Chapter XLIII: Part III: The Progress of Maritime Discovery (2)

It was from the small mountain-chain of Quarequa, on the 25th of September, 1513, that the Spaniards first saw the sea-horizon, but they had still several days to march before they reached the Gulf of San Miguel. Here Alonzo Martin de Don Benito was the first white man that ever floated in a canoe on the Eastern Pacific, even before Balboa, armed with sword and shield, descended into the water to take possession of the newly discovered ocean in the name of the king his master.

Although the subsequent fortunes of this great man are foreign to my subject, yet it may not be uninteresting to the reader to be informed how his important services were requited. Unfortunately the ingratitude of the Spanish court, which so scandalously embittered the declining years of Columbus and Cortez, reached its lowest depth in the case of Balboa. Those great men had at least in the beginning enjoyed some show of favour, but the discoverer of the Pacific was treated throughout with the basest indignity. The governorship of Darien, to which his splendid achievements had given him so undeniable a claim, was conferred upon a certain Pedrarias Davila, a wretch who, after having persecuted and thwarted the hero in every possible way, caused him at length to be beheaded, under a false accusation of high treason.

Six years after Balboa had first seen the Pacific, two years after his execution, Ferdinand of Magellan made his appearance in that great ocean. A Portuguese of noble birth, this eminent navigator had served with distinction under Albuquerque, the conqueror of Malacca. His plan of seeking a new road to India across the Atlantic being but coldly received in his native country, he transferred his services to Spain, where his distinguished merit found better judges in Cardinal Ximenes, and his youthful master, Charles V. With five ships, the largest of which did not carry more than 120 tons, and with a crew of 236 men, partly the sweepings of the jails, he sailed on the 20th of September, 1519, from the port of San Lucar, and spent the following summer (the winter of the southern hemisphere) on the dreary coast of Patagonia. In this uncomfortable station he lost one of his squadron; and the Spaniards suffered so much from the excessive rigour of the climate, that the crews of three of his ships, headed by their officers, rose in open mutiny, and insisted on relinquishing the visionary project of a desperate adventurer, and returning directly to Spain. This dangerous insurrection Magellan suppressed by an effort of courage no less prompt than intrepid, and inflicted exemplary punishment on the ringleaders.

He now continued his journey to the south, and reached, near 53° south lat., the celebrated straits which bear his name. Here again he had to exert his full authority to induce his reluctant followers to accompany him into the unknown channel that was to lead them to an equally unknown ocean. One of his ships immediately deserted him and returned to Europe, but the others remained true to their commander, and, after having spent twenty days in winding through those dangerous straits, they at last, on the 27th of November, 1521, emerged into the open ocean, the sight of which amply repaid Magellan for all the anxieties and troubles he had undergone. They now pursued their way across the wide expanse of waters, of whose enormous extent they had no conception, and soon had to endure all the miseries of hunger and disease. But the continuous beauty of the weather, and the steady easterly wind, which, swelling the sails of Magellan, drove him straight onwards to the goal, kept up his courage; and induced him to give to the ocean which greeted him with such a friendly welcome the name of the Pacific, which it still, though undeservedly, retains. During three months and twenty days he sailed to the north-west, and, by a singular mischance, without seeing any land in those isle-teeming seas, except only two uninhabited rocks which he called the "Desventuradas," or the "Wretched." At last, after the longest journey ever made by man through the deserts of the ocean, he discovered the small but fruitful group of the Ladrones (March 6, 1521), which afforded him refreshments in such abundance, that the vigour and health of his emaciated crew was soon reestablished. From these isles, to which his gratitude might have given a more friendly name, he proceeded on his voyage, and soon made the more important discovery of the islands now known as the _Philippines_. In one of these he got into an unfortunate quarrel with the natives, who attacked him in great numbers and well-armed; and, while he fought at the head of his men with his usual valour, he fell by the hands of those barbarians, together with several of his principal officers.

Thus Magellan lost the glory of accomplishing the first circumnavigation of the globe; the performance of which now fell to the share of his companion, Sebastian El Cano, who returned to San Lucar in the "Victoria" by the Cape of Good Hope, having sailed round the globe in the space of three years and twenty-eight days.

But although Magellan did not live fully to achieve his glorious undertaking, the astonishing perseverance and ability with which he performed the chief and most difficult part of his arduous task have secured him an immortal renown. Nor has posterity been unmindful of his services, having awarded his name an imperishable place in the memory of man, both in the straits, the portal of his grand discovery, and in the "Magellanic clouds," those dense clusters of stars and nebulæ which so beautifully stud the firmament of the southern hemisphere.

After Magellan, Pizarro, the conqueror of Peru, shines as a discoverer in the South Sea. The history of his memorable feats by land does not belong to this narrative, but I may well accompany him on his adventurous navigation along the unknown coast of South America, and relate the hardships he had to endure before he was enabled to reap the rewards of victory.

Soon after the execution, or rather the murder, of Balboa, Pedrarias Davila obtained permission to transfer the colony of Darien to Panama, which, although equally unhealthy, yet from its situation on the Pacific afforded greater facilities for the prosecution of discovery on the south-west coast, to which now all the hopes and plans of the Spanish gold-seekers were directed. Several expeditions left the new colony in rapid succession, but all proved unsuccessful. Their timorous leaders, none of whom had ventured beyond the dreary coasts of _Tierra firme_, gave such dismal accounts of their hardships and the wretched aspect of the countries they had seen, that the ardour for discovery was considerably damped, and the opinion began to gain ground that Balboa must have founded chimerical hopes on the idle tales of an ignorant or deceitful savage.

