generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | | been preserved. | | | | obvious typographical errors have been corrected. for | | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * [illustration: john randolph tucker] life of rear admiral john randolph tucker commander in the navy of the united states, captain and flag-officer in the navy of the confederate states, rear admiral in the navy of the republic of peru and president of the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon with an appendix containing notes on navigation of the upper amazon river and its principal tributaries by captain james henry rochelle and containing a biographical sketch of the author, and portraits of admiral tucker and captain rochelle washington the neale publishing company eleventh street mcmiii copyright, , by mattie r. tyler. contents. a sketch of the author death of captain rochelle prefatory note part i. the tuckers--birth of john randolph tucker. boyhood--appointed a midshipman in the united states navy--first cruise--"the roaring lads of the brandywine"--passes examination for promotion--appointed a past midshipman--promoted to the rank of lieutenant--marriage--mexican war. capture of tobasco--commands united states bomb-brig _stromboli_--made a commander--commands united states receiving ship _pennsylvania_--ordnance officer at the norfolk navy yard--resigns on the secession of virginia part ii. appointed a commander in the virginia navy--in charge of the defenses of james river--transferred to the confederate states navy--placed in command of the _patrick henry_--fitting out under difficulties--first partially armored american vessel. lieutenant powell's plan for armored gunboats--officers of the _patrick henry_--guarding james river--scaling the guns--"naval skirmish"--a flag which was not presented--battle of hampton roads. sinking of the _cumberland_; an american _vengeur_--burning of the _congress_--combat between the _virginia_ and the _monitor_--flag-officer tatnall takes command of the confederate squadron--sally into hampton roads--plan for carrying the _monitor_ by boarding--evacuation of norfolk--towing unfinished gunboats to richmond--federal squadron enters james river--crews of the _patrick henry_, _jamestown_ and _virginia_ man the naval batteries at drewry's bluff--action at drewry's bluff--the _galena_; a well-fought vessel. repulse of the federal squadron--tucker ordered to command the iron-clad steamer _chicora_ at charleston--successful attack on the blockading squadron--tucker posted and appointed flag-officer of the charleston squadron--commanding officers of the charleston squadron--dupont's attack on charleston--confederate torpedo-boats at charleston; damage done by them--charleston naval battalion serving with the army--evacuation of charleston--one battalion of the charleston squadron serves with the army at wilmington--tucker, with the charleston squadron brigade, marches through north carolina and arrives at richmond--tucker ordered to command at drewry's bluff--confederacy at its last gasp--evacuation of richmond--tucker not informed of the intention to evacuate richmond--succeeds in joining his brigade of sailors to major-gen. custis lee's division--action at saylor's creek; didn't know they were whipped, thought the fight had just begun--surrender--prisoner of war--released on parole--employed by the southern express company part iii. tucker offered the command of the peruvian fleet, with the rank of rear admiral--arrives in lima--no precedent for the return of money--commissioned a rear admiral in the navy of peru--commands the allied fleets of peru and chile--spanish war--tucker's plan for a naval campaign; projected expedition against manila--cessation of hostilities--tucker retires from the command of the fleet, and is appointed president of the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon--crosses the andes and reaches the amazon--explores the yavari river--ordered to the united states to superintend the building of an exploring steamer--returns to the amazon with steamer _tambo_. expedition up the ucayali and exploration of the tambo river--ordered to the united states to procure a steamer of light draught of water--returns to the amazon with steamer _mairo_--second expedition up the ucayali--canoe expedition up the pachitea and exploration of the pichis river--expedition up the amazon and huallaga rivers--ordered to lima. ordered to new york to superintend the charts made by the hydrographical commission--publication of charts abandoned on account of the financial condition of peru--letter from president pardo--letter from minister freyre--tucker retires to his home in petersburg, virginia--occupations and amusements of old age--death--character and qualities--conclusion navigation of the upper amazon conclusion life of rear admiral john randolph tucker a sketch of the author. james henry rochelle, the author of the following pages, and the subject of this sketch, was of french-english and celtic, or scotch-irish, extraction--english through his paternal great-grandmother, who was the daughter of hinchia gilliam, and his wife (née) harrison; scotch-irish through his maternal ancestry. the name itself proclaims its french (huguenot) origin. it is well known that when louis xiv revoked the edict of nantes many french protestants, called huguenots, fled from their homes to escape persecutions worse than death. about forty thousand took refuge in england, and in william iii sent a number of them to america. a party of them made their way up the james river and made a settlement, which they called mannakintown, or "manacan," because the lands formerly belonged to the manacan indians. feeling that they no longer had to defend themselves against oppression and cruelty, and that in a free country their religion was no stigma, the characteristics of the race came out. with order and work manacan became a flourishing town. among those who had made a temporary home there was john rochelle, who came with the other huguenot exiles, and, if pope be right, he soon enjoyed "all the joys of sense-- _health, peace and competence._" but in a few years the spirit of discord entered among these exiles, who had found peace, liberty and homes. the three rochelle brothers sought other homes; william settled in north carolina, james went to south carolina, and john bought of william and jonas longbottom two hundred and twelve acres of land on the south side of the nottoway river in the then parish of albemarle. here he lived, and married mary gilliam, daughter of hinchia gilliam and his wife (née) harrison. they had issue four sons--john, levi, hinchia and nathaniel. john, the oldest son, married his cousin, judith gilliam, famed for her beauty, and they became the parents of nine children--benjamin, john, willis, clements, elizabeth (who will live in history as the mother of the famous soldier, george henry thomas), james, lucy, and mary. james was born in the year . at an early age he entered the clerk's office of his county as deputy to the then clerk, samuel kello. in he was chosen clerk and held the office until his death. on the th of april, , he married martha (hines) gray, widow of dr. henry mills gray. many children were born unto them, but only three lived beyond the early years of infancy--john, martha and james henry. james henry rochelle was born at his father's home, near the courthouse, on the st day of november, . his boyhood was passed in the refining influence of a virginia home, of the period when virginia was the garden spot of america, when her daughters were the "mothers of presidents" and her sons were statesmen, "_sans peur et sans reproche_." on the th of september, , he was appointed acting midshipman in the united states navy; served six months at sea, and then received his warrant as midshipman. during the war with mexico, young rochelle served on both the _falmouth_ and _decatur_, in the gulf. he was with commodore perry, and participated in all the brilliant exploits of the naval forces, and remained on the mexican coast until there was added to the united states a territory as large as germany, france and spain, all three added together. in september, , he reported at annapolis, the naval school, and was one of the midshipman belonging to the famous "classe ," which passed in . he was at once ordered to the frigate _constitution_, then in boston harbor, ready to sail to the blue waters of the mediterranean and the sunny coast of italy. on this cruise he paid a visit to the beautiful and historical island of malta, and here, in the very cradle of free masonry, he became a member of that ancient institution. he saw three years' sea service before returning home. in the united states government sent a naval force, under the command of perry, to open intercourse with japan and her then unknown people. rochelle received orders to report for duty on the ship _southampton_. perry sailed from norfolk on the th of november, . with great judgment and ability he rendered his mission a success, and sailed for home from linada, in japan, on the st of october, , and after an eventful voyage reached new york in the spring of . after a home leave of some months, rochelle was promoted on the th of september to master, and on the next day was commissioned lieutenant and assigned to duty on the coast survey squadron. he assisted in the survey of new york harbor, casco bay and the florida reefs. his next cruise was in the expedition to paraguay. unfortunately, few of his many letters home were preserved. we give one written in : u.s. steamer _southern star_, montevideo, republic of uruguay, march , . _my dear mother_: the steamer _harriet lane_, one of the vessels of the paraguay expedition, will sail for new york on tomorrow morning, and as she is very fast i have determined to write by her, although it will not be long before we follow her to the united states. we are preparing for sea now and expect to sail on the th of this month for norfolk, touching at pernambuco and barbadoes for coal. we will be at home, i think, by the th of may or st of june, though it is possible that we may be detained longer than i expect on the way. i sincerely trust that i shall find you all well at home, and that i will have a long leave to spend with you. i wrote you in my letter that we had no difficulty in settling our affairs with paraguay. lopez acceded at once to all the demands which were made upon him, and expressed himself gratified at their moderation. the health of the squadron is excellent and the cruise has been a pleasant one. no accident or circumstances have occurred to mar its efficiency or concord. if another vessel should leave in time to get home much before we do, i will write again, but i doubt if such an opportunity will occur. you must not, of course, write to me again. give my best love to sister, jimmy, letitia and mattie, and my affectionate regards to mr. edwards and major shands. ever your affectionate son, j.h. rochelle. to follow rochelle through all of his naval life would take more space than we now have and would be to repeat scenes and events already dealt with by him in the following pages. when the war came on he was serving on the sloop-of-war _cumberland_. captain scharf very correctly says: "it required no sacrifice and entailed no inconvenience to remain loyal to the union, but to resign from that service involved every consideration which might deter a man not actuated by exalted principles." it was "exalted principles" which caused rochelle to resign his commission in the navy, where he had served with honor and advancement for twenty years, and to offer his sword to his native state. from the columns of the richmond _dispatch_ we quote: "all know how hot and furious the war was. the anglo-saxon race, the first and foremost people on earth, are wise in counsel and fierce in war. fighting commenced at once. captain rochelle was placed under the command of captain tucker, on the james river, on the war steamer _patrick henry_, and with the _merrimac_ fought the _monitor_ and wooden fleet of the north in hampton roads, the first naval battle in which armored ships were used. that engagement covered the new and little confederate navy with glory. when norfolk was evacuated, and our little wooden fleet fell back to richmond after the destruction of the _merrimac_, which could not be carried up the james river on account of its great draught of water, the heavy guns of the _patrick henry_ were carried by tucker and rochelle with great difficulty up on drewry's bluff, and aided very much in repulsing the attack of the _galena_ and other northern gunboats, who hoped to carry richmond by a _coup de main_. after the evacuation of norfolk and the peninsula between the york and james rivers, the siege of charleston, s.c., having commenced, he was sent there and soon after placed in command of one of the largest iron-clad steamers in the confederate navy. here he remained during the remainder of the siege and until the advance of sherman through south carolina and in the rear of charleston forced the evacuation of that vital point in the confederacy. his ship, along with others, was destroyed, and he returned to richmond with a small body of seamen, where the southerners made their last stand around richmond and petersburg _pro ara et pro forcis_. on reaching richmond he, along with captain parker, distinguished alike in arms and letters, were placed in command of the naval academy and cadets which the confederates had established there--an arduous, important and distinguished position. he remained in that position until the evacuation of richmond, when he marched the cadets in a body to washington, in georgia, where they were disbanded after the capture of president davis and the dissolution of the confederacy. "the war being ended, he returned to his ancestral home in southampton. his old comrade-in-arms, tucker, who had been at one time admiral in the peruvian navy, and was then about to make a survey of the upper amazon river for the peruvians, sent for him, and he accepted a position under that government to make a hydrographic survey of that vast fluvial system in the mountains of peru east of the andes. he remained in iquitos three years and then returned home, where he devoted his time to reading, letters, and the society of his friends. he was a doughty warrior and soldier, and from the beginning loved a career of arms. he sorrowed over the rupture of the government, but when his state went out he nobly stood by her; went to the front, and never grounded his arms until there was nothing left to fight for. he knew to win would bring honor and safety, and failure would make him a rebel, and while success on the northern side gave to many of his old comrades in arms on that side marble and bronze statues in the new pantheon at washington, yet with the courage of his convictions, in disaster his only regret was that he did not win. of such stern stuff are the cavaliers of virginia made, and such as these are yet to lift her from the dust and crown their old mother again with glory." "death of capt. james h. rochelle. "courtland, southampton county, "april , . "on the morning of the st of march, after an illness of only one day, this county, and his many friends, met with a heavy loss in the death of capt. james henry rochelle. this distinguished soldier was a veteran of two wars. euripides, i think it was, said no man should be called fortunate or happy until he had been placed with his good name by death beyond the reach of accident or change. then, indeed, is this noble soldier happy, for he lived without reproach and died without fear. another noble son of virginia has gone down below the horizon of time, but his name will be held in sweet remembrance by his old comrades and his memory cherished and honored by his kinsmen." life of rear admiral john randolph tucker by james henry rochelle. prefatory note. in writing this biographical sketch i have performed not a task, but a labor of love, for i was, during many years, both in times of peace and of war, intimately associated with the distinguished sailor whose career i have attempted to trace. the appendix was added in consequence of letters i received asking for information in regard to the navigation of the upper amazon river and its tributaries, a highway for commerce destined to be much better known in the near future than it is at present. j.h.r. courtland, virginia, _july , ._ part i. the tuckers--birth of john randolph tucker. boyhood--appointed a midshipman in the united states navy--first cruise--"the roaring lads of the brandywine"--passes examination for promotion--appointed a past midshipman--promoted to the rank of lieutenant--marriage--mexican war. capture of tobasco--commands united states bomb-brig _stromboli_--made a commander--commands united states receiving ship _pennsylvania_--ordnance officer at the norfolk navy yard--resigns on the secession of virginia during the first years of the present century john tucker, of the island of bermuda, came to virginia, where resided many of his kinsmen, a branch of the tucker family having settled in virginia prior to the war of the revolution. the family has produced a number of gifted men who have been honorably prominent in the political and social life of the state, but no member of it has been more distinguished or more esteemed than the subject of the present sketch. john randolph tucker was born on the st day of january, , at alexandria, near washington, on the virginia side of the potomac river, in which city his father had made his home and had there married miss susan douglas, the daughter of dr. charles douglas, an english physician, who emigrated to america soon after the revolution. young tucker received his early education in the good private schools of his native city, which he continued to attend until he entered the united states navy as a midshipman on the st of june, , being then in the fifteenth year of his age. the profession upon which he entered was one for which he was by nature peculiarly adapted, and to the end of his days he loved the sea and all that was connected with the life of a sailor. it has been said of a great admiral that he could perform with his own hands the duties of every station on board a ship-of-war, from seaman-gunner to admiral, and the same may be, without exaggeration, said of tucker. he was fortunate in beginning his naval career on the mediterranean station, where he made his first cruise in the frigate _brandywine_. before the establishment of the naval academy at annapolis the best school for training a cadet in the etiquette, spirit and, perhaps, even in the seamanship of the service, was a smart frigate of the mediterranean squadron. if we may trust the traditions which have been handed down to us in song and story about "the roaring lads of the _brandywine_," the training on board the ship in which tucker first served was well calculated to develop all that was dashing and daring in the young gentlemen of her steerage mess. after six years' service as a midshipman, tucker passed the requisite examination for promotion, but he had to wait for his turn to fill a vacancy, and, consequently, was not promoted to the rank of lieutenant until the th of december, . as a lieutenant, he made a good deck officer and a very excellent executive or first-lieutenant. in the latter capacity he served on board the bomb-brig _stromboli_, in the gulf of mexico, during the war between mexico and the united states. the _stromboli_ was actively employed, and tucker participated in the capture of tobasco and other naval operations against the enemy. during the latter part of the war tucker succeeded to the command of the _stromboli_ as lieutenant-commanding, retaining the command until the cessation of hostilities. his last cruise whilst belonging to the united states navy was made as executive officer of the frigate _cumberland_, the flag-ship of flag-officer stringham, on the mediterranean station, thus ending his active service in the united states navy where it began, after an interval of thirty years. soon after his promotion to a lieutenancy tucker was married, at norfolk, virginia, on the th of june, , to virginia, daughter of captain thomas tarleton webb, of the united states navy. this union was, uninterruptedly, most happy and harmonious until it was dissolved by the death of mrs. tucker in . she left several children, three of whom--randolph tucker, of richmond, virginia; tarleton webb tucker, of memphis, tennessee; and virginius tucker, of norfolk, virginia--are now living and prospering. on september th, , tucker received his commission as a commander, and at the same time was ordered to command the _pennsylvania_, an old three-decker ship-of-the-line which was in commission as receiving-ship at norfolk. his next duty was as ordnance officer of the norfolk navy yard, and it was whilst he was employed on this duty that the secession of virginia caused him to forward his resignation to the secretary of the navy. there is no intention of discussing in this biographical sketch the questions which were in controversy between the northern and southern states until they were finally settled by the arbitrament of arms; it is sufficient to say that nothing but the sincerest conviction that the highest duty required the sacrifice could have induced an officer in tucker's position to leave an established and an illustrious navy to enter the service of a people who had neither ships nor sailors. part ii. appointed a commander in the virginia navy--in charge of the defenses of james river--transferred to the confederate states navy--placed in command of the _patrick henry_--fitting out under difficulties--first partially armored american vessel. lieutenant powell's plan for armored gunboats--officers of the _patrick henry_--guarding james river--scaling the guns--"naval skirmish"--a flag which was not presented--battle of hampton roads. sinking of the _cumberland_; an american _vengeur_--burning of the _congress_--combat between the _virginia_ and the _monitor_--flag-officer tatnall takes command of the confederate squadron--sally into hampton roads--plan for carrying the _monitor_ by boarding--evacuation of norfolk--towing unfinished gunboats to richmond--federal squadron enters james river--crews of the _patrick henry_, _jamestown_ and _virginia_ man the naval batteries at drewry's bluff--action at drewry's bluff--the _galena_; a well-fought vessel. repulse of the federal squadron--tucker ordered to command the iron-clad steamer _chicora_ at charleston--successful attack on the blockading squadron--tucker posted and appointed flag-officer of the charleston squadron--commanding officers of the charleston squadron--dupont's attack on charleston--confederate torpedo-boats at charleston; damage done by them--charleston naval battalion serving with the army--evacuation of charleston--one battalion of the charleston squadron serves with the army at wilmington--tucker, with the charleston squadron brigade, marches through north carolina and arrives at richmond--tucker ordered to command at drewry's bluff--confederacy at its last gasp--evacuation of richmond--tucker not informed of the intention to evacuate richmond--succeeds in joining his brigade of sailors to major-gen. custis lee's division--action at saylor's creek; didn't know they were whipped, thought the fight had just begun--surrender--prisoner of war--released on parole--employed by the southern express company tucker was appointed a commander in the virginia navy, with rank from the date of the commission in the united states navy which he had resigned. he was at first assigned by the governor to the defense of james river, but in a short time was ordered to assume command of the steamer _patrick henry_. when virginia became one of the confederate states, all the officers of the virginia navy were transferred to the confederate states navy, with the same rank they had held in the united states navy. the _patrick henry_ was also transferred by the state of virginia to the confederate states. this vessel was a paddle-wheel steamer of about , tons burthen; she was called the _yorktown_ before the war, and was one of a line of steamers running between richmond and new york; she was reputed to be a fast boat, and deserved the reputation. when virginia seceded this vessel was in james river, and, together with her sister steamer _jamestown_, of the same line, was seized by the authorities of the state, taken up to the rockett's wharf, at richmond, and the command conferred, as has been said, upon commander tucker; this assignment of duty being afterwards confirmed by the secretary of the confederate states navy. naval constructor joseph pearse, with a number of mechanics from the norfolk navy yard, who had been brought to richmond for the purpose, commenced the necessary alterations, which had previously been determined upon, and in a short time the passenger steamer _yorktown_ was converted into the very creditable man-of-war _patrick henry_, of guns and one hundred and fifty officers and men. lieutenant william llewellyn powell, who soon afterwards resigned from the navy, entered the army as colonel of artillery, and died a brigadier-general at fort morgan before its fall, was her executive officer while she was being fitted out, and to him, as well as to constructor joseph pearse, much credit is due for having made her as serviceable as she was for purposes of war. her spar-deck cabins were removed, and her deck strengthened so as to enable it to bear a battery. her boilers were slightly protected by iron plates one inch in thickness. v-shaped iron shields on the spar-deck, forward and aft of her engines, afforded some protection to the machinery, but none to the walking beams, which rose far above the hurricane-deck. it is probable that lieutenant powell suggested the first american attempt to protect steamers with iron armor, unless the stevens floating-battery, which was so long building at hoboken for the united states, was such an attempt. it is known that powell forwarded, during the summer of , plans to the confederate navy department for converting river craft and canal boats into iron-clad gunboats. the armament of the _patrick henry_ consisted of ten medium -pounders in broadside, one ten-inch shell gun pivoted forward, and one eight-inch solid-shot gun pivoted aft. the eight-inch solid-shot gun was the most effective gun on board, and did good service both at the battle of hampton roads and the repulse of the federal squadron at drewry's bluff. the captain of this gun was an excellent seaman-gunner named smith, who was afterwards promoted to be a boatswain in the c.s. navy. a few weeks before the battle of hampton roads two of the medium -pounders were exchanged for two six-inch guns, banded and rifled, a gun much used in the confederate navy, and effective, though far inferior to the six-inch rifled guns of the present day. the _patrick henry_ was rigged as a brigantine, square yards to the foremast and fore-and-aft sails alone to the mainmast. at norfolk, when she was about to be employed in running by the batteries of newport news at night, it was thought best to take both of her masts out in order to make her less liable to be discovered by the enemy. signal poles, carrying no sails, were substituted in their place. no list of the officers of the _patrick henry_ at the time she went into commission can now be given, but the following is a list of those on board at the battle of hampton roads, so far as can be ascertained: commander john randolph tucker, commander; lieutenant james henry rochelle, executive officer; lieutenants william sharp and francis lyell hoge; surgeon john t. mason; paymaster thomas richmond ware; passed assistant surgeon frederick garretson; acting master lewis parrish; chief engineer hugh clark; lieutenant of marines richard t. henderson; midshipmen john tyler walker, alexander mccomb mason, and m.p. goodwyn. the vessel, being properly equipped, so far as the limited resources at hand could be used, proceeded down james river and took a position off mulberry island, on which point rested the right of the army of the peninsula, under magruder. the time passed wearily and drearily enough whilst the _patrick henry_ lay at anchor off mulberry island. the officers and crew very rarely went on shore, the steamer being kept always with banked fires, prepared to repel an attack, which might have been made at any moment, the federal batteries at newport news and the vessels stationed there, the frigate _savannah_, sloop _cumberland_, and steamer _louisiana_, being about fourteen miles distant. to relieve the monotony of the irksome duty on which the _patrick henry_ was employed, tucker determined to take her down the river, feel of the enemy, and warn him of what might be expected if boat expeditions should attempt to ascend the river. on the afternoon of friday, september th, , the _patrick henry_ weighed her anchor at mulberry island, and steamed down james river towards newport news. choosing her distance from that point, she opened fire upon the federal squadron, which was promptly returned, principally by the _savannah_, _louisiana_, and a battery of light artillery, which had been moved up the left bank of the river. after giving the crew a good exercise at their guns, the _patrick henry_ was steamed back to her anchorage off mulberry island. about the last of november, tucker received information that one or two of the federal gunboats came up the river every night and anchored about a mile and a half above their squadron at newport news. hoping to be able to surprise and capture these boats, the commander of the _patrick henry_ got her underway at o'clock a.m. on december d, . the morning was dark and suitable for the enterprise, and all lights on board the _patrick henry_ were either extinguished or carefully concealed. no vessel of the enemy was met with in the river, but at daylight four steamers were discovered, lying at anchor near the frigate _congress_ and sloop _cumberland_, off the batteries of newport news. as the _patrick henry_ could not have returned unseen, tucker took a position about a mile distant from the batteries, and opened on the federal vessels with his port battery and pivot guns. the fire was promptly returned, many of the shots from the rifled guns passing over the _patrick henry_, and one, going through her pilot-house and lodging in the starboard hammock-netting, did some injury to the vessel, besides wounding slightly one of the pilots and a seaman by the splinters it caused. the skirmish, if such a term can be applied to a naval operation, lasted about two hours, during which time the _patrick henry_ fired twenty-eight shells and thirteen solid shots, but with what effect on the enemy is not known. from this best kind of drill practice, the confederate steamer returned to her anchorage off mulberry island, continued her guard of the river, and waited for some opportunity for more active employment. in february, , the ladies of charles city, a county bordering on james river, desired to present to the _patrick henry_ a flag which they had made for her as an evidence of their appreciation of her services in keeping boat expeditions and the enemy's small steamers from ascending the river. but the presentation of this flag did not take place; the c.s. steamers _jamestown_, , and _teaser_, v, had reinforced the _patrick henry_, and such incessant preparations were going on that no time could be spared for the ceremony. the occasion of these preparations was the expectation of being soon engaged in the attack which it was understood that the confederate iron-clad _virginia_ was about to make on the federal batteries and men-of-war at newport news. no care or preparation could make the _patrick henry_ as well fitted for war as a vessel of the same size built especially for the military marine service; but the best that could be done to make her efficient was done, and not without success, as the part the vessel took in the closely following battle of hampton roads conclusively demonstrates. on the th of march, , the james river squadron, consisting of the _patrick henry_, , commander j.r. tucker; _jamestown_, , lieutenant commanding j.n. barney, and _teaser_, , lieutenant commanding w.a. webb, proceeded down the river, and anchored at nightfall off day's neck point, some six miles distant from newport news. this movement was effected in order to be near at hand when the _virginia_ made her expected attack on the federal forces. the th of march, , was a bright, placid, beautiful day--more like a may than a march day. about o'clock in the afternoon, the _virginia_ came steaming out from behind craney island, attended by the gunboats _beaufort_ and _raleigh_. as soon as the _virginia_ was seen, the james river squadron got underway under all the steam the boilers would bear, and proceeded to join her in her attack on the enemy. as tucker's small squadron approached the newport news batteries he formed it in line ahead, the _patrick henry_, , leading; next the _jamestown_, , and lastly the _teaser_, ; this order being maintained until the batteries were passed. the batteries were run with less loss than was anticipated; the enemy probably expected the confederate vessels to pass in the usual channel, about eight hundred yards from the guns of the federal works, but by tucker's directions the _patrick henry_ was run by much nearer the batteries, and the _jamestown_ and _teaser_ followed her closely. probably in consequence of this deviation from the middle of the channel the federal guns were not well aimed, and most of the shot from the batteries passed over the confederate vessels. as the james river squadron ranged up abreast of the first battery, the vessels delivered their fire, and the flash from their guns had scarcely vanished when the federal works were wrapped in smoke, and their projectiles came hissing through the air. the _patrick henry_ was struck several times during the passage; one shot passing through the crew of no. gun, wounding two men and killing one, a volunteer from the army, who had come on board to serve only for the fight. his last words as he fell were, "never mind me, boys!" whilst the james river squadron was passing the batteries, the _virginia_ had rammed and sunk the _cumberland_, a ship which was fought most gallantly to the bitter end, going down with her colors flying and her guns firing, like the celebrated french ship _vengeur_. having run by the batteries with no material damage, the james river squadron joined the _virginia_ and afforded her valuable aid in the battle she was waging. whilst the forward guns of the _patrick henry_ were engaging one enemy, the after guns were firing at another, and the situation of the confederate wooden vessels at this time seemed well nigh desperate. the newport news batteries were on one side, on the other the frigates _minnesota_, _st. lawrence_ and _roanoke_ were coming up from old point comfort, and in front the beach was lined with field batteries and sharpshooters. fortunately for the wooden vessels, both confederate and federal, the _minnesota_, _st. lawrence_ and _roanoke_ grounded, and the smaller vessels which accompanied them returned to old point comfort. the _minnesota_, though aground, was near enough to take part in the action, and opened a heavy fire on the confederate squadron. the frigate _congress_, early in the action, had been run aground, with a white flag flying. tucker, as soon as he saw that the _congress_ had shown a white flag, gave orders that no shot should be fired at her from the _patrick henry_, and he steadily refused to let any gun be aimed at her, notwithstanding that the confederate gunboats _raleigh_, _teaser_ and _beaufort_ had attempted to take possession of the surrendered vessel, and had been driven off by a heavy artillery and infantry fire from the federal troops on the beach. after the confederate gunboats had been forced to retire from the _congress_, flag-officer buchanan hailed the _patrick henry_ and directed commander tucker to burn that frigate. the pilots of the _patrick henry_ declared they could not take her alongside of the _congress_ on account of an intervening shoal, which determined tucker to approach as near as the shoal would permit and then send his boats to burn the federal frigate. the boats were prepared for the service, and the boats' crews and officers held ready whilst the _patrick henry_ steamed in towards the _congress_. this movement of the _patrick henry_ placed her in the most imminent peril; she was brought under the continuous and concentrated fire of three points; on her port quarters were the batteries of newport news, on her port bow the field batteries and sharpshooters on the beach, and on her starboard bow the _minnesota_. it soon became evident that no wooden vessel could long float under such a fire; several shots struck the hull, and a piece of the walking-beam was shot away. as the sponge of the after pivot gun was being inserted in the muzzle of the piece, the handle was cut in two by a shot from the enemy; half in prayer and half in despair at being unable to perform his duty, the sponger exclaimed, "oh, lord! how is the gun to be sponged?" he was much relieved when the quarter-gunner of his division handed him a spare sponge. this state of things could not last long; a shot from a rifled gun of one of the field batteries on the beach penetrated the steam-chest, the engine-room and fire-room were filled with steam, four of the firemen were scalded to death and several others severely injured; the engineers and firemen were driven up on deck, and the engines stopped working: the vessel was enveloped in a cloud of escaped steam, and the enemy, seeing that some disaster to the boiler had occurred, increased his fire. at the moment, until the chief engineer made his report, no one on the spar-deck knew exactly what had happened, the general impression being that the boilers had exploded. it is an unmistakable evidence of the courage and discipline of the crew that the fire from the _patrick henry_ did not slacken, but went on as regularly as if nothing unusual had occurred. as the vessel was drifting towards the enemy in her disabled condition, the jib was hoisted to pay her head around, and the _jamestown_, lieutenant commanding barney, gallantly and promptly came to her assistance and towed her out of action. the engineers soon got one boiler in working order. the other was so badly damaged that they were unable to repair it for immediate use, and with steam on one boiler alone the _patrick henry_ was again taken into action. the closing in of night put an end to the conflict, as in the dark it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe. the victory remained without dispute with the confederate squadron, and was witnessed, as was the combat between the _virginia_ and the _monitor_ on the day following, by multitudes of spectators from norfolk and the neighboring camps of the confederate troops, as well as by many on the federal side of the roads. it has been stated that the total federal loss in this battle was nearly four hundred. the numerical strength of the confederate force engaged was about six hundred, of which the total loss was about sixty. the loss on board the _patrick henry_ being five killed and nine wounded. the part taken by the _patrick henry_ in this battle--it was a battle and not a combat--seems to have been lost sight of in consequence of the great power, as a new force in naval warfare, displayed by the _virginia_, but the federal commanders bear witness to the efficient service done by the confederate wooden vessels. lieutenant commanding pendergrast, of the _congress_, reported that "the _patrick henry_ and _thomas jefferson_ (_jamestown_), rebel steamers, approached us from up the james river, firing with precision and doing us great damage," and captain van brunt, of the _minnesota_, reported that the _patrick henry_ and _jamestown_ "took their positions on my port bow and stern and their fire did most damage in killing and wounding men, insomuch as they fired with rifled guns." the closing in of night having put an end to hostilities until morning, the confederate squadrons anchored under sewell's point, at the mouth of the harbor of norfolk. the crews were kept busy until a late hour of the night, making such repairs and preparations as were necessary for resuming operations in the morning. soon after midnight a column of fire ascended in the darkness, followed by a terrific explosion--the federal frigate _congress_, which had been on fire all the evening, had blown up, the fire having reached her magazine. flag officer buchanan, having been wounded in the action, was sent to the naval hospital at norfolk on the morning of the th, just prior to the getting under way of the squadron. the command ought, in conformity with military and naval usage, to have been formally transferred to the next senior officer of the squadron, who was commander j.r. tucker, of the _patrick henry_; but this obviously proper course was not followed, and flag officer buchanan's flag was kept flying on board the _virginia_, though he himself, in point of fact, was not and could not be in command of that vessel, or the confederate squadron, since he was not within signal distance of either, being laid up in bed at the norfolk naval hospital. tucker did not assume command of the squadron, but simply continued to command the _patrick henry_. at the first peep of dawn, on the morning of the th of march, the confederate squadron was under way, having in view for its first object the destruction of the _minnesota_, that frigate being still aground near newport news. as the daylight increased, the _minnesota_ was discovered in her old position, but no longer alone and unsupported. close alongside of her there lay such a craft as the eyes of a seaman does not delight to look upon; no masts, no smokestack, no guns--at least nothing of the sort could be seen about her. and yet the thing had a grim, pugnacious look, as if there was tremendous power of some sort inherent in her, and ready to be manifested whenever the occasion required it. the _monitor_ (for it was that famous vessel) promptly steamed out to meet the _virginia_, as the latter vessel bore down on the _minnesota_, and the celebrated combat between these iron-clads was joined immediately. it was the first action that had ever been fought between armored vessels, and as such will ever be remembered and commented upon. the combat resulted in a drawn fight as far as the _virginia_ and _monitor_ was concerned, but it established the power of iron-clad steamers as engines of war, and completely revolutionized the construction of the navies of the world. that the combat between the _virginia_ and the _monitor_ was an indecisive action is clear. the _monitor_ received the most damage in the fight, and was the first to retire from it into shoal water, though the fight was afterwards renewed. on the other hand, the _virginia_ did not accomplish her object, which was the destruction of the _minnesota_, and she did not accomplish it in consequence of the resistance offered by the _monitor_. the two vessels held each other in check, the _virginia_ protecting norfolk, and the _monitor_ doing the same for the federal wooden fleet in hampton roads and the chesapeake waters. the injuries received by the _virginia_ in ramming the _cumberland_, on the previous day, were probably greater than those inflicted on her by the _monitor_; in neither case were they severe enough to disable or force her to withdraw from action. on her return to norfolk harbor, the _virginia_ was accompanied by the _patrick henry_ and the other vessels of the confederate squadron. the confederate wooden steamers had taken no part in the action between the _virginia_ and the _monitor_, except to fire an occasional shot at the _monitor_, as she passed, at very long range; no wooden vessel could have floated a quarter of an hour in an engagement at close quarters with either of the two iron-clads. flag officer tatnall having relieved flag officer buchanan, who was incapacitated from command on account of severe wounds received in the first day's fight in hampton roads, and all the vessels of the squadron having been refitted, on the th of april the squadron again sallied out to attack the enemy. it was expected that the _monitor_ would be eager to renew the combat with the _virginia_, and it was agreed upon that, in case the _virginia_ failed to capture or destroy the federal iron-clad, an attempt should be made to carry the latter by boarding. this duty was assigned to the gunboats _beaufort_ and _raleigh_ and two other small steamers. one of these small steamers was the tender of the norfolk navy yard; she was manned for the occasion by officers and men from the _patrick henry_, under the command of the executive-officer of that vessel, and was christened by the men _patrick henry, junior_. the confederate squadron steamed about in hampton roads for two days, but the _monitor_ did not leave her anchorage at fortress monroe, her passiveness being due, it seems, to orders from washington not to engage the _virginia_ unless she attempted to pass old point comfort. general j. bankhead magruder, commanding the confederate army of the peninsula, was urgent in demanding the return of the james river squadron, and consequently the _patrick henry_ and _jamestown_ were ordered to run by the newport news batteries at night, and resume their old duty in james river. the _jamestown_ ran up the river on the th and the _patrick henry_ on the th of april; the _beaufort_, _raleigh_ and _teaser_ were also sent up the river; the headquarters of this detached squadron, of which tucker was the senior officer, was at mulberry island, on which point rested the right flank of the confederate army of the peninsula. up to this time the _patrick henry_ was brigantine rigged, but to fit her better for running by batteries without being discovered, both of her masts were now taken out and short signal poles substituted for them. when the confederate authorities determined upon the evacuation of norfolk, the james river squadron was employed to remove what public property could be saved from the navy yard to richmond. the hulls of several uncompleted vessels were towed past the federal batteries at newport news. the running past the batteries was always done at night, moonless nights being chosen whenever it was practicable to select the time of making the trip. so far as known, the vessels employed on this service were never detected by the enemy; at least they were never fired upon. soon after the evacuation of norfolk, whilst the confederate forces were retiring from the peninsula to the lines around richmond, a federal squadron, consisting of the _monitor_, _galena_, _naugatuck_, _aroostook_ and _port royal_, entered james river. the _monitor_ alone could with ease and without serious injury to herself have destroyed in fight all the confederate vessels in james river, and no course was open to tucker but to take his squadron up the river and make a stand at the place below richmond best adapted for defense. the place most wisely selected was drewry's bluff, where the river had been obstructed by rows of piles, and the piles defended by four army guns mounted in a breastwork on the crest of the bluff, about two hundred feet above the river. when the confederate squadron arrived at drewry's bluff, the defenses which had been constructed at the place were not in a condition to have prevented the federal squadron from passing on to richmond; but in the day which the federal vessels wasted in silencing the fire of the half-deserted confederate batteries on the lower river, the works at drewry's bluff were materially strengthened. the _jamestown_ and several smaller vessels were sunk in the river channel, the two rifled guns of the _jamestown_ having been previously landed and mounted in pits dug in the brow of the bluff. the eight-inch solid-shot gun of the _patrick henry_ and her two six-inch rifles were also landed, thus forming a formidable naval battery countersunk on the brow of the hill, consisting of one eight-inch solid-shot gun and four six-inch rifles. besides the naval battery, there were several army guns mounted in a breastwork and served by a battalion of artillery, under the command of major a. drewry, who was the owner of the bluff, and from whom the place took its name. the naval guns were manned by the crews of the _patrick henry_, _jamestown_ and _virginia_--the crew of the _virginia_ arriving at the bluff soon after she had been destroyed by flag officer tatnall, to prevent her from falling into the hands of the enemy. it is not always possible for a sea captain to preserve the vessel he commands; but it is always possible to act with firmness, skill and judgment under trying and adverse circumstances, and this flag officer tatnall seems to have done. a court-martial, composed of officers of high professional attainments and acknowledged personal merit, acquitted him of all blame for the loss of the _virginia_. the following naval officers may be named as participating in the engagement of drewry's bluff, though there were others whose names are not at this time procurable: of the _patrick henry_, commander john randolph tucker, lieutenant james henry rochelle, lieutenant francis lyell hoge, and others; of the _jamestown_, lieutenant commanding j. nicholas barney, acting master samuel barron, jr., and others; of the _virginia_, lieutenant catesby roger jones, lieutenant hunter davidson, lieutenant john taylor wood, lieutenant walter raleigh butt, and others. commander e. farrand was the ranking and commanding officer present, having been sent down from richmond to command the station. it was on the th of may, , that the federal vessels _galena_, _monitor_, _naugatuck_, _aroostook_, and _port royal_ made the well-known attack on the confederate batteries at drewry's bluff, which was the only obstacle barring the way to richmond, the capital of the confederate states. the _galena_ and _monitor_ engaged the batteries at short distance, the other three federal vessels keeping just within long range of the confederate guns. the _monitor_, after the action commenced, finding that her position was too near the bluff to allow of her guns being elevated sufficiently to throw their shot to the crest of the cliff, retired to a more favorable position. the confederates wasted but few shot on her, knowing they would not pierce her armor. the _galena_ was managed and fought with great skill and daring. approaching to within about six hundred yards of the confederate batteries, she was deliberately moored, her battery sprung and a well-directed fire opened upon the confederate works. from half past six o'clock in the morning until about eleven, when the action ceased, she kept this position, receiving nearly the whole of the confederate fire. the most effective gun on the bluff was the eight-inch solid shot gun of the _patrick henry_. knowing by previous experience the power of the gun, tucker gave it his personal supervision. at o'clock a.m. a shot from this gun passed into one of the bow posts of the _galena_, and was followed by an immediate gushing forth of smoke, showing that the vessel was on fire or had sustained some serious damage, a conclusion confirmed by her moving off down the river, accompanied by the other four vessels of the federal squadron. it was at drewry's bluff that midshipman carroll, of maryland, was killed. he was struck by a projectile whilst standing by tucker's side, whose aide he was. for some days it was expected that another attack on the confederate position would be made, but no other effort to capture richmond with iron-clads was attempted. a half a dozen armored vessels, built expressly for being forced through obstructions and by batteries, could have passed drewry's bluff and captured richmond, but the force with which the attempt was actually made was neither well adapted for the undertaking nor sufficiently strong for success. the _galena's_ loss was thirteen killed and eleven wounded, and one officer and two men were wounded on board the other federal vessels. on the confederate side the loss, including the battalion of artillery, as well as the force of sailors, was eleven killed and nine wounded. after the federal repulse at drewry's bluff, the officers and crew of the _patrick henry_, _virginia_ and _jamestown_ were permanently attached to the naval batteries at that place, tucker continuing to command his men on shore. in august, , tucker was ordered to command the iron-clad steamer _chicora_, which vessel had just been launched at charleston. she was a casemate iron-clad, with armor four inches in thickness, and carried a battery of two nine-inch smooth-bore shell guns, and two six-inch brooks rifles, throwing a projectile weighing sixty pounds. flag officer duncan n. ingraham commanded the charleston squadron, and flew his flag on board the _palmetto state_, lieutenant commanding john rutledge. the _palmetto state_ was an iron-clad, similar to the _chicora_ in build and armor, carrying a battery of one seven-inch rifled gun forward, one six-inch rifled gun aft, and one eight-inch shell gun on each broadside. on the night of january st, , the two confederate iron-clads made a successful attack on the federal blockading squadron off charleston. passing the bar of charleston harbor at early dawn, the confederate iron-clads quickly drove the blockading vessels out to sea, and the blockade was broken, at least for some hours. in his official report of this action flag officer ingraham says, "i cannot speak in too high terms of the conduct of commander tucker and lieutenant commanding rutledge; the former handled his vessel in a beautiful manner and did the enemy much damage. i refer you to his official report." the official report to which flag officer ingraham refers the confederate secretary of the navy is as follows: "confederate states steamer _chicora_, "january st, . "_sir_--in obedience to your order, i got under way at . p.m. yesterday, and stood down the harbor in company with the confederate states steamer _palmetto state_, bearing your flag. we crossed the bar at . a.m., and commenced the action at . a.m. by firing into a schooner-rigged propeller, which we set on fire and have every reason to believe sunk, as she was nowhere to be seen at daylight. we then engaged a large sidewheel steamer, twice our length from us on the port bow, firing three shots into her with telling effect, when she made a run for it. this vessel was supposed to be the _quaker city_. we then engaged a schooner-rigged propeller and a large sidewheel steamer, partially crippling both, and setting the latter on fire, causing her to strike her flag; at this time the latter vessel, supposed to be the _keystone state_, was completely at my mercy, i having taken position astern, distant some two hundred yards. i at once gave the order to cease firing upon her, and directed lieutenant bier, first lieutenant of the _chicora_, to man a boat and take charge of the prize, if possible to save her; if that was not possible, to rescue her crew. while the boat was in the act of being manned, i discovered that she was endeavoring to make her escape by working her starboard wheel, the other being disabled, her colors being down. i at once started in pursuit and renewed the engagement. owing to her superior steaming qualities she soon widened the distance to some two hundred yards. she then hoisted her flag and commenced firing her rifled guns; her commander, by this faithless act, placing himself beyond the pale of civilized and honorable warfare.