influence was felt in
all subsequent periods even down to the present day. Sagres focussed
all the world’s knowledge of the nautical arts, and shed a powerful
searchlight which revealed to nations the wonderful possibilities that
lay by way of the sea. It led to India and America, to gold mines and
rich plantations, to wealth, to prosperity, to power. The seamanship,
the navigation, and the shipbuilding in that narrow strip of Portugal
were the best which existed anywhere.
[Illustration: FIFTEENTH-CENTURY SHIPBUILDING YARD]
Hence Prince Henry’s pupils, even at such a late date in the world’s
history, were the first to break through all the superstitious ideas,
the ignorance, the myths, and even terror with which the African
unknown was regarded. If his own men did not actually reach India, at
any rate they prepared the way thither by sailing for two thousand
miles to the southward where no other ships and sailors had been
before, with the sole exception of the Phœnicians. Thus they went
half the way to the Indian peninsula; in fact, we may add, the most
important half. For when at last Vasco da Gama had got round the
south of Africa from west to east he was in an ocean that had been
regularly traversed by Arabian seamen for centuries. But it is not
so much the exploits of Henry’s direct pupils which really matter;
it is the influence which he began to exert in the fifteenth century
and continued to exert even after his death. He created a new school
of nautical thought and practice. All maritime progress prior to the
fifteenth century leads up to Henry the Navigator: from him radiate all
the wondrous improvements which followed after the date when his Sagres
school was inaugurated. There is not a man or woman to-day who ought
not to feel grateful to this illustrious and able man. The expansion
of Christendom, the increase of national wealth, the development of
the colonial idea--these are but a few of the achievements which
belong to him. From Portugal to Spain the excellent idea spread of
carefully instructing the nation’s seamen. It was Charles V who founded
a lectureship at Seville on the Art of Navigation. Such authoritative
men as Alonso de Chavez, Hieronymo de Chavez, and Roderigo Zamorano
are referred to by Hakluyt as among those who, by word of mouth no
less than by published treatise, were wont to instruct the Spanish
mariners. Not only did Charles V establish a lectureship, but owing to
“the rawnesse of his Seamen, and the manifolde shipwracks which they
susteyned in passing and repassing betweene Spaine and the West Indies,
with an high reach and great foresight, established ... a Pilote Major,
for the examination of such as sought to take charge of ships in that
voyage.”
Similarly, owing doubtless to this influence, Henry VIII, recognising
something of the importance of the naval side of a nation, founded
three seamen’s guilds or brotherhoods on apparently somewhat similar
lines at Deptford-on-Thames, Kingston-on-Hull, and Newcastle-on-Tyne.
The object was that English seamen might become more apt in seamanship
and navigation both in peace and war. And following up the same idea,
we find his successor, Edward VI, promoting Sebastian Cabot to be Grand
Pilot of England.
Before we pass on, it may be advisable to run briefly through the
different stages which led to the final opening up of the sea route to
India from European ports. The whole project is so intimately bound up
with the development of seamanship and navigation, that we cannot well
afford to omit this sketch from our purview. It was not by one single
effort, but by a series of attempts that the task was performed. The
doubling of the Cape of Good Hope by Vasco da Gama in 1497 was notable
not merely in itself--not merely because of the long voyage and the
attainment of Africa’s southern cape--but because it showed that that
ancient instinct was right: there was a sea route to India for those
who had the daring to venture.
In the year 1415 the furthest south reached was Cape Nun, which is
at the south-west extremity of Morocco. Three years later, thanks to
the secret which Henry possessed of Macham’s early voyage, two of
the Prince’s courtiers were able to rediscover Madeira. In 1433 Cape
Bojador, which is on the west coast of the Sahara to the south-east
of the Canaries, was doubled by Gillianez. Thus these voyagers
were gradually getting nearer to the Equator. The doubling of the
last-mentioned headland made such an impression on Pope Martin V that
His Holiness bestowed on the King of Portugal all that might thereafter
be discovered in Africa and India. This concession led to international
disputes in later years.
[Illustration: A FIFTEENTH-CENTURY SHIP.]