But there were three men in Panama, Francisco Pizarro, Diego de Almagro, and Hernando Luque, who, far from sharing the general opinion, remained fully determined to seek the unknown gold-land. Pizarro and Almagro were soldiers, Luque was a priest. They formed an association approved of by the governor, each agreeing to devote all his energies to the common interest. Pizarro, the poorest of the three, took upon himself the greater part of the hardships and dangers of the enterprise, and volunteered to command the first expedition that should be fitted out; Almagro engaged to follow him with the necessary reinforcements; and Luque, the man of peace, promised to watch in Panama over the interests of the association.

On the 14th of November, 1524, Pizarro sailed from Panama with 112 men, closely packed together in one small vessel. Unfortunately he had chosen the worst season of the year for his departure, as the periodical winds raging at the time blew quite contrary to the course he intended to pursue, and thus it happened that after seventy days he had advanced no farther to the south-east than an experienced navigator will now traverse in as many hours. During this tedious journey he landed in different parts of the coast of Tierra firme, but, finding all the previous descriptions of its inhospitable nature fully confirmed, he saw himself obliged to await the promised reinforcements in Chuchama, opposite to the Pearl Islands. Here he was soon joined by Almagro, who had suffered similar hardships, and moreover lost an eye in a fight with the Indians. But, as he had advanced farther to the south, where the country and people wore a more favourable aspect, this slight glimpse of hope encouraged the adventurers to persevere in spite of all the miseries they had endured. Almagro returned to Panama, where with the greatest difficulty he could levy fourscore men, his sufferings and those of his companions having given his countrymen a very unfavourable idea of the service.

With this small reinforcement the associates did not hesitate to renew their enterprise, and at length, after a passage no less tedious than the first, reached the Bay of Saint Matthew on the coast of Quito (1526). In Tecumez, to the south of the Emerald River, they were delighted with the aspect of a fine well-cultivated country, inhabited by a people whose clothing and dwellings indicated a higher degree of civilisation and wealth. But, not venturing to attempt its conquest with a handful of men enfeebled by fatigue and disease, they retired to the small island of Gallo, where Pizarro waited, while Almagro once more returned to Panama, hoping that the better accounts he could give of their second journey would procure reinforcements large enough for the conquest of the newly discovered countries.

But the new governor of Panama, Pedro de los Rios, interdicted all further volunteering for an enterprise he considered chimerical, and even sent a vessel to the island of Gallo to bring back Pizarro and his companions. The associates, on the other hand, were less inclined than ever to give up their enterprise, now that better prospects had opened, so that Pizarro peremptorily refused to obey the governor's commands, and used all his eloquence in persuading his men not to abandon him. But the hardships they had endured, and the prospect of soon revisiting their families and friends, pleaded so strongly against him, that when he drew a line with his sword upon the sand, and told those that wished to leave him to pass over it, only thirteen of his veterans remained true to his fortunes.

With this select band of heroes Pizarro now retired to the desert island of Gorgona, where, as it lay further from the coast, he could await with greater security the reinforcements which he trusted the zeal of his associates would soon be able to procure. Nor was he deceived, for Almagro and Luque, by their repeated solicitations, at length prevailed upon the governor to send out a small vessel to his assistance, though without one landsman on board, that he might not be encouraged to any new enterprise. Meanwhile Pizarro and his faithful "thirteen" had spent five long months on their wretched island, their eyes constantly turned to the north, until, heart-sick and despairing from hope deferred, they resolved to intrust themselves to the inconstant waves upon a miserable raft, rather than remain any longer in that dreadful wilderness. But now at last the vessel from Panama appeared, and raised them so thoroughly from the deepest despondency to the most extravagant hopes, that Pizarro easily induced not only his old friends, but also the crew of the vessel, to sail farther to the south instead of returning at once to Panama.

This time the winds were favourable, and after a voyage of twenty days they at length reached the town of Tumbez on the coast of Peru, where the magnificent temple of the sun and the palace of the Incas, with its costly golden vases, exceeded their most sanguine expectations. But once more Pizarro, too weak to attempt invasion, was obliged to content himself with the view of the riches he one day hoped to possess, and returned to Panama after an absence of three years.

Amidst interminable delays and difficulties, which, although not to be compared to those he had endured, would still have totally discouraged a mind of a less iron mould, five years more elapsed before the matchless perseverance of Pizarro met with its reward. On the 14th of April, 1531, he landed in Peru for the second time, and in a few months the empire of the Incas lay prostrate at his feet. The poor adventurer of Gorgona was now one of the richest men on earth.

From this time the stream of conquest and discovery continuously rolled on to the south, so that after a few years the whole coast of Peru and Chili, as far as the wilds of Patagonia, was either known or subject to the Spaniards.

But while Pizarro and his comrades were thus opening the south-west coast of America to the knowledge of mankind, the conqueror of Mexico was no less anxious to add to his laurels the glory of discovery in the Northern Pacific, whose shores his warriors had reached in 1521, soon after the fall of the Aztec capital. Desirous of opening a new passage to the East Indies, he fitted out a fleet (1526), which, under the command of his kinsman Alvaro de Saavedra, was to sail to the Moluccas, and most likely discovered part of the Radack and Ralick Archipelago, visited and described three centuries later by Kotzebue and Chamisso.