[ ] we next engaged two schooners, one brig, and one bark-rigged propeller, but not having the requisite speed were unable to bring them to close quarters. we pursued them six or seven miles seaward. during the latter part of the combat, i was engaged at long range with a bark-rigged steam sloop-of-war; but in spite of all our efforts, was unable to bring her to close quarters, owing to her superior steaming qualities. at . a.m., in obedience to your orders, we stood in shore, leaving the partially crippled and fleeing enemy about _seven miles clear of the bar_, standing to the southward and eastward. at a.m., in obedience to signal, we anchored in four fathoms waters off the beach channel." "it gives me pleasure to testify to the good conduct and efficiency of the officers and crew of the _chicora_. i am particularly indebted to the pilots, messrs. payne and aldert, for the skillful pilotage of the vessel." "it gives me pleasure to report that i have no injuries or casualties." "very respectfully, your obedient servant, "j.r. tucker, _commander, c.s.n._ "_flag officer_ d.n. ingraham, c.s.n., "_commanding station, charleston, s.c._" the result of this engagement was a complete demonstration of the futility of any attempt on the part of wooden vessels to contend with iron-clads. the federal squadron consisted of the _housatonic_, _meresdita_, _keystone state_, _quaker city_, _augusta_, _flag_, _memphis_, _stettin_, _ottawa_, and _unadilla_, ten vessels, all of them unarmored, and three, the _housatonic_, _ottawa_ and _unadilla_, built for war service, the other seven being merchant steamers converted into men-of-war. the confederate squadron consisted of only two vessels, both iron-clads, the _palmetto state_ and _chicora_, which received no damage whatever during the engagement, either to their hulls, machinery, or crew, whilst several of the ten federal wooden vessels were seriously injured, though none of them were sunk, their escape from capture or destruction being due to the swiftness of their flight. their loss was twenty-five killed and twenty-two wounded. the blockade of charleston harbor was soon, indeed immediately, re-established, and kept up by the armored frigate _new ironsides_ and a number of heavy "monitors." there was, from the end of this battle to the evacuation of charleston by the confederates, no time when there would have been the least probability of the success of another dash by the confederate vessels in the harbor upon the federal squadron blockading. in the month of february, , tucker was promoted to the rank of captain in the provisional navy of the confederate states, and in march following was appointed flag officer of the confederate forces afloat at charleston, the _chicora_ bearing his flag. on the th of april, , admiral dupont made his attack on charleston, with a squadron consisting of the armored frigate _new ironsides_ and eight "monitors." tucker, with his usual good judgment, held the _chicora_ and _palmetto state_, aided by a number of rowboats armed with torpedoes, ready to make a desperate and final assault upon the federal squadron if it should succeed in passing the confederate forts guarding the entrance to the harbor. admiral dupont's squadron was repulsed by the forts, and the confederate squadron was not engaged. the confederate naval forces afloat at charleston did not possess either the strength or swiftness necessary for an attack on the federal blockading squadron with any reasonable prospect of success, and tucker therefore turned his attention to attacks by means of torpedo-boats fitted out from his squadron. on the th of october, , lieutenant w.t. glassell, with a small double-ender steam torpedo-boat, made an attempt to sink the _new ironsides_, lying off morris' island. the _new ironsides_ was not sunk, but she was seriously damaged and was sent north for repairs. the torpedo-boat was filled with water, and her commander, pilot, and engineer, all that were on board of her, were thrown overboard by the shock of the striking and exploding of the torpedo against the bottom of the iron-clad. the torpedo-boat was finally taken back into charleston harbor by the pilot and engineer, but lieutenant glassell was made prisoner after having been in the water about an hour. a torpedo-boat commanded by lieutenant dixon of the confederate army, and manned by six volunteers from tucker's squadron and one from the army, attacked and sunk, on the night of february th, , the united states steamer _housatonic_ lying in the north channel. the torpedo-boat with all on board went to the bottom, but most of the crew of the _housatonic_ were saved by taking refuge in the rigging, which was not submerged when the vessel rested on the bottom. the boat attack on fort sumter, made by the federals on september th, , was easily repulsed, and the charleston squadron materially aided in the repulse. a battalion of sailors from the recruits on board the receiving-ship _indian chief_, under the command of lieutenant commanding william galliard dozier, was detached by tucker to co-operate with the army on james' island in august, . this battalion rendered good service, and upon its return to the squadron was kept organized and ready to respond whenever a call for assistance was made upon the navy by the army. early in some changes were made in the commanding officers of the squadron; commander isaac newton brown was ordered to the _charleston_, commander thomas t. hunter to the _chicora_, and lieutenant commanding james henry rochelle to the _palmetto state_. no other changes were made in the commands of the squadron while it existed. the three iron-clads under tucker's command at charleston were all slow vessels, with imperfect engines, which required frequent repairing; for that day, and considering the paucity of naval resources in the south, they were fairly officered, manned and armed. all of them were clad with armor four inches thick, and they were all of the type of the _virginia_, or _merrimac_, as that vessel is frequently but erroneously called. the commander of the vessels were all formerly officers of the united states navy, who were citizens of the southern states and had resigned their commissions in the federal service when their states seceded from the union. the lieutenants and other officers were appointed from civil life, but they were competent to perform the duties required of them, and conducted themselves well at all times and under all circumstances. the crews of each vessel numbered from one hundred and twenty to one hundred and sixty men, some of them able-seamen, and most of them efficient and reliable men. each vessel carried a torpedo, fitted to the end of a spar some fifteen or twenty feet long projecting from the bows in a line with the keel, and so arranged that it could be carried either triced up clear of the water or submerged five or six feet below the surface. the squadron was in a good state of discipline and drill, and, so far as the personnel was concerned, in a very efficient condition. every night one or two of the iron-clads anchored in the channel near fort sumter for the purpose of resisting a night attack on that place or a dash into the harbor by the federal squadron. not long before the evacuation of charleston an iron-clad named the _columbia_ was launched there. she had a thickness of six inches of iron on her casemate, and was otherwise superior to the other three iron-clads of the squadron. unfortunately, she was run aground whilst coming out of dock, and so much injured as not to be able to render any service whatever. charleston was evacuated by the confederate forces on the th of february, . several days previous to the evacuation a detachment from the squadron of about three hundred men, under the command of lieutenant commanding james henry rochelle, consisting of the officers and crews of the _palmetto state_, _columbia_, and the recruits from the receiving-ship _indian chief_, were dispatched by rail to wilmington, which the detachment reached only a few days before it was, in turn, abandoned by the confederate army. the charleston naval detachment was ordered to co-operate with the army as a body of infantry, and was assigned to duty with general hoke's division, of which it formed the extreme right, resting on cape fear river. the position was exposed to an annoying fire from the federal gunboats in the river, to which no reply could be made, but from which some loss was suffered. the evacuation of wilmington took place on the d of february, , and the charleston squadron's naval battalion marched out with hoke's division, to which it remained attached until somewhere in the interior of north carolina it reunited with tucker's command. with the officers and crews of the _charleston_ and _chicora_, tucker left charleston on the th of february, , the day of the evacuation of the city by the confederate army. as far as florence in south carolina the charleston naval brigade traveled by rail, but at that point tucker received a telegram informing him that the federal forces were about cutting the railway communication between florence and wilmington. this was the last message that came over the wires, and tucker, knowing that the enemy had succeeded in seizing the railroad, abandoned his intention of making for wilmington, and marched his command across the country to fayetteville, where he received orders from the navy department to bring his force to richmond. on the way from fayetteville to richmond the detached charleston naval battalion was reunited to the main body under tucker, and the whole brigade proceeded together to richmond, and from richmond it was sent to garrison the confederate batteries at drewry's bluff, of which place tucker was ordered to assume command, the naval forces afloat in james river being under the command of rear admiral raphael semmes. when tucker took command at drewry's bluff the confederate cause was at its last gasp. richmond was evacuated by the confederate army and government on the night of the d of april, . strange to relate, tucker received no orders to retire with his command, and he held his post steadily until, early on the morning of the d, the confederate iron-clads in james river were burnt by their own commanders. when he knew the troops were marching out of richmond and saw the confederate iron-clads burning in the river, tucker thought it was not only justifiable but necessary for him to act without orders, and he retired with his command from drewry's bluff. general r.e. lee told tucker, when they met, that of all the mistakes committed by the richmond authorities he regretted none more than the neglect to apprise the naval force at drewry's bluff of the intended evacuation of the city. the naval brigade from drewry's bluff, under flag officer tucker, joined the rear guard of the confederate army, and was attached to general custis lee's division of general ewell's corps, with which it marched until the battle of saylor's creek on the th of april, . the naval brigade held the right of the line at that battle, and easily repulsed all the assaults made upon it. a flag of truce was sent by the federal general commanding at that point to inform tucker that the confederate troops on his right and left had surrendered, and that further resistance was useless and could only end in the destruction of the sailors. tucker, believing that the battle had only commenced, refused to surrender, and held his position until reliable information, which he could not doubt, reached him of the surrender of general ewell and his army corps. the naval brigade surrendered by tucker numbered some three hundred sailors, who, the opposing force said, did not know when they were whipped. tucker's sword, which he rendered to general keifer, was returned to him some years after the war by that gentleman, then a prominent member of congress. tucker was sent north and confined as a prisoner of war until the entire cessation of hostilities, when he was released on parole. on his return to virginia he found that both the confederate and state governments were things of the past, and that he would have to mend his broken fortunes, if mend them he could, by engaging in the business pursuits of civil life. he succeeded, not without difficulty, in obtaining employment as an agent of the southern express company, and was stationed at raleigh, north carolina, to take charge of the business matters of the company in that city. [ ] the _keystone state_ did not surrender, rescue or no rescue, and her escape ought probably to be regarded as a rescue. part iii. tucker offered the command of the peruvian fleet, with the rank of rear admiral--arrives in lima--no precedent for the return of money--commissioned a rear admiral in the navy of peru--commands the allied fleets of peru and chile--spanish war--tucker's plan for a naval campaign; projected expedition against manila--cessation of hostilities--tucker retires from the command of the fleet, and is appointed president of the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon--crosses the andes and reaches the amazon--explores the yavari river--ordered to the united states to superintend the building of an exploring steamer--returns to the amazon with steamer _tambo_. expedition up the ucayali and exploration of the tambo river--ordered to the united states to procure a steamer of light draught of water--returns to the amazon with steamer _mairo_--second expedition up the ucayali--canoe expedition up the pachitea and exploration of the pichis river--expedition up the amazon and huallaga rivers--ordered to lima. ordered to new york to superintend the charts made by the hydrographical commission--publication of charts abandoned on account of the financial condition of peru--letter from president pardo--letter from minister freyre--tucker retires to his home in petersburg, virginia--occupations and amusements of old age--death--character and qualities--conclusion. while residing in raleigh, north carolina, tucker received a letter from the peruvian minister to the united states, requesting an interview on affairs of importance. going to washington, tucker saw the minister, and the result of the interview was that he accepted a proposition to go to peru and enter the navy of that republic as a rear-admiral, his commission to be dated from the time of his arrival at lima. he was allowed to take with him two staff officers, one with the rank of captain and the other with that of commander. when tucker entered the navy of peru, that republic was engaged in a war with spain. spain had never recognized the independence of her former south american colonies, and thinking a favorable opportunity had arisen for asserting her dormant claims, the spanish government sent an iron-clad frigate, accompanied by several smaller vessels, to attack the chilean and peruvian seaport cities on the pacific coast. the attack upon valparaiso, the chief port of chile, was successful, but the spanish squadron was beaten off at callao by the peruvian batteries. whilst preparing for the defense of callao, the peruvian government determined to place its naval establishment on such a footing that it would be able to meet any force spain could send to the pacific. tucker had, and most deservedly, the reputation of being a hard fighter, a thorough disciplinarian, and a splendid seaman; hence the peruvian government of president prado directed its minister at washington to engage his services if possible. the cause was one which enlisted all tucker's sympathies, and he agreed to take command of the peruvian fleet. tucker became much attached to peru, and served the republic zealously and faithfully. he had many warm friends in lima, and no matter what party held the government, the trust and confidence reposed in him by the authorities in lima was always implicit. tucker arrived in lima accompanied by his personal staff, david porter mccorkle, captain of the fleet, and walter raleigh butt, commander and aide. just before their leaving new york the peruvian minister handed tucker a bag of gold, with which he was told to pay all the traveling expenses of himself and staff; this was done, but when the party arrived at lima the bag was still half full. tucker insisted on returning this surplus to the government, but there was no precedent for such a thing, and it was not without some difficulty that there could be found an officer of the treasury authorized to receive and receipt for the unexpected money. the appointment of a foreigner to command their fleet was distasteful to some of the peruvian officers, and this fact coming to tucker's knowledge, he informed general prado, the president of the republic, that he had no wish that any officer should be forced to serve unwillingly under his command, and preferred resigning if the dissatisfaction at the appointment of a stranger to command the fleet was general or deep-seated. the officers who were dissatisfied were relieved from duty, and others were easily found who were not only willing but anxious to serve under tucker. the peruvian squadron was lying at valparaiso when tucker hoisted his flag on board the frigate _independencia_. the chilean squadron was also lying at valparaiso, and tucker, as senior officer present, was in command of the allied fleets of both peru and chile. an efficient state of drill and discipline was soon established in the fleets. a feeble attempt at mutiny broke out on one occasion during the temporary absence of tucker, but it was easily quelled without bloodshed, and no similar attempt was ever again made whilst tucker was in command. officers of the peruvian navy, who were themselves opposed to giving foreigners high rank in their service, admitted that the fleet had never been in so good a condition for effective service as whilst it was under tucker. the spanish squadron had retired from the coast, but was expected to return as soon as it had been refitted and revictualed, but no apprehension was felt as to the result of another attack by the spanish, for the allied fleets were believed to be fully equal to the task of protecting the coasts and ports of the republics. tucker's plan of naval operations was to sail with a small squadron, composed of the most efficient vessels under his command, for manila, a most important dependency of spain in the east indies. he expected to take the spaniards entirely by surprise, to capture all spanish vessels in port, and to hold manila and the other ports of the philippine islands until peace was established. in order to provide for the reappearance of the spanish fleet on the coast during his absence, tucker advised the allied governments to enroll as a naval reserve all the peruvian and chilean masters, mates and crews of merchant vessels, pilots and mariners engaged in employments on shore. a part of his plan was that all merchant steamers carrying the flags of the republics, which could be made available for war purposes, should be inspected and held ready for active service in the navy and manned by the naval reserve whenever the government should think it necessary to employ them. this force, with the harbor defense iron-clads, and the forts and batteries on shore, tucker thought would be a sufficient protection for the coast, whilst his squadron of the most efficient sea-going vessels was absent in the east indies, where the capture of manila would have dealt a heavy blow to spain, and rendered an honorable peace, carrying with it an acknowledgment of the independence of peru and chile, a matter of easy attainment. this plan, which would probably have been entirely successful if carried out with skill, daring and judgment, as it would have been by tucker, was favorably considered by the governments of the allied republics, but it was not carried out, probably on account of the financial embarrassments under which the republics labored, and which rendered it exceedingly difficult to find the funds required to fit out the expedition. the manila expedition having been abandoned, and the spanish fleet which had been employed on the pacific coast having returned home, tucker requested permission to visit lima, in order that he might lay before general prado, president of the republic, a plan for making an exploration and survey of the peruvian or upper amazon river and its tributaries. the president heartily approved of the enterprise, for the government was at that very time considering the practicability of opening better communications between the west coast and the eastern part of the country, and of finding an outlet by the waters of the amazon for the rich productions of the interior. tucker resigned his commission as rear-admiral in the navy of the republic, and was immediately appointed president of the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon. he left lima with a full corps of assistants, and made his way across the mountains to the head of navigation on the palcazu river, where the party was received on board a government steamer that had been dispatched from iquitos to meet them. the headquarters of the commission was established at iquitos, the principal settlement on the upper amazon river, and the place where the government factories and magazines were located. in the small steamer _naps_, belonging to the government, tucker made an exploring expedition of two hundred and fifty miles up yavari, the river which forms the boundary between peru and brazil. none of the peruvian steamers on the amazon being suitable for exploring and surveying purposes, the government at lima ordered tucker to proceed to the united states and procure such a vessel as was required for the duty pertaining to his commission. in obedience to this order tucker spent some months in the united states, and had a steamer built by messrs. pusey, jones & co., of wilmington, delaware, expressly adapted to the navigation of the shoals and rapids of the upper amazon. this vessel, named the _tambo_, was delivered to tucker at para, the brazilian city at the mouth of the lower amazon. embarking on board the _tambo_, tucker took the steamer up the river to iquitos, where supplies were taken on board sufficient to last for several months. he then proceeded to make an important expedition up the upper amazon, the ucayali and the tambo rivers. the tambo river had never been explored, and it was thought that it presented a feasible route for navigation to san ramon, a military station in the heart of the interior, only about thirty miles distant from the large and important city of tarmo, which is connected by railway with lima. leaving iquitos, the _tambo_, with the commission on board, passed up the amazon to the mouth of the ucayali river, up the ucayali past the rapids of the "devil's leap," and entered the tambo river. the tambo was found to be a narrow stream, full of rocks and rapids and not practicable for navigation by steamers. when the steamer _tambo_ could ascend no higher, tucker fitted out a small boat and pulled some twenty miles farther up the river, but everywhere found such obstructions as rendered it an impracticable route to the interior. it is, perhaps, to be regretted that time did not allow of an examination of the other affluents of the usayali trending towards san ramon and tarmo. on his return to iquitos, tucker was again dispatched to the united states to procure another and smaller exploring steamer. during his absence captain james henry rochelle was directed by the government at lima to take charge of the hydrographical commission as its acting president. after an absence of some months, tucker returned to iquitos with the new steamer, which was named the _mayro_, and was little more than a large steam launch, intended for use where a vessel of greater draught of water could not be employed. the next expedition decided upon was for the exploration of the water route towards huanaco, by way of the entirely unknown river pichis. most of the tributaries of the ucayali had been traveled more or less by the jesuit priests from the college of ocopa, but none of them had attempted the route of the pichis, the banks of which were in possession of roving tribes of indians, who permitted no stranger to pass through their country. it was thought possible, and even probable, from the stories told by the natives, that the head of the pichis river would be found well suited for being the eastern terminus of the trans-andean railway. in february, , the _mayro_, with a detachment of the commission on board, was dispatched from iquitos, with orders to await at the mouth of the pachitea river the coming of the _tambo_. tucker embarked on board the _tambo_ on the st of april with the main body of the commission, and arrived at the confluence of the pachitea and ucayali, seven hundred and sixty-five miles from iquitos, on the th of may. the river had commenced to fall, which rendered it prudent not to ascend the pachitea in steamers, for had one of them got aground whilst the water was falling, it would probably have remained in that situation until the next annual rise of the river. the water of the amazon, and the same may be said of all its tributaries, begins to rise about october, and continues to increase its flood until december. in december there is a short period of no rise, or perhaps even a slight fall, after which the river again continues to rise until may, when the permanent fall commences and continues until the following october, when the annual flood again sets in. sand bars are constantly forming and shifting in the channel of the river, and for a steamer to run on one of them whilst the water is falling endangers the detention of the vessel until she is floated off by the annual rise in october. the annual fall of the river having set in when the _tambo_ reached the mouth of the pachitea, tucker determined to continue the expedition in canoes. six of the largest and best canoes that could be procured from the indians were fitted out, and the whole commission embarked in them, accompanied by its escort of a dozen peruvian soldiers under the command of major ramon herrera. from the th to the th of may the commission prosecuted its survey of the pachitea without interruption, but on the th, at a place called cherrecles chingana, fifteen or twenty cashibo indians came down to the left or north bank of the river, and by signs and gestures signified a desire for friendly communication. the canoes were paddled in to them, and some few presents of such articles as could be spared were distributed among them, and, apparently, received most thankfully. but the cashibos did not let the occasion pass without showing the treachery for which they are notorious. when the interview was ended, seemingly in the most amicable manner, and as the canoes of the commission were paddling off, a flight of arrows was discharged at them by a party of cashibos who had been lying in ambush during the interview. a few volleys from the remington rifles, with which all the members of the commission were armed, soon dispersed the savages and drove them to the jungle. of all the savage tribes that roam about the head waters of the ucayali, the cashibos alone are cannibals. they are brave, cunning and treacherous, and are only surpassed by the campas in their hatred of the white man. the campas inhabit the spurs and hills at the foot of the eastern cordilleras, where the ucayali and pichis rivers have their origin. they are a fierce, proud and numerous tribe, and are held in great fear by their lowland neighbors. they permit no strangers, especially no whites, to enter their country, and the members of the expedition under tucker were the first white men who ever ascended the pichis into the regions of this warlike tribe. the canoes of the expedition entered the mouth of the pichis on the th of june. being an unknown river, it became necessary to give names to the prominent points as they were discovered; and these names were used subsequently in making the charts of the surveys of the commission. the navigation of the pichis was found to be clear and unobstructed from its mouth for a distance of fifteen miles up to rochelle island, which is in latitude ° ' " south, longitude ° ' " west of greenwich, and three thousand one hundred miles from the atlantic coast, following the course of the amazon river. rochelle island was reached on the th of june, and was named after captain james henry rochelle, the senior member of the commission. any steamer which can navigate the pachitea can ascend the pichis this far without difficulty, but above rochelle island the navigation becomes more difficult, and probably impracticable for any but steamers of very light draught and strong steam power. on the th of june the expedition arrived at the head of canoe navigation on the pichis. the point was named port tucker, after the president of the commission. port tucker is in latitude ° ' " south, longitude ° ' " west of greenwich, distant three thousand one hundred and sixty-seven miles from the mouth of the amazon, following the course of the river, and one hundred and ninety miles in a direct line from the pacific coast. the lofty mountains so plainly in sight from port tucker are the eastern spurs of the andes, the chosen land of the savage and numerous campas indians. several days before the expedition reached the shoals which terminate the navigation of the pichis, the tom-toms or drums of the campas were heard night and day beating the assembly of the warriors. the purpose for which the braves were to be assembled was not a matter about which there was the least doubt, but probably sufficient numbers were not got together in time to execute their intentions, for no attack was made on the commission whilst it was in the campas country. during this expedition the palcazu river was also ascended to port prado, or puerto del mairo, the head of navigation for steamers of light draught. port prado is in latitude ° ' " south, longitude ° ' " west of greenwich, distant three thousand one hundred and nineteen miles from the mouth of the amazon, following the river, and only about forty miles from the important interior city of huanaco, to which place it is in contemplation to extend the trans-andean railway. if the road were continued from huanaco to port prado there would be a complete trans-continental line of communication by railway and steamboats from lima in peru to the mouth of the amazon. two new rivers were discovered by the commission flowing into the pichis. one of them was named the trinidad, from having been discovered on trinity sunday, and the other was called herrera-yacu, after major ramon herrera, of the peruvian army, who commanded the escort of the commission. the supplies of the expedition were running too short to allow of any but a cursory examination of these two rivers. the trinidad, trending to the westward, can only be of value as affording a water route to the plains lying between the pichis and the ucayali, but it is possible that the herrera-yacu may furnish a nearer water route to cerro de pasco than any yet known. whilst the canoes of the commission were descending the pachitea, they were attacked by the cashibos, who assembled on the banks of the river, and, waiting until the leading canoes had passed, let fly flights of arrows at the canoe which brought up the rear. the cashibos were dispersed by a few rounds from the remington rifles of the commission, and the explorers met with no further forcible opposition on the way to the steamers awaiting them at the mouth of the pachitea, where they arrived after a canoe voyage of forty-one days, during which many difficulties and some dangers were encountered and overcome. not a single person under tucker's command was killed, or died from sickness, during this expedition, and, singular to relate, after all the hardships and exposure endured the explorers were in much better health when they returned to their steamers than when they left them at the beginning of the expedition. on the th of july, , the steamers _tambo_ and _mayro_, comprising the exploring squadron, reached iquitos after an absence of three months and ten days. from the th of july to the th of september the hydrographical commission was on shore at iquitos, employed making charts of the surveys of the late expedition, whilst the steamers were being refitted for further service. on the th of september the commission again embarked and proceeded to the mouth of the yavari river, which forms the boundary between peru and brazil. the greatest pains were taken to properly establish this point. on a small island in the middle of the river, and very near its confluence with the amazon, many astronomical observations were taken, resulting in giving the latitude ° ' " south, longitude ° ' " west of greenwich, the distance from the atlantic coast by the courses of the amazon being one thousand eight hundred and eleven miles. from the brazilian frontier the main stream of the amazon was surveyed and its tributaries examined by the commission up to borja, where the river rushes from a narrow gorge of the mountains and leaps into the lowlands. borja is in latitude ° ' " south, longitude ° ' " west of greenwich. from the atlantic coast to borja, a distance of two thousand six hundred and sixty miles, the amazon is navigable, without serious obstruction or difficulty, for either river or sea-going steamers of several hundred tons burthen. it would take many long years to make a thorough survey of the waters of the amazon, which is, in fact, more of an inland sea than a river, with hundreds of branches forming a network of communicating channels extending for sixty or seventy miles on each side of the main stream. at the height of the annual floods the whole country, with the exception of the highest land, on which the towns are invariably built, is covered with water, forming a vast swamp and jungle, traversed in every direction by navigable channels, which at the season of low waters become rivers or natural canals. the principal object for which the commission presided over by tucker had been instituted was accomplished when the main channels of the river and of its affluents was traced from the peruvian and brazilian frontiers to the head of navigation of the main river and of its tributaries, so as to show the nearest approach by water communication to the eastern terminus of the trans-andean railway. this duty having been executed, tucker was ordered to proceed to lima for conference with the government as to the results of the explorations and surveys he had made. after consultation with tucker, señor pardo, the president of the republic, directed that charts of the surveys made by the hydrographical commission should be published in new york, and that tucker and two members of the commission should be detailed to prepare the work for the press and superintend the engraving of the plates. the other members of the commission returned to their homes, having completed the duty for which they were engaged. there were some changes from time to time in the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon, but the following list of its members may be taken as correct: president--john randolph tucker. members--james henry rochelle, david porter mccorkle, walter raleigh butt. secretaries--timotéo smith, maurice mesnier. surgeon--francis land galt. civil engineers--manuel charron, manuel rosas, thomas wing sparrow, nelson berkeley noland. steam engineers--john w. durfey, david w. bains. on arriving in the united states, tucker established an office in new york, and, assisted by captain rochelle and mr. sparrow, soon had the charts and plans, with explanatory notes, ready for the hands of the printers and engravers; but in consequence of the financial difficulties into which peru had fallen, the publication was delayed from time to time and finally abandoned altogether, as is shown by the following letter from señor pardo, president of the republic: lima, marzo , . "_sr. j.r. tucker._ "_ broadway, new york city._ "_estimado amigo_:--he recibido su apreciable carta de del pasado, que me es grato contestar manifestándole que las graves dificultades ecónomicas porgue hoi atravissa la república, oblejan el gobierno á dar por terminada la comiseon de que fué ud encargado para la publicacion de los mapas y cartas topográficas de las regiones amazonicas. "en esta virtud, se sirvirá ud. entregar al señor freyre, ministro del perú en washington, las reforidas cartos, mapas, y todas las demas útiles pertenecientes al gobierno del perú, que hoi existen en poder de la comision que ud. preside; todo bajo de inuentario y con las formalidades necesarias. "en cuanto al pagar de sus suldos y los de los senñores que forman parte de esa comision, he ordinado al ministro de hacienda disponga lo conveniente para su pronto abono, y juzgo que asi-luego les servan completamente satisfechos. "deseandole a ud. la mejor conservacion, me as grato reiterarle las expresiones de mi amistad y particular estima." "su afrino s.s. "pardo." [translation.] "lima, march , . "_j.r. tucker, esq._ "_ broadway, new york city._ "_esteemed friend_:--i have received and answer with pleasure your appreciated letter of the th ultimo, apprising you that the grave economical difficulties which at present afflict the republic, obliges the government to order the termination of the commission with which you are charged for the publication of the maps and charts of the amazonian regions. "for this reason, you will be pleased to deliver to mr. freyre, minister of peru in washington, the referred to charts, maps and all other articles belonging to the government of peru, which now remain in charge of the commission over which you preside; all to be delivered under inventories and with the necessary forms. "in regard to the payment of the salaries of yourself and the other gentlemen who form part of the commission, i have ordered the minister of the treasury to take measures for the prompt disbursement of what may be due, and i judge that in a short times these claims will be completely satisfied. "with my best wishes, it gives me pleasure to repeat the expression of my friendship and particular esteem. "truly your faithful servt., "pardo." in compliance with the directions of president pardo, the charts made by the commission were delivered to the peruvian legation at washington. these charts were all ready for publication, and had they been published would have afforded much valuable information in regard to the upper amazon and its tributaries, water courses which are daily becoming more and more important to commerce, and which are destined in the not distant future to be navigated by lines of ocean as well as by lines of river steamers. the following letter from colonel manuel freyre, peruvian minister at washington, describes the charts and plans which tucker delivered to the legation, and which it is to be hoped are still preserved: "_legacion del peru._ "washington, marzo de . "_senor don juan r. tucker, ex-presidente de la comision hidrografica del amazonas._ "la caja que dijó le. depositada en poder del cónsul tracy, ha sido recibida en esta legacion, y contiene los siguientes planos; à saber: " st. un plano del rio amazonas peruano, desde lo boca del rio yavari hasta borja, termino de la navegacion á vapor, dibujado sobre diez pliegos y en una escala de una pulgada por cada das millas. los rios ytaya y pastaza están incluidos en esta plano, que cuenta millas del rio peruano amazonas, millas del rio ytaya, y millas del rio pastaza." " d. un plano del rio yavari desde su boca hasta la confluencia de los rios yacarana y yavarasina, dibujado, sobre das pliegos y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas. este plano cuenta millas del rio yavari. " d. un plano del rio nanay desde su boca hasta el término de la navegacion para vapores de poco calado debujado sobre dos pliegos. este plano contiene millas del rio nanay. " th. un plano del rio tigre-yacu desde su boca hasta un punto millas aniba de la boca, dibujado sobre dos pliegos y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas." " th. un plano del rio huallaga desde la boca hasta rumi-callirina, el têrmino de la navegacion para vapores, dibujado sobre dos pliegos y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas. este plano cuenta millas del rio huallaga. " th. un plano del rio morona desde su boca hasta un punto millas arriba de dicha boca, dibujado sobre un pliego y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas." " th. un plano del rio potro desde la boca hasta el término de la navegacion para vapores de poco calada, dibujada sobre un pliego y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas. este plano contiene millas del rio potro. " th. un plano del rio ucayali desde la boca hasta la confluencia de los rios urubamba y tambo, dibujado sobre nueve pliegos y en una escala de una pulgada por cada das millas. los rios urubamba y tambo, desde sus bocas hasta el mas alto punto donde espracticable la navegacion á vapor, están incluidos en este plano, que contiene millas del rio ucayali, millas del rio urubamba, y millas del rio tambo." " th. un plano del rio pachitea desde su boca hasta la confluencia de los rios palcazu y pichis, dibujado sobre dos pliegos y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas. este plano contiene millas del rio pachitea." " th. un plano del rio palcazu desde la boca hasta el puerto del mairo, dibujado sobre un pliego y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas. estate plano contiene millas del rio palcazu. " th. un plano del rio pichis desde la boca hasta el término de navegacion en canoas, dibujado sobre un pliego y en una escala de una pulgada por cada dos millas. una parte del rio herrera-yacu y otro parte del rio trinidad se hallan en este plano, que contiene millas del rio pichis, millas del rio trinidad, y millas del rio herrera-yacu. " th. un plano del rio amazonas peruano y sus afluentes, dibujados sobre un pliego y en una escala de una pulgada por cada quince millas. este plana contiene millas del rio amazonas peruano y sus afluentes. " th. todas las mencionadas planos están dibujados sobre treinta y cinco pliegos, siendo cada pliego treinta pulgados de largo por quince pulgada de ancho. " th. un plano del rio amazonas peruano y sus afluentes, dibujado sabre un pliego y en una escala de una pulgada por cada diez millas, siendo el pliego cines piés de largo por cinco piés de ancho. este plano contiene en un solo pliego todos los reconocimientos verificados por la comision hidrografica del amazonas, que son por todo millas. "loo demas planos dán los mismos reconocimientos mas detalladamenente. " th. un plano del pueblo de yquitos, dibujado sobre un pliego. "dios que á le. "manl. freyre." [translation.] "_legation of peru._ "washington, march d, . "_john r. tucker, esq., ex-president of the hydrographical commission of the amazon._ "the box deposited by you with consul tracy has been received at this legation, and contains the following charts, to wit: " st. a chart of the peruvian amazon river, from the mouth of the river yavari to borja, the termination of steam navigation, drawn upon ten sheets, and on a scale of one inch to each two miles. the rivers itaya and pastaza are included in this chart, which contains miles of the peruvian amazon river, miles of the itaya river, and miles of the pastaza river. " d. a chart of the yavari river from its mouth to the confluence of the rivers yacarana and yavarasino, drawn upon two sheets and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. this chart comprises miles of the yavari river. " d. a chart of the river nanay from its mouth to the termination of navigation for steamers of light draught, drawn upon two sheets and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. this chart contains miles of the river nanay. " th. a chart of the river tigre-yacu, from its mouth to a point miles above its mouth, drawn upon two sheets