In the year 1441 still more southing was achieved when Gonzales and
Tristan reached Cape Blanco on the same West African coast. Three
years later and the River Gambia was discovered, and in 1446 the Cape
Verde Islands were visited. All this shows the considerable amount of
activity which went on during those years when the Prince was at the
head of his naval school. We can see, by referring to a map, how
steady and persistent was the advance along the west coast of this
unknown continent. But then there comes Henry’s death, and there
follows a gap in this chain of discoveries. Still, before long this
series of southerly voyages was resumed. The aim was ever in the same
direction, but the cause of failure is unknown; whether they feared to
go too far, whether their provisions ran out, whether their crews were
diminished by sickness and death, whether they were not too sure of
the condition of their ships one cannot say. Their intention seems to
have been to proceed with caution, and possibly they aimed at a more
detailed exploration than some of their successors. Perhaps this was
owing to the instructions of the Prince.
At any rate, with the invaluable data which they brought back, each
expedition made it easier for the next, so that by the year 1470
the Portuguese were able to reach as far south as almost to the
Equator, and fourteen years later the Congo River was attained. But,
with so much successfully accomplished, the impetus to do very much
more became strong, and in 1486 the King of Portugal sent forth two
expeditions, having for their object the discovery of an eastern route
to India, and also to find if possible the whereabouts of a mysterious
personality, Prester John. The latter was not discovered. One of these
two expeditions proceeded through Egypt, then down the Red Sea, and
so across the Arabian Sea. Its members encountered many a hardship,
but they did succeed in making Calicut in the south-west of India.
The other expedition was under the leadership of Bartholomew Diaz. It
was of no great size, consisting merely of a couple of caravels and
one store-ship. This little squadron did not reach India, but made a
wonderful advance on all those previous voyages which had never got
further south than the Equator and the Congo. Diaz sailed south beyond
the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope, and doubled it without knowing
it. He coasted for a thousand miles along African shores which had
never been seen by European sailors hitherto. And although he was not
lucky enough to reach across to India, yet, when he returned, he had
the great happiness of realising that he had passed at last that cape
which is the southern African extremity. Probably you know the story:
how that Diaz, mindful of the bad weather for which this region is
famous, had called it the Cape of Torments, and how that the Portuguese
king would not suffer this to be the name, but rather that it should be
called the Cape of Good Hope, since the discovery was so promising.
And then we come to that ever memorable year of 1497, when all these
preliminary voyages sink into insignificance before that of Vasco
da Gama, who doubled the cape on November 20, then sailed to the
northward, discovered Mozambique, Sofala, and Melinda; and finally,
with the help of an Indian pilot, crossed the ocean from Melinda to
Calicut in twenty-three days, so that this Vasco da Gama had the
supreme honour of being the first seaman in the world’s history, so
far as any record has been preserved to us, to make the entire lengthy
voyage from Western Europe to the land of the Indian treasure.
With the seamanship and navigation of Columbus we shall proceed to deal
presently. Although he comes within the fifteenth century, and his
famous voyage was really concerned with a desire to find India, yet it
will be more convenient to be able to watch his methods with greater
detail in the following chapter. He is the connecting link between
the fifteenth-century Henry the Navigator and that wonderful epoch of
sixteenth-century seamen. It would not be inaccurate to describe him
as the last of the medieval sailors and the first of the moderns. But
our present aim is, now that we have seen the wonderful improvement in
navigation which had set in, to obtain some idea of the contemporary
seamanship in the Middle Ages.
From the coming of the Viking type of craft to the universal adoption
of the caravel class of vessel there was but little variation in the
kind of seamanship. In the Mediterranean the lateen sail involved a
knowledge of fore-and-aft seamanship, but while this was used chiefly
on the smaller craft, yet the bigger ships carried a squaresail forward
and the lateen aft. This was the beginning of the caravel, which was
to develop into a three- and even four-masted ship, with always a
lateen at the stern. But in Northern Europe, where the single (square)
sail type of ship and the Viking-like hull had continued without
intermission and with only slight alterations such as the addition of
stern- and fore-castles, the seamanship was practically identical with
that of the Norsemen.
In what did this seamanship consist? It was exceedingly simple, and
may be summed up briefly thus: The ships were made fast by big anchors
and thick cables. This is evident from the pictures of the Bayeux
tapestry. They quanted themselves off into deep water by pushing from
the stern with a pole. The men then rowed with their oars, and as soon
as clear of the shallows up went the mast and sail, the latter with
its yard being fixed permanently to the former. A number of the crew
would haul on to the backstays aft as the mast and sail were brought
into position, the mast being inserted in its step and tabernacle.