In the year 1536 Cortez himself undertook a maritime expedition to the north, discovered the peninsula of California, and explored the greater part of the long and narrow bay which separates it from the mainland. After the return of this great man to Spain, where, loaded with ingratitude, he died in 1547, Rodriguez Cabrillo (1543) sailed as far as Monterey, and subsequently the pilot of the expedition, Bartholomew Ferreto, reached 43° N. lat., where Vancouver's Cape Oxford is situated.

In the year 1542 Villalobos made the first attempt to establish a colony on the Philippine Islands with settlers from Mexico, but, having failed, the colonisation did not take place before 1565. The intelligence of this success was brought to America by the pilot and monk, Fray Andreas Urdaneta, who sailed on the 1st of June from Manilla and arrived on the 3rd of October in the Mexican port of Acapulco. All previous attempts to sail from Asia to America had failed, on account of the opposing trade-winds; but Urdaneta sailed northward till he encountered the favourable west wind, which carried him to the New World across the wide bosom of the Pacific. The discovery of this new ocean route was of considerable importance to the Spaniards, and, to perpetuate the memory of Urdaneta's nautical ability, they continued to call the passage by his name.

About the same time another Spanish pilot, Juan Fernandez, discovered the proper sea route from Callao to Chili, by first sailing far out to sea, and thus avoiding the coast-currents from the south. He also discovered the island which still bears his name, and has become so celebrated by the adventures of Alexander Selkirk, and the immortal tale of Daniel Defoe.

In the year 1567 an expedition sailed from Callao under Alvaro Mendana, which discovered the Solomon Islands; and in 1595 the group of the Marquesas de Mendoza was first brought to light by the same navigator. Before the last expedition of Mendana, Drake, the first circumnavigator of the globe (1577-1580) after Magellan and El Cano, penetrated into the Pacific, by rounding Cape Horn, and subsequently discovered the coasts of New Albion as far as 48° N. lat.

After having thus rapidly followed the course of the discoveries which during the sixteenth century made Europe acquainted with the whole western coast of America, from Cape Pillares in Tierra del Fuego to the mouth of the Columbia River, I return to the Indian Ocean, where in the beginning of the century we left the Portuguese in the full bloom of their power, and, to judge by the progress already made, likely to add largely to the stock of geographical knowledge. But whether the masters of the Indian Ocean had no desire to extend still farther the circle of their conquests, or the fiery spirit of enterprise which had animated Vasco de Gama and Diaz was prematurely extinguished, the discoveries of the Portuguese in the Pacific by no means corresponded to the gigantic flight which in less than a quarter of a century had led them from Cape de Verde to the extremity of the Malayan Archipelago. New Guinea was indeed discovered by Don Jorge de Menezes (1526) and Alvaro de Saavedra (1528), and some old maps prove that before 1542 a part of the coast of New Holland was known to the Portuguese, who had penetrated to the north as far as Formosa and Japan, yet at the end of the sixteenth century the western boundaries of the Pacific were only known from 40° N. lat. to 10° S. lat., and all beyond was enveloped in darkness. As little was known of the innumerable South Sea islands, for although some of the groups had been seen or visited by the Spaniards, their existence was kept secret lest other seafaring nations should be tempted to explore the wastes of the Pacific.

I have already mentioned that the desire to find a shorter route to the wealth of India was the chief inducement which led to the discoveries of Vasco de Gama, Columbus, and Magellan; this same motive also called forth the first attempts of the Dutch and English to find a northern passage to the southern seas.

In the year 1553 Sir Hugh Willoughby and Chancellor left England on their memorable voyage of Arctic discovery, and steered to the north-east. In a stormy night they parted company, never to meet again. For a long time nothing was heard of Willoughby, until some Russian sailors found on the dreary coast of Lapland two wrecks tenanted only by the dead. A note, dated January 1554, proved that then at least some of the unfortunate navigators were still alive; but this was the last and only memorial of the mysterious end of the first Britons that ever ventured into the frozen seas. Chancellor was more fortunate. After having for a long time been driven about by storms, he discovered the White Sea, and on landing heard for the first time of Russia and her sovereign the Czar Ivan Vasiliovitch, who resided in a great town called Moscow. This unknown potentate the indefatigable seaman resolved to visit in his capital, where he was graciously received, and obtained permission for his countrymen to frequent the port of Archangel. Soon after his return to England he was sent back to Russia by Queen Mary, for the purpose of settling the terms of a treaty of commerce between the two nations; and, having satisfactorily accomplished his mission, once more set sail from the White Sea, accompanied by a Muscovite ambassador. But this time the return voyage was extremely unfortunate; two of the ships, richly laden with Russian commodities, ran ashore on the coast of Norway, and Chancellor's own vessel was driven by a dreadful storm as far as Pitsligo in Scotland, in which bay it was wrecked. Chancellor endeavoured to save the ambassador and himself in a boat, but the small pinnace was upset, and, although the Russian reached the strand, the Englishman, after having escaped so many dangers in the Arctic Ocean, was doomed to an untimely end within sight of his native shores.

