NORTH-WEST PASSAGE***


Transcribed from the 1892 Cassell & Co. edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                       CASSELL'S NATIONAL LIBRARY.





VOYAGES
IN SEARCH OF THE
NORTH-WEST PASSAGE.


                         _From the Collection of_
                             RICHARD HAKLUYT.

                       CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited:
                      _LONDON_, _PARIS & MELBOURNE_.
                                  1892.




INTRODUCTION.


Thirty-five years ago I made a voyage to the Arctic Seas in what Chaucer
calls

       A little bote
    No bigger than a manne's thought;

it was a Phantom Ship that made some voyages to different parts of the
world which were recorded in early numbers of Charles Dickens's
"Household Words."  As preface to Richard Hakluyt's records of the first
endeavour of our bold Elizabethan mariners to find North-West Passage to
the East, let me repeat here that old voyage of mine from No. 55 of
"Household Words," dated the 12th of April, 1851: The _Phantom_ is fitted
out for Arctic exploration, with instructions to find her way, by the
north-west, to Behring Straits, and take the South Pole on her passage
home.  Just now we steer due north, and yonder is the coast of Norway.
From that coast parted Hugh Willoughby, three hundred years ago; the
first of our countrymen who wrought an ice-bound highway to Cathay.  Two
years afterwards his ships were found, in the haven of Arzina, in
Lapland, by some Russian fishermen; near and about them Willoughby and
his companions--seventy dead men.  The ships were freighted with their
frozen crews, and sailed for England; but, "being unstaunch, as it is
supposed, by their two years' wintering in Lapland, sunk, by the way,
with their dead, and them also that brought them."

Ice floats about us now, and here is a whale blowing; a whale, too, very
near Spitzbergen.  When first Spitzbergen was discovered, in the good old
times, there were whales here in abundance; then a hundred Dutch ships,
in a crowd, might go to work, and boats might jostle with each other, and
the only thing deficient would be stowage room for all the produce of the
fishery.  Now one ship may have the whole field to itself, and travel
home with an imperfect cargo.  It was fine fun in the good old times;
there was no need to cruise.  Coppers and boilers were fitted on the
island, and little colonies about them, in the fishing season, had
nothing to do but tow the whales in, with a boat, as fast as they were
wanted by the copper.  No wonder that so enviable a Tom Tidler's ground
was claimed by all who had a love for gold and silver.  The English
called it theirs, for they first fished; the Dutch said, nay, but the
island was of their discovery; Danes, Hamburghers, Bisayans, Spaniards,
and French put in their claims; and at length it was agreed to make
partitions.  The numerous bays and harbours which indent the coast were
divided among the rival nations; and, to this day, many of them bear,
accordingly, such names as English Bay, Danes Bay, and so forth.  One bay
there is, with graves in it, named Sorrow.  For it seemed to the fishers
most desirable, if possible, to plant upon this island permanent
establishments, and condemned convicts were offered, by the Russians,
life and pardon, if they would winter in Spitzbergen.  They agreed; but,
when they saw the icy mountains and the stormy sea, repented, and went
back, to meet a death exempt from torture.  The Dutch tempted free men,
by high rewards, to try the dangerous experiment.  One of their victims
left a journal, which describes his suffering and that of his companions.
Their mouths, he says, became so sore that, if they had food, they could
not eat; their limbs were swollen and disabled with excruciating pain;
they died of scurvy.  Those who died first were coffined by their dying
friends; a row of coffins was found, in the spring, each with a man in
it; two men uncoffined, side by side, were dead upon the floor.  The
journal told how once the traces of a bear excited their hope of fresh
meat and amended health; how, with a lantern, two or three had limped
upon the track, until the light became extinguished, and they came back
in despair to die.  We might speak, also, of eight English sailors, left,
by accident, upon Spitzbergen, who lived to return and tell their
winter's tale; but a long journey is before us and we must not linger on
the way.  As for our whalers, it need scarcely be related that the
multitude of whales diminished as the slaughtering went on, until it was
no longer possible to keep the coppers full.  The whales had to be
searched for by the vessels, and thereafter it was not worth while to
take the blubber to Spitzbergen to be boiled; and the different nations,
having carried home their coppers, left the apparatus of those fishing
stations to decay.

Take heed.  There is a noise like thunder, and a mountain snaps in two.
The upper half comes, crashing, grinding, down into the sea, and loosened
streams of water follow it.  The sea is displaced before the mighty heap;
it boils and scatters up a cloud of spray; it rushes back, and violently
beats upon the shore.  The mountain rises from its bath, sways to and
fro, while water