Apparently there were no braces, but the sail was controlled with a
sheet from each clew. Similarly when making land and about to bring up
or beach the vessel, sail and mast were bodily lowered and allowed to
come forward, part of the crew remaining aft to steady the mast and
sail as they came down to the deck. The steering was done by a single
paddle or side-rudder placed on the starboard side. As a protection
for the oarsmen a line of shields--doubtless those which they actually
wore in battle--ran round the gunwale overlapping each other. A small
jolly-boat was sometimes towed astern for landing from the bigger type
of craft, while for greater convenience a look-out man was sent to the
top of the mast. This is distinctly shown in the Bayeux tapestry.
It is more than likely that North European seamanship had not reached
a very high stage of perfection, excepting among the Norsemen, at
this time. Otherwise William the Conqueror would probably not have
lost part of his fleet in a summer’s gale off the French coast when
preparing for his invasion of England. Nor, some years later, would
the _Blanche Nef_ have been handled so negligently among the rocks
round Cape Barfleur as to founder. It is pretty clear that there were
too much drink and frivolity on board; but a careful skipper would
scarcely have allowed such a dereliction of duty if he realised fully
what sort of a task it was to take a ship through such tricky waters
as the Race of Catteville. But the finest and, in fact, the only way
to make good seamen is to take them for long voyages. And so, in spite
of the fact that less than a century and a half later the type of
ships had scarcely changed, yet there is an evident improvement in the
seaman’s skill. For everyone must concede that to take a fleet of over
a hundred twelfth-century ships on such a long voyage as from Dartmouth
to the Holy Land was in itself a very fine feat of endurance and skill.
Considering the nature of these craft, the absence of navigational
facilities, the crowded condition of their hulls, the bad weather they
had to encounter, the sufferings of their crews, and a host of minor
difficulties which had to be borne, one can only wonder that they ever
reached their destination and returned to their native country. Richard
I was certainly a seaman. You will remember that on that terrible night
of Easter Eve, April 13, 1190, his fleet were in the Mediterranean and
caught in a heavy gale. His mariners were prostrate with sea-sickness,
some of his ships were ungovernable, the horses in the holds of others
would be causing the crews endless anxiety in addition to the troubles
of the wind and wave. But not a ship was lost. They all came through
the ordeal. All night long Richard kept a light burning at his masthead
and hove-to, waiting for his chickens to gather round the mother hen.
[Illustration: THE FLEET OF RICHARD I SETTING FORTH FROM DARTMOUTH
BOUND FOR THE CRUSADES]
If ever a fleet of ships was tried it was this expedition from the
Devonshire village. They were not many days out and had not yet
said farewell to the Bay of Biscay before they were caught in bad
weather and the fleet scattered. But it is certain that this fleet
accomplished what it did partly owing to the fact that every day at sea
gave them greater experience, and partly because they were well found,
or as well found as ever ships of that period could be. We can note
the mind of a far-seeing man in the care with which these craft were
fitted out. Thus, for example, in bad weather there was every chance
of the steering oar being carried away or being broken into half. To
guard against such an awkward possibility each ship went forth from the
cliffs of Dartmouth with a number of spare steering oars. Another very
likely article to carry away on a long voyage, involving bringing-up in
all sorts of places, was the anchor. Each principal ship, therefore,
carried no less than thirteen of such, though it should be added that
of these some consisted of grapnels used in getting alongside the enemy
and fighting hand to hand. There were spare oars also, two spare sails,
three sets of halyards, stays, and other ropes--everything, in fact,
except the mast and the ship’s boat was carried in duplicate. There
were knights in armour, infantry, horses, and victuals for a whole year
to be stowed away in these ships, so a great deal of thought had to be
expended.
If we had been able to look down on to the harbour of one of the Cinque
Ports of the thirteenth century and watched some of the contemporary
ships getting under way, we should have been struck with the extreme
simplicity of their seamanship. And in the fewest words I propose
now to sketch very roughly the manner in which such craft would put
to sea. I am assuming nothing which cannot be verified by actually
existing historical data. Picture, then, a modified Viking type of ship
with good freeboard, high stem- and stern-posts, with a castellated
structure at each end, and a mast stepped about midships and supported
by shrouds and backstays. The crews go on board. These consist of the
masters or “rectores.” Under them come the steersmen or “sturmanni,”
who were responsible for the piloting of the ship. They would possess
more knowledge than anyone else of their own waters and adjacent havens.