Twenty years afterwards, Martin Frobisher set sail with three small vessels of thirty-five, thirty, and ten tons, on no less an errand than the discovery of a north-west passage to Asia. With these wretched nut-shells he reached the coasts of Greenland and Labrador, but was prevented by the ice from effecting a landing.

This first voyage was little remarkable in itself, but its accidental results tended much to the advancement of northern research, for Frobisher brought home some glittering stones, the lustre of which was erroneously attributed to gold; a circumstance which, as may well be imagined, greatly contributed to pave the way for a second expedition to "Meta Incognita." This time Frobisher sailed with three ships, of a much larger size, that they might be able to hold more of the anticipated treasure; and, besides securing 200 tons of the imaginary gold, discovered the entrance of the strait which bears his name.

His geographical knowledge may be inferred from the fact that he firmly believed the land on one side of this channel to be Asia, and on the other America; and, though we may be tempted to smile at his ignorance, yet the lion-hearted seaman is not the less to be admired, who with such inadequate means ventured to brave the unknown terrors of the Frozen Ocean.

The gales and floating ice which greeted Frobisher as he endeavoured to force a passage through the strait put a stop to all farther progress to India; but, as the gold delusion still continued, the expedition was considered eminently successful. A large squadron of fifteen vessels was consequently fitted out for the summer of 1578, and commissioned not only to bring back an untold amount of treasure, but also to take out materials and men to establish a colony on those desolate shores.

But this grand expedition, which sailed forth with such extravagant hopes, was doomed to end in disappointment. One of the largest vessels was crushed by an iceberg at the entrance of the strait, and the others were so beaten about by storms and obstructed by fogs, that the whole summer elapsed, and they were fain to return to England without having done anything for the advancement of geographical knowledge.

The utter worthlessness of the glittering stones having meanwhile been discovered, Frobisher relinquished all further attempts to push his fortunes in the northern regions, and sought new laurels in a sunnier clime. He accompanied Drake to the West Indies, commanded subsequently one of the largest vessels opposed to the Spanish Armada, and ended his heroic life while attacking a small French fort on behalf of Henry IV., during the war with the League. He was one of those adventurous spirits always thirsting for action, and too uneasy ever to enjoy repose.

In the year 1585, John Davis, with the ships "Sunshine" and "Moonshine," carrying besides their more necessary equipments a band of music "to cheer and recreate the spirits of the natives," made his first voyage in quest of the north-west passage, and discovered the broad strait which leads into the icy deserts of Baffin's Bay. But neither in this attempt nor in his two following ones was he able to effect the object for which he strove; and these repeated failures cooled for a long time the national ardour for northern discovery.

In the year 1594 the Dutch appear upon the scene. This persevering and industrious people, which in the following century was destined to play so important a part in the politics of Europe, had just then succeeded in casting off the Spanish yoke, and was laudably endeavouring to gain by maritime enterprise a position among the neighbouring states, which the smallness of its territory seemed to deny to its ambition. All the known roads to the treasures of the south were at that time too well guarded by the jealous fleets of Spain and Portugal to admit of any rivalry; but, if fortune should favour them in finding the yet unexplored northern passage to India, they might still hope to secure a lion's share in that most lucrative of trades. Animated by the bold spirit of adventure which the dawn of independence always calls forth in a nation, a company of Amsterdam merchants fitted out an expedition of northern discovery, which it intrusted to the superintendence and pilotage of William Barentz, one of the most experienced seamen of the day.

Barentz left the Texel on the 6th of June, 1594, reached the northern extremity of Nova Zembla, and returned to Holland. Meanwhile his associate, penetrating through a strait to which he gave the very appropriate name of Waigats or "Wind-hole," battled against the floating ice of the Sea of Kara, until, rounding a promontory, he saw a blue and open sea extending before him, and the Russian coast trending away towards the south-east. He now no longer doubted that he had sailed round the famous cape "Tabis" of Pliny, an imaginary promontory which according to that erroneous guide formed the northern extremity of Asia, and whence the voyage was supposed to be short and easy to its eastern and southern shores. He had only reached the Gulf of Obi, and within the Arctic Circle the continent of Asia still stretched 120 degrees to the east; but this was then unknown, and the Dutchman, satisfied with the prospect of success, did not press onward to test its reality, but started in full sail for Holland, to rouse the sluggish fancy of his phlegmatic countrymen with chimerical hopes and golden visions.

On the receipt of this glad intelligence six large vessels were immediately fitted out, and richly laden with goods suited to the taste of the Indians. A small swift-sailing yacht was added to the squadron to bear it company as far as the imaginary promontory of Tabis, and thence to return with the good news that it had safely performed what was supposed to be the most perilous part of the voyage, and had been left steering with a favourable wind right off to India.

But, as may well be imagined, these sanguine hopes were destined to meet with a woeful disappointment, for the Wind-hole Strait, doing full justice to its name, did not allow them to pass; and, after many fruitless endeavours to force their way through the mighty ice-blocks that obstructed that inhospitable channel, they returned dejected and crest-fallen to the port whence they had sailed a few months before, elated with such brilliant expectations.