and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. " th. a chart of the river huallaga, from its mouth to rumi-callirina, the termination of steamer navigation, drawn upon two sheets and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. this chart comprises miles of the huallaga river. " th. a chart of the river morona, from its mouth to a point miles above its mouth, drawn upon one sheet and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. " th. a chart of the river patro, from its mouth to the termination of navigation for steamers of small draught, drawn upon one sheet and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. this chart contains miles of the patro river. " th. a chart of the river ucayali, from its mouth to the confluence of the rivers urubamba and tambo, drawn upon nine sheets and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. the rivers urubamba and tambo, from their mouths to the highest point to which steamer navigation is practicable, are included in this chart, which contains miles of the river ucayali, miles of the river urubamba, and miles of the river tambo. " th. a chart of the river pachitea, from its mouth to the confluence of the rivers palcazu and pichis, drawn upon two sheets and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. this chart contains miles of the river pachitea. " th. a chart of the river palcazu, from its mouth to port mairo, drawn upon one sheet and on a scale of one inch each for two miles. this chart contains miles of the river palcazu. " th. a chart of the pechis river, from its mouth to the termination of canoe navigation, drawn upon one sheet and on a scale of one inch for each two miles. a part of the river herrera-yacu, and also a part of the river trinidad, are included in this chart, which contains miles of the river pichis, miles of the river trinidad, and miles of the river herrera-yacu. " th. a chart of the peruvian amazon river and its affluents, drawn upon one sheet and on a scale of one inch for each miles. this chart contains miles of the peruvian amazon river and its affluents. " th. a chart of the river ucayali and its affluents, drawn upon one sheet and on a scale of one inch for each miles. this chart contains miles of the river ucayali and its affluents. "all the above mentioned charts are drawn upon sheets, each sheet being inches long and inches broad. " th. a chart of the peruvian amazon river and its affluents, drawn upon one sheet and on a scale of one inch for each ten miles, the sheet being feet long by feet broad. this chart contains, on one single sheet, all the surveys made by the hydrographical commission of the amazon. the other charts give the same surveys more in detail. " th. a plan of the town of iquitos, drawn upon one sheet. "may god guard you. "manl. freyre." tucker was in the sixty-seventh year of his age when he retired to his home in the city of petersburg, virginia, where he had purchased a comfortable house with a lawn and garden attached. here he passed the evening of an active life in the enjoyment of a private fortune, which, though not large, was sufficient to supply all his moderate wants and simple tastes. relatives and friends frequently visited him; he read much, and books, especially the older english classics, were a source of much pleasure to him; the improvement of his lawn and garden was a pursuit which afforded him unfailing interest and occupation. on the th of june, , he was apparently in his usual good health. in the course of the morning a friend called on him, and they conversed together for some time, seated in the shade of a tree on the lawn. his friend having taken his departure, tucker reseated himself for a few minutes in his chair, suddenly arose, straightened up his tall form to its full height, and fell forward--dead. physicians were immediately summoned, but all the efforts to revive him were ineffectual. he had died from disease of the heart; passing away from this world without a struggle or a sigh, and going where souls as pure as his have nothing to fear. his remains were taken to norfolk, virginia, where they were received by old friends and comrades, who knew and loved him well, and interred by the side of his wife's grave, in a beautiful private cemetery near the city. admiral tucker possessed many of the qualities of a great commander. his judgment was excellent, and it was very rarely the case that he was mistaken as to what it was possible for the force at his disposal to accomplish. he always commanded the respect and confidence, as well as the good will, of his men. a strict disciplinarian, the prompt and unhesitating obedience to orders he exacted was cheerfully rendered by his subordinates. his plans were coolly and deliberately formed, and, having been once determined upon, were carried out with energy and resolution. in the ordinary intercourse of private life he was so gentle, generous and genial that his friends and associates felt for him a regard approaching affection. in youth he was an eminently handsome man and in maturer years his presence was imposing. sailors and indians are fond of giving personally descriptive names to those with whom they are thrown in contact; when tucker was a lieutenant he was called "handsome jack" by the men-before-the-mast, and the warriors of the savage tribes that wander about the head waters of the amazon knew him as the "apo," the meaning of the word being "high chief." in concluding this sketch of the eventful life of john randolph tucker, it is but doing justice to his memory to say that the sea-service never produced a more thorough and accomplished sailor, and that there never was bred to the profession of arms a more honorable and gallant gentleman. * * * * * [illustration: james henry rochelle] notes on the navigation of the upper amazon and its principal tributaries by captain james henry rochelle member of the late peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon. notes. the amazon. springing from lake laracocha, in the heart of the andes, the amazon winds its way through the eastern cordillera of peru, a rapid and turbulent stream, until, passing through a narrow gorge in the mountains at the pongo de manseriche, it leaps into the lowlands and flows for two thousand six hundred and sixty miles in a direction nearly east through the vast plains of peru and brazil, fed on its way by tributaries which are themselves great rivers, and finally pouring its immense volume of water into the atlantic ocean. from the atlantic up to the peruvian frontier the river is known as the lower or brazilian amazon, and sometimes as the solimoens; above the brazilian frontier the river lies wholly in peruvian territory and takes the name of the peruvian amazon or marañon, but is commonly spoken of as the upper amazon. it is of the navigation of the upper amazon that these notes will treat. rise and fall of the river. the waters of the upper amazon and its tributaries begins to rise annually in october, remains stationary for a short time in december, then continues to rise until may, when it commences to fall. november, december, january, february, march and april are considered the months of high water, and june, july, august and september comprise the low-water season. october and may are sometimes months of high and sometimes of low water. depth of water. during the season of low water a minimum depth of twenty-four feet is found in the channel of the upper amazon, from the brazilian frontier to the mouth of the ucayali river at nanta, eighteen feet from the mouth of the ucayali to the mouth of the huallaga river, and twelve feet from the mouth of the huallaga to borja, where further navigation is rendered impracticable by the rapids and falls of the pongo de manseriche. current. from the brazilian frontier to the mouth of the ucayali river the current of the amazon is three miles per hour; from the mouth of the ucayali to the mouth of the potro river three and one-fourth miles per hour; from the mouth of the potro to the mouth of the morona river three and a-half miles per hour; and from the mouth of the morona to borja, at the head of steamer navigation, the current is three and three-fourths miles per hour. this is the usual and average current to be met with, but it increases or diminishes with the rise and fall of the river and, also, with the narrowing or broadening of the channel. pilots. in order to prevent running upon sand-bars, which are constantly forming and shifting and frequently changing the bed of the channel, the services of experienced pilots are indispensable to the safe navigation of the upper amazon and its tributaries. it is not difficult to obtain such pilots, and they are frequently expert hunters and fishermen as well as pilots. best time for navigating the river. when a steamer on the upper amazon runs aground, it is almost always in consequence either of the ignorance of the pilot or of the unskillful handling of the vessel. to get aground when the water is falling endangers the detention of the vessel until she is floated off by the next rise of the river, which may not occur for months; getting aground when the water is rising usually necessitates a delay of only a few hours, as the rising water soon floats the vessel off. hence it is, of course, that the navigation of the amazon is attended with much less difficulty when the waters of the river are rising than when they are falling. fuel. coal is not to be found on the upper amazon; the steamers burn wood, which is abundant, cheap and makes good fuel. wood should be ordered in advance at certain points, but in case a steamer gives out of fuel all that has to be done is to haul in to the bank, send the crew on shore with axes, and cut as much wood as is required. discharging and receiving cargo. in the absence of wharves on the upper amazon and its tributaries, vessels lay alongside of the banks whilst discharging or receiving cargo. the banks at the usual stopping places afford good landings; wharves are not needed and it would be difficult to construct them so that they could be used at all stages of the water. imports. it may be well to say a word about the trade of the upper amazon. there are no import or export duties for this part of peru, nor are any duties paid on goods passing up the brazilian amazon to peru. coarse cotton cloth is worn by nine-tenths of the inhabitants who are civilized enough to wear clothes at all. the demand for this cloth is large and will grow from year to year, and of all coarse cotton cloth in the market the american is preferred. the plantain is the native substitute for bread, but wheat flour is used by the mercantile and official classes; there is a steady demand for baltimore and richmond flour, which brands are supposed, probably with reason, to stand the climate better than flour manufactured elsewhere. bacon hams sell for one dollar per pound, but the demand for them is small and the article is soon spoiled by the climate. axes, hoes, spades and machettes are much in demand, and there is a limited demand for improved firearms; ready made clothing, and articles of household furniture for the houses of the richer persons of the community, are usually imported from europe. exports. the exports of the region of the upper amazon are not as valuable as they are destined to become when the productions of the rich valleys of eastern peru find an outlet to market by way of the river. among the principal articles of export may be enumerated, hats, from mayubamba (panama hats); rum, made from the sugar cane (cachaça); dried fish (payshi); and indian rubber (jebe). the indian-rubber tree abounds in the forests of the upper amazon, and the gathering of the gum is a profitable industry. specimens of gold have been obtained from the natives about the pongo de manseriche, and rich deposits of the precious metal will without doubt be discovered at some future time, but no search even can be made for it until the fierce and cruel savages, who have undisputed possession of the country beyond borja, shall have been subdued. mouth of the yavari river. commencing at the yavari river, which forms the boundary between peru and brazil on the south side of the amazon river, and following the upper amazon and its principal tributaries up to the head of navigation, the first place to be noted is the mouth of the yavari river:[ ] latitude ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer (fahrenheit), °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic ocean, following the course of the river, miles; current, in the amazon, - / miles per hour; width of the yavari river at its mouth, yards; width of the amazon, yards; depth of water in the channel of the amazon, feet. as the yavari river marks the boundary between peru and brazil on the south side of the amazon, special pains were taken to ascertain correctly the latitude and longitude of its mouth; the observations for the latitude and longitude were taken on a small islet, probably overflowed at high water, in the middle of the lower mouth of the river. it was said in iquitos that, in , captain guillermo black, president of the peruvian boundary commission, ascended the yavari in a small steamer a distance of miles from its mouth, and miles farther in canoes to a point where there was barely two feet of water in the channel, at which point the latitude was determined to be ° ' " south, and the longitude ° ' " west of greenwich; elevation above the sea-level, feet. tabatinga (brazil). distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour; depth of water, feet; width of river, yards. tabatinga is the brazilian frontier post on the north side of the amazon. captain azevedo, of the brazilian navy, gives the latitude of this place as ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east. letitia. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles. letitia is the peruvian frontier post on the north bank of the amazon. a fort, intended to command the passage of the river, was projected but not erected at this point. it is probable that the passage of steamers up the amazon cannot be stopped by forts and batteries at any point on the river below tamshiyacu. loreto. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; width of river, yards. loreto is the most eastern peruvian town of any importance on the amazon. it is situated on the north or left bank of the river. near it resides a tribe of indians, partly civilized, called the ticunas. camacheros. situated on the right or south bank of the river; current - / miles per hour; width of river, yards. maucallacta. situated on the right or south bank of the river; width of river, yards. pebas. one mile from the amazon, on the left or north bank, and one mile up the river ambiyacu. the current of the amazon at pebas is - / miles per hour; distance from the atlantic, miles. oram. on south or right bank of the river; current, - / miles per hour; width of river, yards; depth of water, feet. iquitos. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; depth of water, feet. iquitos is on the north bank of the amazon, at a point where the river is divided by an island into two channels; from the town to the island the river is yards wide, and the channel on the other side of the island has about the same width. the government buildings and works are situated at this place, and it is the largest and most important town on the upper amazon. it is a place of considerable trade, and in it are established several mercantile houses which import their goods directly from europe and the united states by way of para. the anchorage is good at all times, and vessels, whilst discharging or receiving cargo, can lay in security alongside the high bank that lines the whole front of the town. this is an advantage not to be underrated when it is remembered that there are no wharves on the upper amazon. tamshiyacu. situated on a high bank on the south side of the river, distant miles from the atlantic; thermometer, °. at this place the river is narrow, has only one channel, and the current is strong. it is probably the only position on the amazon, below the mouth of the ucayali, where vessels could be prevented from passing, up or down, by heavy guns mounted in forts or batteries. mouth of the ucayali river. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current in the amazon, miles per hour; depth of water in the channel of the amazon, feet; width of the amazon, yards. unfortunately, immediately at the month of the ucayali neither the banks of that river nor those of the amazon afford a place suitable for the location of a town. nauta, on the north bank of the amazon, seven miles above the mouth of the ucayali, is the nearest place at which it is practicable to build houses not liable to be swept away by the annual floods. nauta. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current - / miles per hour; depth of water, feet; width of river, yards. situated on the north bank of the amazon, near the confluence of that river and the ucayali, nauta is well located for grasping the trade of both rivers, and ought to become a place of importance. of course, the six or seven miles that vessels have to ascend the amazon to reach the place after leaving the ucayali constitutes a drawback, especially in the case of vessels not propelled by steam; but no desirable place can be found below and near the mouth of the ucayali where buildings could be erected and vessels could load and unload with facility at the season of high water. below and adjoining nauta the banks are high and present a better site for a town than the one on which it stands. san regis. distant from the atlantic miles; current, - / miles per hour; average current between nauta and san regis, - / miles per hour. mouth of the tigreyacu river. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour; average current between san regis and the mouth of the tigreyacu, - / miles per hour. the tigreyacu can be navigated by steamers of considerable size for some distance; its waters are dark and clear, and those tributaries of the amazon having dark and clear waters are usually unhealthy, whilst those having muddy and discolored waters have always been found to be healthy. santa cruz de parinari. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. paranari. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. vaca marina. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. elvira. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. san pedro. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. fontevera. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. mouth of the huallaga river. distance from the atlantic, miles; current in amazon, - / miles per hour. one hundred and twenty-three miles up the huallaga is the town of yurimaguas, a centre of trade, to which steamers from para frequently ascend. cedro isla. distant from the atlantic miles; current, - / miles per hour. mouth of the pastaga river. distance from the atlantic, miles; current in the amazon, - / miles per hour. the pastaga has a rapid current and is full of obstructions to navigation; it is with much difficulty that canoes even can be forced up the river for any distance. on its head waters the indians wash a considerable quantity of gold from the sand of the bed of the channel. barranca. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. barranca is situated on a red clay bluff, about seventy feet high, on the north or left bank of the river, which is here narrow. communication is kept up between barranca and moyabamba by way of the aypena river to its head and thence by land. barranca has been used as, but is not well adapted to be, a military post; gunboats could lay out of sight below, around a bend of the river, and shell it without being themselves exposed to its fire. mouth of the potro river. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. the potro is navigable for small steamers a distance of sixty miles from its mouth, and is of importance as a link in the projected route from chachapoyas to limon on the amazon. mouth of the morona river. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. steamers ascend the morona miles, and at some stages of the water a greater distance. limon. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. limon is the terminus of a projected route from chachapoyas to the amazon; it is a place of no importance whatever in any other respect. punta achual. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. two miles above punta achual, at the vuelta calentura, or calentura passage, the first serious difficulty is encountered in navigating the upper amazon; the difficulty there encountered is a strong current combined with a whirlpool in the channel of the river, but, with full heads of steam on, steamers are able to pass the vuelta and proceed on to borja. at vuelta calentura the course of the river is from n.n.w. to s.s.e. borja. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. at borja the navigation of the upper amazon ends; the river in its whole course from laracocha to borja, a distance of miles, is a mountain torrent, impracticable for navigation even by canoes. the length of the amazon, from its source at laracocha to the atlantic ocean, is miles, but the distance from the atlantic to the source of the ucayali is still greater. it usually takes a steamer steaming hours to ascend the river from iquitos to borja, and steaming hours to descend from borja to iquitos. distances. in the following list of distances between places on the amazon, from its mouth to its source in lake laracocha, the distances for the lower amazon are taken from the best brazilian authorities that could be consulted; the distances for the upper amazon, from the brazilian frontier to the head of steamer navigation at borja, were measured by the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon; and the distance from borja, the head of navigation, to the source of the river in lake laracocha, is given as estimated by the best peruvian authorities. list of distances on the amazon. lower amazon. miles. atlantic ocean to para para to breves breves to garupa garupa to porto de moz porto de moz to prainha prainha to monte alegre monte alegre to santarem santarem to obidos obidos to villa bella villa bella to serpa serpa to manaos from the atlantic to manaos, miles. manaos to cudajos cudajos to coary coary to tefé (ega) tefé (ega) to fonte boa fonte boa to tonantius tonantius to san paulo san paulo, mouth of the yavari river the mouth of the yavari marks the boundary line between peru and brazil on the south side of the amazon. mouth of the yavari to tabatinga brazilian frontier port on the north side of the amazon. from the atlantic to tabatinga, miles. tabatinga to letitia peruvian frontier post. upper amazon. miles. letitia to loreto loreto to pebas pebas to iquitos iquitos to tamshiyacu tamshiyacu to mouth of the ucayali river mouth of the ucayali river to nauta nauta to san regis san regis to santa cruz de parinari santa cruz de parinari to parinari parinari to vaca marina vaca marina to elvira elvira to san pedro san pedro to fontevera fontevera to mouth of the huallaga river mouth of the huallaga river to cedro isla cedro isla to mouth of the pastaza river mouth of the pastaza river to barranca barranca to mouth of the potro river mouth of the potro river to mouth of the morona river mouth of the morona river to limon limon to punta achual punta achual to borja from the atlantic to borja, the head of navigation, miles. borja to lake laracocha source of the amazon. length of the amazon river from its source to its mouth, miles. huallaga river. the huallaga has its source in lake chiquicoba, flows by the important central city of huanaco, and thence in a direction nearly north, for miles, until its confluence with the amazon. the mouth of the huallaga is miles distant from the atlantic, and its current is about miles per hour. eighteen feet of water can usually be carried up to yurimaguas, and steamers ascend miles higher to a place called rumicallarina; above rumicallarina the river is navigable for a great distance by canoes. about miles below yurimaguas the river is divided by an island, on each side of which there are sand-bars that steamers drawing more than feet of water are sometimes unable to pass during the months of june, july and august. laguna. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour. santa lucia. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour. santa maria. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour. yurimaguas. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. the advantage which yurimaguas possesses over all the other river ports on the upper amazon is that of its being the point where travelers from lima and articles of export from moyubamba, a city of , inhabitants, meet the steamers from para. canoes ascend the huallaga from yurimaguas to chasuta in eight days and make the return trip in three; from chasuta there is a mule road to moyubamba, chachapoyas and cajamarca, and from the latter place a railway runs to lima. this is the best route from the amazon to the pacific coast, and the only one which does not involve long marches on foot. steamers drawing five or six feet of water could make regular trips to chasuta at any season of the year, even at lowest water, and meeting larger steamers at yurimaguas would establish better communication with the rich country of the interior. on the huallaga, above yurimaguas and a little back from the river, are to be found the best locations for colonies. thirty miles above yurimaguas, on the right bank of the river, is situated shucushiyacu, a place well known as commanding a fine view of mountain and river scenery. cainarachi. distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. rumicallarina. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour; depth of water, feet; width of river, yards. rumicallarina is at the head of navigation for steamers on the huallaga. any steamer which can ascend the river to yurimaguas can continue on to rumicallarina, beyond which place only five or six feet, at the season of low water, can be carried to chasuta. list of distances on the huallaga. atlantic ocean to mouth of the huallaga, miles by the amazon river. huallaga river. miles. mouth of the huallaga to laguna laguna to santa lucia santa lucia to santa maria santa maria to yurimaguas yurimaguas to cainarachi cainarachi to rumicallarina rumicallarina to chasuta chasuta to lake chiquicoba --- length of the huallaga river distance from the source of the huallaga to the mouth of the amazon ucayali river. the ucayali river has its origin in the andean region, about lake titicaca, and flows, under various names, in a direction nearly north until it mingles its waters with those of the amazon, to which river it bears the same relation that the missouri does to the mississippi; that is to say, like the missouri, its length and volume of water entitles it to be considered a continuation and not a tributary of the main river. during the season of low water feet can be carried from nauta, at the mouth of the river, to sarayacu; feet from sarayacu to the mouth of the pachitea river; and feet from the mouth of the pachitea to the confluence of the tambo and urubamba. the average current from the mouth of the river to pucacura is miles per hour, and from pucacura to the confluence of the tambo and urubamba miles per hour. the tambo is probably navigable for steamers drawing eight or ten feet of water to the confluence of the ene and perene, and thence the perene would afford communication, at least by canoes, to san ramon, a peruvian military post; from san ramon to tarma, and from tarma to lima, would, of course, be the continuation of the route to the pacific slope. the first step towards the opening of this most desirable of all the routes between the pacific coast and the amazon would be the establishment of a battalion post at the confluence of the ene and perene, communicating at regular and stated intervals with san ramon. the distance between the two posts would be about miles of canoe navigation, and would soon become a traveled route forming the connecting link between eastern and western peru. mouth of the ucayali. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; the width of the ucayali at its mouth is half a mile. pucacura. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour. sarayocu. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; depth of water, feet. the town of sarayacu is situated on a small creek, about three miles from the place on the river which is called the puerto del sarayacu. between pucacura and sarayacu is esquina, a small settlement built on high land, which extends along the river for a mile or more. this place (esquina) and pucacura are about the only places on the banks of the ucayali, below sarayacu, that are not overflowed at high water. the floods of the ucayali, which regularly recur every year at certain seasons, render the banks of the river an undesirable, perhaps even an impracticable, location for an agricultural population. it is possible that a crop might be raised and gathered during the dry season, but the farms would have to be abandoned whenever the river rose to its maximum height. at paca, about twelve miles above sarayacu, the banks on both sides of the river are high; such places are much more frequently met with above than below sarayacu, but still they are the exception to the general character of the country near the river, which continues to be low and subject to overflow until the highlands are reached near the confluence of the tambo and urubamba. pacamashi. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; width of the river, yards. yarinacocha. latitude, ° ' south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; width of river, yards. mouth of the pachitea river. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; width of the river, yards. vuelta del diablo. distance from the atlantic, miles. this strait is the first serious difficulty encountered in ascending the ucayali; the current dashes with much violence against the trunks of large trees which lodge in, and almost block up, the passage. confluence of the tambo and urabamba rivers. latitude, ° ' south; longitude, ° ' west of greenwich; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; depth of water, feet. esperanza. esperanza is situated on the perene river about miles above the junction of the ene and perene, which form the tambo. the navigation for steamers drawing feet of water terminates at the junction of the perene and ene. from thence to fort san ramon, a distance of sixty miles, canoes could navigate, but with some difficulty, owing to the swiftness of the current, which at san ramon runs at the rate of miles per hour. small stern-wheel, flat-bottomed steamers, such as are in use on the swift, narrow and shallow rivers west of the mississippi, could probably be employed with success in establishing communication between fort san ramon and the ucayali. list of distances on the ucayali river. ucayali river. miles. atlantic ocean to mouth of the ucayali (amazon river.) mouth of the ucayali to pucacura pucacura to sarayacu sarayacu to pacamashi pacamashi to yarinacocha yarinacocha to mouth of the pachitea river mouth of the pachitea to vuelta del diablo vuelta del diablo to confluence of the tambo and urubamba confluence of the tambo and urubamba to the ucayali, source of the urubamba river, a continuation of the ucayali ucayali river, from its source to the atlantic distance from the atlantic to the head of steamer navigation on the ucayali pachitea river. the banks of the ucayali and pachitea, at their confluence, are low, subject to overflow and unsuitable for settlement. about nine miles above its mouth we come to the first indian village on the pachitea, a male conebo hamlet, with nothing to recommend it except that it is situated on ground a little higher than the flats which surround it. on the left bank of the ucayali a few miles below the mouth of the pachitea, there is a place called hoje, which is not subject to overflow at high water, but in other respects it is not an eligible position for a town or post. the pachitea is navigable at low water for steamers drawing nine feet of water to the confluence of the palcazu and pichis rivers. mouth of the pachitea. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, miles per hour; width of the pachitea at its mouth, yards. cuÑuyacu. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour; width of the river, yards. cuñuyacu means hot water, and is descriptive of the place, for there are here several thermal springs welling up from the sand beach. at chunta isla, between the mouth of the pachitea and cuñuyacu, the cashibo indians frequently attack from ambush strangers who are ascending the river. inca roca. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. inca roca is a rocky beach overhung by sandstone cliffs sixty-five feet high; on the face of the cliffs are carved numerous figures, amongst them the figure of the sun and of the llama are conspicuous, hence the place was named inca roca. confluence of the palcazu and pichis rivers. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. at the junction of the palcazu and pichis, the two rivers forming the pachitea, there is high land suitable for a town or post. list of distances on the pachitea river. miles. mouth of the pachitea to cuñuyacu cuñuyacu to inca roca inca roca to confluence of the pichis and palacazu from the confluence of the pichis and palacazu, forming the pachitea river, to the atlantic palacazu river. the palacazu is a somewhat narrow stream, with a current of - / miles per hour and a depth which at low water will permit a steamer drawing seven feet of water to ascend to puerto del mairo. puerto del mairo. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; thermometer, °; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. puerto del mairo is miles distant from the large city of huanaco, which has constant communication and trade with lima. at present the route between huanaco and puerto del mairo is only a footpath through the forest, but it is probable that a good road for pack-mules could be constructed at little expense, and that a railway is not impracticable. pichis river. the pichis is a branch of the pachitea river. the cashibos and campas indians inhabiting its banks are warlike tribes and fiercely oppose all attempts to examine their country. nothing was known of the river, above its mouth, until it was explored and surveyed, in , by the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon, accompanied by a military escort. it was necessary for the commission to bestow names on notable places as they proceeded to discover them, and these names were afterwards used in making the chart of the river. mouth of the pichis. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. rochelle isla. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; elevation above the sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. up to rochelle isla, named after the senior member of the peruvian hydrographical commission, navigation is clear and unobstructed for any steamer that can ascend the pachitea; that is, for any steamer not drawing more than nine feet of water. beyond this island the navigation of the river becomes much more difficult, though not altogether impracticable. the river trinidad, so named on account of its having been discovered on trinity sunday, empties itself into the pichis ten miles above rochelle isla; it is a fine, large river, flowing from the eastward, with deep water and a current of miles per hour at its mouth. tempestad playa. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' " west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' east; distance from the atlantic, miles. tempestad playa received its name in consequence of a violent tempest which was there encountered by the namers. mouth of the herrerayacu river. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; distance from the atlantic, miles. the herrerayacu river was named after the major who commanded the escort of soldiers accompanying the hydrographical commission; it has a current of - / miles per hour, and is navigable for canoes a distance of four or five miles, up to terminacion playa in latitude ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' west of greenwich. mountain ranges are plainly in sight from terminacion playa, which is miles distant from the atlantic. puerto tucker. latitude, ° ' " south; longitude, ° ' west of greenwich; magnetic variation, ° ' " east; elevation above sea-level, feet; distance from the atlantic, miles; current, - / miles per hour. puerto tucker was named after the president of the hydrographical commission. it is at the head of canoe navigation, not far from the source, of the pichis river; from it a range of lofty mountains, distant some twenty or thirty miles, bears from s. to s.w. this range must be the eastern cordillera of peru. list of distances on the pichis river. miles. mouth of the pichis to the atlantic ocean mouth of the pichis to rochelle isla rochelle isla to mouth of trinidad river mouth of trinidad river to tempestad playa tempestad playa to mouth of the herrerayacu mouth of the herrerayacu to puerto tucker puerto tucker to atlantic ocean [ ] the latitudes, longitudes and other data given in these notes are taken from the journal of the peruvian hydrographical commission of the amazon. some of them have been published, by permission, in the third edition of professor orton's "andes and the amazon." conclusion. the upper amazon river is destined to become much better known than it is at present; it cannot be long before commerce takes possession of such an inviting field. ocean steamers run regularly to mañaos, a thousand miles from the mouth of the river, and they might extend their voyage, certainly during nine months in the year, to nauta at the mouth of the ucayali; from nauta smaller steamers could ascend the amazon to borja, the huallaga to yurimaguas, and the ucayali to the confluence of the tambo and urubamba. a road is projected from limon, near borja, to chachapoyas, where it would connect with the route to lima. from yurimaguas to mayubamba, and thence on to lima, there is already established a much traveled route. from esperanza, near the confluence of the tambo and urubamba; it is probable that flat-bottomed, stern-wheel steamers, such as are used on the nicaragua route across central america, could ascend the tambo to fort san ramon, a place which it is to be hoped will be connected by railway with tarma and lima. when this latter route is opened, as it is destined to be sooner or later, it will become the great artery of communication between the pacific and atlantic coasts of south america. * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : explorarion replaced with exploration | | page : v-shapped replaced with v-shaped | | page : 'the government should thing it necessary' | | replaced with | | 'the government should think it necessary' | | page : 'brainha to monte alegre' replaced with | 'prainha to monte alegre' | | page : parinasi replaced with parinari | | page : hullaga replaced with huallaga | | page : huallagu replaced with huallaga | | page : inco roca replaced with inca roca | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * [transcriber's note:- words and phrases surrounded by underscores are italicised. there are four symbols which are denoted by :- (.) circle surrounding a centred dot - right ascension of the meridian; (+) circle surrounding a cross - earth's central progress; (_) circle with centre dot and line under - observed altitude of sun's lower limb; -(-)- circle with line through - true altitude. ] lectures in navigation prepared for use as a text book at the officers' material school naval auxiliary reserve by lieutenant ernest g. draper, u.s.n.r.f. head of the department of navigation officers' material school, naval auxiliary reserve copyright by ernest g. draper foreword these lectures have been compiled as speedily as possible to meet the demand for some quick but fairly comprehensive method whereby large bodies of men, divided into small classes, might learn the elements of navigation and thus assume, without delay, their responsibilities as junior officers of the deck, navigators and assistant navigators in the united states naval auxiliary reserve. i realize that the haste with which the book has been written is apparent in many places, and it is hoped that many evidences of this haste will disappear in case further editions are printed. besides acknowledging the help and information which was secured from the list of navigational works, mentioned on another page, i wish to mention particularly prof. charles lane poor's book, entitled "nautical science," from which was secured practically all of the information in the lecture on planets and stars (tuesday--week v); commander w. c. p. muir's book, "navigation and compass deviations," and lieutenant w. j. henderson's book, "elements of navigation," the text of which was followed closely in discussing variation and deviation and traverse sailing. i desire to express my gratitude to lieutenant commander r. t. merrill, nd, u. s. n., for suggesting a detailed outline of the whole course; to lieutenant commander b. o. wills, u. s. n., for his valuable criticisms and almost daily help during the preparation of these lectures; to lieutenant (j. g.) c. d. draper, u. s. n. r. f.; lieutenant (j. g.) r. brush, u. s. n. r. f., and lieutenant (j. g.) p. c. mcpherson, u. s. n. r. f., for many criticisms and suggestions; and to captain huntington, seamen's church institute, for suggesting helpful diagrams, particularly the one on page . this opportunity is also taken for thanking the many instructors in the school for their opinions on various questions that have come up in connection with the course and for assistance in eliminating errors from the text. e. g. d. list of books consulted american practical navigator, bowditch navigation and compass deviations, muir nautical science, poor elements of navigation, henderson wrinkles in practical navigation, lecky whys and wherefores of navigation, bradford epitome of navigation, norie navigation, hosmer finding a ship's position at sea, sumner general astronomy, young preface to those taking this course in navigation: these lectures have been written with the idea of explaining, in as simple language as possible, the fundamental elements of navigation as set forth in bowditch's american practical navigator. they will be given you during the time at the training school devoted to this subject. at present this time includes two morning periods of one and a half hours each, separated by a recess of fifteen minutes. in general the plan is to devote the first period to the lecture and the second period to practical work. not many examples for practical work have been included in this book, but one example, illustrating each new method, has been worked out. if you understand these examples you should be able to understand others similar to them. toward the end of the course a portion of each second period will be devoted to handling the sextant, work with charts, taking sights, etc. in short, every effort will be made to duplicate, as nearly as possible, navigating conditions on board a modern merchant ship. department of navigation, _officers' material school_, _naval auxiliary reserve_ contents week i--piloting _tuesday_--the compass _wednesday_--pelorus; parallel rulers; the lead, sounding machine, dividers and log _thursday_--the chart _friday_--the protractor and sextant _saturday_--fixes, angles by bearings and sextant week ii--dead reckoning _tuesday_--latitude and longitude _wednesday_--useful tables--plane and traverse sailing _thursday_--examples on plane and traverse sailing (continued) _friday_--mercator sailing _saturday_--great circle sailing--the chronometer week iii--celestial navigation _tuesday_--celestial co-ordinates, equinoctial system, etc. _wednesday_--time by the sun--mean time, solar time, conversion, etc. _thursday_--sidereal time--right ascension _friday_--the nautical almanac _saturday_--correction of observed altitudes week iv--navigation _tuesday_--the line of position _wednesday_--latitude by meridian altitude _thursday_--azimuths of the sun _friday_---marc st. hilaire method by a sun sight _saturday_--examples on marc st. hilaire method by a sun sight week v--navigation _tuesday_--a short talk on the planets and stars--identification of stars--time of meridian passage of a star _wednesday_--latitude by meridian altitude of a star--latitude by polaris _thursday_--marc st. hilaire method by a star sight _friday_--examples: latitude by meridian altitude of a star; latitude by polaris; marc st. hilaire method by a star sight _saturday_--longitude by chronometer sight of the sun week vi--navigation _tuesday_--longitude by chronometer sight of a star _wednesday_--examples on longitude by chronometer sight of a star _thursday_--latitude by ex-meridian altitude of the sun _friday_--examples: latitude by ex-meridian altitude of the sun _saturday_--finding the watch time of local apparent noon week vii--navigation _tuesday_--compass error by an azimuth _wednesday_--correcting longitude by a factor _thursday_--the navigator's routine--a day's work at sea _friday_--day's work _saturday_--day's work week viii--navigation _monday to thursday_--day's work - _additional lecture_--compass adjustment week i--piloting tuesday lecture the compass everyone is supposed to know what a compass looks like. it is marked in two ways--the old way and the new way. put in your note-book this diagram: [illustration] the new way marked on the outside of the diagram, starts at north with °, increases toward the right through east at °, south at °, west at ° and back to north again at ° or °. the old way, marked on the inside of the diagram, starts at north with °, goes to the right to ° at east and to the left to ° at west. it also starts at south with °, goes to the right to east at ° and to the left to west at °. a compass course can be named in degrees, according to either the new or old way. for instance, the new way is just °. the old way for the same course is n ° e. new way-- °. old way for same course--s ° e. there is another way to name a compass course. it is by using the name of the point toward which the ship is heading. on every ship the compass is placed with the lubber line (a vertical black line on the compass bowl) vertical and in the keel line of the ship. the lubber line, therefore, will always represent the bow of the ship, and the point on the compass card nearest the lubber line will be the point toward which the ship is heading. the compass card of ° is divided into points. each point, therefore, represents - / °. the four principal points are called _cardinal_ points. they are--north, east, south, west. each cardinal point is ° from the one immediately adjacent to it. it is also points from the one adjacent to it, as ° is points, i.e., - / ° (one point) times . midway between the cardinal points are the inter-cardinal points. they are--n e, s e, s w, n w, and are ° or points from the nearest cardinal point. midway between each cardinal and inter-cardinal point--at an angular distance of - / ° or points, is a point named by combining a cardinal point with an inter-cardinal point. for instance, nne, ene, ese, sse, ssw, wsw, wnw, nnw. midway between the last points named and a cardinal or inter-cardinal point, at an angular distance of - / °, is a point which bears the name of that cardinal or inter-cardinal point joined by the word _by_ to that of the cardinal point nearest to it. as, for instance, n by e, e by n, e by s, s by e, s by w, w by s, w by n, n by w. also ne x n, ne x e, se x e, se x s, sw x s, sw x w, nw x w, nw x n. the angular distance between each and every whole point is divided into parts called half and quarter points and each representing an angular measure of approximately ° '. in mentioning fractional points, the u. s. navy regulations are to name each point from north and south toward east and west except that divisions adjacent to a cardinal or inter-cardinal point are always referred to that point: for instance, n / e, n x e / e, ne / n, nw / n, nw / w, nw / w, nw / n. boxing the compass is naming each point and quarter-point in rotation, i.e., starting at north and going around to the right back to north again. every man should be able to identify and name any point or quarter-point on the compass card. in changing a point course into a degree course, for either new or old compass, a guide is herewith furnished you. this should be pasted into the front of your bowditch epitome. it shows, from left to right, the name of the point course, its angular measure in the new compass and its angular measure in the old compass. it also shows at the bottom, the angular measure of each division of one point. in understanding this guide, remember that each course is expressed in degrees or degrees and minutes. put in your note-book: in navigation, each degree is written thus °. each fraction of a degree is expressed in minutes and written thus '. there are ' in each degree. each fraction of a minute is expressed in seconds and is written ". there are " in each minute. four degrees, ten minutes and thirty seconds would be written thus: ° ' ". although this guide just given you is given as an aid to quickly transfer a point course into a new or old compass course--or vice versa--you should learn to do this yourself, after awhile, without the guide. put in your note-book: --------------+-----------+------------+-------------- ship's head | new | old | by point --------------+-----------+------------+-------------- ne | ° | n ° e | ne ° | ° | n ° e | east se × e | ° ' | s ° e | se × e s ° e | ° | s ° e | s x e / e s pts. e | ° ' | s ° ' e| sse nw / w | ° ' | n ° w | nw / w ° ' | ° ' | n ° w | wnw / w --------------+-----------+------------+-------------- i will show you just how each one of these courses is secured from the guide just given you. note to instructor: after explaining these courses in detail, assign for reading _in the class room_ the following articles in bowditch: arts. - - - - - - - , - - - - - - - - . every compass, if correct, would have its needle point directly to the real or _true_ north. but practically no compass with which you will become familiar will be correct. it will have an error in it due to the magnetism of the earth. this is called variation. it will also have an error in it due to the magnetism of the iron in the ship. this is called deviation. you are undoubtedly familiar with the fact that the earth is a huge magnet and that the magnets in a compass are affected thereby. in other words, the north and south magnetic poles, running through the center of the earth, do not point true north and south. they point at an angle either east or west of the north and south. the amount of this angle in any one spot on the earth is the amount of variation at that spot. in navigating a ship you must take into account the amount of this variation. the amount of allowance to be made and the direction (i.e. either east or west) in which it is to be applied are usually indicated on the chart. on large charts, such as those of the north atlantic, will be found irregular lines running over the chart, and having beside them such notations as ° w, ° w, etc. some lines are marked "no variation." in such cases no allowance need be made. on harbor charts or other small charts, the variation is shown by the compass-card printed on the chart. the north point of this card will be found slewed around from the point marking true north and in the compass card will be some such inscription as this: "variation ° west in . increasing ' per year." now let us see how we apply this variation so that although our compass needle does not point to true north, we can make a correction which will give us our true course in spite of the compass reading. note these diagrams: [illustration] the outer circle represents the sea horizon with the long arrow pointing to true north. the inner circle represents the compass card. in the diagram to the left, the compass needle is pointing three whole points to the left or west of true north. in other words, if your compass said you were heading ne x n, you would not actually be heading ne x n. you would be heading true north. [illustration] in other words, standing in the center of the compass and looking toward the circumference, you would find that every true course you sailed would be three points to the _left_ of the compass course. that is called westerly variation. now look at the diagram to the right. the compass needle is pointing three whole points to the right or east of true north. in other words, standing in the center of the compass and looking toward the circumference, you would find that every true course you sailed would be three points to the _right_ of the compass course. that is called easterly variation. hence we have these rules, which put in your note-book: _to convert a compass course into a true course_ when the variation is westerly, the true course will be as many points to the left of the compass course as there are points or degrees of variation. when the variation is easterly, the true course will be as many points or degrees to the right of the compass course. _to convert a true course into a compass course_ the converse of the above rule is true. in other words, variation westerly, compass to the right of true course; variation easterly, compass course to the left. deviation as stated before, deviation causes an error in the compass due to the magnetism of the iron in the ship. when a ship turns, the compass card does not turn, but the relation of the iron's magnetism to the magnets in the compass is altered. hence, every change in course causes a new amount of deviation which must be allowed for in correcting the compass reading. it is customary in merchant vessels to have the compasses adjusted while the ship is in port. the adjuster tries to counteract the deviation all he can by magnets, and then gives the master of the ship a table of the deviation errors remaining. these tables are not to be depended upon, as they are only accurate for a short time. ways will be taught you to find the deviation yourself, and those ways are the only ones you can depend upon. put in your note-book: westerly deviation is applied exactly as westerly variation. easterly deviation is applied exactly as easterly variation. the amount of variation plus the amount of deviation is called the compass error. for instance, a variation of ° w plus a deviation of ° w equals a compass error of ° w, or a variation of ° w plus a deviation of ° e leaves a net compass error of ° w. leeway leeway is not an error of the compass, but it has to be compensated for in steaming any distance. hence it is mentioned here. a ship steaming with a strong wind or current abeam, will slide off to the leeward more or less. hence, her course will have to be corrected for leeway as well as for variation and deviation. put in your note-book: leeway on the starboard tack is the same as westerly variation. leeway on the port tack is the same as easterly variation. this is apparent from the following diagram: [illustration] as the wind, blowing from the north, hits the left hand ship, for instance, on her starboard side, it shoves the ship to the left of her true course by the number of points or degrees of leeway. leave a space and put the following heading in your note-book: i. complete rule for converting a compass course into a true course: . change the compass course into a new compass reading. . apply easterly variation and deviation +. . apply westerly variation and deviation -. . apply port tack leeway +. . apply starboard tack leeway -. ii. complete rule for converting a true course into a compass course: . reverse the above signs in applying each correction. i will now correct a few courses, and these are to be put into your note-book: ---------+------+-------------+--------+--------+-------+--------- c cos | wind | leeway | dev. | var. | new | old ---------+------+-------------+--------+--------+-------+--------- n x e | nw | / pt. | ° e | ° w | ° | n ° e s ° e | s | pt. | ° w | ° e | ° | s ° e e x n | se | / pt. | ° w | ° e | ° | n ° e w x n | nw | - / pts. | ° e | ° e | ° | n ° w ---------+------+-------------+--------+--------+-------+--------- assign for night work the following arts. in bowditch: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - . wednesday lecture pelorus, parallel rulers, the lead, sounding machine, dividers and log _i. the pelorus_ this is an instrument for taking bearings of distant objects, and for taking bearings of celestial bodies such as the sun, stars, etc. it consists of a circular, flat metallic ring, mounted on gimbals, upon a vertical standard. the best point to mount it is in the bow or on the bridge of the ship, where a clear view for taking bearings can be had. the center line of the pelorus should also be directly over the keel line of the ship. the inner edge of the metallic ring is engraved in degrees--the ° or ° and the ° marks indicating a fore-and-aft line parallel to the keel of the ship. within this ring a ground glass dial is pivoted. this ground glass dial has painted upon it a compass card divided into points and sub-divisions and into °. this dial is capable of being moved around, but can also be clamped to the outside ring. pivoted with the glass dial and flat ring is a horizontal bar carrying at both of its extremes a sight vane. this sight vane can be clamped in any position independently of the ground glass dial, which can be moved freely beneath it. an indicator showing the direction the sight vane points can be read upon the compass card on the glass dial. if the glass dial be revolved until the degree of demarcation, which is coincident with the right ahead marking on the flat ring, is the same as that which points to the lubber's line of the ship's compass, then all directions indicated by the glass dial will be parallel to the corresponding directions of the ship's compass, and all bearings taken will be compass bearings, i.e., as though taken from the compass itself. in other words, it is just as though you took the compass out of its place in the pilot house, or wherever it is regularly situated, put it down where the pelorus is, and took a bearing from it of any object desired. in taking a bearing by pelorus, two facts must be kept in mind. first, that when the bearing is taken, the exact heading, as shown by the ship's compass, is the heading shown by the pelorus. in other words, if the ship is heading nw, the pelorus must be set with the nw point on the lubber line when the bearing is taken of any object. second, it must be remembered that the bearing of any object obtained from the pelorus is the bearing _by compass_. to get the true bearing of the same object you must make the proper corrections for variation and deviation. this can be compensated for by setting the glass dial at a point to the right or left of the compass heading to correspond with the compass error; then the bearing of any object will be the true bearing. but naturally, you will not be able to make compensation for these errors unless you have immediately before found the correct amount of the compass error. _parallel rulers_ the parallel rulers need no explanation except for the way in which they are used on a chart. supposing, for instance, you wish to steam from pelham bay to the red buoy off the westerly end of great captain's island. take your chart, mark by a pencil point the place left and the place to go to and draw a straight line intersecting these two points. now place the parallel rulers along that line and slide them over until the nearest edge intersects the center of the compass rose at the bottom or side of the chart. look along the ruler's edge to find where it cuts the circumference of the compass rose. that point on the compass rose will be the _true_ compass course, and can be expressed in either the new or old compass, as, for instance, ° or n ° e. remember, however, that this is the _true_ course. in order to change it into the compass course of your ship, you must make the proper corrections for the compass error, i.e., variation and deviation and for leeway, if any. _the lead and sounding machine_ the lead, as you know, is used to ascertain the depth of the water and, when necessary, the character of the bottom. there are two kinds of leads: the hand lead and deep-sea lead. the first weighs from to pounds and has markings to fathoms. the second weighs from to pounds and is used in depths up to and over fathoms. put in your note-book: fathoms which correspond with the depths marked are called _marks_. all other depths are called _deeps_. the hand lead is marked as follows: fathoms-- strips of leather. fathoms-- strips of leather or blue rag. fathoms--a white rag. fathoms--a red rag. fathoms--a piece of leather with one hole in it. fathoms--same as at . fathoms--same as at . fathoms--same as at . fathoms-- knots or piece of leather with holes. fathoms-- knot. fathoms-- knots. fathoms-- knot. fathoms-- knots. and so on up to fathoms. the large hand leads are hollowed out on the lower end so that an "arming" of tallow can be put in. this will bring up a specimen of the bottom, which should be compared with the description found on the chart. all up-to-date sea-going ships should be fitted with sir william thompson's sounding machine (see picture in b. j. manual). this machine consists of a cylinder around which are wound about fathoms of piano wire. to the end of this is attached a heavy lead. an index on the side of the instrument records the number of fathoms of wire paid out. above the lead is a copper cylindrical case in which is placed a glass tube open only at the bottom and chemically colored inside. the pressure of the sea forces water up into this tube, as it goes down, a distance proportionate to the depth, and the color is removed. when hoisted, the tube is laid upon a prepared scale, and the height to which the water has been forced inside shows the depth in fathoms on the scale. dividers the dividers are nothing but an instrument for measuring distances, etc., on the chart. the log there are two kinds of logs--the chip log, used for measuring the speed of the ship, and the patent log, used for measuring distance run. the chip log consists of a reel, line, toggle and chip. usually a second glass is used for measuring time. the chip is the triangular piece of wood ballasted with lead to ride point up. the toggle is a little wooden case into which a peg, joining the ends of the two lower lines of the bridle, is set in such a way that a jerk on the line will free it, causing the log to lie flat so that it can be hauled in. the first or fathoms of line from the log-chip are called "stray line," and the end of this is distinguished by a mark of red bunting. its purpose is to let the chip get clear of the vessel's wake. the marks on the line (called knots) are pieces of fish line running through the strands of the reel line to the number of two, three, four, etc. a piece of white bunting marks every two-tenths of a knot. this is because the run of the ship is recorded in knots and tenths. the knots of fish line are feet inches from each other. the log glass measures seconds in time. for high rates of speed, a second glass is used. then the number of knots shown by the log line must be doubled. the principle of the chip log is that each division of the log line bears the same ratio to a nautical mile that the log glass does to the hour. in other words, if knots or divisions of the log line run out while the second glass empties itself, the ship's speed is knots per hour. if ten knots or divisions run out while the second glass empties itself, the ship's speed is knots per hour. the patent or towing log consists of a dial, line and rotator. the large circle of the dial records the knots and the small circle tenths of knots. when changing course, read the log and enter it in the log book. when changing course again, read the log again. the difference between the two readings will be the distance run. both logs are liable to error. a following sea makes them under-rate, a head sea over-rate. with both logs you must allow for currents. if a current is against you--and you know its rate--you must deduct its rate from that recorded in the log and vice versa. the reason for this is that your log measures your speed through the water. what you must find is your actual distance made good over the earth's surface. put in your note-book: between sandy hook and fort hamilton, bound due north, speed by chip-log was knots, tidal current setting north knots per hour; what did the ship make per hour? answer: knots. at sea in north sea ship heading s x w, patent log bet. a.m. and m. registered miles, current running n x e knots per hour; what was the actual distance made good? answer: miles. directions for allowing for a current setting diagonally across a ship's course will be given in the proper place. assign for night work the following articles in bowditch: arts. - - - - . thursday lecture the chart _aids to navigation_ a chart is a map of an ocean, bay, sound or other navigable water. it shows the character of the coast, heights of mountains, depths at low water, direction and velocity of tidal currents, location, character, height and radius of visibility of all beacon lights, location of rocks, shoals, buoys, and nature of the bottom wherever soundings can be obtained. the top of the chart is north unless otherwise noted. when in doubt as to where north is, consult the compass card printed somewhere on the chart. on sea charts, such as those of the north atlantic, only the true compass is printed, with the amount and direction of variation indicated by lines on the chart. parallels of latitude are shown by straight lines running parallel to each other across the chart. the degrees and minutes of these parallels are given on the perpendicular border of the chart. meridians of longitude are shown by straight lines running up and down, perpendicular to the parallels of latitude, and the degrees and minutes of these meridians are given on the horizontal border of the chart. put in your note-book: a minute of latitude is always a mile, because parallels of latitude are equidistant at all places. a minute of longitude is a mile only on the equator, for the meridians are coming closer to each other as they converge toward either pole. they come together at the north and south poles, and here there is no longitude. * * * * * i can explain this very easily by reference to the following illustration: [illustration] as every parallel of latitude is a circle of ° the distance from a to b will be the same number of degrees, minutes and seconds whether measured upon parallel aa' or ee', but it will not be the same number of miles as the meridians of longitude are gradually converging toward the poles. on the other hand, the distances from a to c, c to d, d to e, etc., must be the same because the lines aa', cc', dd', ee' are all parallel. that is why the distance is always measured on the latitude scale (i.e. on the vertical border of the chart), and a minute of latitude is always a mile on the chart, no matter in what locality your ship happens to be. you should be able to understand any kind of information given you on a chart. for instance, what are the various kinds of buoys and how are they marked? put in your note-book: . in coming from seaward, red buoys mark the starboard side of the channel, and black buoys the port side. . dangers and obstructions which may be passed on either hand are marked by buoys with red and black horizontal stripes. . buoys indicating the fairway are marked with black and white vertical stripes and should be passed close to. . sunken wrecks are marked by red and black striped buoys described in no. . in foreign countries green buoys are frequently used to mark sunken wrecks. . quarantine buoys are yellow. . as white buoys have no especial significance, they are frequently used for special purposes not connected with navigation. . starboard and port buoys are numbered from the seaward end of the channel, the black bearing the odd and red bearing the even numbers. . perches with balls, cages, etc., will, when placed on buoys, be at turning points, the color and number indicating on which side they shall be passed. . soundings in plain white are in fathoms; those on shaded parts are in feet. on large ocean charts fathom curves, showing the range of soundings of , , , , etc., fathoms are shown. . a light is indicated by a red and yellow spot. f. means fixed, fl., flashing; int., intermittent; rev., revolving, etc. . an arrow indicates a current and its direction. the speed is always given. . rocks just under water are shown by a cross surrounded by a dotted circle; rocks above water, by a dotted circle with dots inside it. practically all charts you will use will be called mercator charts. just how they are constructed is a difficult mathematical affair but, roughly, the idea of their construction is based upon the earth being a cylinder, instead of a sphere. hence, the meridians of longitude, instead of converging at the poles, are parallel lines. this compels the parallels of latitude to be adjusted correspondingly. although such a chart in any one locality is out of proportion compared with some distant part of the earth's surface, it is nevertheless in proportion for the distance you can travel in a day or possibly a week--and that is all you desire. the hydrographic office publishes blank mercator charts for all latitudes in which they can be used for plotting your position. it makes no difference what longitude you are in for, on a mercator chart, meridians of longitude are all marked parallel. it makes a great difference, however, what latitude you are in, as in each a mile is of different length on the chart. hence, it will be impossible for you to correctly plot your course and distance sailed unless you have a chart which shows on it the degrees of latitude in which you are. for instance, if your mercator chart shows parallels of latitude from ° to ° that chart must be used when you are in one of those latitudes. when you move into ° or °, you must be sure to change your plotting chart accordingly. in very high latitudes and near the north pole, the mercator chart is worthless. how can you steer for the north pole when the meridians of your chart never come together at any pole? for the same reason, bearings of distant objects may be slightly off when laid down on this chart in a straight line. on the whole, however, the mercator chart answers the mariner's needs so far as all practical purposes are concerned. the instruments used in consulting a chart, i.e., parallel rulers, dividers, etc. have already been described. the only way to lay down a course and read it is by practice. the one important thing to remember in laying down a course, is that what you lay down is a true course. to steam this course yourself, you must make the proper correction for your compass error. assign for night work in bowditch, arts. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - . if any time in class room is left, spend it in laying down courses on the chart and reading them; also in answering such questions as these: . i desire to sail a true course of ne. my compass error is points westerly variation and point easterly deviation. what compass course shall i sail? . i desire to sail a true course of sw x w. my variation is ° w, deviation pts. w and leeway pt. starboard. what compass course shall i sail? . i desire to sail a true course of °. my compass error is pts. e variation, ° w deviation, leeway pt. port. what compass course shall i sail? . i desire to sail a true course of s ° w. my compass error is ° e variation, ° e deviation, leeway / point starboard. what compass course shall i sail? friday lecture the protractor and sextant the protractor is an instrument used to shape long courses. there are many kinds. the simplest and the one most in use is merely a piece of transparent celluloid with a compass card printed on it and a string attached to the center of the compass card. to find your course by protractor, put the protractor down on the chart so that the north and south line on the compass card of the protractor will be immediately over a meridian of longitude on the chart, or be exactly parallel to one, and will intersect the point from which you intend to depart. then stretch your string along the course you desire to steam. where this string cuts the compass card, will be the direction of your course. remember, however, that this will be the _true_ course to sail. in order to convert this true course into your compass course, allow for variation and deviation according to the rules already given you. in case you know the exact amount of variation and deviation at the time you lay down the course--and your course is not far--you can get your compass course in one operation by setting the north point of your protractor as far east or west of the meridian as the amount of your compass error is. by then proceeding as before, the course indicated on the compass card will be the compass course to sail. this method should not be used where your course in one direction is long or where your course is short but in two or more directions. the reason for this is that in both cases, either your variation or deviation may change and throw you off. practically all navigation in strange waters in sight of land and in all waters out of sight of land depends upon the determination of angles. the angle at which a lighthouse is seen from your ship will give you much information that may be absolutely necessary for your safety. the angular altitude of the sun, star or planet does the same. the very heart of navigation is based upon dealing with angles of all kinds. the instrument, therefore, that measures these angles is the most important of any used in navigation and you must become thoroughly familiar with it. it is the sextant or some member of the sextant family--such as the quadrant, octant, etc. the sextant is the one most in use and so will be described first. put in your note-book: the sextant has the following parts: (instructor points to each.) . mirror . telescope . horizon glass . shade glasses . back shade glasses . handle . sliding limb . reading glass . tangent screw . arc in getting angles of land-marks or buoys, the sextant is held by the handle no. in a horizontal position. the vernier arrow in the sliding limb is set on zero. now, suppose you wish to get the angular distance between two lighthouses as seen from the bridge of your ship. (draw diagram.) [illustration] look at one lighthouse through the line of sight and true horizon part of the horizon glass. now, move the sliding limb along the arc gradually until you see the other lighthouse in the reflected horizon of the horizon glass. when one lighthouse in the true horizon is directly on top of the other lighthouse in the reflected horizon, clamp the sliding limb. if any additional adjustment must be made, make it with the tangent screw no. . now look through the reading glass no. . you should see that the arc is divided into degrees and sixths of degrees in the following manner: ° ° | | -------------+-----------------| | | ----|--+--+--+--+--+--|--+--+--+ | | | | | | | | | | ----+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+ now, as every degree is divided into sixty minutes, one-sixth of a degree is minutes. in other words, each of the divisions of a degree on this arc represents minutes. now on the vernier in the sliding limb, directly under the arc, is the same kind of a division. but these divisions on the vernier represent minutes and sixths of a minute, or seconds. to read the angle, the zero point on the vernier is used as a starting point. if it exactly coincides with one of the lines on the scale of the arc, that line gives the measurement of the angle. in the following illustration the angle is - / degrees or ° ': ° ° ----------------+-----------------------+ | | ---------|---+---+---|---+---+---|---+---+---| | | | | | | | | | | -+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | ^ ----+---+---+ if however, you find the zero on the vernier has passed a line of the arc, your angle is more than ° ' as in this: ° ° ------------+-----------------------+ | | ------------|---+---+---|---+---+---| | | | | | | | ------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | ^ ------------+---+---+---+ you must then look along the vernier to the left until you find the point where the lines do coincide. then add the number of minutes and sixths of a minute shown on the vernier between zero and the point where the lines coincide to the number of degrees and minutes shown on the arc at the line which the vernier zero has passed, and the sum will be the angle measured by the instrument. now in measuring the altitude of the sun or other celestial body, exactly the same process is gone through except that the sextant is held vertically instead of horizontally. you look through the telescope toward that part of the sea directly beneath the celestial body to be observed. you then move the sliding limb until the image of the celestial body appears in the horizon glass, and is made to "kiss" the horizon, i.e., its lowest point just touching the horizon. the sliding limb is then screwed down and the angle read. more about this will be mentioned when we come to celestial navigation. every sextant is liable to be in error. to detect this error there are four adjustments to be made. these adjustments do not need to be learned by heart, but i will mention them: . the mirror must be perpendicular to the plane of the arc. to prove whether it is or not, set the vernier on about °, and look slantingly through the mirror. if the true and reflected images of the arc coincide, no adjustment is necessary. if not, the glass must be straightened by turning the screws at the back. . the horizon glass must be perpendicular to the plane of the arc. set the vernier on zero and look slantingly through the horizon glass. if the true and reflected horizons show one unbroken line, no adjustment is necessary. if not, turn the screw at the back until they do. . horizon glass and mirror must be parallel. set the vernier on zero. hold the instrument vertically and look through the line of sight and horizon glass. if the true and reflected horizons coincide, no adjustment is necessary. if they do not, adjust the horizon glass. . the line of sight (telescope) must be parallel to the plane of the arc. this adjustment is verified by observing two stars in a certain way and then performing other operations that are described in bowditch, art. . do not try to adjust your sextant yourself. have it adjusted by an expert on shore. then, if there is any error, allow for it. an error after adjustment is called the index error. put in your note-book: how to find and apply the ie (index error): set the sliding limb at zero on the arc, hold the instrument perpendicularly and look at the horizon. move the sliding limb forward or backward slowly until the true horizon and reflected horizon form one unbroken line. clamp the limb and read the angle. this is the ie. if the vernier zero is to the left of the zero on the arc, the ie is minus and it is to be subtracted from any angle you read, to get the correct angle. if the vernier zero is to the right of the zero on the arc, the ie is plus and is to be added to any angle you read to get the correct angle. index error is expressed thus: ie + ' " or ie - ' ". quadrants, octants and quintants work on exactly the same principles as the sextant, except that the divisions on the arc and the vernier differ in number from the sixth divisions on the arc and vernier of the sextant. if any time is left, spend it in marking courses with the protractor and handling the sextant. assign for night work the following arts. in bowditch: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - . saturday lecture fixes, angles by bearings and sextant there are five good ways of fixing your position (obtaining a "fix," as it is called) providing you are within sight of landmarks which you can identify or in comparatively shoal water. put in your note-book: . cross bearings of two known objects. . bearing and distance of a known object, the height of which is known. . two bearings of a known object separated by an interval of time, with a run during that interval. . sextant angles between three known objects. . using the compass, log and lead in a fog or in unfamiliar waters. . cross bearings of two known objects. select two objects marked on the chart, so far apart that each will bear about ° off your bow but in opposite directions. these bearings will be secured in the best way by the use of your pelorus. correct each bearing for variation and deviation so that it will be a true bearing. then with the parallel rulers carry the bearing of one object from the chart compass card until you can intersect the object itself and draw a line through it. do exactly the same with the other object. where the two lines intersect, will be the position of the ship at the time the bearings were taken. [illustration] now supposing you wish to find the latitude and longitude of that position of the ship. for the latitude, measure the distance of the place from the nearest parallel with the dividers. take the dividers to the latitude scale at the side of the chart and put one point of them on the same parallel. where the other point touches on the latitude scale, will be the latitude desired. for the longitude, do exactly the same thing, but use a meridian of longitude instead of a parallel of latitude and read from the longitude scale at the top or bottom of the chart instead of from the side. . bearing and distance of a known object, the height of which is known. take a bearing of, say, a lighthouse the height of which is known. the height of all lighthouses on the atlantic coast can be found in a book published by the u.s. dept. of commerce. correct the bearing, as mentioned in case no. . now read the angle of the height of that light by using your sextant. do this by putting the vernier on the arc , sliding the limb slowly forward until the top of the lighthouse in the reflected horizon just touches the bottom of the lighthouse in the true horizon. with this angle and the known height of the light, enter table in bowditch. at the left of the table will be found the distance off in knots. this method can be used with any fairly perpendicular object, the height of which is known and which is not more than knots away, as table is not made out for greater distances. . two bearings of the same object, separated by an interval of time and with a run during that interval. take a compass bearing of some prominent object when it is either , or points off the bow. take another bearing of the same object when it is either , or points off the bow. the distance run by the ship between the two bearings will be her distance from the observed object at the second bearing. "the distance run is the distance off." a diagram will show clearly just why this is so: [illustration] the ship at a finds the light bearing nnw points off her bow. at b, when the light bears nw and points off, the log registers the distance from a to b miles. miles, then, will be the distance from the light itself when the ship is at b. the mathematical reason for this is that the distance run is one side of an isosceles triangle. such triangles have their two sides of equal length. for that reason, the distance run is the distance off. now the same fact holds true in running from b, which is points off the bow, to c, which is points off the bow, or directly abeam. the log shows the distance run between b and c is . miles. hence, the ship is . miles from the light when directly abeam of it. this last and point bearing is what is known as the "bow and beam" bearing, and is the standard method used in coastwise navigation. any one of these methods is of great value in fixing your position with relation to the land, when you are about to go to sea. . sextant angles between three known objects. this method is the most accurate of all. because of its precision it is the one used by the government in placing buoys, etc. take three known objects such as a, b and c which are from ° to ° from each other. [illustration] with a sextant, read the angle from a to b and from b to c. place a piece of transparent paper over the compass card and draw three lines from the center of the compass card to the circumference in such a way that the angles secured by the sextant will be formed by the three lines drawn. now take this paper with the angles on it and fit it on the chart so that the three objects of which angles were taken will be intersected by the three lines on the paper. where the point s is (in my diagram) will be the point of the ship's position at the time of sight. to secure greater accuracy the two angles should be taken at the same time by two observers. . using a compass, log and lead when you are in a fog or unfamiliar waters. supposing that you are near land and want to fix your position but have no landmarks which you can recognize. here is a method to help you out: take a piece of tracing paper and rule a vertical line on it. this will represent a meridian of longitude. take casts of the lead at regular intervals, noting the time at which each is taken, and the distance logged between each two. the compass corrected for variation and deviation will show your course. rule a line on the tracing paper in the direction of your course, using the vertical line as a n and s meridian. measure off on the course line by the scale of miles in your chart, the distance run between casts and opposite each one note the time, depth ascertained and, if possible, nature of the bottom. now lay this paper down on the chart which can be seen under it, in about the position you believe yourself in when you made the first cast. if your chain of soundings agrees with those on the chart, you are all right. if not, move the paper about, keeping the vertical line due n and s, till you find the place on the chart that does agree with you. that is your line of position. you will never find in that locality any other place where the chain of soundings are the same on the same course you are steaming. this is the only method by soundings that you can use in thick weather and it is an invaluable one. put in your note-book this diagram: \ . a.m. | \ . a.m. | \ a.m. | - / \ . a.m. | \ a.m. | - / \ . a.m. | assign for night work, review for weekly examination to be held on monday. add an explanation of the deviation card in bowditch, page . put in your note-book: entering new york harbor, ship heading w / n, variation ° w. observed by pelorus the following objects: buoy no. --ene / e " " --e / n " " --ne / e " " --nw / n required true bearings of objects observed. answer: from deviation card in bowditch, p. , deviation on w / n course is ° e. hence, compass error is ° e (dev.) + ° w (var.) = ° w. c. b. c. e. t. b. ene / e ° ° w ° e / n ° ° w ° ne / e ° ° w ° nw / n ° ° w ° week ii--dead reckoning tuesday lecture latitude and longitude [illustration] we have been using the words latitude and longitude a good deal since this course began. let us see just what the words mean. before doing that, there are a few facts to keep in mind about the earth itself. the earth is a spheroid slightly flattened at the poles. the axis of the earth is a line running through the center of the earth and intersecting the surface of the earth at the poles. the equator is the great circle, formed by the intersection of the earth's surface with a plane perpendicular to the earth's axis and equidistant from the poles. every point on the equator is, therefore, ° from each pole. meridians are great circles formed by the intersection with the earth´s surface of planes perpendicular to the equator. parallels of latitude are small circles parallel to the equator. the latitude of a place on the surface of the earth is the arc of the meridian intercepted between the equator and that place. it is measured by the angle running from the equator to the center of the earth and back through the place in question. latitude is reckoned from the equator ( °) to the north pole ( °) and from the equator ( °) to the south pole ( °). the difference of latitude between any two places is the arc of the meridian intercepted between the parallels of latitude of the places and is marked n or s according to the direction in which you steam (t n´). the longitude of a place on the surface of the earth is the arc of the equator intercepted between the meridian of the place and the meridian at greenwich, england, called the prime meridian. longitude is reckoned east or west through ° from the meridian at greenwich. difference of longitude between any two places is the arc of the equator intercepted between their meridians, and is called east or west according to direction. example: diff. lo. t and t´ = e´ m, and e or w according as to which way you go. departure is the actual linear distance measured on a parallel of latitude between two meridians. difference of latitude is reckoned in minutes because miles and minutes of latitude are always the same. departure, however, is only reckoned in _miles_, because while a mile is equal to ´ of longitude on the equator, it is equal to more than ´ as the latitude increases; the reason being, of course, that the meridians of lo. converge toward the pole, and the distance between the same two meridians grows less and less as you leave the equator and go toward either pole. example: tn, n´n´. mi. departure on the equator = ´ difference in lo. mi. departure in lat. ° equals something like ´ difference in lo. the curved line which joins any two places on the earth´s surface, cutting all the meridians at the same angle, is called the rhumb line. the angle which this line makes with the meridian of lo. intersecting any point in question is the course, and the length of the line between any two places is called the distance between them. example: t or t´. _chart projections_ the earth is projected, so to speak, upon a chart in three different ways--the mercator projection, the polyconic projection and the gnomonic projection. _the mercator projection_ you already know something about the mercator projection and a mercator chart. as explained before, it is constructed on the theory that the earth is a cylinder instead of a sphere. the meridians of longitude, therefore, run parallel instead of converging, and the parallels of latitude are lengthened out to correspond to the widening out of the lo. meridians. just how this mercator chart is constructed is explained in detail in the arts. in bowditch you were given to read last night. you do not have to actually construct such a chart, as the government has for sale blank mercator charts for every parallel of latitude in which they can be used. it is well to remember, however, that since a mile or minute of latitude has a different value in every latitude, there is an appearance of distortion in every mercator chart which covers any large extent of surface. for instance, an island near the pole, will be represented as being much larger than one of the same size near the equator, due to the different scale used to preserve the accurate character of the projection. _the polyconic projection_ the theory of the polyconic projection is based upon conceiving the earth´s surface as a series of cones, each one having the parallel as its base and its vertex in the point where a tangent to the earth at that latitude intersects the earth´s axis. the degrees of latitude and longitude on this chart are projected in their true length and the general distortion of the earth´s surface is less than in any other method of projection. [illustration] a straight line on the polyconic chart represents a near approach to a great circle, making a slightly different angle with each meridian of longitude as they converge toward the poles. the parallels of latitude are also shown as curved lines, this being apparent on all but large scale charts. the polyconic projection is especially adapted to surveying, but is also employed to some extent in charts of the u. s. coast & geodetic survey. _gnomonic projection_ the theory of this projection is to make a curved line appear and be a straight line on the chart, i.e., as though you were at the center of the earth and looking out toward the circumference. the gnomonic projection is of particular value in sailing long distance courses where following a curved line over the earth´s surface is the shortest distance between two points that are widely separated. this is called great circle sailing and will be talked about in more detail later on. the point to remember here is that the hydrographic office prints great circle sailing charts covering all the navigable waters of the globe. since all these charts are constructed on the gnomonic projection, it is only necessary to join any two points by a straight line to get the _curved_ line or great circle track which your ship is to follow. the courses to sail and the distance between each course are easily ascertained from the information on the chart. this is the way it is done: (note to instructor: provide yourself with a chart and explain from the chart explanation just how these courses are laid down.) spend the rest of the time in having pupils lay down courses on the different kinds of charts. if these charts are not available assign for night work the following articles in bowditch, part of which reading can be done immediately in the class room--so that as much time as possible can be given to the reading on dead reckoning: - - - - - - - --first two sentences - - - - - - - . note to pupils: in reading articles - , disregard the formulæ and the examples worked out by logarithms. just try to get a clear idea of the different sailings mentioned and the theory of dead reckoning in arts. - . wednesday lecture useful tables--plane and traverse sailing the whole subject of navigation is divided into two parts, i.e., finding your position by what is called dead reckoning and finding your position by observation of celestial bodies such as the sun, stars, planets, etc. to find your position by dead reckoning, you go on the theory that small sections of the earth are flat. the whole affair then simply resolves itself into solving the length of right-angled triangles except, of course, when you are going due east and west or due north and south. for instance, any courses you sail like these will be the hypotenuses of a series of right-angled triangles. the problem you have to solve is, having left a point on land, the latitude and longitude of which you know, and sailed so many miles in a certain direction, in what latitude and longitude have you arrived? [illustration] if you sail due north or south, the problem is merely one of arithmetic. suppose your position at noon today is latitude ° ' n, longitude ° w, and up to noon tomorrow you steam due north miles. now you have already learned that a minute of latitude is always equal to a nautical mile. hence, you have sailed minutes of latitude or °. this ° is called difference of latitude, and as you are in north latitude and going north, the difference of latitude, °, should be added to the latitude left, making your new position ° ' n and your longitude the same ° w, since you have not changed your longitude at all. in sailing east or west, however, your problem is more difficult. only on the equator is a minute of longitude and a nautical mile of the same length. as the meridians of longitude converge toward the poles, the lengths between each lessen. we now have to rely on tables to tell us the number of miles in a degree of longitude at every distance north or south of the equator, i.e., in every latitude. longitude, then, is reckoned in _miles_. the number of miles a ship makes east or west is called departure, and it must be converted into degrees, minutes and seconds to find the difference of longitude. a ship, however, seldom goes due north or south or due east or west. she usually steams a diagonal course. suppose, for instance, a vessel in latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' w, sails ssw miles. what is the new latitude and longitude she arrives in? she sails a course like this: [illustration] now suppose we draw a perpendicular line to represent a meridian of longitude and a horizontal one to represent a parallel of latitude. then we have a right-angled triangle in which the line ac represents the course and distance sailed, and the angle at a is the angle of the course with a meridian of longitude. if we can ascertain the length of ab, or the distance south the ship has sailed, we shall have the difference of latitude, and if we can get the length of the line bc, we shall have the departure and from it the difference of longitude. this is a simple problem in trigonometry, i.e., knowing the angle and the length of one side of a right triangle, what is the length of the other two sides? but you do not have to use trigonometry. the whole problem is worked out for you in table of bowditch. find the angle of the course ssw, i.e., s ° w in the old or ° in the new compass reading. look down the distance column to the left for the distance sailed, i.e., miles. opposite this you find the difference of latitude - / ( . ) and the departure - / ( . ). now the position we were in at the start was lat. ° ' n, longitude ° ' w. in sailing ssw miles, we made a difference of latitude of ' " ( . ), and as we went south--toward the equator--we should subtract this ' " from our latitude left to give us our latitude in. now we must find our difference of longitude and from it the new or longitude in. the first thing to do is to find the _average_ or middle latitude in which you have been sailing. do this by adding the latitude left and the latitude in and dividing by . ° ' " ----------- ) ----------- ° ' " mid. lat. take the nearest degree, i.e., °, as your answer. with this ° enter the same table and look for your departure, i.e., . in the _difference of latitude_ column. . is the nearest to it. now look to the left in the distance column opposite . and you will find , which means that in lat. ° a departure of . miles is equivalent to ' of difference of longitude. we were in ° ' west longitude and we sailed south and west, so this difference of longitude should be added to the longitude left to get the longitude in: lo. left ° ' w diff. lo. ----------- lo. in ° ' w the whole problem therefore would look like this: lat. left ° ' n lo. left ° ' w diff. lat. diff. lo. ------------- ---------- lat. in ° ' " n lo. in ° ' w there is one more fact to explain. when the course is ° or less (old compass reading) you read from the top of the page of table down. when the course is more than ° (old compass reading) you read from the bottom of the page up. the distance is taken out in exactly the same way in both cases, but the difference of latitude and the departure, you will notice, are reversed. (instructor: read a few courses to thoroughly explain this.) from all this explanation we get the following rules, which put in your note-book: to find the new or lat. in: enter table with the true course at the top or bottom of the page according as to whether it is less or greater than ° (old compass reading). take out the difference of latitude and departure and mark the difference of latitude minutes ('). when the latitude left and the difference of latitude are both north or both south, add them. when one is north and the other south, subtract the less from the greater and the remainder, named north or south after the greater, will be the new latitude, known as the latitude in. to find the new or lo. in: find the middle latitude by adding the latitude left to the latitude in and dividing by . with this middle latitude, enter table . seek for the departure in the difference of latitude column. opposite to it in the distance column will be the figures indicating the number of minutes in the difference of longitude. with this difference of longitude, apply it in the same way to the longitude left as you applied the difference of latitude to the latitude left. the result will be the new or longitude in. now if a ship steamed a whole day on the same course, you would be able to get her dead reckoning position without any further work, but a ship does not usually sail the same course hours straight. she usually changes her course several times, and as a ship's position by d.r. is only computed once a day--at noon--it becomes necessary to have a method of obtaining the result after several courses have been sailed. this is called working a traverse and sailing on various courses in this fashion is called traverse sailing. put in your note-book the following example and the way in which it is worked: departure taken from barnegat light in lat. ° ' n, lo. ° ' w, bearing by compass nnw, knots away. ship heading south with a deviation of ° w. she sailed on the following courses: --------+----+-------+---------+--------+------------------------------ course |wind| leeway|deviation|distance| remarks --------+----+-------+---------+--------+------------------------------ se / e| ne | pt. | ° e | |variation throughout day ° w. s ° w | ne | | ° e | | a current set ne magnetic nnw | ne | | ° w | | / mi. per hr. for the day. s °e | ne | | ° e | | required lat. and lo. in | | | | | and course and distance | | | | | made good. --------+----+-------+---------+--------+------------------------------ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- c. cos. |wind|leeway| dev.