The crew consisted of three classes. First of all were the “galiotæ”
or galley-men. These I understand to be the men who did the rowing as
in the Viking ships. The second class consisted of “marinelli,” who
may have been the fighting men of the ship; and the third division was
found in the “nautæ” or sailors, who were obviously the men that went
aloft, got up anchor, set and furled sail, worked the sheets, and did
the deck work. On these ships there were usually about forty hands
carried; but there are instances of seventy being the full complement.
In such cases as the last-mentioned there was a superior officer
carried in addition to the usual officers and crew. Life on board these
ships was certainly very different from that which the modern seaman
finds on the sail-less steamship. But these rude, virile seamen were
well paid for their work; they had plenty of excitement to keep up
their spirits, they were given their food and wine, even though their
clothes were scanty and probably had to be found by themselves. But
when they were wounded they had the satisfaction of being pensioned off.
Having repaired on board, then, we see the “rector” at the helm, while
some of the crew are forward hauling up the ship’s cable by the bows.
This cable leads aft, where it passes round a windlass that is turned
by other members of the crew with handspikes. Meanwhile one of the
crew by the aid of his hands and knees climbs up the backstays to
let loose the lashing which keeps the squaresail furled to the yard.
Note that the sail is not lowered or raised to or from deck, but kept
permanently aloft. Before he has allowed the canvas to be unfurled,
and before the anchor has been broken out from the ground, a couple of
trumpeters mount the top of the stern-castle and blow their notes to
warn any incoming craft that they are emerging. It is exactly analogous
to the blowing of a modern steamship’s syren when the big liner is
clearing from her port.
The thirteenth-century ship, then, puts to sea. She has both oars and
a sail, she has an able crew, she has a good, strong hull of a healthy
seaworthy type. She is ready for anything that comes along. If the wind
fails, then she can send a man aloft to furl the sail and her crew can
get out their oars. If it comes on to blow very hard indeed, she can
take in one, two, or three reefs by means of reef-points as to-day.
And then when the enemy is espied and the time comes for battle, the
fighting men can prepare swords, axes, bows and arrows, lances, and
engines for throwing heavy stones, while some of the men go aloft and
climb into the fighting top, from which they are ready to hurl down
those heavy stones which crashed through an enemy’s decks. For it is
certain from contemporary illustrations that these ships were now no
longer mere open craft.
In their fighting methods brute force was chiefly relied upon; but
not always. That deadly mixture known as Greek fire, which was some
sort of mixture containing principally pitch and sulphur, was a very
efficacious method of routing the enemy when the methods of grapnels,
swords, arrows, and stones were not all-availing. As soon as this
Greek fire was exposed to the air it became ignited, and there flowed
a stream of fire over ships and sea creating wholesale panic. It could
not be extinguished by water; only vinegar or sand or earth could
put it out. Wherever it went it burnt up hulls, spars, and sails,
suffocating the terrified crews in a very short time. Ramming, as a
naval manœuvre, was far from obsolete in the Middle Ages, as we know
from actual incidents in literature and pictorial representation.
It would not be correct to assert that there was a total disregard
of tactics in medieval times. When Richard was cruising with his
fleet in the Mediterranean at the time of the Crusades, he caused
his ships to sail in eight separate lines, each line being within
trumpet call of the other. Richard himself was in the eighth line as
commander-in-chief. Treatises on naval tactics had been written by
Mediterranean experts, but I do not think that there is any evidence
for supposing that the English seamen ever learnt such a thing until
Richard’s ships went to the Mediterranean. So much happened for
improving maritime matters subsequent to that Crusade that we need not
be surprised to find, less than thirty years later, the English seamen
for the first time in northern waters exhibiting an appreciation of all
that tactics meant in battle. We have not space here to go into the
battles, but you will find the first instance of this new knowledge
in that naval encounter which took place in August of 1217 off the
South Foreland. Notwithstanding that the fleet of Eustace the Monk was
numerically far stronger than ours, yet by clever tactical manœuvres
our ships and men not only prevented his from landing, but inflicted
a heavy slaughter and defeat upon the invaders. The English commander
was Hubert de Burgh, and to his cleverness the success was due. Sixteen
large, well-armed craft were his ships, with twenty smaller ships;
or a total of thirty-six. Eustace had eighty, or more than twice as
many. The key to the victory was simply this. When the enemy’s ships
were seen to be sailing with a fresh southerly breeze from the French
coast, the English fleet put to sea, stood on till they were well to
windward, and then easing their sheets bore down on to the invaders
with a fair wind, hooked on to them with grapnels, shot at them with
arrows and threw unslaked lime at the Frenchmen, with the result that
the breeze carried both arrows and lime exactly where the English had
wanted--to leeward. With this confusion the English boarded them and
hacked away at the halyards so that mast and sail came down, burying
many on the confused deck. After that the victory was easy.