Although great disappointment was felt at this failure, the scheme however was not abandoned, and on the 16th of May, 1596, Heemskerk, Barentz, and Cornelis Ryp once more started for the north-east. Bear Island and Spitzbergen were discovered, whereupon the ships separated; Cornelis and Heemskerk returning to Holland, while Barentz, enclosed by the ice, was obliged to spend a long and dreary winter in the dreadful solitudes of Nova Zembla. Fortunately a quantity of drift-wood was found on the strand, which served the Dutchmen both for the construction of a small hut and for fuel. At the same time it raised their courage, as they now no longer doubted that Providence, which had sent them this unexpected succour in the wilderness, would guide them safely through all their difficulties. And indeed they stood in need of this consolatory belief, for as early as September the ground was frozen so hard that they tried in vain to dig a grave for a dead comrade, and their cramped fingers could hardly proceed with the building of the hut.

The attacks of the white bears also gave them great trouble. One day Barentz, from the deck of the vessel, seeing three bears stealthily approaching a party of his men who were labouring at the hut, shouted loudly to warn them of their peril, and the men, startled at the near approach of danger, sought safety in flight. One of the party, in his haste and perturbation, fell into a cleft in the ice; but the hungry animals fortunately overlooked him, and continued their pursuit of the main body. These gained the vessel and began to congratulate themselves on their safety, when, to their horror, they perceived that their foes, instead of retreating from a hopeless pursuit, were actually scaling the ship's sides, evidently determined to have their meal. Matters now became serious. One of the sailors was despatched for a light, but in his hurry and agitation could not get the match to take fire (Enfields and revolvers were then unknown), and the muskets being thus rendered useless, the sailors in despair kept their enemies off by pelting them with whatever articles came first to hand. This unequal conflict continued for some time, until a well-directed blow on the snout of the largest bear caused the _barking_[AB] monster to retire from the field followed by his two companions,

"who, seeing Hector flee,
No longer dared to face the enemy."

[Footnote AB: "I did not hear them roar as ours do, but they only bark."--_Marten's Voyage to Spitzbergen._]

By the middle of October the hut was completed; and though the accommodations it afforded were extremely scanty, they were glad to take up their abode in it at once.

And now began the long, dreary, three months' night of the 77th degree of latitude, during which snow-drifts and impetuous winds confined them to their miserable dwelling. "We looked pitifully one upon the other," says Gerret De Veer, the simple narrator of the sufferings of that Arctic winter, "being in great fear that if the extremity of the cold grew to be more and more, we should all die there of cold; for that what fire soever we made would not warm us." The ice was now two inches thick upon the walls and even on the sides of their sleeping-cots, and the very clothes they wore were whitened with frost, so that as they sat together in their hut they "were all as white as the countrymen used to be when they came in at the gates of the towns in Holland with their sleads, and have gone all night."

Yet in the midst of all their sufferings these hardy men maintained brave and cheerful hearts, and so great was their elasticity of spirit that, remembering the 5th of January was "Twelfth Even," they determined to celebrate it as best they might. "And then," says the old chronicler, "we prayed our maister that we might be merry that night, and said that we were content to spend some of the wine that night which we had spared, and which was our share (one glass) every second day; and so that night we made merry and drew for king. And therewith we had two pounds of meale, whereof we made pancakes with oyle, and every man had a white biscuit, which we sopt in the wine. And so, supposing that we were in our own country, and amongst our friends, it comforted as well as if we had made a great banket in our owne house." Blessed Content! arising from a simple heart and a life of honest and healthful toil, never didst thou celebrate a greater triumph, or more forcibly show thy power, than in that dreary hut on Nova Zembla!

Some weeks afterwards the sun appeared once more above the horizon; and the glorious sight, though it soon vanished again into darkness, was a joyful one indeed, full of delightful images of a return to friends and home. Now, also, the furious gales and snow-storms ceased; and, though the severity of the cold continued unabated, they were able to brave the outer air and recruit their strength by exercise.

When summer came, it was found impossible to disengage the ice-bound vessel, and the only hopes of escaping from their dreary prison now rested on two small boats, in which they ventured on the capricious ocean. On the fourth day of their voyage, their fragile barks became surrounded by immense quantities of floating ice, which so crushed and injured them, that the crews, giving up all hope, took a solemn leave of each other. But in this desperate crisis they owed their lives to the presence of mind and agility of De Veer, who with a well-secured rope leaped from one fragment of ice to another till he gained a firm field, on which first the sick, then the stores, the crews, and finally the boats themselves, were safely landed. Here they were obliged to remain while the boats underwent the necessary repairs, and during this detention upon a floating ice-field the gallant Barentz closed the eventful voyage of his life. He died as he had lived, calmly and bravely, thinking less of himself than of the safety of his crew, for his last words were directions as to the course in which they were to steer. Even the joyful prospect of a return to their families and home could not console his surviving comrades for the loss of their leader, whom they loved and revered as a friend and father. After a most tedious and dangerous passage, they at length arrived at Kola in Russian Lapland, where to their glad surprise they found their old comrade, John Cornelis, who received them on board his vessel and conveyed them to Amsterdam.

During the seventeenth century the most remarkable maritime discoveries were made by the English, Dutch, and Spaniards, though by the latter only at its commencement. In the year 1605 Quiros sailed from Callao, discovered the island of Sagittaria, since so renowned under the name of Otaheite, and the archipelago of Espiritu Santo, or the New Hebrides of Cook. On this journey he was accompanied by Torres, the bold seaman who some years after gave his name to the strait which separates New Guinea from Australia.