| var.| new | old |dist.|diff. lat. |departure | | | | |t. cos.|t cos. | +-----+-----+-----+---- | | | | | | | | n | s | e | w --------+----+------+-----+-----+-------+-------+-----+-----+-----+-----+---- sse | .. | .. | ° w| ° w| ° | s °e| | .. | . | . | .. se / e| ne | pt.| ° e| ° w| ° | s °e| | .. | . | . | .. s ° w | ne | | ° e| ° w| ° | s °w| | .. | . | .. | . nnw | ne | | ° w| ° w| ° | n °w| | . |.. | .. | . s ° e | ne | | ° e| ° w| ° | n °e| | . |.. | | .. ne | .. | .. | mg | ° w| ° | n ° e| | . |.. | . | .. --------+----+------+-----+-----+-------+-------+-----+-----+-----------+---- . | . | . | . .. | . | . |.. +-----+-----+---- .. |.. |.. |.. .. | . | . |.. +-----+-----+---- .. s e lat. left °- '- " n mid. lat. ° diff. lat. - - s dep. . ---------- lat. in. - - n table --under ° dep. in - - diff. lat. col. = ' = ° ' diff. lo. ---------- ) - - ---------- mid. lat. - - lo. left °- '- " w diff. lo. - - e -------------- lo. in. °- '- " w table --diff. lat. . , dep. . . course s ° e--distance miles. the rule covering all these operations is as follows: . write out the various courses with their corrections for leeway, deviation, variation and the distance run on each. . in four adjoining columns headed n, s, e, w respectively, put down the difference of latitude and departure for each course. . add together all the northings, all the southings, all the eastings and all the westings. subtract to find the difference between northings and southings and you will get the whole difference of latitude. the difference between the eastings and westings will be the whole departure. . find the latitude in, as already explained. . find the lo. in, as already explained. . with the whole difference of latitude and whole departure, seek in table for the page where the nearest agreement of difference of latitude and departure can be found. the number of degrees at the top or bottom of the page (according as to whether the diff. of lat. or dep. is greater) will give you the true course made good, and the number in the distance column opposite the proper difference of latitude and departure will give you the distance made. it is often convenient to use the reverse of the above method, i.e., being given the latitude and longitude of the position left and the latitude and longitude of the position arrived in, to find the course and distance between them by middle latitude sailing. the full rule is as follows: . find the algebraic difference between the latitudes and longitudes respectively. . using the middle (or average) latitude as a course, find in table of bowditch the diff. of lo. in the distance column. opposite, in the diff. of lat. column, will be the correct departure. . with the diff. of lat. between the position left and the position arrived in, and the departure, just secured, seek in table for the page where the nearest agreement to these values can be found. on this page will be secured the true course and distance made, as explained in the preceding method. . use this method only when steaming approximately an east and west course. for an example of this method, see bowditch, p. , example . thursday lecture examples on plane and traverse sailing (_continued_) . departure taken from cape horn. lat. ° ' " s, lo. ° ' " w, bearing by compass ssw knots. ship heading sw x s, deviation ° e, steamed the following courses: ---------+----------+------------+-----------+---------- c. cos. | wind | leeway | deviation | distance ---------+----------+------------+-----------+---------- sw x s | se | pt. | ° e | wnw | n | pts. | ° e | s ° e | ne | pts. | ° w | ---------+----------+------------+-----------+---------- _remarks_ variation ° e throughout. current set nw magnetic mi. for the day. required latitude and longitude in and course and distance made good. . departure taken from st. agnes lighthouse, scilly islands, lat. ° ' s, lo. ° ' w, bearing by compass e x s, distance knots, deviation ° w, variation ° w. ship headed n steamed on the following courses: -------+------+-------+-------+------+------------------------------ c. cos.| wind |leeway |devia- |dis- | remarks | | |tion |tance | -------+------+-------+-------+------+------------------------------ n | | .. | ° w | |variation ° w. current set s / e| w | pts.| ° e | |se mg - / miles for hrs. nne | nnw | pts.| ° w | |req. lat. and lo. in and | | | | |course and distance made | | | | |good, -------+------+-------+-------+------+------------------------------ assign for night work the following articles in bowditch: - - - . also additional problems in dead reckoning. friday lecture mercator sailing this is a method to find the true course and distance between two points. the method can be used in two ways, i.e., by the use of tables and (called the inspection method) and by the use of logarithms. the first method is the quicker and will do for short distances. the second method, however, is more accurate in all cases, and particularly where the distances are great. the inspection method is as follows (put in your note-book): find the algebraic difference between the meridional parts corresponding to the lat. in and lat. sought by table . call this meridional difference of latitude. find the algebraic difference between longitude in and longitude sought and call this difference of longitude. with the meridional difference of latitude and the difference of longitude, find the course by searching in table for the page where they stand opposite each other in the latitude and departure columns. now find the real difference of latitude. under the course just found and opposite the _real_ difference of latitude, will be found the distance sailed in the distance column. example: what is the course and distance from lat. ° ' n, lo. ° ' w, to lat. ° ' n, lo. ° ' w? lat. in ° ' n meridional pts. . lat. sought n meridional pts. . --------- ------ ° ' mer. diff. lat. . lo. in ° ' w lo. sought w --------- ° ' = ' on page bowditch you will find . and . opposite each other, and as . is in the lat. column only when you read from the bottom, the course is s ° e. the real difference of lat. under this course is opposite in the distance column. hence the distance to be sailed is miles. if distances are too great, divide meridional difference of lat., real difference of latitude and difference of longitude by or any other number to bring them within the scope of the distances in table . when distance to be sailed is found, it must be multiplied by the same number. for instance, if the difference of lat., difference of lo., etc., are divided by to bring them in the scope of table , and with these figures is the distance found, the real distance would be times or . now let us work out the same problem by logarithms. this will acquaint us with two new tables, i.e., tables and . put this in your note-book: lat. in ° ' n mer. pts. . lo. in ° ' lat. sought mer. pts. . lo. sought --------- ------ ------- real diff. ° ' . ° ' -- -- (table ) log (+ ) = . log . = . -------- log tan tc (table ) . tc = s ° ' e log sec tc ( ° ') = . log real diff. lat. = . + -------- . - . -------- . distance (table ) = . miles find algebraically the real difference of latitude, meridional difference of latitude and the difference of longitude. reduce real difference of latitude and difference of longitude to minutes. take log of the difference of longitude (table ) and add . from this log subtract the log of difference of meridional parts. the result will be the log tan of the true course, which find in table . on the same page find the log sec of true course. add to this the log of the real difference of latitude, and if the result is more than , subtract . this result will be the log of the distance sailed. this method should be used only when steaming approximately a north and south course. note.--for detailed explanation of tables and see bowditch, pp. - . assign for night reading arts, in bowditch: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - . also, one of the examples of mercator sailing to be done by both the inspection and logarithmic method. saturday lecture great circle sailing--the chronometer in tuesday's lecture of this week, i explained how a great circle track was laid down on one of the great circle sailing charts which are prepared by the hydrographic office. supposing, however, you do not have these charts on hand. there is an easy way to construct a great circle track yourself. turn to art. , page , in bowditch. here is a table with an explanation as to how to use it. take, for instance, the same two points between which you just drew a line on the great circle track. find the center of this line and the latitude of that point. at this point draw a line perpendicular to the course to be sailed, the other end of which must intersect the corresponding parallel of latitude given in the table. with this point as the center of a circle, sweep an arc which will intersect the point left and the point sought. this arc will be the great circle track to follow. to find the courses to be sailed, get the difference between the course at starting and that at the middle of the circle, and find how many quarter points are contained in it. now divide the distance from the starting point to the middle of the circle by the number of quarter points. that will give the number of miles to sail on each quarter point course. see this illustration: [illustration] difference between ene and e = pts. = quarter points. say distance is miles measured by dividers or secured by mercator sailing method. divide by = . every miles you should change your course / point east. _the chronometer_ the chronometer is nothing more than a very finely regulated clock. with it we ascertain greenwich mean time, i.e., the mean time at greenwich observatory, england. just what the words "greenwich mean time" signify, will be explained in more detail later on. what you should remember here is that practically every method of finding your exact position at sea is dependent upon knowing greenwich mean time, and the only way to find it is by means of the chronometer. it is essential to keep the chronometer as quiet as possible. for that reason, when you take an observation you will probably note the time by your watch. just before taking the observation, you will compare your watch with the chronometer to notice the exact difference between the two. when you take your observation, note the watch time, apply the difference between the chronometer and watch, and the result will be the ct. for instance, suppose the chronometer read h m s, and your watch, at the same instant, read h m s. c--w would be: h -- m -- s -- -- -- ---------------- h -- m -- s now suppose you took an observation which, according to your watch, was at h m s. what would be the corresponding c t? it would be wt h -- m -- s c -- w -- -- -------------------- ct h -- m -- s if the chronometer time is less than the w t add hours to the c t, so that it will always be the larger and so that the amount to be added to w t will always be +. for instance, ct h-- m-- s, wt h-- m-- s, what is the c-w? ct h-- m-- s wt -- -- ---------------- c--w h-- m-- s now, suppose an observation was taken at h m s according to watch time. what would be the corresponding ct? wt h-- m-- s c--w -- -- ---------------- h-- m-- s -- ---------------- ct h-- m-- s put in your note-book: ct = wt + c - w. if, in finding c-w, c is less than w, add hours to c, subtracting same after ct is secured. example no. : ct h-- m-- s wt -- -- ---------------- c--w h-- m-- s wt h-- m-- s + c--w -- -- ---------------- ct h-- m-- s example no. : ct h-- m-- s wt h-- m-- s (+ hrs.) ct h-- m-- s wt -- -- ---------------- c-w h-- m-- s wt h-- m-- s + c-w -- -- ---------------- h-- m-- s (- hrs.) ---------------- ct h-- m-- s there is one more very important fact to know about the chronometer. it is physically impossible to keep it absolutely accurate over a long period of time. instead of continually fussing with its adjustment and hands, the daily rate of error is ascertained, and from this the exact time for any given day. it is an invariable practice among good mariners to _leave the chronometer alone_. when you are in port, you can find out from a time ball or from some chronometer maker what your error is. with this in mind, you can apply the new correction from day to day. here is an example (put in your note-book): on june st, ct h-- m-- s, cc m-- s fast. on june th, (same ct) cc m-- s fast. what was the corresponding g.m.t. on june th? june st m-- s fast th m-- s fast ---------------- m-- s -- -- ) s ( . sec. daily rate of error losing june st- th, days times . sec. = sec. losing june st m-- s fast june th s losing --------- june th m-- s fast ct h-- m-- s cc -- -- ------------ g.m.t. h-- m-- s on june th if cc is fast, subtract from ct if cc is slow, add to ct week iii--celestial navigation tuesday lecture celestial co-ordinates, equinoctial system, etc. we have already discussed the way in which the earth is divided so as to aid us in finding our position at sea, i.e., with an equator, parallels of latitude, meridians of longitude starting at the greenwich meridian, etc. we now take up the way in which the celestial sphere is correspondingly divided and also simple explanations of some of the more important terms used in celestial navigation. as you stand on any point of the earth and look up, the heavenly bodies appear as though they were situated upon the surface of a vast hollow sphere, of which your eye is the center. of course this apparent concave vault has no existence and we cannot accurately measure the distance of the heavenly bodies from us or from each other. we can, however, measure the direction of some of these bodies and that information is of tremendous value to us in helping us to fix our position. now we could use our eye as the center of the celestial sphere but more accurate than that is to use the center of the earth. suppose we do use the center of the earth as the place from which to observe these celestial bodies and, in imagination, transfer our eye there. then we will find projected on the celestial sphere not only the heavenly bodies but the imaginary points and circles of the earth's surface. parallels of latitude, meridians of longitude, the equator, etc., will have the same imaginary position on the celestial sphere that they have on the earth. your actual position on the earth will be projected in a point called your zenith, i.e., the point directly overhead. [illustration] from this we get the definition that the zenith of an observer on the earth's surface is the point in the celestial sphere directly overhead. it would be a simple matter to fix your position if your position never changed. but it is always changing with relation to these celestial bodies. first, the earth is revolving on its own axis. second, the earth is moving in an elliptic track around the sun, and third, certain celestial bodies themselves are moving in a track of their own. the changes produced by the daily rotation of the earth on its axis are different for observers at different points on the earth and, therefore, depend upon the latitude and longitude of the observer. but the changes arising from the earth's motion in its orbit and the motion of various celestial bodies in their orbits, are true no matter on what point of the earth you happen to be. these changes, therefore, in their relation to the center of the earth, may be accurately gauged at any instant. to this end the facts necessary for any calculation have been collected and are available in the nautical almanac, which we will take up in more detail later. now with these facts in mind, let us explain in simple words the meaning of some of the terms you will have to become acquainted with in celestial navigation. in the illustration (bowditch p. ) the earth is supposed to be projected upon the celestial sphere n e s w. the zenith of the observer is projected at z and the pole of the earth which is above the horizon is projected at p. the other pole is not given. the celestial equator is marked here e q w and like all other points and lines previously mentioned, it is the projection of the equator until it intersects the celestial sphere. another name for the celestial equator is the equinoctial. all celestial meridians of longitude corresponding to longitude meridians on the earth are perpendicular to the equinoctial and likewise p s, the meridian of the observer, since it passes through the observer's zenith at z, is formed by the extension of the earth's meridian of the observer and hence intersects the horizon at its n and s points. this makes clear again just what is the meridian of the observer. it is the meridian of longitude which passes through the n and s poles and the observer's zenith. in other words, when the sun or any other heavenly body is on your meridian, a line stretched due n and s, intersecting the n and s poles, will pass through your zenith and the center of the sun or other celestial body. to understand this is important, for no sight with the sextant is of value except with relation to your meridian. the declination of any point in the celestial sphere is its distance in arc, north or south of the celestial equator, i.e., n or s of the equinoctial. north declinations, i.e., declinations north of the equinoctial are always marked, +; those south of the equinoctial, -. for instance, in the nautical almanac, you will never see a declination of the sun or other celestial body marked, n ° ' ". it will always be marked + ° ' " and a south declination will be marked - ° ' ". another fact to remember is that declination on the celestial sphere corresponds to latitude on the earth. if, for instance, the sun's declination is + ° ' " at noon, greenwich, then at that instant, i.e., noon at greenwich, the sun will be directly overhead a point on earth which is in latitude n ° ' ". the polar distance of any point is its distance in arc from either pole. it must, therefore, equal ° minus the declination, if measured from the pole of the same name as the declination or ° plus the declination if measured from the pole of the opposite name. p m is the polar distance of m from p, or p b the polar distance of b from p. the true altitude of a celestial body is its angular height from the true horizon. the zenith distance of any point or celestial body is its angular distance from the zenith of the observer. the ecliptic is the great circle representing the path in which the sun appears to move in the celestial sphere. as a matter of fact, you know that the earth moves around the sun, but as you observe the sun from some spot on the earth, it appears to move around the earth. this apparent track is called the ecliptic as stated before, and in the illustration the ecliptic is represented by the curved line, c v t. the plane of the ecliptic is inclined to that of the equinoctial at an angle of ° - / ', and this inclination is called the obliquity of the ecliptic. the equinoxes are those points at which the ecliptic and equinoctial intersect, and when the sun occupies either of these two positions, the days and nights are of equal length. the vernal equinox is that one which the sun passes through or intersects in going from s to n declination, and the autumnal equinox that which it passes through or intersects in going from n to s declination. the vernal equinox (v in the illustration) is also designated as the first point of aries which is of use in reckoning star time and will be mentioned in more detail later. the solstitial points, or solstices, are points of the ecliptic at a distance of ° from the equinoxes, at which the sun attains its highest declination in each hemisphere. they are called the summer and winter solstice according to the season in which the sun appears to pass these points in its path. to sum up: the way to find any point on the earth is to find the distance of this point n or s of the equator (i.e., its latitude) and its distance e or w of the meridian at greenwich (i.e., its longitude). in the celestial sphere, the way to find the location of a point or celestial body such as the sun is to find its declination (i.e., distance in arc n or s of the equator) and its hour angle. by hour angle, i mean the distance in time from your meridian to the meridian of the point or celestial body in question. assign for night reading, arts, in bowditch: - - - - - - - - - - - - . wednesday lecture time by the sun--mean time, solar time, conversion, etc. there is nothing more important in all navigation than the subject of time. every calculation for determining the position of your ship at sea must take into consideration some kind of time. put in your note-book: there are three kinds of time: . apparent or solar time, i.e., time by the sun. . mean time, i.e., clock time. . sidereal time, or time by the stars. so far as this lecture is concerned, we will omit any mention of sidereal time, i.e., time by the stars. we will devote this morning to sun time, i.e., apparent time, and mean time. apparent or solar time is, as stated before, nothing more than sun time or time by the sun. the hour angle of the center of the sun is the measure of apparent or solar time. an apparent or solar day is the interval of time it takes for the earth to revolve completely around on its axis every hours. it is apparent noon at the place where you are when the center of the sun is directly on your meridian, i.e., on the meridian of longitude which runs through the north and south poles and also intersects your zenith. this is the most natural and the most accurate measure of time for the navigator at sea and the unit of time adopted by the mariner is the apparent solar day. apparent noon is the time when the latitude of your position can be most easily and most exactly determined and on the latitude by observation just secured we can get data which will be of great value to us for longitude sights taken later in the day. now it would be very easy for the mariner if he could measure apparent time directly so that his clock or other instrument would always tell him just what the sun time was. it is impossible, however, to do this because the earth does not revolve at a uniform rate of speed. consequently the sun is sometimes a little ahead and sometimes a little behind any average time. you cannot manufacture a clock which will run that way because the hours of a clock must be all of exactly the same length and it must make noon at precisely o'clock every day. hence we distinguish clock time from sun time by calling clock time, mean (or average) time and sun time, apparent or solar time. from this explanation you are ready to understand such expressions as local mean time, which, in untechnical language, signifies clock time at the place where you are; greenwich mean time which signifies clock time at greenwich; local apparent time, which signifies sun time at the place where you are; greenwich apparent time, which signifies sun time at greenwich. now the difference between apparent time and mean time can be found for any minute of the day by reference to the nautical almanac which we will take up later in more detail. this difference is called the equation of time. there is one more fact to remember in regard to apparent and mean time. it is the relation of the sun's hour angle to apparent time. in the first place, what is a definition of the sun's ha? it is the angle at the celestial pole between the meridian intersecting any given point and the meridian intersecting the center of the sun. it is measured by the arc of the celestial equator intersected between the meridian of any point and the meridian intersecting the center of the sun. [illustration] for instance, in the above diagram, suppose pg is the meridian at greenwich, and ps the meridian intersecting the sun. then the angle at the pole gps, measured by the arc gs would be the hour angle of greenwich, or the greenwich hour angle. and now you notice that this angular measure is exactly the same as apparent time at greenwich or greenwich apparent time, for greenwich apparent time is nothing more than the distance in time greenwich, england, or the meridian at greenwich is from the sun, i.e., the time it takes the earth to revolve from greenwich to the sun; and that distance is exactly measured by the greenwich hour angle or the arc on the celestial equator, gs. the same is correspondingly true of local apparent time and the ship's hour angle. suppose, for instance, pl is the meridian intersecting the place where your ship is. then your ship's hour angle would be the angle at the pole intersecting the meridian of your ship and the meridian of the sun or lps and measured by the arc ls. and you will note that this distance is exactly the same as apparent time at the ship, for apparent time at ship is nothing more than the distance in time which the ship is from the sun. we can sum up all this information in a few simple rules, which put in your note-book: mean time = clock time. g.m.t. = greenwich mean time. l.m.t. = local mean time. apparent time = actual or sun time. g.a.t. (g.h.a.) = greenwich apparent time or greenwich hour angle. l.a.t. (s.h.a.) = local apparent time or ship's hour angle. difference between apparent and mean time or mean and apparent time--equation of time. right under this in your note-book put the following diagram, which i will explain: [illustration] you will see from this diagram that civil time commences at midnight and runs through hours to noon. it then commences again and runs through hours to midnight. the civil day, then, is from midnight to midnight, divided into two periods of hours each. the astronomical day commences at noon of the civil day of the same date. it comprises hours, reckoned from o to , from noon of one day to noon of the next. astronomical time, either apparent or mean, is the hour angle of the true or mean sun respectively, measured to the westward throughout its entire daily circuit. since the civil day begins hours before the astronomical day and ends hours before it, a.m. of a new civil day is p.m. of the astronomical day preceding. for instance, hours a.m., april th civil time is equivalent to hours april th, astronomical time. now, all astronomical calculations in which time is a necessary fact to be known, must be expressed in astronomical time. as chronometers have their face marked only from to as in the case of an ordinary watch, it is necessary to transpose this watch or chronometer time into astronomical time. no transposing is necessary if the time is p.m., as you can see from the diagram that both civil and astronomical times up to p.m. are the same. but in a.m. time, such transposing is necessary. put in your note-book: whenever local or chronometer time is a.m., deduct hours from such time to get the correct astronomical time: ct d-- h-- m-- s a.m. -- ------------------------ ct d-- h-- m-- s ------ l.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s a.m. -- ------------------------ l.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s now we come to a very important application of time. you will remember that in one of the former lectures we stated that to find our latitude, we had to find how far north or south of the equator we were, and to find our longitude, we had to find how far east or west of the meridian at greenwich we were. never mind about latitude for the present. we can find our longitude exactly if we know our greenwich time and our time at ship. for instance, in the accompanying diagram: [illustration] suppose pg is the meridian at greenwich, then anything to the west of pg is west longitude and anything to the east of pg is east longitude. now suppose gps is the h.a. of g. or g.a.t.--i.e., the distance in time g. is from the sun. and l p s is the h.a. of the ship or l.a.t.--i.e., the distance in time the ship is from the sun. then the difference between g p s and l p s is g p l, measured by the arc l g, and that is the difference that the ship, represented by its meridian pl, is from the greenwich meridian pg. in other words, that is the ship's longitude for, as mentioned before, longitude is the distance east or west of greenwich that any point is, measured on the arc of the celestial equator. the longitude is west, for you can see lpg or the arc lg is west of the meridian pg. likewise if p e is the meridian of your ship, the longitude in time is the s.h.a. or l.a.t., e p s (the distance your ship is from the sun) less the g.h.a. or g.a.t., g p s (the distance greenwich is from the sun) which is the angle g p e measured by the arc g e. and this longitude is east for you can see g p e, measured by g e, is east of the greenwich meridian, p g. in both these cases, however, the longitude is expressed in time, i.e., so many hours, minutes and seconds from the greenwich meridian and we wish to express this distance in degrees, minutes and seconds of arc. the earth describes a circle of ° every hours. then if you are hour from greenwich, you are / of ° or ° from greenwich and if you are hours from greenwich, you are / of ° or ° from greenwich. by keeping this in mind, you should be able to transpose time into degrees, minutes and seconds of arc for any fraction of time. it is, however, all worked out in table of bowditch which turn to. (note to instructor: explain this table carefully). put in your note-book: ° ' " = ( °) h-- m ( ') m-- s ( ") -- / s -------------------- h-- m-- s / s = s h-- m-- s h-- m = ° m-- s = ' s = " ----------- ° ' " also put in your note-book this diagram and these formulas: (for diagram use illustration on p. .) l.m.t. + west lo. = g.m.t. l.a.t. + west lo. = g.a.t. l.m.t. - east lo. = g.m.t. l.a.t. - east lo. = g.a.t. g.m.t. - west lo. = l.m.t. g.a.t. - west lo. = l.a.t. g.m.t. + east lo. = l.m.t. g.a.t. + east lo. = l.a.t. if g.m.t. or g.a.t. is greater than l.m.t. or l.a.t. respectively, lo. is west. if g.m.t. or g.a.t. is less than l.m.t. or l.a.t. respectively, lo. is east. example: in longitude ° ' w, l.m.t. is april d-- h-- m-- s a.m. what is g.m.t.? l.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s a.m. -- ------------------ l.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s -- w + ------------------ g.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s -------- g.m.t. april d-- h-- m-- s l.m.t. april d-- h-- m-- s a.m. in what lo. is ship? g.m.t. d h-- m-- s l.m.t. d h-- m-- s ------------------ lo. in t h-- m-- s w lo. = ° 'w assign also for night work reading the following articles in bowditch: - - - - - - - - - - (omitting everything on page .) thursday lecture sidereal time--right ascension our last lecture was devoted to a discussion of sun time. today we are going to talk about star time, or, using the more common words, sidereal time. now, just one word of review. you remember that we have learned that astronomical time is reckoned from noon of one day to noon of the next and hence the astronomical day corresponds to the hours of a ship's run. the hours are counted from to , so that o'clock in the morning of october th is astronomically october th, hours or o'clock of october th. now right ascension is different from both astronomical and civil time. right ascension is practically celestial longitude. for instance, the position of a place on the earth is fixed by its latitude and longitude; the position of a heavenly body is fixed by its declination and right ascension. but right ascension is not measured in degrees and minutes nor is it measured east and west. it is reckoned in hours and minutes all the way around the sky, eastward from a certain point, through the approximate hours. the point from which this celestial longitude begins is not at greenwich, but the point where the celestial equator intersects the ecliptic in the spring of the year, i.e., the point where the sun, coming north in the spring, crosses the celestial equator. this point is called the first point of aries. you will frequently hear me speak of a star having, for instance, a right ascension of h m s. i mean by that, that starting at the celestial meridian, i.e., the meridian passing through the first point of aries, it will take a spot on the earth h m s to travel until it reaches the meridian of the star in question. roughly speaking then, just as greenwich apparent time means the distance east or west the greenwich meridian is from the sun and local apparent time means the distance east or west your ship is from the sun, so r.a.m.g. means the distance in time the meridian of greenwich is from the first point of aries, measured eastward in a circle. and this distance is the same as greenwich sidereal time, i.e., sidereal time at greenwich or the distance in time the meridian of greenwich is from the first point of aries. now, what is the star time that corresponds to local time? it is called the right ascension of the meridian, which means the r. a. of the meridian which intersects your zenith. just as l.a.t. is the distance in time your meridian is from the sun, so local sidereal time is the r. a. of your meridian, i.e., the distance in time your meridian is from the first point of aries. put in your note-book: g.s.t. and r.a.m.g. are one and the same thing. l.s.t. and r.a.m. are one and the same thing. g.m.t. + (.).r.a. + (+).c.p. = g.s.t. (r.a.m.g.) if the result is more than hours, subtract hours. g.s.t. - (.).r.a. - (+).c.p. = g.m.t. g.s.t. - w.lo. = l.s.t. + e.lo. l.s.t. + w.lo. = g.s.t. - e.lo. i can explain all these formulas very easily by the following illustration which put in your note-book: (note to instructor: if possible have copies of this illustration mimeographed and distributed to each student.) [illustration: first point of aries.] there is one term i have used which does not appear in the illustration. it is the earth's central progress ((+).c.p.). the astronomical day based on the sun, is hours long, as said before. the sidereal day, however, is only h m s long. this is due to the fact that whereas the earth is moving in its ecliptic track around the sun while revolving on its own axis, the first point of aries is a fixed point and hence never moves. the correction, then, for the difference in the length of time between a sidereal day and a mean solar day is called the earth's central progress and, of course, has to be figured for all amounts of time after mean noon at greenwich, since the sun's right ascension tables in the nautical almanac are based on time at mean noon at greenwich. now you have a formula for practically all kinds of conversion except for converting l.m.t. into l.s.t. you could do it by the formula l.m.t. + w.lo. = g.m.t. + (.).r.a. + (+).c.p. = g.s.t. - w.lo. = l.s.t. - e.lo. + e.lo. but that involves too many operations. a shorter way, though not so simple perhaps, is as follows: l.m.t. + reduction page n.a. for time after local mean noon + (.).r.a. of greenwich mean noon ± reduction page n.a. for lo. in t. (w+, e-) = l.s.t. note to instructor: explain this formula by turning to page n.a. and work it out by the formula l.m.t. + lo. in t (w) = g.m.t. + (.).r.a. + (+).c.p. = g.s.t. - lo. in t (w) = l.s.t. example: l.m.t. h-- m-- s lo. in t -- w + ------------- g.m.t. -- -- (.).r.a. -- -- (+).c.p. -- -- ------------- g.s.t. -- -- lo. w - -- ------------- l.s.t. h-- m-- s now bowditch gets this l.s.t. in still another way. turn to page , article . there the formula used is l.m.t. + (.).r.a. + (+).c.p. = l.s.t, and in order to get the correct (.).r.a. and (+).c.p. the g.m.t. has to be secured by the formula l.m.t. + w.lo. = g.m.t. - e.lo. let us work this same example in bowditch by the other two methods. first by the formula l.m.t. + w.lo. = g.m.t. + (.).r.a. + (+).c.p. = g.s.t. - w.lo. = l.s.t. - e.lo. + e.lo. l.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s + w. lo. -- ---------------------- g.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s (.).r.a. -- -- (+).c.p. -- ---------------------- g.s.t. d-- h-- m-- s - w. lo. -- ---------------------- l.s.t. d-- h-- m-- s the small difference between this answer and that of bowditch's is that the (.).r.a. for is slightly different from that of . bowditch used the almanac, whereas we are working from the almanac. now turn to page of the n.a. and let us work the same example in bowditch by the method used here: l.m.t. h - m - s red. for h - (.).r.a. h - - red. lo. h - m - --------------- l.s.t. h - m - s the reason i am going so much into detail in explaining methods of finding l.s.t. is because, by a very simple calculation which will be explained later, we can get our latitude at night if we know the altitude of polaris (the north star) and if we know the l.s.t. at the time of observation. some of you may think that the n.a. way is the simplest. it is given in the n.a., and in an examination it would be permissible for you to use the n.a. as a guide because, in an examination, i propose to let you have at hand the same books you would have in the chart house of a ship. on the other hand, the method given in the n.a. is not as clear to my mind as the method which starts with l.m.t., then finds with the longitude the g.m.t. that gives you, roughly speaking, the distance in time greenwich is from the sun. add to that the sun's r.a. or the distance in time the sun is from the first point of aries at greenwich mean noon. add to that the correction for the time past noon. the result is g.s.t. now all you have to do is to apply the longitude correctly to find the l.s.t., just as when you have g.m.t. and apply the longitude correctly you get l.m.t. that is a method which does not seem easy to forget, for it depends more upon simple reasoning where the others, for a beginner, depend more upon memory. however, any of the three methods is correct and can be used by you. perhaps the best way is to work a problem by two of the three that seem easiest. in this way you can check your figures. when i give you a problem that involves finding the l.s.t. i do not care how you get the l.s.t. providing it is correct when you get it. assign for night reading in bowditch the following arts.: - - - . also the following questions: . given the g.m.t. and the longitude in t which is w, what is the formula for l.s.t.? . given the l.a.t. and longitude in t which is e, what is the formula for g.s.t.? . given the l.s.t. and longitude in t which is w. required g.m.t. etc. friday lecture the nautical almanac for the last two days we have been discussing time--sun time or solar time and star time or sidereal time. now let us examine the nautical almanac to see how that time is registered and how we read the various kinds of time for any instant of the day or night. before starting in, put a large cross on pages and . for any calculations you are going to make, these pages are unnecessary and they are liable to lead to confusion. sun time of the mean sun at greenwich is given for every minute of the day in the year in the pages from to . this is indicated by the column to the left headed g.m.t. turn to page under wednesday, jan. st. you can see that the even hours are given from to . remember that these are expressed in astronomical time, so that if you had jan. nd-- hours a.m., you would not look in the column under jan. nd but under the column for jan. st, hours, since a.m. jan. nd is o'clock jan. st, and no reading is used in this almanac except a reading expressed in astronomical time. now at the bottom of the column under jan. st you see the letters h.d. that stands for "hourly difference" and represents the amount to be added or subtracted for an odd hour from the nearest even hour. in this instance it is . . you note that even hours , , , etc., are given. to find an odd hour during this astronomical day, subtract . from the preceding even hour. for any fraction of an hour you simply take the corresponding fraction of the h.d. and subtract it from the preceding even hour. for instance, the declination for jan. st-- hours would be ° . ' or °-- '-- ", hours would be ° . ' or °-- '-- ", - / hours would be ° . ' or °-- '-- ", and - / hours would be ° . ' or °-- '-- ". now to the right of the hours you note there is given the corresponding amount of declination and the equation of time. before going further, let us review a few facts about declination. the declination of a celestial body is its angular distance n or s of the celestial equator or equinoctial. now get clearly in your mind how we measure the angular distance from the celestial equator of any heavenly body. it is measured by the angle one of whose sides is an imaginary line drawn to the center of the earth and the other of whose sides is an imaginary line passing from the center of the earth into the celestial sphere through the center of the heavenly body whose declination you desire. now as you stand on any part of the earth, you are standing at right angles to the earth itself. hence if this imaginary line passed through you it would intersect the celestial sphere at your zenith, i.e., the point in the celestial sphere which is directly above you. now suppose you happen to be standing at a certain point on the earth and suppose that point was in ° n latitude. and suppose at noon the center of the sun was directly over you, i.e., the center of the sun and your zenith were one and the same point. then the declination of the sun at that moment would be ° n. in other words, your angular distance from the earth's equator (which is another way of expressing your latitude) would be precisely the same as the angular distance of the center of the sun from the celestial equator. suppose you were standing directly on the equator and the center of the sun was directly over you, then the declination of the sun would be °. now if the axis of the earth were always perpendicular to the plane of the sun's orbit, then the sun would always be immediately over the equator and the sun's declination would always be °. but you know that the axis of the earth is inclined to the plane of the sun's orbit. as the earth, then, revolves around the sun, the amount of the declination increases and then decreases according to the location of the earth at any one time with relation to the sun. on march st and sept. rd, , the sun is directly over the equator and the declination is °. from march st to june st the sun is coming north and the declination is increasing until on june st-- hours--it reaches its highest declination. from then on the sun starts to travel south, crosses the equator on sept. d and reaches its highest declination in south latitude on dec. nd, when it starts to come north again. this explains easily the length of days. when the sun is in north latitude, it is nearer our zenith, i.e., higher in the heavens. it can, therefore, be seen for a longer time during the hours that it takes the earth to revolve on its axis. hence, when the sun reaches its highest declination in north latitude--june st--i.e., when it is farthest north from the equator and nearest our zenith (which is in ° n latitude) it can be seen for the longest length of time. in other words, that day is the longest of the year. for the same reason, dec. nd, when the sun reaches its highest declination in south latitude, i.e., when it is farthest away to the south, is the shortest day in the year for us; for on that day, the sun being farthest away from our zenith and hence lowest down toward the horizon, can be seen for the shortest length of time. put in your note-book: north declination is expressed +. south declination is expressed �-. now turn to page of the nautical almanac. you will see opposite jan. st h, a declination of � ° . '. every calculation in this almanac is based on time at greenwich, i.e., g.m.t. so at h jan. st at greenwich--that is at noon--the sun's declination is s ° . '. you learned in the lecture the other day on solar time, that the difference between mean time and apparent time was called the equation of time. this equation of time, with the sign showing in which way it is to be applied, is given for any minute of any day in the column marked "equation of time." you will also notice that there is an h.d. for equations of time just as there is for each declination, and this h.d. should be used when finding the equation of time for an odd hour. put in your note-book: . the equation of time is to be applied as given in the nautical almanac when changing mean time into apparent time. . when changing apparent time into mean time, reverse the sign as given in the nautical almanac. that is all there is to finding sun time, either mean or apparent, for any instant of any day in the year . do not forget, however, that all this data is based upon greenwich mean time. to find local mean time you must apply the longitude you are in. to find local apparent time you must first secure g.a.t. from g.m.t. and then apply the longitude. (note to instructor: make the class work out conversions here if you have time to do so and can finish the rest of the lecture by the end of the period.) so much for time by the sun. now let us examine time by the stars--sidereal time. turn to pages - . there you find the right ascension of the mean sun at greenwich mean noon for every day in the year. you remember that, roughly speaking, the sun's right ascension was the distance in time the sun was from the first point of aries. so these tables give that distance (expressed in time) for noon at greenwich of every day. for the correction to be applied for all time after noon at greenwich (i.e., (+).c.p.), use the table at the bottom of the page. for instance, the (.).r.a. at greenwich h m on jan. st would be (.).r.a. h-- m-- s (+).c.p. -------------- h-- m-- s now we must go back to some of the formulas we learned when discussing star time and apply them with the information we now have from the nautical almanac. if the g.m.t. on april th is h-- m-- s, what is the g.s.t. for the same moment? that is, when greenwich is h-- m-- s from the sun, how far is greenwich from the first point of aries? you remember the formula was g.s.t. = g.m.t. + (.).r.a. + (+).c.p. g.m.t. h-- m-- s (.).r.a. -- -- (+).c.p. -- -------------- g.s.t. h-- m-- s suppose you were in lo. ° w. what would be the r.a.m. (l.s.t.)? you remember the formula for l.s.t. from g.s.t. was the same relatively as l.m.t. from g.m.t., i.e., l.s.t. = g.s.t. - w. lo. + e. lo, here it would be g.s.t. h-- m-- s ( ° w) - -- -- --------------- l.s.t. h-- m-- s now these are not a collection of abstruse formulas that you are learning just for the sake of practice. they are used every clear night on board ship, or should be, and are just as vital to know as time by the sun. suppose you are at sea in lo. ° w and your ct is october th h-- m-- s a.m., cc m-- s fast. you wish to get the r.a. of your m, i.e., the l.s.t. how would you go about it? the first thing to do would be to get your g.m.t. it is ct--cc. d-- h-- m-- s a.m. -- ------------------ ct d-- h-- m-- s cc -- -- ------------------ g.m.t. d-- h-- m-- s then get your g.s.t. oct. d-- h-- m-- s (.).r.a. -- -- . (+).c.p -- . -------------------- d-- h-- m-- . s -- -------------------- g.s.t. d-- h-- m-- . s then get your l.s.t. g.s.t. h-- m-- . s w.lo (--) -- -------------- l.s.t. h-- m-- . s the last fact to know at this time about the almanac is found on pages - . here is given a list of the brighter stars with their positions respectively in the heavens, i.e., their celestial longitude or r.a. on page and their celestial latitude or declination on page . these stars have very little apparent motion. they are practically fixed. hence, their position in the heavens is almost the same from january to december though, of course, their position with relation to you is constantly changing, since you on the earth are constantly moving. the relationship between these various kinds of time is clearly expressed by the following diagram, which put in your note book: [illustration: going with arrow, add. going against arrow, subtract.] assign for reading in bowditch, articles - - - - - - - - - - - - . if any time is left, have the class work out such examples as these: . g.m.t. june th, , h-- m-- s. in lo. ° ' w. required l.s.t., g.s.t., l.m.t., l.a.t. . l.m.t. oct. th, , h-- m-- s a.m. in lo. ° ' " e. required l.s.t. . l.m.t. may th, , h-- m.