Now such a well-thought-out plan of fighting shows that naval warfare
had in England already reached the scientific stage. If the reader
will take his chart of the Straits of Dover and work out the manœuvres
which I have given in greater detail elsewhere,[22] he will see that
the English admiral displayed a perfect knowledge of the Channel tides,
seamanship, and naval tactics in thus outwitting a force twice his own
strength. And again, at the battle of Sluys, the victory was won by the
superior tactics of the English, which showed excellent seamanship,
perfect knowledge of the Flemish tides, and sound judgment in the
problems of the sea. The English in 1340 played the same game as they
had in 1217. They confused the enemy, who wondered why the English
fleet were apparently going away from them. They wondered still more
when, after standing out to sea, the English went about and came down
on them like a pack of sea-monsters eager to devour them and successful
in the attempt. So also exactly ten years later, in that very
interesting battle of Les Espagnols sur Mer, which is unknown to many a
modern layman, when Edward II commanded in person, we find everything
being done by system and plan. He comes down with his Court to lodge
near the sea. He himself goes afloat, spends a long time in training
manœuvres, keeps a look-out man at the masthead who suddenly spies
the enemy coming down Channel, when, to quote the words of Froissart,
he ordered the trumpets to be sounded and the ships “to form a line
of battle.” The rest is merely a narrative of collisions between ship
and ship, with masts and sails falling, chains and grapnels straining,
the hurling of stones and iron bars from the castle at the masthead,
the felling of one another’s masts, the cutting adrift of the enemy’s
halyards and shrouds, the heaving overboard (a favourite and regular
habit in war) of every man and boy of the enemy they could lay their
hands on, and finally victory to the English.
Even coasting voyages during the Middle Ages were risky proceedings,
with no charts of the English coast--at any rate, none that were
of much good--and with no regular lighthouses to warn the mariner
off outlying dangers: only through the charity of the monastic
establishments, such as that on St. Albans Head, were lights kept
burning at night on a few promontories. It may be that it was out
of gratitude for such kindness that the mariner lowered sail when
he passed a monastery on the shore. As to the ships themselves of
this time, we know that the planking was fastened not by iron and
copper nails, but by wooden pegs called treenails. The hulls were
painted with pitch, tar, oil, and resin. In these early accounts there
is a reference to the “seilyerdes,” and the sail itself consisted
of twenty-six cloths. The latter was painted red, possibly tanned
something like the modern sailing trawlers, and the canvas was fitted
with “liche-ropes,” “bolt-ropes,” and “rif-ropes.” From Viking times
bonnets were laced to the foot of the sail to give increased canvas for
use in fine weather.
When it was that the word reef was first employed cannot be
ascertained, but it is found in literature (“Confessio Amantis”) in
the year 1193, or three years after Richard’s fleet set out to the
Mediterranean. Here the word “ref” or “rif” clearly denotes something
that could be slacked off. But there seems to be some possibility of
confusion between the device by which sail can be shortened and that
“bonnet” by which the sail’s area can be increased. During the early
part of the fourteenth century the rudder began to disappear from the
quarter where it had been since the times of the Egyptians, and to be
placed astern in the position it occupies to-day. This necessitated the
use of chains, the iron for which, as also for the anchors, was fetched
from Spain. But there is reference concerning these medieval ships to
such items as “steyes” and “baksteyes,” “hempen cordage,” “cranelines”
for securing the forestay at its foot, “hauceres” (hawsers),
“peyntours” (painters, derived from the French word signifying a
noose), “boyeropes,” for the cables, “seysynges,” “botropes,” “schetes”
for the clews of the sail, “boweline,” “saundynglyne” for the use of
the pilot-leadsman, “shives” and “polives,” tallow, hooks, and so on.
The anchors of the king’s galleys were 7 feet long, and his great ship
carried five cables. Under the “rectores” were the “sturmanni” or
steersmen, who were responsible for the supervision of the seamanship
on board. Next in order came the “galiotæ” or galley-men, and finally
the “marinelli” or mariners and the “nautæ” or common sailors. Later on
the “rector” became “magister,” a constable was chosen to look after
the arms, and there were added also a carpenter, a clerk who presently
became purser, and a boatswain.