While the declining sun of Spain was thus gilding with its last rays the northern shore of New Holland, the meridian splendour of the Batavian republic cast forth bright beams of light over the wide Pacific.

Schouten and Le Maire, penetrating through the strait which is still named after the latter, sailed in the year 1616 round Tierra del Fuego; and about the same time Hartog discovered Eendragt's Land, on the west coast of Australia. The successive voyages of Jan Edel (1619), Peter Nuyts (1627), and Peter Carpenter (1628), brought to light the northern and southern shores of the vast island, which thus began to assume a rude shape on the map of the geographer. In the year 1642, Abel Tasman, the greatest of the Dutch navigators, drew a mighty furrow through the South Sea, discovered Van Diemen's Land, which posterity desirous of perpetuating his fame has called Tasmania, saw the northern extremity of New Zealand emerge from the ocean, and finally unveiled to the world the hidden beauties of Tonga.

While the Dutch navigators were thus dissipating the darkness of Australia, Hudson and Baffin were immortalising their names in the Arctic Ocean.

In the year 1627 Henry Hudson made the first attempt to steer right on to the pole, and to cross to India over the axis of the globe. He reached the northern extremity of Spitzbergen, but all his attempts to penetrate deeper into the polar ocean were baffled by the mighty ice-fields that opposed his progress. But though he failed in his undertaking to sail through the region of eternal winter to the spicy groves of India, yet the numerous morses and seals he had seen basking on the coast of Spitzbergen opened such cheering prospects of future profit, that the "Muscovy Company," which had fitted out the expedition, was by no means discontented with the issue of his voyage.

Three years after we find the gallant Hudson once more attempting to discover the north-west passage in a vessel of fifty-five tons, provisioned for six months. The crew which he commanded was unfortunately utterly unworthy of such a leader, and quailed as soon as they had to encounter the fog and ice-fields of the Frozen Ocean.

"And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold;
And ice mast-high came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen,
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken,
The ice was all between."

But, in spite of the murmurs and repinings of his faint-hearted followers, the dauntless commander pressed on through the strait which bears his name, until at last his little bark emerged into a boundless deep blue sea. Hudson's Bay lay before him, but the delighted discoverer was happy in the belief that the grand object of his voyage was attained, and the shortest road to India laid open to the mariners of England. It was about the beginning of August, and the spiritless crew considering the passage accomplished, urged an immediate return; but Hudson was determined on completing the adventure, and wintering if possible on the sunny shores of India.

Three months long he continued tracking the coasts of that vast northern Mediterranean, now for the first time explored by civilised man, vainly hoping to see a new channel opening to the west, until at length November came and imprisoned his small vessel in adamantine fetters. A long and dreary winter awaited the ice-bound seamen, with almost exhausted provisions, and unfortunately without that heroic patience and serene concord which had sustained the sufferings of Barentz and his companions. It must indeed have been a melancholy winter for poor Hudson, solitary and friendless among scowling ruffians, hating him as the cause of their bitter misery; but spring came at last with its consolatory sunshine, and hope once more dawned in his tortured breast. The ship is again afloat, and on the 21st of June, 1611, the captain comes forth from his cabin, refreshed by the sleep of a quiet conscience, and strong in body and mind to meet the duties of the day. But as he steps on deck his arms are suddenly pinioned, and he finds himself in the power of a mutinous crew. He looks around for some trace of sympathy, but hatred meets him in every eye. Inquiry, remonstrance, entreaty, command, all alike fail to move their stubborn resolution, and now Hudson resigns himself bravely to his fate, with all the quiet dignity of a noble nature, and looks calmly at the ominous preparations going forward. A small open boat is in waiting, and into this he is lowered, some powder and shot and the carpenter's box come next, followed by the carpenter himself, a strong brave fellow, the captain's _one_ devoted adherent among the rebellious crew; the sick and infirm complete the unfortunate cargo. A signal is given, the boat is cast adrift, and soon the last faint cry for mercy expires in the breeze which carries the vessel onwards on its homeward course.

Thus perished the high-minded Hudson, without further tiding or trace, on the scene of his glory; but the vengeance of heaven soon overtook the ringleaders of that dark conspiracy. Some fell in a fight with the Eskimos, and others died on the homeward voyage, which was performed under the extremity of famine. Whatever horrors may have attended the last moments of Hudson, his sufferings were less, for his conscience was undefiled by guilt.

In the year 1616 Baffin sailed round the enormous bay to which his name has been given, but without attempting to penetrate through any one of those wide sounds that have led the Arctic navigators of our days to so many glorious discoveries.

From the times of Tasman, whose bold voyage through the wastes of the Southern Pacific has already been mentioned, to those of our own immortal Cook, but very little was done for the progress of geography, as if, after so many heroic endeavours, the spirit of maritime discovery had required a long repose to recruit its energies, ere the greatest navigator of modern times was destined to unveil the mysterious darkness which still concealed one half of the vast Pacific from the knowledge of mankind. The voyages most worthy of remark during this period were those of the Cossack Semen Deshnew (1654), who sailed from the mouth of the Kolyma River round the eastern promontory of Asia, and must be considered as the discoverer of Behring's Straits; of the adventurous Dampier (1689-1691), that strange combination of the buccaneer, the author, and the naturalist, who first discovered the strait which separates New Guinea from New Ireland; of the Dutchman Roggewein (1721-23), who made known some islands in the Pacific; of the brothers Laptew and of Prontschitschew (1734-1743), who unveiled the greatest part of the Siberian coast; of Commodore Anson (1740-1744), whose heroic sufferings and successes in the Pacific still live in the memory of his countrymen; and of the unfortunate Behring (1730-1741), who terminated his second unsuccessful exploring expedition by a miserable death on a desert island.