-- s a.m. lo. ° ' " w. required l.a.t. . w.t. april th, , h-- m-- s c-w h-- m-- s cc m-- s slow. in lo. ° ' " w. required g.m.t., g.a.t., l.m.t., l.a.t., g.s.t., l.s.t. . what is declination and r.a. on may th, , of polaris, arcturus, capella, regulus, altair, deneb, vega, aldebaran? . what is the sun's declination and r.a., time at greenwich, july th: h-- m-- s a.m. h-- m-- s a.m. h-- m-- s h-- m-- s h-- m-- s a.m.? saturday lecture correction of observed altitudes the true altitude of a heavenly body is the angular distance of its center as measured from the center of the earth. the observed altitude of a heavenly body as seen at sea by the sextant may be converted to the true altitude by the application of the following four corrections: dip, refraction, parallax and semi-diameter. dip of the horizon means an increase in the altitude caused by the elevation of the eye above the level of the sea. the following diagram illustrates this clearly: [illustration] if the eye is on the level of the sea at a, it is in the plane of the horizon cd, and the angles eac and ead are right angles or ° each. if the eye is elevated above a, say to b, it is plain that the angles ebc and ebd are greater than right angles, or in other words, that the observer sees more than a semi-circle of sky. hence all measurements made by the sextant are too large. in other words, the elevation of the eye makes the angle too great and therefore the correction for dip is always subtracted. refraction is a curving of the rays of light caused by their entering the earth's atmosphere, which is a denser medium than the very light ether of the outer sky. the effect of refraction is seen when an oar is thrust into the water and looks as if it were bent. refraction always causes a celestial object to appear higher than it really is. this refraction is greatest at the horizon and diminishes toward the zenith, where it disappears. table a in bowditch gives the correction for mean refraction. it is always subtracted from the altitude. in the higher altitudes, select the correction for the nearest degree. you should avoid taking low altitudes ( ° or less) when the atmosphere is not perfectly clear. haziness increases refraction. parallax is simply the difference in angular altitude of a heavenly body as measured from the center of the earth and as measured from the corresponding point on the surface of the earth. parallax is greatest when the body is in the horizon, and disappears when it is at the zenith. [illustration] when the angular altitude of the sun in this diagram is , the parallax abc is greatest. when the altitude is highest there is no parallax. the sun is so far away that its parallax never exceeds ". the stars have practically none at all from the earth's surface. parallax is always to be added in the case of the sun. the semi-diameter of a heavenly body is half the angle subtended by the diameter of the visible disk at the eye of the observer. for the same body, the sd varies with the distance. thus, the difference of the sun's sd at different times of the year is due to the change of the earth's distance from the sun. [illustration] the sd is to be added to the observed altitude in case the lower limb is brought in contact with the horizon, and subtracted if the upper limb is used. probably most of the sights you take will be of the sun's lower limb, i.e., when the lower limb is brought in contact with the horizon, so all you need to remember is that in that event the sd is additive. now at first we will correct altitudes by applying each correction separately, but as soon as you get the idea, there is a short way to apply all four corrections at once. this is done in table . however, disregard that for the moment. put this in your note-book: dip is -. table bowditch refraction is -. " a bowditch parallax is +. " bowditch s.d. is +. nautical almanac observed altitude of sun's lower limb is expressed (_). true altitude is expressed -(-)-. remember that before an observation is at all accurate, it must be corrected to make it a true altitude. remember also that the ie must be applied, in addition to these other corrections, in order to make the observed altitude a -(-)- altitude. so there are really five corrections to make instead of four, providing, of course, your sextant has an ie. examples: . june th, , observed altitude of (_) ° ' ". ie + ' ". he ft. required -(-)-. . april th, , observed altitude of (_) ° ' ". ie - ' ". he ft. required -(-)-. . march th, , observed altitude of (_) ° ' ". ie - ' ". he ft. required -(-)-. etc. week iv--navigation tuesday lecture the line of position it is practically impossible to fix your position exactly by one observation of any celestial body. the most you can expect from one sight is to fix your line of position, i.e., the line somewhere along which you are. if, for instance, you can get a sight by sextant of the sun, you may be able to work out from this sight a very accurate calculation of what your latitude is. say it is ° n. you are practically certain, then, that you are somewhere in latitude ° n, but just where you are you cannot tell until you get another sight for your longitude. similarly, you may be able to fix your longitude, but not be able to fix your latitude until another sight is made. celestial navigation, then, reduces itself to securing lines of position and by manipulating these lines of position in a way to be described later, so that they intersect. if, for instance, you know you are on one line running north and south and on another line running east and west, the only spot where you _can_ be on _both_ lines is where they intersect. this diagram will make that clear: [illustration] [illustration] just what a line of position is will now be explained. wherever the sun is, it must be perpendicularly above the same spot on the surface of the earth marked in the accompanying diagram by s and suppose a circle be drawn around this spot as abcde. then if a man at a takes an altitude, he will get precisely the same one as men at b, c, d, and e, because they are all at equal distances from the sun, and hence on the circumference of a circle whose center is s. conversely, if several observers situated at different parts of the earth's surface take simultaneous altitudes, and these altitudes are all the same, then the observers must all be on the circumference of a circle and _only one_ circle. if they are not on that circle, the altitude they take will be greater or less than the one in question. [illustration] now such a circle on the surface of the earth would be very large--so large that a small arc of its circumference, say or miles, would be practically a straight line. suppose s to be the point over which the sun is vertical and gf part of the circumference of a circle drawn around the point. suppose you were at b and from an altitude of the sun, taken by sextant, you worked out your position. you would find yourself on a little arc abc which, for all purposes in navigation, is a straight line at right angles to the true bearing of the sun from the point s. you can readily see this from the above diagram. suppose your observer is at h. his line is ghi, which is again a straight line at right angles to the true bearing of the sun. he is not certain he is at h. he may be at g or i. he knows, however, he is somewhere on the line ghi, though where he is on that line he cannot tell exactly. that line ghi or abc or def is the line of position and such a line is called a sumner line, after capt. thomas sumner, who explained the theory some years ago. put in your note-book: any person taking an altitude of a celestial body must be, for all practical purposes, on a straight line which is at right angles to the true bearing of the body observed. it should be perfectly clear now that if the sun bears due north or south of the observer, i.e., if the sun is on the observer's meridian, the resulting line of position _must_ run due east and west. in other words it is a parallel of latitude. and that explains why a noon observation is the best of the day for getting your latitude accurately. again, if the sun bears due east or west the line of position must bear due north and south. and that explains why a morning or afternoon sight--about - a.m. or - p.m., if the sun bears either east or west respectively, is the best time for determining your north and south line, or longitude. now suppose you take an observation at a.m. and you are not sure of your d.r. latitude. your a.m. position when the sun was nearly due east, will give, you an almost accurate north and south line and longitude. suppose that from a.m. to noon you sailed ne miles. suppose at noon you get another observation. that will give you an east and west line, for then the sun bears true north and south. an east and west line is your correct latitude. now you have an a.m. observation which is nearly correct for longitude and a noon position which is correct for latitude. how can you combine the two so as to get accurately both your latitude and longitude? put in your note-book: through the a.m. position, draw a line on the chart at right angles to the sun's true bearing. suppose the sun bore true e / s. then your line of position would run n / e. mark it st position line. [illustration] now draw a line running due east and west at right angles to the n-s noon bearing of the sun and mark this line second position line. advance your first position line the true course and distance sailed from a.m. to noon, and through the extremity draw a third line exactly parallel to the first line of position. where a third line (the first position line advanced) intersects the second position line, will be your position at noon. it cannot be any other if your calculations are correct. you knew you were somewhere on your a.m. line, you know you are somewhere on your noon line, and the only spot where you can be on both at once is the point where they intersect. you don't necessarily have to wait until noon to work two lines. you can do it at any time if a sufficient interval of time between sights is allowed. the whole matter simply resolves itself into getting your two lines of position, having them intersect and taking the point of intersection as the position of your ship. there is one other way to get two lines to intersect and it is one of the best of all for fixing your position accurately. it is by getting lines of position by observation of two stars. if, for instance, you can get two stars, one east and the other west of you, you can take observations of both so closely together as to be practically simultaneous. then your easterly star would give you a line like aa' and the westerly star the line bb' and you would be at the intersection s. [illustration] assign for reading: articles in bowditch - - - . spend the rest of the period in getting times from the n. a., getting true altitudes from observed altitudes, working examples in mercator sailing, etc. wednesday lecture latitude by meridian altitude a meridian altitude is an altitude taken when the sun or other celestial body observed bears true south or north of the observer or directly overhead. in other words, when the celestial body is on your meridian and you take an altitude of the body by sextant at that instant, the altitude you get is called a meridian altitude. in the case of the sun, such a meridian altitude is at apparent noon. now latitude is always secured most accurately at noon by means of your meridian altitude. the reason for this was explained in yesterday's lecture. the general formula for latitude by meridian altitude is (put in your note-book): latitude by meridian altitude = zenith distance (zd) ± declination (dec). zenith distance is the distance in degrees, minutes and seconds from your zenith to the center of the observed body. for simplicity's sake, we will consider the sun only as the observed body. then the zenith distance is the distance from your zenith to the center of the sun. now suppose that you and the sun are both north of the equator and you are north of the sun. if you can determine exactly how far north you are of the sun and how far north the sun is of the equator, you will, by adding these two measurements together, know how far north of the equator you are, i.e., your latitude. as already explained, the declination of the sun is its distance in degrees, minutes and seconds from the equator and the exact amount of declination is, of course, corrected to the proper g.m.t. your zenith distance is the distance in the celestial sphere you are from the sun. you know that it is ° from your zenith to the horizon. your zenith distance, therefore, is the difference between the true meridian altitude of the sun, obtained by your sextant, and °. hence, having secured the true meridian altitude of the sun, you have only to subtract it from ° to find your zenith distance, i.e., how far you are from the sun. this diagram will make the whole matter clear: [illustration: a | | b (sun) | / | / | / | / |<-/- | / \ ° |/ | +------v---------------------- c a = zenith, b = sun, c = horizon.] the arc abc measures °. that is the distance from your zenith to the horizon. now if bc is the true meridian altitude of the sun at noon, °-bc or ab is your zenith distance. if bc measures by sextant °, ab measures °- ° or °. this ° is your zenith distance. now suppose that from the nautical almanac we find that the g.m.t. corresponding to the time at which we measured the meridian altitude of the sun shows the sun's declination to be ° n. well, if you are ° north of the sun, and the sun is ° north of the equator, you must be ° north of the equator or in latitude ° n. for that is all latitude is, namely, the distance in degrees, minutes and seconds you are due north or south of the equator. that is the first and simplest case. another case is when you are somewhere in north latitude and the sun's declination is south. then the situation would, roughly, look like this: [illustration: bc = altitude of the sun, ab = zenith distance and db = sun's declination.] in this case, your distance north of the equator ad would be your zenith distance ab minus the sun's declination db. this diagram is not strictly correct, for the observer's position on the earth appears to be south of the equator instead of north of the equator. that is because the diagram is on a flat piece of paper instead of on a globe. so far as illustrating the zenith distance minus the declination, however, the diagram is correct. the last case is where you are, say, ° n of the sun (your zenith distance is °) and the sun is in ° s declination. in that case you would have to subtract your zenith distance from the sun's declination to get your latitude, for the sun's latitude (its declination) is greater than yours. now from these three cases we deduce the following directions, which put in your note-book: begin to measure the altitude of the sun shortly before noon. by bringing its image down to the horizon, you can detect when its altitude stops increasing and starts to decrease. at that instant the sun is on your meridian, it is noon at the ship, and the angle you read from your sextant is the meridian altitude of the sun. to work out your latitude, name the meridian altitude s if the sun is south of you and n if north of you. correct the observed altitude to a true altitude by table . if the altitude is s, the zenith distance is n or vice versa. (note to instructor: if the sun is south of you, you are north of the sun and vice versa.) correct the declination for the proper g.m.t. as shown by chronometer (corrected). if zenith distance and declination are both north or both south, add them and the sum will be the latitude, n or s as indicated. if one is n, and the other s, subtract the less from the greater and the result will be the latitude in, named n or s after the greater. example: at sea june th, observed altitude of (_) ° ´ s, ie-- ´, he ft. ct h-- m-- s p.m. required latitude of ship. (_) ° ' s ie -- ' corr. -- he + ------------------- --------- -(-)- ° ' " s corr. -- ' " -- ------------------- zd ° ' " n dec. n (g.m.t. june -- h m s) ------------------- lat. ° ' " n ------------------- assign for night work or to be worked in class room such examples as the following: . june st, . (_) ° ' " s. g.m.t. h m s. he ft. ie + ' ". required latitude in at noon. . april nd, . (_) ° ' " n. ct was d h m s a.m., which was m s slow on march st (same ct) and m s fast on march th (same ct). ie -- ' ". he ft. required latitude in at noon. assign for night work reading also, the following articles in bowditch: and . thursday lecture azimuths of the sun this is a peculiar word to spell and pronounce but its definition is really very simple. put in your note-book: the azimuth of a heavenly body is the angle at the zenith of the observer formed by the observer's meridian and a line drawn to the center of the body observed. azimuths are named from the latitude in and toward the e in the a.m. and from the latitude in and toward the w in the p.m. all this definition means is that, no matter where you are in n latitude, for instance, if you face n, the azimuth of the sun will be the true bearing of the sun from you. the same holds true for moon, star or planet, but in this lecture we will say nothing of the star azimuths for, in some other respects, they are found somewhat differently from the sun azimuths. put this in your note-book: to find an azimuth of the sun: note the time of taking the azimuth by chronometer. apply chronometer correction, if any, to get the g.m.t. convert g.m.t. into g.a.t. by applying the equation of time. convert g.a.t. into l.a.t. by applying the longitude in time. the result is l.a.t. or s.h.a. with the correct l.a.t., latitude and declination, enter the azimuth tables to get the sun's true bearing, i.e., its azimuth. example: march th, . ct h -- m -- s. d.r. latitude ° ' n, longitude ° w. find the tz. g.m.t. h-- m-- s eq. t. -- -- g.a.t. h-- m-- s g.a.t. h-- m-- s lo. in t. -- -- (w--) l.a.t. h-- m-- s latitude and declination opp. name. tz = n ° 'w we will take up later a further use of azimuths to find the error of your compass. right now all you have to keep in mind is what an azimuth is and how you apply the formulas already given you to get the information necessary to enter the azimuth tables for the sun's true bearing at any time of the astronomical day when the sun can be seen. in consulting these tables it must be remembered that if your l.a.t. or s.h.a. is, astronomically, h (a.m.), you must subtract hours in order to bring the time within the scope of these tables which are arranged from apparent six o'clock a.m. to noon and from apparent noon to p.m. respectively. we are taking up sun azimuths today in order to get a thorough understanding of them before beginning a discussion of the marc st. hilaire method which we will have tomorrow. you must get clearly in your minds just what a line of position is and how it is found. yesterday i tried to explain what a line of position was, i.e., a line at right angles to the sun's or other celestial body's true bearing--in other words, a line at right angles to the sun's or other celestial body's azimuth. today i tried to show you how to find your azimuth from the azimuth tables for any hour of the day. tomorrow we will start to use azimuths in working out sights for lines of position by the marc st. hilaire method. note to instructor: spend the rest of the time in finding sun azimuths in the tables by working out such examples as these: . april th, . d.r. latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. ct h-- m-- s. cc m-- s slow. find tz. . may th, . d.r. latitude ° ' s, longitude ° ' " e. ct h-- m-- s a.m. cc m-- s fast. find tz. note to instructor: if possible, give more examples to find tz and also some examples on latitude by meridian altitude. assign for night work reading the following articles in bowditch: - - - - . also, examples to find tz. friday lecture marc st. hilaire method by a sun sight you have learned how to get your latitude by an observation at noon. by the marc st. hilaire method, which we are to take up today, you will learn how to get a line of position, at any hour of the day. by having this line of position intersect your parallel of latitude, you will be able to establish the position of your ship, both as to its latitude and longitude. now you have already learned that in order to get your latitude accurately, you must wait until the sun is on your meridian, i.e., bears due north or south of you, and then you apply a certain formula to get your latitude. when the sun is on or near the prime vertical (i.e., due east or west) you might apply another set of rules, which you have not yet learned, to get your longitude. by the marc st. hilaire method, the same set of rules apply for getting a line of position at any time of the day, no matter what the position of the observed body in the heavens may be. just one condition is necessary, and this condition is necessary in all calculations of this character, i.e., an accurate measurement of the observed body's altitude is essential. what we do in working out the marc st. hilaire method, is to assume our dead reckoning position to be correct. with this d. r. position as a basis, we compute an altitude of the body observed. now this altitude would be correct if our d. r. position were correct and vice versa. at the same time we measure by sextant the altitude of the celestial body observed, say, the sun. if the computed altitude and the actual observed altitude coincide, the d. r. position is correct. if they do not, the computed altitude must be corrected and the d. r. position corrected to coincide with the observed altitude. just how this is done will be explained in a moment. put in your note-book: _formula for obtaining line of position by m. st. h. method._ i. three quantities must be known either from observation or from dead reckoning. . the s. h. a., marked "t." note: the method for finding s. h. a. (t) differs when the sun or star is used as follows: (a) for the sun: get g.m.t. from the corrected chronometer time. apply the equation of time to find the g.a.t. apply the d.r. lo. (-w) (+e) and the result is l.a.t. or s.h.a. as required. (b) for a star: (note to pupils: leave this blank to be filled in when we take up stars in more detail.) . the latitude, marked "l." . the declination of the observed body, marked "d." ii. add together the log haversine of the s.h.a. (table ), the log cosine of the lat. (table ), and the log cosine of the dec. (table ) and call the sum s. s is a log haversine and must always be less than . if greater than , subtract or to bring it less than . iii. with the log haversine s enter table in the adjacent parallel column, take out the corresponding natural haversine, which mark n_{s}. iv. find the algebraic difference of the latitude and declination, and from table take out the natural haversine of this algebraic difference angle. mark it n_{d±l} v. add the n_{s} to the n_{d±l}, and the result will be the natural haversine of the calculated zenith distance. formula n_{zd} = n_{s} + n_{d±l} vi. subtract this calculated zenith distance from ° to get the calculated altitude. vii. find the difference between the calculated altitude and the true altitude and call it the altitude difference. viii. in your azimuth table, find the azimuth for the proper "t," l and d. ix. lay off the altitude difference along the azimuth either away from or toward the body observed, according as to whether the true altitude, observed by sextant, is less or greater than the calculated altitude. [illustration] x. through the point thus reached, draw a line at right angles to the azimuth. this line will be your line of position, and the point thus reached, which may be read from the chart or obtained by use of table from the d. r. position, is the nearest to the actual position of the observer which you can obtain by the use of any method from one sight only. example: at sea, may th, , a.m. (_) ° ' ". d.r. latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s cc + m s. ie-- ". he ft. required line of position and most probable position of ship. wt d -- h -- m -- s a.m. -- ------------------------ wt d -- h -- m -- s c-w -- -- corr. + ' " ------------------------ ie -- ct d -- h -- m -- s ------------ cc + -- + ' " ------------------------ g.m.t. d -- h -- m -- s (_) ° ' " eq. t. + -- + ------------------------ ------------ g.a.t. d -- h -- m -- s -(-)- ° ' " lo. in t -- -- (w--) ------------------------ log hav . l.a.t.(t) d -- h -- m -- s log cos . lat. ° ' n log cos . dec. ° ' " n -------- log hav s . n s . l - d ° ' " n d ± l . -------- calc. zd ° ' " n zd . -- ° ------------- tz found from table to be cal. alt. ° ' " n ° e. -(-)- ° ' " ------------- alt. diff ' " toward. _ course. dist. diff. lat. dep. diff. lo._ ° ' " . . d.r. lat. ° ' n d.r. lo. ° ' " w diff. lat. -- diff. lo. e ---------- ------------- most probable fix lat. ° ' n lo. ° ' " w as azimuth is n ° e, line of position runs due n & s ( °) through lat. ° ' n. lo. ° ' " w. assign for work in class and for night work examples such as the following: . july th, . (_) ° ' ", lat. by d. r. ° ' n, lo. ° ' w. he ft. ie-- '. ct (corrected) h. m s p.m. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method and most probable fix of ship. . may th, , a.m. (_) ° ' ", d. r. lat. ° ' n, lo. ° ' w. he ft. ie + ' ". ct h m s. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method and most probable fix of ship. etc. saturday lecture examples on marc st. hilaire method by a sun sight . nov. st, . a.m. at ship. wt h m s. c--w h m s. d. r. lat. ° ' n, lo. ° ' w. (_) ° '. he ft. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method and most probable position of ship. . may th, . p.m. at ship. d. r. lat. º ' " n, lo. ° ' ' w. the mean of a series of observations of (_) was ° ' °. ie-- ' ". he ft. wt h m s. c--w h m s. c.c. fast, m s. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method, and most probable position of ship. . oct. st, , a.m. d. r. lat. ° ' " n, lo. ° ' " w. the mean of a series of observations of (_) was ° ' ". ie + ' ". he ft. wt h m s. c--w h m s. c. slow, m s. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method and most probable position of ship. . june st, , p.m. at ship. lat. d. r. ° ' " s, lo. ° ' " w. w.t. h m s. c--w h m s. cc m s slow. (_) ° ' ". ie + ' ". he ft. required line of position and most probable fix of ship. . jan. th, . a.m. d. r. lat. ° ' " n, lo. ° ' " w. the mean of a series of observations of (_) was ° ' ". ie + ' ". he ft. wt h m s. c--w h m s. c. slow s. required line of position and most probable fix of ship. week v--navigation tuesday lecture a short talk on the planets and stars identification of stars _ . the planets_ you should acquaint yourself with the names of the planets and their symbols. these can be found opposite page in the nautical almanac. all the planets differ greatly in size and in physical condition. three of them--mercury, venus and mars--are somewhat like the earth in size and in general characteristics. so far as we know, they are solid, cool bodies similar to the earth and like the earth, surrounded by atmospheres of cool vapors. the outer planets on the other hand, i.e., jupiter, saturn, uranus, and neptune, are tremendously large--many times the size of the earth, and resemble the sun more than the earth in their physical appearance and condition. they are globes of gases and vapors so hot as to be practically self luminous. they probably contain a small solid nucleus, but the greater part of them is nothing but an immense gaseous atmosphere filled with minute liquid particles and heated to an almost unbelievably high temperature. of the actual surface conditions on venus and mercury, little is definitely known. mercury is a very difficult object to observe on account of its proximity to the sun. it is never visible at night; it must be examined in the twilight just before sunrise or just after sunset, or in the full daylight. in either case the glare of the sun renders the planet indistinct, and the heat of the sun disturbs our atmosphere so as to make accurate visibility almost impossible. the surface of mercury is probably rough and irregular and much like the moon. like the moon, too, it has practically no atmosphere. mercury rotates on its axis once in days. its day and year are of the same length. thus the planet always presents the same face toward the sun and on that side there is perpetual day while on the other side is night--unbroken and cold beyond all imagination. venus resembles the earth more nearly than any other heavenly body. its diameter is within miles of the earth's diameter. the exasperating fact about venus, however, is that it is shrouded in deep banks of clouds and vapors which make it impossible for us to secure any definite facts about it. the atmosphere about venus is so dense that sunlight is reflected from the upper surface of the clouds around the planet and so reaches our telescopes without having penetrated to the surface at all. from time to time markings have been discovered that at first seemed real but whether they are just clouds or tops of mountains has never really been established. of all the planets, we know more about mars than any other. and yet practically nothing is actually known in regard to conditions on the surface of this planet. we do know, however, that mars more nearly resembles a miniature of our earth than any other celestial body. the diameter of mars is , miles--almost exactly half the earth's diameter. the surface area of mars is just about equal to the total area of dry land on the earth. like the earth, mars rotates about an axis inclined to the plane of its orbit, and the length of a martian day is very nearly equal to our own. the latest determinations give the length of a martian solar day as h m s. fortunately for us, mars is surrounded by a very light and transparent atmosphere through which we are able to discover with our telescopes, many permanent facts. the most noticeable of these are the dazzling white "polar caps" first identified by sir william herschel in . during the long winter in the northern hemisphere, the cap at the north pole steadily increases in size, only to diminish during the next summer under the hot rays of the sun. these discoveries establish without doubt the presence of vapors in the martian atmosphere which precipitate with cold and evaporate with heat. the polar caps, then, are some form of snow and ice or possible hoar frost. outside the polar caps the surface of mars is rough, uneven and of different colors. some of the darker markings appear to be long, straight hollows. they are the so-called "canals" discovered by schiaparelli in . the term "canal" is an unfortunate one. the word implies the existence of water and the presence of beings of sufficient intelligence and mechanical ability to construct elaborate works. flammarion in france and lowell in the united states claim the word is correctly used, i.e., that these markings are really canals and that mars is actually inhabited. the consensus of opinion among the most celebrated astronomers is contrary to this view. most astronomers agree that these canals may not exist as drawn--that they are to great extent due to defective vision. there is no conclusive proof of man-made work on mars, nor of the existence of conscious life of any kind. it may be there but conclusive proof of it is still lacking. _ . the stars_ the planets are often called wanderers in the sky because of their ever changing position. sharply distinguished from them, therefore, are the "fixed" stars. these appear as mere points of light and always maintain the same relative positions in the heavens. thousands of years ago the "great dipper" hung in the northern sky just as it will hang tonight and as it will hang for thousands of years to come. yet these bodies are not actually fixed in space. in reality they are all in rapid motion, some moving one way and some another. it is their tremendous distance from us that makes this motion inappreciable. the sun seems far away from us, but the nearest star is , times as far away from us as is the sun. expressed in miles, the figure is so huge as to be incomprehensible. a special unit has, therefore, been invented--a unit represented by the distance traversed by light in one year. in one second, light travels over , miles. in - / minutes, light reaches us from the sun and, in doing so, covers the distance that would take the vaterland over four centuries to travel. yet the nearest star is over four "light years" distant--it is so far away that it requires over four years for its light to reach us. when you look at the stars tonight you see them, not as they are, but as they were, even centuries ago. polaris, for instance, is distant some sixty "light years." had it disappeared from the heavens at the time lee surrendered to grant, we should still be seeing it and entirely unaware of its disappearance. now each star in the heavens is in reality a sun, i.e., a vast globe of gas and vapor, intensely hot and in a continuous state of violent agitation, radiating forth heat and light, every pulsation of which is felt throughout the universe. so closely indeed do many of the stars resemble the sun, that the light which they emit cannot be distinguished from sunlight. some of them are larger and hotter than the sun--some smaller and cooler. yet the sun we see can be regarded as a typical star and from our knowledge of it we can form a fairly correct idea of the nature and characteristics of these other stars. anyone knows that the stars vary in brightness. some of this variation is due partly to actual differences among the stars themselves and partly to varying distances. if all the stars were alike, then those which were farthest away would be faintest and we could judge a star's distance by its brilliancy. this is not the case, however. some of the more brilliant stars are far more distant than some of the fainter ones. there are stars near and remote and an apparently faint star may in reality be larger and more brilliant than a star of the first magnitude. vega, for instance, is infinitely farther away from us than the sun, yet its brightness is more than times that of the sun. polaris, still farther away, has times the light and heat of the sun. in fact the sun, considered as a star, is relatively small and feeble. _ . identification of stars_ only the brighter stars can be used in navigation. so much light is lost in the double reflection in the mirrors of the sextant, that stars fainter than the third magnitude can seldom be observed. this reduces the number of stars available for navigation to within very narrow limits, for there are only stars all told which are of the third magnitude or brighter. the nautical almanac gives a list of some stars which may be used, but as a matter of fact, the list might be reduced to some or without serious detriment to the practical navigator. about of these are of the second magnitude or greater and hence easily found. it is not difficult to learn to know or of the brighter stars, so that they can be recognized at any time. to aid in locating the stars, many different star charts and atlases have been published, but most of them are so elaborate that they confuse as much as they help. the simpler the chart, the fewer stars it pretends to locate, the better for practical purposes. also, all charts are of necessity printed on a flat surface and such a surface can never represent in their true values, all parts of a sphere. a chart, therefore, which covers a large part of the heavens, is bound to give a distorted idea of distances or directions in some part of the sky and must be used with caution. there are a few stars which form striking figures of one kind or another. these can always be easily located and form a starting point, so to speak, from which to begin a search for other stars. of these groups the great dipper is the most prominent in the northern sky and beginning with this the other constellations can be located one by one. when the groups or constellations are not known, then any individual star can be readily found by means of its right ascension, and declination. as you have already learned, declination is equivalent to latitude on the earth and right ascension practically equivalent to longitude on the earth, except that whereas longitude on the earth is measured e. and w. from greenwich, right ascension is measured to the east all the way around the sky, from the first point of aries. with this in mind, you can easily see that if a star's r.a. is less than yours, i.e., less than l.s.t. or the r.a. of your meridian, the star is not as far eastward in the heavens, as is your zenith. in other words it is to the west of you. and vice versa, if the star's r.a. is greater than yours, the star is more to the eastward than you and hence to the east of you. moreover, as r.a. is reckoned all around a circle and in hours, each hour's difference between the star's r.a. and yours is / of ° or °. hence if a star's r.a. is, for instance, hours greater than yours, the star will be found to the east of your meridian and approximately ° from your meridian, providing the star is in approximately the same vertical east and west plane as is your zenith. when the general east or west direction of any star has been determined, its north or south position can at once be found from its declination. if you are in latitude ° n. your celestial horizon to the south will be ° from ° n. or ° s. and to the north it will be ° + ° n. = ° or ° n. (below the n. pole). the general position of the equator in the sky is always readily found according to the latitude you are in. if you are in ° n. latitude, the celestial equator would intersect the celestial sphere at a point ° south of you. knowing this, the angular distance of a star north or south of the equator (which is its declination) should be easily found. remember, however, that the equator in the sky is a curved line and hence a star in the east or west which looks to be slightly north of you may actually be south of you. put in your note-book: if the star is west of you its r.a. is less than yours. if east of you, its r.a. is greater than yours. star will be found approximately ° to east or west of you for each hourly difference between the star's r.a. and your r.a. (l.s.t.). having established the star's general east and west direction, its north and south position can be found from its declination. _ . time of meridian passage of a star_ it is often invaluable to know first, when a certain star will be on your meridian or second, what star will be on your meridian at a certain specified time. here is the formula for each case, which put in your note book: . to find when a certain star will cross your meridian, take from the nautical almanac, the r.a. of the mean sun for greenwich mean noon of the proper astronomical day. apply to it the correction for longitude in time (west +, east -) as per table at bottom of page , nautical almanac, and the result will be the r.a. of the mean sun at local mean noon, i.e., the distance in sidereal time the mean sun is from the first point of aries when it is on your meridian. subtract this from the star's r.a., i.e., the distance in sidereal time the star is from the first point of aries (adding hours to the star's r.a., if necessary to make the subtraction possible). the result will be the distance in sidereal time the star is from your meridian i.e., the time interval from local mean noon expressed in units of sidereal time. convert this sidereal time interval into a mean time interval by always subtracting the reduction for the proper number of hours, minutes and seconds as given in table , bowditch. the result will be the local mean time of the star's meridian passage. example: april nd, , a.m. at ship. in lo. ° e. what is the local mean time of the star etamin's meridian passage? r.a.m.s. gr. d-- h h-- m-- s red. for ° e (-- h) -- . ________________ r.a.m.s. local mean noon h-- m-- . s star's r.a. h-- m-- s -- -- -- . ___________________ sidereal interval from l.m. noon h-- m-- . s red. for sid. int. (table ) -- -- . ___________________ l.m.t. d h-- m-- s hence, star will cross meridian at h-- m-- s a.m. april nd. . to find at any hour desired what star will cross your meridian, take the r.a. of the mean sun for greenwich mean noon of the proper astronomical day. apply to it the correction for longitude in time (west +, east -) as per table at bottom of page , nautical almanac, and the result will be the r.a. of the mean sun at local mean noon; i.e., the distance in sidereal time the mean sun is from the first point of aries when it is on your meridian. suppose you wish to find the star at p.m. add sidereal hours to the sun's r.a. just found. the result will be the r.a. of your meridian at approximately p.m. select in the table on p. the r.a. of the star nearest in time to your r.a. just secured. subtract the r.a. of the mean sun at local mean noon from the star's r.a. just found on p. of the n.a. and the result will be the exact distance in sidereal time the star you have just identified is from your meridian, i.e., the time interval from local mean noon expressed in units of sidereal time. convert this sidereal time interval into a mean time interval by always subtracting for the proper number of hours, minutes and seconds as per table , bowditch. you will then have secured the name of the star desired and the exact local mean time of the star's meridian passage. example no. : at sea dec. , . desired to get a star on my meridian at p.m. lo. by d.r. ° w. (.).r.a.g.m.n. h-- m-- s corr. ° w. ( th - m w + ) + -- . ___________________ (.).r.a. your m. h-- m-- . s + ___________________ r.a.m. h-- m-- . s -- ___________________ h-- m-- . s r.a. of star aldebaran h-- m-- . s star r.a. h-- m-- . (.).r.a. your m. -- -- . ---------------- sid. int. from l.m. noon h-- m-- . s red for sid. int. (table ) -- -- ---------------- l.m.t. h-- m-- . s aldebaran, then, is the star and the exact l.m.t. of its meridian passage will be h m . s note: if the r.a.m. is more than hours, deduct hours. you will know whether the star is north or south of you by its declination. if you are in north latitude, the star will be south of you if its declination is south or if its declination is north and less than your latitude. if its declination and your latitude are both north and its declination is greater, the star will be north of you. the same principle applies if you are in south latitude. assign any of the following to be worked in the class room or at night: . at sea, november st, . in latitude ° n., longitude ° w. wt h m p.m. observed unknown star about ° east of my meridian and ° south of me. what was the star? . at sea, december st, . ct h m s. cc m s slow. in d.r. latitude ° n., longitude ° ' w. observed unknown star about ° west of meridian and about ° s. what was the star? . march th, . in d.r. latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. ct h m s. cc-- m s. observed unknown star almost on my meridian and about ° north of me. what was the star? . aug. , , p.m. at ship. in d.r. latitude ° ' n. longitude ° ' w. at what local mean time will the star antares be on the meridian? . what star will transit at about : a.m. on aug. rd, ? in d.r. position latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' w. . at what local mean time will the star arcturus transit on july th, , in latitude ° ' n., longitude ° ' w.? wednesday lecture latitude by meridian altitude of a star--latitude by polaris (pole or north star) to find your latitude by taking an altitude of a star when it is on your meridian, is one of the quickest and easiest of calculations in all navigation. the formula is exactly the same as for latitude by meridian altitude of the sun. in using a star, however, you do not have to consult your nautical almanac to get the g.m.t. and from that the declination. all you have to do is to turn to page of the nautical almanac, on which is given the declination for every month of the year, of any star you desire. the rest of the computation is, as said before, the same as for latitude by the sun and follows the formula lat. = dec. ± z.d. ( ° - true altitude). as when working latitude by the sun, you subtract the z.d. and dec. when of opposite name and add them when of the same name. put in your note-book: formula: lat. = dec. ± z.d. ( ° - true altitude). at sea, dec. th, . meridian altitude star aldebaran ° ' s. he ft. required latitude of ship. obs. alt. ° ' s corr. - ---------- true alt. ° ' " s - ---------- z.d. ° ' " n dec. n ---------- lat. ° ' " n note to instructor: have class work examples such as the following before taking up latitude by pole star: . at sea, may th, . meridian altitude star capella, ° ' s. he ft. required latitude of ship. . at sea, august th, . meridian altitude star vega, ° ' " n. he ft. required latitude of ship. etc. _latitude by polaris_ (_pole or north star_) you remember we examined the formula in the n.a. for lat. by the pole star when we were discussing sidereal time some weeks ago. we will now take up a practical case of securing your latitude by this method. before doing so, however, it may be of benefit to understand how we can get our latitude by the pole star. in the first place, imagine that the pole star is directly over the n pole of the earth and is fixed. if that were so, and imagine for a minute that it is so, then it would be exactly ° from the pole star to the celestial equator. now, no matter where you stand, it is ° from your zenith to your true horizon. hence if you stood at the equator, your zenith would be in the celestial equator and your true horizon would exactly cut the pole star. now, supposing you went ° n of the equator. then your northerly horizon would drop by ° and the pole star would have an altitude of °. in other words, when you were in ° n latitude, the pole star would measure ° high by sextant. and so on up to °, where the pole star would be directly over you and you would be at the north pole. now all this is based upon the pole star being in the celestial sphere exactly over the north pole of the earth. it is not, however. owing to the revolution of the earth, the star appears to move in an orbit of a maximum of ° '. just what part of that ° ' is to be applied to the true altitude of the star for any time of the sidereal day, has been figured out in the table on page of the nautical almanac. what you have to get first is the l.s.t. find from the table the correction corresponding to the l.s.t. and apply this correction with the proper sign to the true altitude of polaris. the result is the latitude in. put in your note-book: to get latitude by pole star, first get l.s.t. this can be secured by using any one of the three formulas given you in week iii--thursday's lecture on sidereal time and right ascension. then proceed as per formula in n.a. * * * * * note to instructor: spend rest of time in solving examples similar to the following: . at sea, feb. th, . ct d h m s. cc m s fast. in lo. ° ' " w. ie + ' ". he ft. observed altitude polaris ° ' " n. required latitude in. . at sea, march st, . in lo. ° ' e. ct h m s. observed altitude polaris ° ' n. ie + ' ". he ft. required latitude in. etc. thursday lecture marc st. hilaire method by a star sight you have already been given instructions for finding a line of position by the marc st. hilaire method, using a sight of the sun. today we will work out the same method by using a sight of a star. put this in your note-book here and also under i(b) of the formula given you in week iv--friday's lecture: get g.m.t. from corrected chronometer time. with your g.m.t. find the corresponding g.s.t. according to the formula already given you. with your g.s.t. apply the d.r. longitude (- w. lo.) ---------- (+ l. lo.) to get the l.s.t. with the l.s.t. and the star's r.a. subtract the less from the greater and the result is the star's h.a. at the ship or "t." in using sun azimuth tables always take "t" from the p.m. column. mark azimuth n or s according to the lat. in and e or w, according as to whether the star is east or west of your meridian. then proceed as in the case of a sun sight. formula: (-w. lo.) g.m.t. + (.).r.a. + (+)cp = g.s.t. --------- = l.s.t.--star's r.a. (+e. lo.) (or vice versa if star's r.a. is greater) = star's h.a. at ship (t). then proceed as in case of sun sight. example: on may st, , in d.r. lat. ° n, lo. ° w, g.m.t. d h m s. what was star's h.a. at ship? g.m.t. h -- m -- s (.).r.a. -- -- . (+).c.p. -- -------------------- g.s.t. h -- m -- . s w lo.-- -- -- -------------------- l.s.t. h -- m -- . s star's r.a.(spica) -- -- -------------------- star's h.a. (t) h -- m -- . s now let us work out some examples by this method: . nov. th, . ct d h m s a.m. cc m s fast. d.r. position lat. ° ' n, lo. ° ' w. observed altitude star aldebaran east of meridian ° ' ". he ft. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method and most probable position of ship. . jan. rd, . p.m. at ship. ct h m s. lat. by d.r. ° ' " n. lo. ° ' " e. observed altitude star rigel ° ' " west of meridian. ie + ' ". he ft. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method and most probable position of ship. assign for night work one or two examples similar to the above. friday lecture examples: latitude by meridian altitude of a star, latitude by polaris, marc st. hilaire method by a star sight . at sea, dec. th, . observed meridian altitude star aldebaran ° ' " s. no ie. he ft. required latitude in. . at sea, jan. th, . ct d h m s a.m. in longitude ° ' " w. observed altitude of star polaris ° ' " n. ie + ' ". he ft. required latitude in. . at sea, june th, . a.m. at ship. ct h m s. cc m s fast. lat. by d.r. ° ' n, longitude ° ' " e. observed altitude of star altair east of meridian, ° ' ". ie-- ' ". he ft. required line of position by marc st. hilaire method and most probable position of ship. etc. * * * * * assign for night work the following articles in bowditch: through , disregarding the formulas. saturday lecture longitude by chronometer sight of the sun (time sight) you have now learned, first, how to get your latitude by a meridian altitude of the sun or a star and second, how to get your line of position and most probable fix, including both latitude and longitude, by the marc st. hilaire method, using for your calculations either the sun or a star. we are now going to take up a method of getting your longitude only. this method requires as much, if not more, calculation than the marc st. hilaire method. its results, on the other hand, are far less complete, for while the marc st. hilaire method will give you a fairly accurate idea of both your latitude and longitude, this method will, at best, only give you your longitude. moreover, you can use it for accurate results only when the sun bears almost due east or west of you, for that is the best time, as you have already learned, to get a line of position running due north and south, which is nothing more than a meridian of longitude. the only reason we explain this method at all is because it is in common practice among merchantmen and may, therefore, be of assistance to you, if you go on a merchant ship. remember, however, that it belongs to old navigation as distinguished from new navigation, exemplified by the marc st. hilaire method. it is undoubtedly being used less and less among progressive, up-to-date navigators, and will continue to be used less as time goes on. the fact remains, however, that at present many merchantmen practice it, and so it will do you no harm to become familiar with the method, too. this method is based on securing your longitude by a time sight or longitude by chronometer sight, meaning that at the time the sun bears as near due east or west as possible, you take a sight of it by sextant and at the same instant note the time by chronometer. with this information you proceed to work out your problem and secure your longitude according to the following formula. put in your note-book: to find your longitude by chronometer (or time) sight. . take sight by sextant only when the sun bears as near as possible due east or west. at exact time of taking sight, note chronometer time. . get g.m.t. from corrected chronometer time. apply equation of time to get the corresponding g.a.t. . correct observed altitude to get t.c.a. also have at hand lat. by d. r. and polar distance. (note: secure p. d. by subtracting dec. from °, if lat. and dec. are of same name. if lat. and dec. are of opposite name, secure p. d. by adding dec. to °.) . add together the t.c.a. the lat. by d.r. and the p.d. divide the sum by and call the quotient half sum. from the half sum subtract the t.c.a. and call the answer the difference. . add together the secant of the latitude, the cosecant of the p.d., the cosine of the half sum and the sine of the difference (table ). the result will be the log haversine of the s.h.a. or l.a.t. it must always be less than . if greater than , subtract or to bring it less than . . from table , take out the corresponding s.h.a. (l.a.t.), reading from the top of the page if p.m. at ship, or from bottom of page if a.m. at the ship. . find the difference between l.a.t. and g.a.t. this difference is lo. in time which turns into degrees, minutes and seconds by table . if g.a.t. is greater than l.a.t. longitude is west; if g.a.t. is less than l.a.t. longitude is east. example: august th, , a.m. ct d h m s a.m. cc m s slow. (_) ° ' ". ie-- ' ". he ft. d.r. lat. ° ' " n. required longitude in at time of observation. d-- h-- m-- s a.m. - ------------------ ct d-- h-- m-- s -- ° ' " cc+ + -- dec. ------------------ -------------- g.m.t. d h m-- s p.d. ° ' " eq. t. - -- ------------------ g.a.t. d h-- m-- s - ' " + (_) ° ' " --------- corr. + corr. + ' " ----------- -(-)- ° ' " lat. n sec. . p.d. cosec. . ------------ ) ° ' " ------------ / s ° ' " cos. . - -(-)- ------------ diff. ° ' " sin. . o-- ------------- . + + ------------- log. hav. s.h.a. (l.a.t.) . s.h.a. (l.a.t.) d-- h-- m-- s g.a.t. -- -- -- ----------------- lo. in t. h-- m-- s e lo. (table ) ° ' " e i wish to caution you about confusing this method with the one bowditch uses, and still another which henderson uses in his book "elements of navigation." it is not exactly like either one. it requires one operation less than either, however, and it also requires the use of fewer parts of the various tables involved. for that reason it is given you. assign for work in class room and also for work at night examples similar to the following: . oct. st, . a.m. (_) ° ' ". g.m.t. d h m s a.m. d.r. lat. ° ' n. ie-- ' ". he ft. required longitude in. . oct. th, . p.m. (_) ° ' ". ct h m s. cc m s slow. ie-- ' ". he ft. d.r. lat. ° ' " s. required longitude in. . may , . p.m. lat. by d.r. ° ' n. (_) ° ' ". ie + ' ". he ft. ct h m s. cc m s fast. required longitude in. . may th, . a.m. (_) ° ' ". wt h m s. c-w h m s. cc m s slow. latitude by d.r. ° ' n. ie-- ' ". he ft. required longitude in. . august th, . a.m. (_) ° ' ". ie-- ' ". he ft. in latitude ° ' n. ct d h m s a.m. cc + m s. required longitude in. . june th, . p.m. (_) ° ' ". ie-- ' ". he ft. ct h m s. cc m s fast. latitude by d.r. ° ' s. required longitude in. . july th, . a.m. ct d h m s a.m. cc m s slow. (_) ° ' ". ie + ' ". he ft. latitude by d.r. ° ' n. required longitude in. . may nd, . p.m. ct h m s. cc m s slow. (_) ° ' ". in latitude ° ' n. ie + ' ". he ft. required longitude in. week vi--navigation tuesday lecture longitude by chronometer sight of a star in getting your longitude by a time sight of a star, you proceed somewhat differently from the method used when observing the sun. what you wish to get first is g.s.t., i.e., the distance in time greenwich is from the first point of aries. if you can then get the distance the ship is from the first point of aries, the difference between the two will be the longitude in, marked east or west according as to which is greater. by looking at the diagram furnished you when we were talking of sidereal time, all this becomes perfectly clear. the full rule for finding longitude by a star is as follows, which put in your note-book: correct your ct to get your g.m.t. from the g.m.t. get the g.s.t. from the observed altitude of the star, obtain the star's h.a. at the ship in the same way l.a.t. is secured in case of the sun. to or from the r.a. of the star add, if west of your meridian, subtract if east of your meridian, the star's h.a. at the ship, just obtained. the result is the r.a. of the ship's meridian or l.s.t. find the difference between g.s.t. and l.s.t. and the result is the longitude, marked east or west according as to whether g.s.t. is less or greater than l.s.t. note: always take the star's h.a. from the top of the page of table . dec. , . a.m. observed altitude star sirius o° ' ", west of meridian. ct h-- m-- s p.m. cc m-- s slow. ie-- ' ". he ft. latitude by d. r. ° ' n. required longitude in. ct h-- m-- s cc + -- ------------------- g.m.t. h-- m-- s (.)ra -- -- . (+)cp -- . ------------------- g.s.t. h-- m-- . s ie - ' " -- he - ------------------- ------- g.s.t. h-- m-- . s corr. - ' " obs. alt. ° ' corr. - ---------- t.c.a. ° ' " lat. sec. . p.d. cosec. . + ) ° ' " ------------- / s ° ' " cos. . - t.c.a. ------------- diff. ° ' " sin. . + --------- . - --------- log. hav. star's h.a. at ship . star's h.a. h-- m-- s star's r.a. -- -- -------------- l.s.t. h-- m-- s g.s.t. -- -- -------------- lo. in t. h-- m-- s e longitude in ° ' " e assign for night work or work in the class room examples similar to the following: . april , , in latitude ° ' s. observed altitude of the star aldebaran, west of the meridian ° ' ". ct h m s. cc m s fast. ie-- ' ". he ft. required longitude in. . dec. th, . observed altitude of star sirius ° ' " west of meridian. ct h m s. cc m s slow. ie-- ' ". he ft. d.r. latitude ° ' n. required longitude in. note to instructor: if any time in the period is left or for night work assign examples to be worked by marc st. hilaire method, changing slightly the d.r. lat. and longitude just obtained by the time sight method. wednesday lecture examples on longitude by chronometer sight of a star . dec. th, . in latitude ° ' n. observed altitude star capella, east of meridian ° ' ". ie ' " off arc. he ft. ct d h m s a.m. cc m s slow. declination of star is " ' n. required longitude in. . october th, . in latitude ° ' s. observed altitude star rigel, west of meridian ° ' ". ct d h m s a.m. cc m s fast. ie ' " off arc. he ft. required longitude in. . april th, . p.m. at ship. in latitude ° ' " s. observed altitude star spica ° ' ", east of meridian. ct h m s p.m. ie ' " on arc. cc m s slow. he ft. required longitude in. . september th, . p.m. at ship. in latitude ° 'n. observed altitude star deneb, east of meridian, ° ' ". ie ' " off arc. he ft. cc m s slow. ct h m s p.m. declination of star is ° ' " n. required longitude in. if any time is left, work same examples by marc st. hilaire method assuming a position near the one found by time sight. assign for night work any of the above examples, to be worked either as time sights or by the marc st. hilaire method, and also the following arts. in bowditch: - - - . thursday lecture latitude by ex-meridian altitude of the sun you have learned that when you calculate your latitude from a meridian altitude of the sun, one of the necessary requisites is to have the sun exactly on your meridian. in fact, that is just another way of expressing meridian altitude, i.e., an altitude taken when the sun is on your meridian. now suppose that or minutes _before_ noon you fear that the sun will be clouded over _at_ noon so that a meridian altitude cannot be secured. there is a way to calculate your latitude, even though the altitude you secure is taken by sextant some minutes before or after noon. this is called latitude by an ex-meridian altitude. it must be kept in mind that this method can be used accurately only within minutes of noon, either before or after, and only then when you know your longitude accurately. put in your note-book: . get your l.a.t. (s.h.a.). . subtract it from h m s, or vice versa, according as to whether l.a.t. is just before or just after local apparent noon. call the result "time interval from meridian passage." . with your d.r. latitude, declination and time interval from meridian passage, enter table to get the proper amount of variation of altitude in one minute from meridian passage. . with the time interval from meridian passage and the variation, enter table to get the total amount of variation of altitude. . add this total amount of variation to the true observed altitude taken before or after noon, and the result is the corrected altitude. . then proceed to get your latitude according to the rules already given you for latitude by meridian altitude. example: at sea, jan. rd, . ct h m s. cc m s fast. longitude ° ' w. latitude by d.r. ° ' " n. (_) ° ' " s. he ft. ie-- ' ". required latitude in. ct h - m - s cc - - --------------------- g.m.t. h - m - s eq. t. - - --------------------- g.a.t. h - m - s lo. in t - - (w-) --------------------- l.a.t. d - h - m - s h - m - s - - - ----------------- m - s = time interval from meridian passage. dec. ° ' " s table = . variation lat. ° ' " n for min. altitude. * * * * * time interval from meridian passage m s - . " variation for minute (table ) " = ' " . = ------------- ' " + ie - ' " (_) ° ' " he + + --------- ----------- corr. + ' " -(-)- ° ' " + ----------- ° ' " - ----------- zd ° ' " n dec. s ----------- lat. in ° ' " n assign for work in class room and night work, examples similar to the following: . at sea, july th, . latitude by d.r. ° ' " n. longitude ° ' " w. observed ex-meridian altitude (_) ° ' " s. he ft. ie-- ' ". ct (corrected) h m s. required latitude in. . at sea, june th, . latitude by d. r. ° ' n, longitude ° ' w. observed ex-meridian altitude (_) ° ' " s. he ft. ct h m s. cc-- m s. ie ' " off the arc. required latitude in of ship. if any time is left, work similar examples by marc st. hilaire method. friday lecture examples: latitude by ex-meridian altitude of the sun . jan. st, . wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. latitude by d. r. ° ' s. longitude ° ' " w. (_) ex-meridian ° ' " n. ie ' " off the arc. cc m s fast. he ft. required latitude in. . march th, . ct d h m s a.m. latitude by d. r. ° ' n, longitude ° ' " e. (_) ex-meridian ° ' " s. ie ' " on the arc. cc m s slow. he ft. required latitude in. . april th, . ct d h m s a.m. latitude by d. r. ° ' s, longitude ° ' " e. (_) ex-meridian ° ' " n. ie-- ' ". cc m s slow. he ft. required latitude in. . may , . ct h m s a.m. latitude by d. r. ° ' s, longitude ° ' " e. (_) ex-meridian ° ' " n. ie ' " on the arc. cc m s fast. he ft. required latitude in. . june st, . ct h. m s. latitude by d. r. ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. (_) ex-meridian ° ' " s, ie-- ' ". cc m s slow. he ft. required latitude in. . dec. th, . wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. latitude by d. r. ° ' s. longitude ° ' " w. (_) ex-meridian ° ' " s. ie ' " on the arc. cc m s slow. he ft. required latitude in. if there is any time left, give examples of latitude by meridian altitude, marc st. hilaire method by sun or star sight, etc. saturday lecture finding the watch time of local apparent noon noon at the ship is the pivotal point of the day's work at sea. it is then that the navigator must report to the commanding officer the latitude and longitude by dead reckoning, the latitude and longitude by observation, the course and distance made good, the deviation of the compass and the course and distance to destination. apparent noon, then, is a most important time to calculate accurately, and to do so when the ship is under way, is not so easy at it first appears. if the ship is stationary, and you know the longitude you are in, the problem is simple. then it is merely a question of starting with l.a.t. of h- m- s, adding or subtracting the longitude, according as to whether it is west or east, to get g.a.t.; applying the equation of time with sign reversed to get g.m.t.; applying the c. cor. with sign reversed to get the c.t.; and applying the c-w to get the wt. if, for instance, this wt happens to be h- m- s, when the watch reads that number of hours, minutes and seconds, the sun will be on the meridian and it will be apparent noon. when the ship is moving, the problem is more difficult. at first thought you might imagine that all you would have to do would be to take the difference between the l.a.t. of the morning sight and hours, calculate the distance the ship would run in this time and from that determine the longitude you would be in at noon. then proceed as in the case of the ship being stationary. but such a calculation does not take into consideration the easting or westing of the ship itself. suppose that at the morning sight the l.a.t. is found to be h- m- s. if the ship does not move, it will be h- m- s to noon. but suppose the ship is moving eastward. then, in addition to the speed at which the sun is approaching the ship, there must be added the speed at which the ship is moving toward the sun--i.e. the change in longitude per hour which the ship is making, expressed in minutes and seconds of time. likewise, if the ship is moving westward, an allowance must be made for the westing of the ship. and this change of longitude in minutes and seconds of time must be subtracted from the speed of the sun's approach since the ship, in going west, is traveling away from the sun. there are various ways to calculate this allowance for the ship's speed, among the best of which is given in bowditch, art. , p. . another, and even easier way, is the following, which was explained to the writer by lieutenant commander r.p. strough, formerly head of the seamanship department of this school:-- . take the morning sight for longitude when the sun is on or as near as possible to the prime vertical. . subtract the l.a.t. of the morning sight from hours. this will give the total time from the morning sight to noon if the ship were stationary. . from the course to noon and speed of the ship, figure the change in longitude per hour in terms of seconds of time. for instance, suppose a ship were steaming a course of ° at the rate of knots per hour in approximately ° north latitude. the change of longitude per hour for this speed would be ' of arc or s of time. . now the sun travels at the rate of minutes or seconds per hour. to this hourly speed of the sun must be added or subtracted the hourly speed of the ship according as to whether the ship is going in an easterly or westerly direction. if, as mentioned above, the ship is steaming a course of ° (w / n) and hence changing its longitude at the rate of s per hour, then the net rate of approach of the sun per hour would be s - s, or s per hour. . divide the total time to noon from the l.a.t. of the morning sight (expressed in seconds of time) by the net rate of approach of the sun per hour. the result will be the corrected time to noon--i.e. the time at which the sun will be on the ship's meridian when the ship is changing its longitude to the westward at the rate of s per hour. . one more step is necessary. to the watch time of the morning sight, add the corrected time to noon. the result will be the watch time of local apparent noon. thirty minutes before will be the watch time of : a.m. and at : a.m. all deck clocks should be set to the local apparent time of the place the ship will be at local apparent noon. the following example illustrates the explanation just given and should be put in your note book:-- example:--at sea, august th, . about : a.m. by ship's time, position by observation just found to be latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' w. wt of morning sight h- m- s a.m. c-w h- m- s. cc + m- s. course °. speed knots. tz n ° e. what will be the watch time of local apparent noon? wt h -- m -- s a.m. + ------------------- -- -- c-w -- -- ------------------- ct -- -- cc + -- ------------------- g.m.t. -- -- eq. t. -- -- ------------------- g.a.t. -- -- lo. in t. -- -- ------------------- l.a.t. -- -- -- -- ------------------- total time to noon h m s course -- ° change in lo. per hr.-- ', s. s - ----- s, net rate of approach of sun h ---- m + ----- m x = s s + ----- s, total time to noon. ) ( . hours ----- ----- ----- corrected time to noon h -- m -- s wt of a.m. sight h -- m -- s ----------------- wt of l.a.n. h -- m -- s wt of : a.m. h -- m -- s when, therefore, the watch reads h-- m-- s, the deck clocks should be set to . a.m. and thirty minutes later it will be apparent noon at the ship. in all these calculations it is taken for granted that the speed of the ship and hence the change in longitude can be gauged accurately. a check on this can be made by comparing the longitude of the a.m. sight with the d.r. longitude of the same time. any appreciable difference between the two can be ascribed to current. now, if a proportionate amount of current is allowed for in reckoning the speed of the ship from the time of the a.m. sight to noon, then a proper correction can be made in the net rate of approach of the sun and the corrected time to noon will be very close to the exact time of noon. of course there will be an error in this calculation but it will be small and the result gained will be accurate enough for ordinary work. so much for finding the watch time of local apparent noon. careful navigators carry the process further and get the watch times of , and minutes before noon, so that by the use of constants for each one of these times, an accurate check on the noon latitude can be quickly and easily secured. we have not time in this course to explain how these constants are worked out but it is well worth knowing. the information regarding it is in bowditch art. , p. , and art. , p. . a word about the watch used by the navigator should be included here. this watch should be a good one and receive as much care, in its way, as the chronometer. it should be wound at the same time every day, carefully handled and, in other respects, treated like the fine time-piece that it is. while authorities differ on this point, the best practice seems to be not to change the navigator's watch to correspond with the apparent time of each day's noon position. the reason for this is two-fold. first, because constant moving of the hands will have an injurious effect on the works of the watch, and second, because, by not changing the watch, the c-w remains approximately the same, and thus a good check can be kept on both the watch and the chronometer as well as on the navigator's figures in reckoning the times of his various sights. assign for night reading the following arts. in bowditch: , , . also problems similar to the following: . at sea, july , . position by observation just found to be latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' w. wt of morning sight h- m- s. cc m s slow. course s ° w. tz n ° e. speed knots. what will be the watch time of local apparent noon? . at sea, august th, . position by observation just found to be latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' w. wt of morning sight h- m- s a.m. c-w h- m- s. cc m- s slow. course °. speed knots. tz n ° e. what will be the watch time of local apparent noon? week vii--navigation tuesday lecture compass error by an azimuth the easiest and most accurate way to find the error of your compass is, first, to find the bearing of the sun by your pelorus. if you set your pelorus, so that it will exactly coincide with the course you are steaming as shown by the compass in your chart house and then get a bearing of the sun by noting where the shadow from the pelorus vane cuts the circumference, this bearing will be the bearing of the sun by compass. at the same time, get your true bearing of the sun from the azimuth tables. the difference between the two will be the compass error, marked east or west according to the following rule which put in your note-book: . express your compass bearing and your true bearing by new compass reading. . if tz is to the right of cz, c.e. is east. formula: true--right--east. . if tz is to the left of cz, c.e. is west. formula: true--left--west. you must now remember that what you have is a compass error, consisting of both variation and deviation. to find the deviation, the variation and c.e. being given, is merely to apply the rules already given you under dead reckoning. for instance, if you had a c.e. of ° w and a variation of ° e, the deviation would be ° w. put this example in your note-book: lat h m s lat. ° ' n dec. ° ' " n ship heading n ° w. cb of (.) s ° e. variation ° w. what was the ship's true course and deviation of compass on direction ship was heading? [illustration] [illustration] cz ° (new compass reading) tz ° (new compass reading) --- ce ° ce = ° w variation ° w ----- deviation ° w true course being sailed n ° w or °. let us now work out some of the following examples: . l.a.t. h-- m-- s lat. ° ' s dec. ° ' " n ship heading s ° w compass bearing ° variation ° w. required t.c. and deviation on ship's loading. . august th, . ct h m s a.m. longitude ° ' " e. latitude ° ' n. ship heading °. compass bearing s ° e. variation ° e. required t.c. and deviation on ship's heading. . june th, . ct h m s a.m. longitude ° ' " e. latitude ° ' " s. ship heading sw x s. compass bearing ° variation ° w. required t.c. and deviation on ship's heading. etc. wednesday lecture correcting longitude by a factor we are now almost ready to begin the discussion of a day's work at sea. the only method we have not taken up is the one which is the subject of today's lecture. it is a method to correct your longitude to correspond with the difference between your latitude by dead reckoning and your latitude by observation. suppose you take a sight in the morning for longitude. the only latitude you can use is a d. r. latitude, advanced from your last known position. now suppose you run until noon and at that time take a sight for latitude. in comparing your d. r. latitude, advanced the true course and distance steamed to noon, and your latitude by observation taken at noon, suppose there is a difference of several minutes. the question is--how can we correct our longitude to correspond with this error discovered in the latitude? this is the method which put in your note-book: find the difference between the latitude by d. r. and the corresponding latitude by observation (in most cases secured from a sight at noon or from the star polaris). call this the error in latitude. with the d. r. latitude of the preceding sight and the azimuth or bearing of the preceding sight (always expressed as a bearing of less than °, old compass reading) enter table for the correct longitude factor. multiply this factor by the error in latitude. the result is the correction to apply to the longitude. it is applied east or west according as to whether the latitude by observation is to the east or west of the d. r. latitude on the line of position (the line at right angles to the azimuth) of the preceding sight. example: position about : a.m. latitude by d. r. ° ' s, longitude (just secured by observation) ° ' " e. l.a.t. h m s a.m., declination ° ' n. thence ship ran to noon °, true course, miles, when the latitude by meridian altitude of the sun was found to be ° ' s. required corrected longitude at noon. : a.m. d.r. lat. ° ' s lo. ° ' " e °-- k. s e ---------- -------------- noon--lat. by d.r. ° ' s lo. ° ' " e noon--lat. by obs. ° ' s ---------- error in lat. ' enter table with azimuth (s ° e) n ° e as bearing and latitude ° ' or °, factor is found to be . . ' (error in latitude) times . (factor) = . ' or ", correction in longitude. is it east or west? since azimuth is n ° e, line of position is n ° w. the d. r. latitude and latitude by observation are plotted on this line as follows: \ * lat. by obs. ( ° ' s) \ * lat. by d.r. ( ° ' s) \ latitude by observation is west of latitude by d.r. hence correction in longitude of " is applied west. position by observation, therefore, is as follows: lo. ° ' " e corr. in lo. w -------------- lo. by obs. ° ' " e lat. by obs. ° ' s note to instructor: assign the following examples for work in the class room: . april th, a.m. at the ship. g.m.t. d h m s a.m. (_) ° ' ". he ft. no ie, cc. latitude by d. r. ° ' n. longitude ° ' west. ship then sailed a true course of s ° e-- knots until noon when observed altitude (_) ° ' " s. what was the position at noon corrected for longitude? (note: work the a.m. sight by both time sight and marc st. hilaire method.) . june th, , a.m. latitude by d. r. ° ' s. longitude ° ' e. ct h m s a.m. cc m s fast. ie ' " off arc. he ft. (_) ° ' ". log registered . true course to noon s ° e. log registered . same ie, he, cc. observed altitude (_) ° ' " n. required position at noon by longitude factor. (note: work a.m. sight by marc st. hilaire method.) . at sea, may th, . in d. r. latitude ° ' " n. longitude ° ' " w. observed altitude (_) ° ' " and bearing by compass °. ie ' " on arc. he ft. wt h m s. c-w h m s. cc m s fast. changed course to ° p.s.c. and steamed knots to about o'clock. wt h m s. c-w h m s. at this time observed altitude of star arcturus ° ' ", east of meridian. same ie, he, cc. changed course to ° (true). steamed knots until midnight when ran into heavy fog. slowed down to knots per hour until a.m. when observed altitude (_) ° ' ". ct h m s a.m. same he, ie, cc. required fix at a.m. by marc st. hilaire method, laid down on chart. note to instructor: spend rest of period in familiarizing pupils with laying down runs and intersecting lines of position on mercator plotting charts. thursday lecture the navigator's routine--a day's work at sea you are now familiar with the principal kinds of sights and the methods used in working them as explained in the foregoing pages. this information, however, relates only to each individual kind of sight. today i will explain briefly how those sights are made use of in your daily work at sea. such an explanation necessarily cannot include the navigator's work under all conditions and on all classes of ships. it merely gives a brief outline of and a few suggestions relating to navigating conditions on board a medium-sized transport, in time of war. i say "in time of war" because navigating then is different, to some extent, from the ordinary routine in time of peace. suppose you are ordered to a ship as navigator. what are your duties (a) before leaving port, (b) while at sea, and (c) on entering pilot waters? _(a) before leaving port_ ascertain the height of the eye of the bridge and any other place on the ship where you would be likely to take sights. have posted in the chart room and on the bridge the deviation of the compass on each ° heading, so that it can be easily referred to. keep in each chronometer case or in a book nearby the error and daily rate of all chronometers on board. test each sextant for index error and record the result where you can refer to it easily. see that all charts of the harbor out of which you are to steam are corrected to date and are familiar to you, both as to sailing directions and buoys, and also as to lights and other aids to navigation. examine, in detail, the steering engine and steering apparatus. in case of its disarrangement your intimate knowledge of it may be most valuable. see that the patent log and sounding machine are in good order. see that the lead lines are well soaked in water, stretched, and properly marked. see that the lighting system in the chart room and the navigator's room is such that when any door is not tightly closed the lights in the room are extinguished. likewise, when the doors are closed, see that the lights will light and without repeated slamming of the doors. if possible, provide yourself with a flashlight set back in a metal tube so that the rays of the light are not diffused but can be focussed only on one spot at a time. see that your charts are arranged neatly in the drawers provided for them in the chart room. if, as is usual, the charts must be folded to get them in the drawers, mark them legibly on the outside and in the same place on each chart. put in the top drawers those charts you know you will use most frequently. this will save endless time and confusion. be sure you have a full complement of necessary instruments, including sextants, a stadimeter, binoculars, watches, stop watch, dividers, parallel rulers, pencils, work books; also all necessary books, such as smooth and deck log books, several volumes of bowditch, nautical almanacs, azimuth tables, pilot books, light and buoy lists, star identification tables, etc. you will be repaid a thousand times for whatever effort you expend to have your navigational equipment complete to the smallest detail. the shortage, for instance, of a pair of dividers would be an unending annoyance to you. this is also true of almost any other item mentioned above. prepare yourself, then, while you are in port and have plenty of opportunity to secure the equipment you desire. _(b) while at sea_ the least amount of work required of a navigator in time of peace would include ( ) a morning sight for longitude, ( ) a noon sight for latitude, ( ) an afternoon sight for longitude, ( ) an a.m. azimuth to check the deviation of the compass, and ( ) the dead reckoning for the day's run from noon to noon. navigating in war time requires more work than this. if possible, the ship's position must be known accurately at any time of day or night for, in case of an emergency, the lives of all on board may be imperilled by inaccurate knowledge of your whereabouts. this means that more sights must be taken and more celestial bodies observed. while every navigator has his own idea as to the proper amount of work to do in a day, it would seem as though the following would cover the minimum amount of work necessary under present conditions: . an a.m. sight of the sun for longitude. . an azimuth of the sun for checking the deviation of the compass, taken right after the a.m. sun sight. . the watch time of local apparent noon. . ex-meridian and meridian altitudes of the sun for latitude. . a p.m. sight of the sun for longitude. . an evening twilight sight of three or four stars, preferably one in each quadrant. if these altitudes are taken correctly your position can be found to the dot. . a morning twilight sight for a fix or, at least, for latitude by polaris. . the dead reckoning from noon to noon. . distance run during the last hours, from noon to noon . distance to destination. . set and drift of the current. _ . the a.m. sun sight_ in order to make this a valuable sight for longitude it should be taken when the sun is on or as near as possible to the prime vertical. as the sun, in north latitudes, passes the prime vertical before sunrise in the winter, the following remarks do not hold for that season. in winter the only rule to follow is to observe the sun as soon as it is ° or more above the horizon. in summer find out from the azimuth tables the local apparent time when the sun will bear °. estimate, as closely as possible, the longitude you will be in the next morning when the local apparent time is as just found in the azimuth tables. this can be done by calculating the dead reckoning from the previous sight, or, what is even simpler, laying the distance off on the plotting chart. with this information find the w.t. corresponding to the l.a.t. mentioned above by some such formula as this: l.a.t. ± lo. = g.a.t. ± eq. t. (sign reversed) = g.m.t. ± c.c.(sign reversed) = c.t. - (c-w) = w.t. this will not be absolutely accurate, for the longitude you are in is only approximate, but it will be close enough for good results. this resulting w.t. will be the time to take the a.m. sight. about fifteen minutes before that time compare your watch with your chronometer to get the c-w. also bring up the c.c. to date and make a note of it so that as much as possible of this detail work is accomplished before the sight is taken. next, take your sextant and test it for index error. this should be done regularly before each series of sights as it is impossible to tell what may have happened when the sextant is lying idle, except by the above test. now, with your sextant, watch and notebook, go to the place from which you have decided to take your observations and, at the proper watch time, start taking your altitudes. it is always advisable to take a number of sights, closely following each other, so that an error in one may be corrected somewhat by the others. take at least three sights in close succession. at the same time have the log read and enter it in your notebook. an equally good method in fair weather is to secure the distance run from the revolutions of the propeller. having taken your sights, go to the standard compass and get a bearing of the sun, at the same time noting in your book the w.t. of the bearing and the compass heading of the ship. you are now ready to go below into the chart room and work out your position. what method shall you use? that depends upon your preference. you have missed the point of the previous lectures, however, if you forget that the new navigation is based upon the marc st. hilaire method, and this is undoubtedly the method your captain will prefer you to use if he is an annapolis graduate. in this connection let me remind you again of the one fact, the oversight of which discourages so many beginners with the marc st. hilaire method. the most probable fix, which you get by one sight only, is not actually a fix at all. nor does any other method give you an accurate fix under like conditions. what the most probable fix is, and all it claims to be, is a point through which the required sumner line is to be drawn. if your d.r. position happens to be only one mile away from the most probable fix, that is no assurance that the most probable fix is near the actual position of the ship. you may be miles away from it. but the important information gained is that, though you may be miles away, you know on what line you are, and when this line is later crossed with another line of position that fix will be accurate. "two sights make a fix" is the whole matter in a nutshell. _ . the compass error_ having secured your morning sight, the next duty is to get the compass error. from your morning sight computation you know the watch time corresponding to the l.a.t. of the same sight. find the difference between the two and apply this difference to the watch time of the compass azimuth. that will give you the l.a.t. with which to enter the azimuth tables to get the true bearing corresponding to the compass bearing recently observed. apply the variation from the chart to get the magnetic bearing. the difference between this magnetic bearing and the compass bearing will be the required deviation, which you should compare with your deviation table. if there is a marked difference, and you are sure of your figures, use the new deviation in computing courses on this heading of the ship. _ . the watch time of local apparent noon_ you are now ready to figure the watch time of local apparent noon. unless you have a decided preference to the contrary, do this by the method explained in the saturday lecture, week vi. do not forget that in subtracting the l.a.t. of the morning sight from hours to get the total time to noon, in case the ship were stationary, you do _not_ use the l.a.t. of the d.r. position, but the l.a.t. found by subtracting from g.a.t. the longitude of the most probable fix. this will give you the l.a.t., based on the longitude of the most probable fix, which will be slightly different from the l.a.t. based on the d.r. longitude. when you have secured the watch time of local apparent noon, subtract minutes from it and notify the quartermaster that at that time by your watch the deck clocks are to be set to . a.m. if this change of time is very great (providing you are on an almost easterly or westerly course), it is wise to have the clocks set back in the night watches to allow for most of the time you figure you will lose. this will not work such a hardship or such an advantage to the officers and men who have the forenoon watch and will also be easier for the cooks. the clocks can then be slightly but accurately changed at . a.m., as mentioned above. _ . ex-meridian and meridian altitudes_ you know the principles and methods governing sights of this character. to know your latitude exactly at noon is usually required when you are steaming in convoy, for at that time your position signals are hoisted, and it is a matter of pride with the navigator not only to have his position exact but promptly. if your a.m. sight was taken when the sun was on or near the prime vertical, a change in latitude at noon will make no change in longitude. hence you can figure your longitude at noon just as soon as you have secured the corrected time from the a.m. sight to noon (which you have done right after working the a.m. sight). you will have your longitude, then, before you go on the bridge to observe for ex-meridian and meridian altitudes. sharply at noon you take your meridian altitude and tell a messenger to notify the captain that it is noon at the ship. the captain then orders eight bells struck, and you are ready to hand in your noon report, consisting of latitude and longitude by observation, latitude and longitude by dead reckoning, deviation of the compass on the ship's head at a.m., distance made good since the preceding noon, distance to destination, set and drift of current (note:--when steaming in convoy this is unnecessary and usually omitted), and any other pertinent remarks. if the sun was not taken on or near the prime vertical at the time of the a.m. sight, take out your longitude factor for the coming noon position and calculate your d.r. latitude at noon. by correcting the longitude of the a.m. sight, run to noon, with the difference of longitude, readily found at noon with the longitude factor and the error in latitude, you will have the correct noon longitude to hand in, with only a moment's delay. it will be very hard, however, to get all this information in on time without the use of latitude constants. there is no room for a discussion of these constants here, but they are easy to work and you should learn how to use them. the information is in bowditch art. , p. , and art. , p. . _ . the p.m. sun sight_ this is another longitude sight and so any previous remarks about sights of this character are applicable here. if the day is fine you need not work out this sight until after evening twilight, for a fix then by stars will give both latitude and longitude, whereas your afternoon sun sight will only give you a longitude. this p.m. sun sight is a good check sight, to be used or not, according as to whether other earlier or later sights have been obtained. _ . the evening twilight sight_ the beauty of using stars is that by almost simultaneous altitudes of different ones you can ascertain your position, both as to latitude and longitude. in the north atlantic during the summer months vega, deneb or altair in the east, antares or deneb kaitos in the south, arcturus in the west, and polaris, mizar, or kochab in the north form an ideal combination which includes every quadrant of the compass. in the winter months, capella, castor or pollux in the east, sirius or any star in orion's belt in the south, deneb in the west, and polaris in the north are equally as good. _ . the morning twilight sight_ in clear weather this should be primarily a sight for latitude, since the a.m. sun sight for longitude will follow it. a latitude by polaris, and at the same time some star in one of the southern quadrants, as a check, will give admirable results. _ . the dead reckoning from noon to noon_ if there is no change of course in the late forenoon, as is usually the case, the dead reckoning for the day's run can be figured any time before noon so that it will be all ready to hand in to the captain with the other noon data. it is much easier to lay this off on the chart than to go to the trouble of calculating it by table , bowditch. on the other hand, such a calculation checks the chart work and should be worked out if you wish to make "assurance doubly sure." _ . distance run during the last hours_ here, again, an answer by chart and an answer by figures is a good thing to secure. as you become accustomed to your work you will find the answer by chart infinitely easier and quicker to get. it is just as accurate, too, if you lay the distances off carefully with the dividers and parallel rulers. _ . distance to destination_ the same remarks as are made under ( ) hold true here. _ . set and drift of current_ find the difference between your d.r. position and your position by observation at noon, i.e., the course and distance from your d.r. position to your position by observation. the course is the set of the current, the distance the amount of drift, all of which is easily calculated by table , bowditch. this difference between the two positions is seldom due to current. it is due to all errors of steering and the like. but these are all ascribed to current, for the sake of convenience. this calculation of the current is seldom used now, particularly when steaming in convoy. it is obvious that a schedule, such as outlined above, cannot be adhered to in all kinds of weather or under all conditions. it is merely an outline of what might properly be included in a hour day, the weather conditions of which will lend themselves at any time to taking the observations mentioned. the weather of each succeeding day may force you to adopt a different routine. nevertheless, the closer you can keep to the above schedule the more exact will your various positions be. _(c) on entering pilot waters_ see that all charts of the locality you intend to enter are corrected to date. study these charts carefully, making notes, in detail, of the aids to navigation that you intend to pick up. in noting lights give their distinctive appearance, range of visibility, approximate time of sighting them, and any other information that you think you may need. if you have this information with you when on the bridge it will save much time and trouble that you would otherwise have to spend, at possibly a critical time, in the chart room. see that log lines, sounding machine, etc., are in order for instant use. remember that in entering pilot waters the safest landmarks are permanent ones. buoys, cans, etc., may drag from their positions or be lost altogether. this can also happen to lightships. become familiar with soundings, rise and fall of the tides, and the like, in the neighborhood in which you intend to anchor. if possible choose an anchorage that will enable you to get bearings from two or three fixed points on shore. as soon as possible after anchoring secure your bearings by pelorus and have them checked up by the quartermaster at regular intervals. this will determine how much, if any, dragging has taken place. lastly, always remember that no amount of advice can make up for your own carelessness. hold yourself ready for any emergency, keep cool, keep patient and keep pleasant. common sense is the best antidote in the world for strange situations. if you have that, and the knowledge you should have secured from these lectures, you cannot go far wrong. while the day's work which follows does not include every sight in regular sequence as given in the above discussion, it will give a fair idea of the navigator's work during a day's run. put it in your notebook. (note to instructor:--spend the rest of the period in explaining carefully each step of this example.) a day's work at sea departure taken from noon position jan. th, , in latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. course p.s.c. ne / n. deviation ° e. variation ° w. log registered . ship continued on this course until about : p.m. when log registered and observed altitude of star rigel, east of meridian, ° ' ". wt h m s p.m. c-w h m s. cc m s slow. he ft. ie ' " off arc. changed course to ° (true) and steamed until a.m. when log registered . at this time ship ran into heavy ne gale. slowed down to knots per hour until about : a.m. when observed (_) ° ' " and bearing by compass s ° e. variation ° w. wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. ie + ' ". same he, cc. ship then steamed on true course of ° at knots per hour until noon when log registered and observed meridian altitude (_) ° ' s. same ie (+ ' "), he, cc. required:-- . position by d. r. at noon. . position by observation at noon (corrected for longitude by a factor). . deviation of compass at : a.m. . watch time of local apparent noon. (see next page) at sea, jan. , . lat. in ° ' n lo. in ° ' " w steamed until : p.m. ========================================== course | dist. | d. lat. | dep. | d. lo. ------------------------------------------ n ° e | | . | . | . ========================================== lat. left ° ' n lo. left ° ' " w d. lat. n d. lo. e ------------ ------------ lat. in ° ' " n lo. in ° ' " w mid lat. ° ' n ---------------------------------------------------------------- at : p.m. obs. * rigel. obs. alt. * ° ' " w.t. h m s log hav "t" . e + c.w. log cos lat. . ------------- c.c. log cos. dec. . ° ' " ----------- -------- he - g.m.t. h m s log hav s . nat hav s . ------------- (.).r.a. nat hav l--d . t.c.a. * ° ' " (+).c.p. . ------ ------------- ----------- nat hav zd . dec. of * ° ' "s g.s.t. h m . s ° ' " zd lat. n --w.lo. - ------------- ----------- ------------ l.~d. ° ' " l.s.t. h m . s ° ' " c.alt. ------------- *r.a. t.alt ----------- ------------ "t" h m s ' " alt. diff. toward. [illustration: tz n ° e, s ° e] ================================================ course | dist | d. lat. | dep. | d. lo. ------------------------------------------------ s ° e | . | . | . | ================================================ lat. left ° ' " n lo. left ° ' " w s e ------------- ------------- lat. in ° ' " n lo. in ° ' " w changed course to ° (true) =============================================== course | dist | d. lat. | dep. | d. lo. ----------------------------------------------- n ° e | . | . | | =============================================== lat. left ° ' " n lo. left ° ' " w n e ------------- ------------- lat. in ° ' " n lo. in ° ' " w . a.m. (_) ° ' " w.t h m s log hav "t" . ie + c-w log cos lat. . ---------- c.c. log cos dec. . ° ' " ----------- ------- he + g.m.t. h m s log hav s . nat hav s . ---------- eq.t - nat hav l~d . -()- ° ' " ----------- ------ g.a.t. h m s ° ' " zd nat hav zd . dec. ° ' " s -w.lo. - lat. ° n ----------- ----------- ------------ l.a.t.