[Illustration: A MEDIEVAL SEA-GOING SHIP.]
But if we would wish to get an insight into the life and conditions
on board an English sailing ship of the Middle Ages, we can find no
more illuminating information than is contained in a MS. now in the
possession of Trinity College, Cambridge. This depicts the troubles
and tribulations on board a pilgrim ship of the time of Edward III,
written by a contemporary. In explanation of this poem given below,
it should be added that the carrying of pilgrims to the shrine of St.
James was a regular branch of the shipping trade. In those days no less
than in the present century the miseries of sea-sickness and general
discomfort associated with sea-travel were a nightmare to the landsman.
But this quaint poem, which is the earliest sea-song in existence, so
well portrays the life of the seafaring man that it is most probably
the composition of a sailor accustomed to pursue his calling on one of
these merchant ships. Alternatively the author was a landsman who had
kept his eyes and ears open during the voyaging and noted accurately
the work on shipboard. The poem begins gloomily enough and describes
the getting under way, the hoisting of the ship’s boat, the setting
sail, trimming sheets, and the accommodating of the passenger-pilgrims.
In spite of the archaic spelling and phraseology it is surprising
how modernly this sea-song reads and how truly it seems to depict
contemporary ship life.
“Men may leve all gamys
That saylen to Seynt Jamys:
For many a man hit gramys[23]
When they begyn to sayle.
“For when they have take the see,
At Sandwyche, or at Wynchylsee,
At Brystow, or where that hit bee,
Theyr herts begyn to fayle.
“Anone the mastyr commaundeth fast
To hys shyp-men in all the hast[24]
To dresse[25] hem sone about the mast,
Theyr takelyng to make.
“With ‘howe! hissa!’ then they cry,
‘What, howe! mate, thow stondyst to ny[26]
Thy fellow may nat hale the by’:
Thus they begyn to crake.[27]
“A boy or tweyne anone up-styen,[28]
And overthwart the sayle-yerde lyen:--
‘Y how! taylia!’[29] the remenaunt cryen,
And pull with all theyr myght.
“‘Bestowe[30] the boote, bote-swayne, anon,
That our pylgryms may pley thereon:
For som ar lyke to cowgh and grone,
Or hit be full mydnyght.’
“‘Hale the bowelyne! now, vere the shete!
Cooke, make redy anoon our mete,
Our pylgryms have no lust to ete,
I pray God yeve hem rest.’
“‘Go to the helm! what, howe! no nere![31]
Steward, felow! a pot of bere!’
‘Ye shall have, sir, with good chere,
Anone all of the best.’
“‘Y howe! trussa! hale in the brayles!
Thou halyst nat, be God, thow fayles![32]
O se howe well owre good shyp sayles!’
And thus they say among.
“‘Hale in the wartake!’[33] ‘Hit shall be done.’
‘Steward! cover the boorde anone,[34]
And set bred and salt thereone.
And tary nat to long.’
“Then cometh oone and seyth, ‘be mery:
Ye shall have a storme or a pery.’[35]
‘Holde thow thy pese! thow canst no whery,[36]
Thow medlyst wondyr sore.’
“Thys menewhyle the pylgryms ly,
And have theyr bowlys fast them by,
And cry aftyr hote malvesy,[37]
‘Thow helpe for to restore.’
“And som wold have a saltyd tost,
For they myght ete neyther sode ne rost[38]:
A man myght sone pay for theyr cost,
As for oo day or twayne.
“Some layde theyr bookys on theyr kne,
And rad so long they myght nat se:
‘Allas! myne hede woll cleve on thre,’[39]
Thus seyth another certayne.
“Then cometh oure owner lyke a lorde,
And speketh many a royall worde,
And dresseth hym to the hygh borde
To see all thyng be well.
“Anone he calleth a carpentere
And biddyth hym bryng with hym hys gere[40]
To make the cabans here and there,
With many a febyll cell.
“A sak of strawe were there ryght good,
For som must lyg[41] them in theyr hood:
I had as lefe be in the wood,
Without mete or drynk.
“For when that we shall go to bedde,
The pumpe was nygh our beddes hede,
A man were as good to be dede,
As smell thereof the stynk.”[42]