After the peace of Aix la Chapelle England felt that the dominion of the seas imposed upon her the obligation of extending the bounds of geographical knowledge, and thus in rapid succession Byron (1764) and Wallis and Carteret (1766-1768) were sent forth to discover unknown shores, while France made a simultaneous effort to refresh the somewhat meagre laurels she had reaped by the voyages of Verazzani and Cartier. The consequences of this emulation were not unimportant. Bougainville (1766-1768) completed the discovery of the Solomon Islands, which Mendana had only partly seen; Wallis made the world acquainted with the beauties of Tahiti, and Byron explored the unvisited coasts of Patagonia. But the fame of these worthy mariners was soon eclipsed by a greater renown, for, in the same year that Wallis returned from his expedition, Cook sailed from the port of Plymouth on his first voyage round the world.

CHAP. XXVI.

What had Cook's Predecessors left him to discover?--His first
Voyage.--Discovery of the Society Islands, and of the East Coast
of New Holland.--His second Voyage.--Discovery of the Hervey
Group.--Researches in the South Sea.--The New Hebrides.--Discovery of
New Caledonia and of South Georgia.--His third Voyage.--The Sandwich
Islands.--New Albion.--West Georgia.--Cook's Murder.--Vancouver.--La
Peyrouse.

To form a correct estimate of Cook's discoveries, it is necessary that, before following the track of that great seaman, we should glance over the vast regions of the Pacific previously unknown to man. Many navigators indeed, since Magellan, had traversed that immense ocean, but the greater part of its expanse still lay buried in obscurity.

To the north of the line, the Spaniards, sailing from Manilla to Acapulco, still servilely followed the route which Urdaneta had pointed out, and all beyond was unexplored.

The regions to the south of the line were better known, but here also maritime discoverers, with the sole exception of Tasman, had confined themselves to the tropical waters. No one had yet tried to sail through the boundless space which to the south of the 25th degree of latitude extended between New Zealand and America. Of Australia only the western coast was known; the existence of Torres' Strait had long since been forgotten, and New Guinea and New Holland were supposed to form one connected land. To the south no one knew whether Australia and Van Diemen's Land were joined together, or severed by a channel; and the eastern coast of the fifth part of the world still awaited a discoverer. The boundaries of New Zealand were buried in the same obscurity. Tasman had only visited the west coast of the northern island, which, as far as was then known, might have extended a thousand miles farther on towards Chili. In one word, the great geographical problem of an enormous southern continent, the existence of which was formerly supposed necessary to form the counterpoise of the northern lands, still remained unsolved. The discoveries already made had indeed narrowed the limits which during the sixteenth century were still assigned to that imaginary continent, but in the unexplored bosom of the South Sea there yet was room enough for lands surpassing the whole of Europe in extent. Many of the South Sea islands moreover, though discovered before Cook's voyages, had vanished again from the memory of the world, or, according to Humboldt's expression, "wavered, as if badly rooted on the map, for want of exact astronomical measurements." Thus two hundred and fifty years after Magellan the Pacific still offered an enormous field for discovery, and when Cook set sail on the 30th of July, 1768, on his first voyage of circumnavigation, nearly one half of the globe lay open to his researches.

The first service he rendered on this voyage was the discovery that the route to the Pacific through the Strait of Le Maire and round Cape Horn was preferable to that which until then had been followed, through the Straits of Magellan.

After having observed at Otaheite the transit of Venus across the sun, which was one of the chief objects of the expedition, he soon after landed on the shores of Huaheine, Ulietea, and Borabora, which had never yet been visited by a European mariner, and gave to the whole group the name of the Society Islands, on account of their close vicinity to each other. Thence he sailed to New Zealand, which he was the first to find consisted of two large islands, separated by the strait which bears his name. With unwearied industry he spent no less than six months on the accurate survey of the New Zealand group, and then sailed to New Holland, the eastern coast of which he first discovered, and closely examined in its full length of 2000 miles. He also found that the continent of Australia was separated from New Guinea by a channel which he called "Endeavour Strait," but to which the justice of posterity has restored or awarded the name of Torres, its first explorer. This whole sea is so full of dangerous reefs and shoals that for months the sounding line was scarce ever laid aside, and any less experienced and prudent navigator must inevitably have been wrecked during these constant cruises in such perilous waters. Even Cook owed more than once his preservation to what may well be called a miraculous interposition of Providence, of which I shall cite a remarkable example. It was on the 10th of June, 1770, in the latitude of Trinity Bay. The vessel sailed, under a fresh breeze and by clear moonlight, through a sea the depth of which the plummet constantly indicated at 20 to 21 fathoms, so that not the least danger was apprehended. But suddenly the depth diminished to four fathoms, and before the lead could be heaved again the vessel struck and remained immoveable, except as far as she was heaved up and down and dashed against the rocks by the surge. The general anxiety may be imagined, and indeed the situation was such as to warrant the most serious apprehensions. It was found that the ship had been lifted over the ledge of a rock and lay in a hollow, inside of the reef, where the water in some places was three or four fathoms deep and in others hardly as many feet. The sheathing boards were knocked off and floating round the ship in great numbers, and at last the false keel also was destroyed, while the constant grating of the vessel against the rock seemed to announce its speedy disruption. It was now necessary to lighten the vessel as much as possible, and soon more than 50 tons' weight was thrown overboard.

On the following morning land was seen at the distance of eight miles; but no islet lay between, on which, in case the vessel went to pieces, a speedy refuge might be found. To add to their distress, the vessel drew so much water that three pumps could hardly master it; and, finally, it was found that even the rising of the flood, on which they mainly reckoned, was unavailing to extricate them from their perilous position. All that could possibly be spared was now therefore cast into the sea, still more to lighten the vessel, and thus the next tide was patiently expected, when, after incredible exertion, the ship righted, and they got her over the ledge of the rock into deep water.

But the men were by this time so much exhausted by their uninterrupted labour that they could not stand to the pumps more than five or six minutes at a time, after which they threw themselves flat on the streaming deck, where they lay till others exhausted like themselves took their places, on which they started up again and renewed their exertions. In this desperate situation one of the midshipmen, named Monkhouse, bethought himself of a means by which a ship, having sprung a leak admitting more than four feet of water in an hour, had yet been able to perform the whole journey from Virginia to London. He took a lower studding-sail, and, having mixed a large quantity of oakum and wool together, stitched them down by handfuls as lightly as possible. The sail was then hauled under the ship's bottom by means of ropes which kept it extended. When it came under the leak, the wool and oakum, with part of the sail, were forced inwards by the pressure of the water, which thus prevented its own ingress in such an effectual manner that one pump, instead of three, was now sufficient to keep it under. In this way they got the ship into a convenient port on the coast of New Holland, where they repaired the injury. Here it was found that their preservation was not entirely owing to that ingenious expedient, for one of the holes in the ship's bottom was almost entirely plugged by a piece of rock which had broken off and stuck in it; and this hole was so large, that, had it not been filled up in this truly extraordinary manner, the vessel must undoubtedly have sunk. Some persons, leading a tranquil life unvexed by storm or wave, might perhaps be inclined to ascribe so miraculous an escape to chance, but the seaman, who has had death before his eyes, will always in such a case recognise the hand of an Almighty protector: and who can doubt that a thrill of intense gratitude flashed through the soul of Cook on the discovery of the cause to which he owed the preservation of his life?

With a vessel thus shattered, and a crew thus worn with fatigue, further discoveries were no more to be thought of, and Cook hastened to return by way of Batavia and the Cape to England, where he arrived on the 11th of June, 1771.

The object of his second voyage (1772-1775) was to determine finally the question of the existence of a great southern continent, and to extend the geography of that part of the globe to its utmost limits. Sir Joseph Banks and Dr. Solander had accompanied him on his first voyage, this time John Reinhold Forster and his son George were engaged by government to explore and collect the natural history of the countries through which they should pass.

On the 13th of July, 1772, Cook sailed from Plymouth, and reached the Cape without having a single man sick. Well aware how much cleanliness and pure air contribute to health, he had neglected none of the means necessary to insure it. Every day the beds were aired, the linen of the sailors was frequently washed, and in rainy weather fire often made between decks, to dispel unwholesome damps and effluvia.

He now sailed to the south far into a desert and unknown sea, crossed it in various directions, and after having spent 117 days on the ocean, mostly among floating ice-fields, and without having once seen land, he steered northwards to the well-known coast of New Zealand, where on the 25th of January, 1773, he cast anchor in Dusky Bay. The feelings of the seaman may be imagined, when, after long wanderings over the waste of waters, he sees land, mountains, forests, and green plains rise above the horizon, when singing-birds take the place of the wild sea-mew, and friendly faces greet him on the strand. A beneficent mind is ever anxious to do good, and thus before sailing farther on to Otaheite, Cook caused a little garden to be planted, in which European vegetable seeds were sown and confided with proper instructions to the care of the intelligent savages, who were moreover presented with goats and pigs.

On the return voyage from Tahiti to New Zealand, where he intended to provide himself with fire-wood and provisions, before advancing once more into the high southern latitudes, he was pleased with the discovery of the small but lovely Harvey Islands, whose green girdle of cocoa-nut palms mirrors itself in the dark blue waters.

And now again he cruised in all directions through the icy sea, over an extent of 65° of longitude and as far as the 71st degree of southern latitude, without having seen any land; and having thus satisfied himself of the non-existence of a southern continent, or at least of its circumscription within bounds which must ever render it perfectly useless to man, he left those dreary regions of eternal winter, to continue his discoveries under a less inclement sky.

He first visited Easter Island and the Marquesas, where a new discovery received the name of Hood's Island, and on the way thence to Tahiti added the Palisser Group to the map of the world. We now follow him to the extensive archipelago of Espiritu Santo, first seen by Quiros in 1606, who took it for a part of the imaginary southern continent. Since then it had only been visited by Bougainville (1768), who however had contented himself with landing on the Isle of Lepers, and ascertaining the fact that it did not form part of a continent but of a considerable group of islands. Cook on his part examined the whole archipelago in such an accurate manner, ascertaining the situation of many of the islands and discovering such numbers of new ones, that he justly thought he had acquired the right to rebaptize them under the name of the New Hebrides.