(t) h m s ° ' " c.alt. l~d ° " t.alt. ----------- ' " toward [illustration: tz n ° e s °e] =========================================== course | dist. | d.lat. | dep. | d.lo. ---------|-------|--------|--------|------- s ° e | | . | . | =========================================== lat. left ° ' " n lo. ° ' " w s e ----------- ----------- lat. in ° ' " n lo. in ° ' " w bearing of sun by compass s ° e true bearing of sun s ° e ------- total error ° w variation ° w ----- deviation ° e ========================================== course | dist. | d. lat | dep. | d. lo. ---------+-------+--------+------+-------- n ° e | . | | . | . ========================================== lat. left ° ' " n lo. left ° ' " w n e ------------ ------------ lat. in ° ' " n lo. in ° ' " w _at noon._ l.a.t. h m s (_) ° ' s + w. lo. ----------- ie + g.a.t. h m s ------------ e.t. (sign reversed) + ° ' " ----------- he g.m.t. h m s ---------- -(-)- ° ' " s ° ' " n (zd) s (dec.) ---------- ° ' " n. lat. in at noon. lo. factor = . lat. by obs. ° ' " n lat. diff. . lat. by d.r. ° ' " n ------ ------------ diff. lo. . lat. diff. ' " since obs. lat. is east of d.r. lat. on line of pos. lo. diff. is applied east. / lo. by d.r. ° ' " w / lo. diff. e obs. lat. * ------------ / lo. in at noon ° ' " w d.r. lat. * / / _by dead reckoning from noon to noon_ =========================================================== course | dist. | d. lat. | dep. | d. lo. ----------+---------+-----------+--------+----------------- n ° e | | . | . | ' or ° ' n ° e | . | . | . | n ° e | . | . | . | | | ----- | ---- | | | . | . | =========================================================== lat. left. ° ' n lo. left ° ' " w n e --------- ------------- lat. in ° ' n lo. in ° ' " w min. lat. ° ' the watch time of local apparent noon date--jan. , g.a.t. of a.m. sight h m s lo. in t. of a.m. sight ----------- l.a.t. h m s total time to noon h m s course to noon -- ° change in lo. per hr. -- . ', s s + s = s x = ----- ------ , -------- ) , ( . hrs , ------ , , ------ , , ------ . hrs = h m s w.t. of a.m. sight a.m. ---------- w.t. of l.a.n. h m s a.m. answer. _by d.r._ lat. ° ' n lo. ° ' " w _by observation_ lat. ° ' " n lo. ° ' " w _dev. at : a.m._ ° e _w.t. of l.a.n._ h m s a.m. friday lecture day's work at sea, november th, . departure taken at noon in latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. log at noon registered . sailed on course p.s.c. °, deviation ° e, variation ° w until twilight when log registered . changed course to e / n p.s.c. and observed altitude of star aldebaran, east of meridian ° ' " and bearing by compass n ° e, variation ° w. wt h m s. c-w h. m s. cc m s slow. ie ' " off the arc. he ft. ship steamed on this course, in heavy fog and rain, until : a.m. when log registered . ship changed course to e / n (true) and steamed at knots per hour until : a.m. when weather cleared and observed altitude star polaris ° ' " n. wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. same ie, he and cc. ship continued on same course and speed until about : a.m. when observed altitude of (_) ° ' ". wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. same ie, he and cc. ship then steamed a true course of ° at a rate of knots per hour until noon when log registered and observed meridian altitude (_) ° ' ". same ie, he and cc. required . d. r. position at noon. . position by observation at noon (corrected for longitude by a factor). . deviation at : p.m. . watch time of local apparent noon. saturday lecture day's work at sea, april st, . departure taken from noon position in latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. log registered at noon. course p.s.c. until about : p.m. was n ° e. deviation ° w. variation ° w. at about : p.m. observed altitude of sun's lower limb ° ' " and bearing by compass n ° w. wt h m s. c-w h m s. cc m s slow. ie ' " off arc. he ft. log registered at this time . course was then changed to ne x n (true). weather cloudy. at about twilight clouds broke away and observed altitude of star procyon west of meridian ° ' ". ct h m s a.m. cc m s slow. ie ' " off arc. he ft. log registered . continued on same course until midnight, at which time log registered . at midnight ship ran into dense fog and slowed down to knots until about : a.m., when fog blew away and observed altitude of star polaris ° ' " n. wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. ie ' " off arc. cc m s slow. he ft. from : a.m. ship steamed a true course of n ° e until noon at a rate of knots per hour, at which time a meridian altitude of the (_) was observed ° ' " s. log registered . he ft. ie ' " off arc. cc m s slow. required . d. r. position at noon. . position by observation at noon (corrected for longitude by a factor). . deviation of compass at : p. m. sight. . watch time of local apparent noon. week viii--navigation monday lecture day's work at sea, nov. th, . departure taken from noon position in latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. log registered at noon . course p.s.c. was ° until about : p.m., deviation ° w, variation ° w, at which time observed altitude (_) ° ' " and bearing by pelorus s ° w. wt h m s. c-w h m s. cc + m s. ie ' " off arc. he ft. log registered . course was then changed to ° p.s.c. until about : p.m. when observed altitude star polaris ° ' " n. wt h m s. c-w h m s. same he, ie, cc. log registered . ship steamed on same course until : a.m. when log registered . at : a.m. sighted sub. on port bow. ordered full speed ahead and made knots per hour until a.m. when observed altitude (_) ° ' ". wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. same he, ie, cc. ship then steamed a true course of ° at a rate of knots per hour until noon, at which time observed meridian altitude (_) ° ' " s. same he, ie, cc. log registered . required . d. r. position at noon. . position by observation at noon (corrected for longitude by a factor). . deviation of compass at : p.m. . watch time of local apparent noon. tuesday lecture day's work at sea, dec. th, . departure taken from latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. noon position. log registered . course p.s.c. n ° e. deviation ° e, variation ° w. ship steamed on this course until p.m. when changed course to n ° e p.s.c. and observed altitude star polaris ° ' " n. wt h m s. c-w h m s. cc m s fast. ie none. he ft. log registered . ship then steamed at knots per hour until midnight. at midnight changed course to n ° e p.s.c. and steamed at knots per hour until a.m. at a.m. slowed down to knots per hour and steamed at that rate until : a.m. when course p.s.c. was changed to n ° e and observed altitude (_) ° ' ". wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. same ie, he, cc. sun bore by compass s ° e, variation ° w. continued on this course p.s.c. for two hours, speed knots. thence steamed a true course of ° at same speed to noon when observed meridian altitude (_) ° ' " s. same ie, he, cc. required . d. r. position at noon. . position by observation at noon (corrected for longitude by a factor). . deviation of compass at : a.m. . log reading at noon. wednesday lecture day's work at sea, july th, . departure taken from latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. noon position. log registered at noon . steamed until : p.m. on a course p.s.c. °. deviation ° w. variation ° w. log registered . changed course to ° p.s.c. (same variation and deviation) and steamed until about p.m. at about p.m. observed altitude (.) ° ' " and bearing by pelorus n ° w. wt h m s. c-w h m s. ie ' " on arc. cc m s slow. he ft. log registered . course p.s.c. was then changed to ° until about p.m. when observed meridian altitude of star vega ° ' " s. wt h m s. c-w h m s. same he, ie, cc. log registered . continued on same course p.s.c. until about a.m. when observed altitude of star vega ° ' " west of meridian. wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. same ie, he, cc. log registered . tz of star n ° w. continued on same course until a.m. when log registered . at a.m. heavy fog and rain forced ship to slow down to knots per hour until about a.m. when weather cleared and observed altitude (_) ° ' ". wt h m s a.m. c-w h m s. same he, ie, cc. thence ship steamed a true course of ° at a rate of knots per hour to noon, when log registered and observed meridian altitude (_) ° ' " s. same ie, he, cc. required . d. r. position at noon. . position by observation at noon (corrected for longitude by a factor). . deviation of compass at p.m. . watch time of local apparent noon. thursday lecture day's work at sea, nov. th, . departure taken at noon from latitude ° ' n, longitude ° ' " w. log registered at noon . course p.s.c. was °, deviation ° e, variation ° w until twilight when log registered and observed altitude star polaris ° ' " n. ie ' " off arc. he ft. wt h m s. c-w h m s. cc m s slow. changed course to se x e / e, same variation and deviation, and steamed on this course until about : p.m. when observed altitude of star markab, west of meridian, ° ' ". log registered . wt h m s. c-w h m s. same he, ie, cc. steamed on same course until midnight when log registered . changed course to ° p.s.c. (same variation and deviation), and steamed at knots speed until about a.m. when observed altitude (_) ° ' " and bearing by compass s ° e. variation ° w. wt h m s, a.m. c-w h m s. same he, ie, cc. continued on same course p.s.c. at a speed of knots per hour until noon when observed meridian altitude (_) " ' " s. same ie, he, cc. log registered . required . d. r. position at noon. . position by observation at noon (corrected for longitude by a factor). . deviation of compass at : a.m. . watch time of local apparent noon. additional lecture compass adjustment the aim of this lecture is to give you a very few facts about magnetism in general and compass adjustment in particular. the reason for including the lecture in this book is because of repeated requests on the part of graduates who have been consulted about the adjustment of the compass on their ships and who have realized that their advice might have been more helpful if they had learned more about the matter while at this school. the earth is a huge magnet. it is the effect of the magnetism in the earth upon the compass needle which causes the compass error and makes it necessary to correct it. how can it be corrected? to know that we must first know the fundamental law of magnetism, namely, that opposite poles of two magnets attract each other and similar poles repel each other. from which it follows that if we decide to color red, for instance, that end of a magnetic needle which points to north, the magnetism of that part of the earth must be considered blue, i.e., of opposite magnetism to the north-seeking end of the red magnetic needle. now, there are various kinds of magnetism which affect a ship's compass. one is from the earth, another from the iron in the ship, etc. to discuss them and, the theoretical cause of them in detail is beyond the scope of this lecture. to correct them, four sets of magnets are necessary, two of which are usually found in the binnacle of the compass itself. one is a fore and aft magnet or set of magnets, the other an athwartship magnet or set of magnets. the third set consists of the two globes of cast iron placed on either side of the compass bowl (called quadrantal correctors). the fourth magnet, or set of magnets, is to correct the compass in case of severe heeling by the ship. if you are ordered to adjust the compass the first thing to do is to choose a fine day with smooth water. take your ship to a certain spot, the exact location of which you have found from the chart, and where you are certain you will have plenty of sea-way in which to swing. set your watch to local apparent time (which you have calculated before coming out). take from the azimuth tables the sun's true bearing for every four minutes of the time during which you will be occupied adjusting, and convert it into the magnetic bearing by applying the variation at the place selected (secured from the chart). write down in a small book these times and corresponding magnetic bearings. now go to your compass and see that its lubber line is exactly fore and aft and in the keel line of the ship. have another officer who is thoroughly familiar with the pelorus stand by it as the ship is swung. all being ready, secure the lubber's point of the pelorus at north and clamp the sight vane to the sun's magnetic bearing at the time you have figured to take the first heading. starboard or port your helm until at the time calculated the reflection of the sight vane on the pelorus dial cuts on the proper magnetic bearing. the vessel's head will then be pointing to magnetic north. if, now, the compass were correct it would agree with the pelorus in showing the ship's head to be north. if it does not do so, there is deviation in the compass and its amount is the amount of deviation on that particular course. suppose the deviation were to starboard, i.e., easterly, and were due to magnetism in the ship's starboard side. then, if the magnetism in the north end of the needle be considered red, the magnetism in the starboard side of the vessel, in order to attract the red end of the needle, would be considered blue and the ship's magnetism, with the compass needle included, would look like this: [illustration] to counteract this blue attractive force on the starboard side, screw up the athwartship magnet in the binnacle toward the compass dial. its magnetism, if it were laid on the deck, would look like this: [illustration] in other words, as this magnet is moved nearer the compass needle, by the law of magnetism just given, the red end of the magnet repels the red end of the compass needle from the starboard side and the blue end of the magnet attracts the red end of the compass needle toward the port side. when the compass needle points to north, as shown by the correct pelorus bearing, the deviation on this heading (i.e., north) is corrected. now turn the lubber line of the pelorus to east. steady the ship on this heading until the shadow from the pelorus vane at the proper l.a.t. cuts the circumference of the pelorus dial at the proper magnetic bearing. the ship's compass should then show the ship's head pointing to east. suppose that it does not (as will usually be the case) but points to the right of east. then the ship's magnetism and compass would look like this: [illustration] to bring the compass needle back to north it would be necessary to move up nearer the compass dial the fore-and-aft magnet (shown below), whose magnetism would act on the compass needle on this heading of the ship exactly as the athwartship magnet acted on the compass needle when the ship was headed north: [illustration] now the ship's compass has been corrected for the north and east headings respectively. the next correction is for the heading half way between, i.e., north-east. if there is any deviation on this heading, adjust the cast iron cylinders (called quadrantal correctors), which are on each side of the compass bowl, by moving them toward or away from the compass until the ship's head by compass is north-east at the proper time and bearing by pelorus. the ship's compass has now been corrected for one whole quadrant, namely, from north to east, and this will suffice for all four quadrants since the relationships of the magnets themselves and the magnetism of the compass needle is the same for any of the other three quadrants as for the first. compass adjustment, however, can never be absolutely accurate. for that reason, it is wise to steam the ship completely around, steadying on every fifteen degrees by pelorus to determine and keep a record of remaining errors. there is one more correction to make, i.e., for the heeling error. this correction is necessary in case the ship is yawing in a sea-way so much that the relationship of the ship's magnetism to the compass needle is decidedly different from what it is when the ship is on a comparatively even keel. it is compensated by a vertical magnet directly underneath (or over) the binnacle, details in regard to which can be secured from bowditch art. , p. . it must be borne in mind that compass adjustment is not an exact science, that an adjustment for one latitude is not correct for another, that anyone of a hundred different causes can affect the magnetism of the ship or of the compass needle, which in turn directly affects the deviation. in this connection, it would be well to read bowditch art. , p. . you should also read arts. - in which are given, more fully and in more scientific language, the contents of this lecture. images generously made available by early canadiana online (http://www.canadiana.org/)) note: images of the original pages are available through early candiana online. see http://www.canadiana.org/eco/itemrecord/ ?id= f ccff dee +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | this is a very old document which contains inconsistent and | | unusual spelling. while most of the unusual spelling has | | been preserved, a number of obvious typographical errors | | have been corrected. for a complete list, please see the | | end of this document. | | | | the illustration mentioned on the frontispiece has been | | lost. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ directions for navigating on part of the south coast of newfoundland, with a chart thereof, including the islands of st. peter's and miquelon, and a particular account of the bays, harbours, rocks, land-marks, depths of water, latitudes, bearings, and distances from place to place, the setting of the currents, and flowing of the tides, _&c._ from an actual survey, taken by order of commodore pallisser, governor of _newfoundland_, _labradore_, &c. by james cook, surveyor of _newfoundland_. london: printed for the author, and sold by j. mount and t. page on _tower-hill_, m,dcc,lxvi. [illustration] directions for navigating on part of the south coast of _newfoundland_. n.b. _all bearings and courses hereafter-mentioned, are the true bearings and courses, and not by compass._ [sidenote: cape chapeaurouge.] cape _chapeaurouge_, or the mountain of the _red hat_, is situated on the west side of _placentia bay_, in the latitude of ° ' north, and lies nearly west or leagues from cape st. _maries_; it is the highest and most remarkable land on that part of the coast, appearing above the rest something like the crown of a hat, and may be seen in clear weather leagues. [sidenote: harbours of st. laurence] close to the eastward of cape _chapeaurouge_ are the harbours of _great_ and _little st. laurence_. to sail into _great st. lawrence_, which is the westermost, there is no danger but what lies very near the shore; taking care with westerly, and particularly s.w. winds, not to come too near the _hat mountain_, to avoid the flerrys and eddy winds under the high land. the course in is first n.w. till you open the upper part of the harbour, then n.n.w. half w. the best place for great ships to anchor, and the best ground is before a cove on the east-side of the harbour in fathom water. a little above _blue beach point_, which is the first point on the west-side; here you lie only two points open: you may anchor any where between this point and the point of _low beach_, on the same side near the head of the harbour, observing that close to the west shore, the ground is not so good as on the other side. fishing vessels lay at the head of the harbour above the beach, sheltered from all winds. to sail into _little st. laurence_ you must keep the west shore on board, in order to avoid a sunken rock which lies a little without the point of the _peninsula_, which stretches off from the east-side of the harbour: you anchor above this _peninsula_, (which covers you from the sea winds) in and fathom water, a fine sandy bottom. in these harbours are good fishing conveniencies, and plenty of wood and water. ships may anchor without the _peninsula_ in fathom good ground, but open to the s.s.e. winds. [sidenote: sauker head.] _sauker-head_ lies miles to the eastward of cape _chapeaurouge_, it is a pretty high round point, off which lie some sunken rocks, about a cable's length from the shore. [sidenote: garden bank] this bank whereon is from to fathom water, lies about half a mile off from _little st. laurence_, with _blue beach point_ on with the east point of _great st. laurence_. [sidenote: ferryland head.] _ferryland head_ lies s.w. mile from cape _chapeaurouge_, it is a high rocky island, just seperated from the main; it and cape _chapeaurouge_ are sufficient marks to know the harbours of st. _laurence_. [sidenote: bay of laun.] west miles from _ferryland-head_, lies the bay of _laun_, in the bottom of which are two small inlets, called _great_ and _little laun_. _little laun_, which is the eastermost, lies open to the s.w. winds, which generally prevails upon this coast, and therefore no place to anchor in. _great laun_ lies in about n. by e. miles, is near half a mile wide, whereon is from to fathom water. to sail into it, you must be careful to avoid a sunken rock, which lies about a quarter of a mile off from the east point. the best place to anchor is on the east-side, about half a mile from the head, in and fathom; the bottom is pretty good, and you are shelter'd from all winds, except s. and s. by w. which blow right in, and cause a great swell. at the head of this place is a bar harbour, into which boats can go at half tide; and conveniences for a fishery, and plenty of wood and water. [sidenote: laun islands.] off the west point of _laun bay_ lay the islands of the same name, not far from the shore; the westermost and outermost of which lie w. southerly miles from _ferryland-head_; near a quarter of a mile to the southward of this island is a rock whereon the sea breaks in very bad weather: there are other sunken rocks about these islands, but they are no ways dangerous, being very near the shore. [sidenote: taylor's bay.] this bay which lies open to the sea, lies miles to the westward of _laun_ islands; off the east point are some sunken rocks near a quarter of a mile from the shore. [sidenote: point aux gaul.] a little to the westward of _taylors bay_ there stretches out a low point of land, called _point aux gaul_; off which lies a rock above water, half a mile from the shore, called _gaul shag rock_; this rock lies west three quarters south leagues from _ferryland-head_, you have fathom close to the off side of it, but between it and the point are some sunken rocks. [sidenote: lamelin bay.] from _point aux gaul shag rock_, to the islands of _lamelin_ is west three quarters n. league, between them is the bay of _lamelin_, wherein is very shallow water, and several small islands, and rocks both above and under water, and in the bottom of it is a salmon river. [sidenote: lamelin islands.] the two islands of _lamelin_ (which are but low) lie off the west point of the bay of the same name, and lie west three quarters south, leagues from the mountain of the _red hat_; but in steering along shore make a w. by s. course good, will carry you clear of all danger. small vessels may anchor in the road between these islands in and fathom, tolerably well shelter'd from the weather: nearly in the middle of the passage going in between the two islands, is a sunken rock, which you avoid by keeping nearer to one side than the other, the most room is on the east-side. the eastermost island communicates with the main at low-water, by a narrow beach, over which boats can go at high-water, into the n.w. arm of _lamelin bay_, where they lay in safety. here are conveniences for a fishery, but little or no wood of any sort. near to the south point of the westermost island is a rock pretty high above water, called _lamelin shag rock_; in going into the road between the islands, you leave this rock on your larboard side. [sidenote: lamelin ledges.] these ledges lay along the shore, between _lamelin islands_ and _point may_, which is leagues, and are very dangerous, some of them being miles from the land. to avoid these ledges in the day-time, you must not bring the islands of _lamelin_ to the southward of east, until _point may_, or the western extremity of the land bear n. by e. from you; you may then steer to the northward with safety, between _point may_ and _green island_. in the night, or foggy weather, you ought to be very careful not to approach these ledges within fathom water, least you get intangled amongst them. between them and the main are various soundings from to fathom. [sidenote: observations.] all the land about cape _chapeaurouge_ and _laun_, is high and hilly close to the sea; from _laun islands_ to _lamelin_ it is of a moderate height; from _lamelin_ to _point may_, the land near the shore is very low, with sandy beaches, but a little way inland are mountains. [sidenote: island of st. peter's.] the island of st. _peter_'s lies in the latitude degrees minutes north. west by south near leagues from cape _chapeaurouge_, and west by south half south leagues from the islands of _lamelin_; it is about leagues in circuit, and pretty high, with a craggy, broken, uneven surface. coming from the westward, as soon as you raise _gallantry head_, which is the south point of the island, it will make in a round hommock like a small island and appears if seperated from st. _peter_'s. on the east-side of the island, a little to the n.e. of _gallentry-head_ lay three small islands, the innermost of which is the largest, called _dog-island_; within this island is the road and harbour of st. _peter_'s; the harbour is but small, and hath in it from to feet water; but there is a bar across the entrance, whereon there is but feet at low-water, and or feet at high-water. the road which lies on the n.w. side of _dog-island_ will admit ships of any burthen, but it is only fit for the summer season, being open to the n.e. winds; you may lay in , , and fathom, and for the most part is a hard rocky bottom, there is very little clear ground; ships of war commonly buoy their cables; the best ground is near the north shore. going in or out, you must not rainge too near the east-side of _boar-island_, which is the eastermost of the three islands above-mentioned, for fear of some sunken rocks which lie east about mile from it, and which is the only danger about st. _peter_'s, but what lay very near the shore. [sidenote: island of columbo.] this island is of a small circuit, but pretty high, and lies very near the n.e. point of st. _peter_'s; between them is a very good passage, one-third of a mile wide, wherein is fathom water. on the north-side of the island is a rock pretty high above water, called _little columbo_; and about a quarter of a mile n.e. from this rock is a sunken rock, whereon is fathom water. [sidenote: island of langley.] the island of _langley_, which lies on the n.w. side of st. _peter_'s, is about leagues in circuit, of a moderate and pretty equal height, except the n. end, wich is a low point with sand hills along it; it is flat a little way off the low land on both sides of it, but all the high part of the island is very bold too, and the passage between it and st. _peter_'s (which is league broad) is clear of danger. you may anchor on the n.e. side of the island, a little to the southward of the _sand hills_, in and fathom, a fine sandy bottom, sheltered from the southerly, s.w. and n.w. winds. [sidenote: island of miquelon.] from the north point of _langley_, to the south point of _miquelon_ is about mile; it is said that a few years since they join'd together at this place by a neck of sand, which the sea has wash'd away and made a channel, wherein is fathom water. the island of _miquelon_ is leagues in length from north to south, but of an unequal breadth; the middle of the island is high land, called the high land of _dunn_; but down by the shore it is low, except cape _miquelon_, which is a lofty promontory at the northern extremity of the island. [sidenote: dunn harbour.] on the s.e. side of the island, to the southward of the high land, is a pretty large bar-harbour, called _dunn harbour_, which will admit fishing shallops at half flood, but can never be of any utility for a fishery. [sidenote: miquelon rocks and bank.] _miquelon rocks_ stretches off from the east point of the island, under the high land mile and a quarter to the eastward, some are above and some under water; the outermost of these rocks are above water, and you have fathom close to them, and and fathom mile off. n.e. half n. or miles from these rocks lie _miquelon bank_ whereon is fathom water. [sidenote: road of miquelon.] the road of _miquelon_ (which is large and spacious) lies at the north-end, and on the east-side of the island, between cape _miquelon_ and a very remarkable round mountain near the shore, called _chapeaux_: off the south point of the road are some sunken rocks, about a quarter of a mile from the shore, but every where else it is clear of danger. the best anchorage is near the bottom of the road in and fathom, fine sandy bottom; you lay open to the easterly winds, which winds seldom blow in the summer. [sidenote: cape miquelon.] cape _miquelon_, or the northern extremity of the island is high bluff land; and when you are or leagues to the eastward or westward of it, you would take it for an island, by reason the land at the bottom of the road is very low. [sidenote: seal rocks] the _seal rocks_ are two rocks above water, lying league and a half off from the middle of the west-side of the island _miquelon_; the passage between them and the island is very safe, and you have or fathom within a cable's length all round them. [sidenote: green island.] this island which is about three-quarters of a mile in circuit, and low, lies n.e. miles from st. _peter_'s, and nearly in the middle of the channel, between it and _point may_ on _newfoundland_; on the south-side of this island are some rocks both above and under water, extending themselves mile and a quarter to the s.w. _description of_ fortune bay. _fortune bay_ is very large, the entrance is form'd by _point may_ and _pass island_, which are leagues n. by e. and s. by w. from each other, and it is about leagues deep, wherein are a great many bays, harbours, and islands. [sidenote: island of brunet.] the island of _brunet_ is situated nearly in the middle of the entrance into _fortune bay_, it is about leagues in circuit, and of a tolerable height; the east-end appears at some points of view like islands, by reason it is very low and narrow in two places. on the n.e. side of the island is a bay, wherein is tolerable good anchorage for ships in and fathom, shelter'd from southerly and westerly winds; you must not run too far in for fear of some sunken rocks in the bottom of it, a quarter of a mile from the shore; opposite this bay on the south-side of the island, is a small cove, wherein small vessels and shallops can lay pretty secure from the weather, in fathom water; in the middle of the cove is a rock above water, and a channel on each side of it. the islands laying at the west-end of _brunet_, called _little brunets_, afford indifferent shelter for shallops in blowing weather; you may approach these islands, and the island of _brunet_, within a quarter of a mile all round, there being no danger but what lay very near the shore. [sidenote: plate islands] _plate islands_ are three rocks of a moderate height, lying s.w. league from the west-end of _great brunet_. the southermost and outermost of these rocks, lay w. by s. half s. miles from cape _miquelon_, and in a direct line between _point may_ and _pass island_, miles from the former and from the later; s.e. a quarter of a mile from the _great plate_ (which is the northermost) is a sunken rock, whereon the sea breaks, which it the only danger about them. [sidenote: observations] there are several strong and irregular settings of the tides or currents about the _plate_ and _brunet islands_, which seem to have no dependency on the moon, and the course of the tides on the coast. [sidenote: island of sagona.] the island of _sagona_, which lies n.n.e. leagues from the east-end of _brunet_, is about miles and a half in circuit, of a moderate height, and bold too all round, at the s.w. end is a small creek that will admit fishing shallops; in the middle of the entrance is a sunken rock which makes it exceeding narrow, and difficult to get in or out, except in fine weather. [sidenote: point may.] _point may_ is the southern extremity of _fortune bay_, and the s.w. extremity of this part of _newfoundland_; it may be known by a great black rock, nearly joining to the pitch of the point, and something higher than the land, which makes it look like a black hommock on the point; near a quarter of a mile right off from the point, or this round black rock, are three sunken rocks, whereon the sea always breaks. [sidenote: dantzic coves.] near miles north from _point may_, is _little dantzic cove_, and half a leag. from _little dantzic_ is _great dantzic cove_; these coves are no places of safety, being open to the westerly winds; the land about them is of a moderate height, bold too, and clear of wood. [sidenote: fortune.] from _dantzic point_ (which is the north point of the coves) to _fortune_ the course is n.e. near leagues; the land between them near the shore is of a moderate height, and bold too; you will have in most places and fathom two cables length from the shore, and one mile off, and and two miles off. _fortune_ lies north from the east-end of _brunet_, it is a bar place that will admit fishing boats at a quarter flood; and a fishing village situated in the bottom of a small bay, wherein is anchorage for shipping in , , , and fathom; the ground is none of the best, and you lay open to near half the compass. [sidenote: grand bank.] [sidenote: great garnish.] [sidenote: frenchman's cove.] [sidenote: anchorage.] cape of _grand bank_ is a pretty high point, lying league n.e. from _fortune_; into the e. ward of the cape is _ship cove_, wherein is good anchorage for shipping, in and fathom, shelter'd from southerly, westerly, and n.w. winds. _grand bank_ lies e.s.e. half a league from the cape, it is a fishing village, and a bar harbour, that will admit fishing shallops at a quarter flood; to this place and _fortune_ resort the crews of fishing ships, who lay their ships up in harbour _briton_. from the cape of _grand bank_ to point _enragee_, the course is ne. a quarter e. leagues, forming a bay between them, in which the shore is low with several sandy beaches, behind which are bar harbours that will admit boats on the tide of flood, the largest of which is _great garnish_, leagues from _grand bank_, it may be known by several rocks above water laying before it, miles from the shore, the outmost of these rocks are steep too, but between them and the shore are dangerous sunken rocks. to the eastward, and within these rocks is _frenchman's cove_, wherein you may anchor with small vessels, in and fathom water, tolerably well shelter'd from the sea winds, and seems a convenient place for the cod fishery: the passage in is to the eastward of the rocks that are the highest above water; between them and some other lower rocks laying off to the eastward from the east point of the _cove_, there is a sunken rock nearly in the middle of this passage, which you must be aware of. you may anchor any where under the shore, between _grand bank_ and _great garnish_ in and fathom water, but you are only shelter'd from the land winds. [sidenote: point enragee.] _point enragee_ is but low, but a little way in the country is high land; this point may be known by two hommocks upon it close to the shore, but you must be very near, otherwise the elevation of the high lands will hinder you from discovering them; close to the point is a rock under water. from _point enragee_ to the head of the bay, the course is first n.e. a quarter e. leagues to _grand jervey_; then n.e. by e. half e. leagues and a half to the head of the bay; the land in general along the south-side is high, bold too, and of an uneven height, with hills and vallies of various extent; the vallies for the most part cloathed with wood, and water'd with small rivulets. [sidenote: bay l'arjent.] seven leagues to the eastward of _point enragee_, is the bay _l'argent_, wherein you may anchor in or fathom water, shelter'd from all winds. [sidenote: harbour millee.] the entrance of harbour _millee_ is to the eastward of the east point of _l'argent_; before this harbour and the bay _l'argent_ is a remarkable rock, that at a distance appears like a shallop under sail. _harbour millee_ branches into two arms, one laying into the n.e. and the other towards the e. at the upper part of both is good anchorage, and various sorts of wood. between this harbour and _point enragee_, are several bar harbours in small bays, wherein are sandy beaches, off which vessels may anchor, but they must be very near the shore to be in a moderate depth of water. [sidenote: cape millee.] _cape millee_ lies n.n.e. half e. league from the afore-mentioned _shallop rock_, and near leagues from the head of _fortune bay_ is a high reddish barren rock. the wedth of _fortune bay_ at _cape millee_ doth not exceed half a league, but immediately below it, it is twice as wide, by which this cape may be easily known; above this cape the land on both sides is high, with steep craggy cliffs. the head of the bay is terminated by a low beach, behind which is a large pond or bar harbour, into which boats can go at quarter flood. in this and all the bar harbours between it and _grand bank_, are convenient places for building of stages, and good beaches for drying of fish, for great numbers of boats. [sidenote: grand l'pierre harbour] _grand l'pierre_ is a good harbour, situated on the north-side of the bay, half a league from the head, you can see no entrance until you are abreast of it; there is not the least danger in going in, and you may anchor in any depth from to fathom, shelter'd from all winds. [sidenote: english harbour.] _english harbour_ lies a little to the westward of _grand l'pierre_, it is very small, and fit only for boats and small vessels. [sidenote: little bay de leau.] to the westward of _english harbour_ is a small bay called _little bay de leau_, wherein are some small islands, behind which is shelter for small vessels. [sidenote: new harbour] this harbour is situated opposite _cape millee_, to the westward of _bay de leau_; it is but a small inlet, yet hath good anchorage on the west-side in , , , and fathom water, sheltered from the s.w. winds. [sidenote: harbour femme.] harbour _femme_, which lies half a league to the westward of _new harbour_, lies in ne. half a league, it is very narrow, and hath in it fathom water, before the entrance is an island, near to which are some rocks above water: the passage into the harbour is to the eastward of the island. [sidenote: brewer's hole.] one league to the westward of _harbour femme_, is a small cove called _brewer's hole_, wherein is shelter for fishing boats; before this cove is a small island near the shore, and some rocks above water. [sidenote: harbour la conte.] this harbour is situated one mile to the westward of _brewer's hole_, before which are two islands, one without the other; the outermost, which is the largest is of a tolerable height, and lies in a line with the coast, and is not easy to be distinguished from the main in sailing along the shore. to sail into this harbour, the best passage is on the west-side of the outer island, and between the two; as soon as you begin to open the harbour, you must keep the inner island close on board, in order to avoid some sunken rocks that lay near a small island, which you will discover between the ne. point of the outer island, and the opposite point on the main; and likewise another rock under water, which lays higher up on the side of the main; this rock appears at low water. as soon as you are above these dangers, you may steer up in the middle of the channel, until you open a fine spacious bason, wherein you may anchor in any depth from to fathom water, shut up from all winds, the bottom is sand and mud. in to the eastward of the outer island, is a small cove fit for small vessels and boats, and conveniencies for the fishery. [sidenote: long harbour.] this harbour lies miles to the westward of harbour _la conte_, and n.e. by n. leagues from _point enragee_; it may be known by a small island in the mouth of it, called _gull island_; and half a mile without this island, is a rock above water, that hath the appearance of a small boat. there is a passage into the harbour on each side of the island, but the broadest is the westermost. nearly in the middle of this passage, a little without the island is a ledge of rocks, whereon is two fathom water; a little within the island on the s.e. side are some sunken rocks, about two cables length from the shore laying off two sandy coves; some of these rocks appear at low-water. on the n.w. side of the harbour, two miles within the island is _morgan's cove_, wherein you may anchor in fathom water, and the only place you can anchor, unless you run into, or above the _narrows_, being every where else very deep water. this harbour runs five leagues into the country, at the head of which is a salmon fishery. [sidenote: bell bay, and its contain'd bays & harbours.] [sidenote: hare harbours.] a little to the westward of _long harbour_, is _bell bay_, which extends three leagues every way, and contains several bays and harbours. on the east point of this bay, is _hare harbour_, which is fit only for small vessels and boats, before which are two small islands, and some rocks above and under water. [sidenote: mall bay.] two miles to the northward of _hare harbour_, or the point of _bell bay_, is _mall bay_, being a narrow arm, laying in ne. by n. miles, wherein is deep water, and no anchorage until at the head. [sidenote: rencontre islands.] _rencontre islands_ lies to the westward of _mall bay_, near the shore; the westermost, which is the largest, hath a communication with the main at low water; in and about this island are shelter for small vessels and boats. [sidenote: bell harbour] _bell harbour_ lies one league to the westward of _rencontre_ islands: the passage into the harbour is on the west side of the island; in the mouth of it, as soon as you are within the island, you will open a small cove on the e. side, wherein small vessels anchor, but large ships must run up to the head of the harbour, and anchor in fathom water, there being most room. [sidenote: lally cove.] _lally cove_ lies a little to the westward of _bell harbour_, it is a very snug place for small vessels, being covered from all winds behind the island in the cove. [sidenote: lally cove. back cove.] _lally head_ is the west point of _lally cove_, it is a high bluff white point; to the northward of the head is _lally cove back cove_, wherein you may anchor in fathom water. [sidenote: bay of the east, and bay of the north.] two miles to the northward of _lally cove head_, is the bay of the east, and bay of the north, in both is deep water, and no anchorage, unless very near the shore. at the head of the north bay is the largest river in _fortune bay_, and seems a good place for a salmon fishery. [sidenote: bay of cinq isles.] the bay of _cinq isles_ lies to the southward of the north bay, and opposite to _lally cove head_ there is tolerable good anchorage for large ships on the s.w. side of the islands in the bottom of the bay. the north arm is a very snug place for small vessels; at the head of this arm is a salmon river. [sidenote: corben bay.] a little to the southward of the bay of _cinq_ isles is _corben bay_, wherein is good anchorage for any ships in or fathom water. [sidenote: bell & dog islands.] south east about two miles from _lally cove head_, are two islands about a mile from each other, the north eastermost is called _bell island_, and the other _dog island_, they are of a tolerable height, and bold too all round. between _dogg island_, and _lord and lady island_, which lies off the s. point of _corben bay_, is a sunken rock, (somewhat nearer to _lord and lady_, than _dogg-island_) whereon the sea breaks in very bad weather, and every where round it very deep water. about a quarter of a mile to the northward of the north-end of _lord and lady_ island, is a rock that appears at low water. [sidenote: bande de la'rier bay and harbour.] _bande de la'rier_ bay lies on the west point of _bell bay_, and nnw. half w. near leagues from point _enragee_, it may be known by a very high mountain over the bay, which rises almost perpendicular from the sea, called _iron-head_. _chappel island_, which forms the east-side of the bay is high land also. the harbour lies on the west-side of the bay, just within the point, formed by a narrow low beach, it is very small, but a snug place, and conveniently situated for the _cod fishery_. there is a tolerable good anchorage along the west side of the bay from the harbour up towards _iron head_ in and fathom water. [sidenote: bande de la'rier bank.] the bank of _bande de la'rier_, whereon is not less than fathom, lies with the beach of _bande de lourier_ harbour, just open of the west point of the bay, and _boxy point_ on with the north end of st. _jaques_ island. [sidenote: st. jaques.] two miles to the w. ward of _bande de la'rier_, is the harbour of st. _jaques_, which may be easily known by the island before it. this island is high at each end, and low in the middle, and at a distance looks like two islands, it lies n. d. e. and a half leagues from the cape of _grand bank_, and n. e. by e. leagues from the east-end of _brunet_. the passage into the harbour is on the west side of the island; there is not the least danger in going in, or in any part of the harbour; you may anchor in any depth from to fathom. [sidenote: blue pinion.] two miles to the westward of st. _jaques_, is the harbour of _blue pinion_, it is not near so large, or so safe as that of st. _jaques_; near to the head of the harbour on the west side is a shoal, whereon is two fathom at low water. [sidenote: english cove] a little to the westward of _blue pinion_, is _english cove_, which is very small, wherein small vessels and boats can anchor; before it, and very near the shore is a small island. [sidenote: boxy point.] _boxy_ point lies sw. by w. a quarter w. two leagues and a half from st. _jaques_ island, nne. near leagues from the cape of _grand bank_, and ne. half e. miles from the east end of _brunet_ island; it is of a moderate height, the most advanced to the southward of any land on the coast, and may be distinguished at a considerable distance; there are some sunken rocks off it, but they lay very near the shore, and are no ways dangerous. [sidenote: boxy harbour.] nne. three miles from _boxey_ point is the harbour of _boxy_; to sail into it you must keep _boxy_ point just open of _fryer's_ head (a black head a little within the point) in this direction you will keep in the middle of the channel between the shoals which lay off from each point of the harbour, where the stages are; as soon as you are within these shoals, which cover you from the sea winds, you may anchor in and fathom water, fine sandy ground. [sidenote: st. john's island, head, bay and harbour.] west mile from _boxy_ point is the island of st. _john_'s, which is of a tollerable height, and steep too, except at the n.e. point, where is a shoal a little way off. n.w. half a league from st. _john_'s _island_ is st. _john_'s _head_, which is a high, steep, craggy point. between st _john_'s _head_ and _boxy point_, is st. _john_'s _bay_, in the bottom of which is st. _john_'s _harbour_, wherein is only water for boats. [sidenote: gull and shag.] on the north-side of st. _john_'s _head_ are two rocky islands, called the _gull_ and _shag_; at the west-end of these islands are some sunken rocks. [sidenote: great bay de leau.] one league and a half to the northward of st. _john_'s _head_ is the _great bay de leau_, wherein is good anchorage in various depths of water, sheltered from all winds. the best passage in is on the east-side of the island, laying in the mouth of it; nothing can enter in on the west-side but small vessels and shallops. [sidenote: little bay barrysway.] to the westward of _bay de leau_, miles nnw. from st. _john_'s _head_ is _little bay barrysway_, on the west-side of which is good anchorage for large ships in , , or fathom water; here is good fishing conveniencies, with plenty of wood and water. [sidenote: harbour briton.] [sidenote: south west arm.] _harbour briton_ lies to the westward of _little bay barrysway_, north leag. and a half from the island of _sagona_, and n. by e. from east-end of _brunet_. the two heads, which from the entrance of this harbour or bay are pretty high, and lay from each other e.n.e. and w.s.w. above miles; near the east head is a rock above water, by which it may be known: there are no dangers in going in until you are the length of the south point of the s.w. arm, which is more than a mile within the west head; from off this point stretches out a ledge of rocks n.e. about two cables length; the only place for king's ships to anchor is above this point, before the s.w. arm in or fathom water, mooring nearly east and west, and so near the shore as to have the east head on with the point above-mentioned; the bottom is very good, and the place convenient for wooding and watering. in the sw. arm is room for a great number of merchant ships, and many conveniencies for fishing vessels. [sidenote: jerseyman's harbour.] opposite to the s.w. arm is the n.e. arm or _jerseyman_'s _harbour_, which is capable of holding a great number of ships, securely shelter'd from all winds. to sail into it you must keep the point of _thompson_'s _beach_ (which is the beach point, at the entrance into the s.w. arm) open of _jerseyman_'s _head_, (which is a high bluff head at the north entrance into _jerseyman_'s _harbour_) this mark will lead you over the bar in the best of the channel, where you will have fathom at low-water; as soon as you open the harbour, haul up north, and anchor where its most convenient in , or fathom water, good ground, and shelter'd from all winds. in this harbour are several convenient places for erecting many stages, and good beach room. _jerseymen_ generally lay their ships up in this harbour, and cure their fish at _fortune_ and _grand bank_. [sidenote: gull island, and deadman's bay.] from harbour _briton_ to the w. end of _brunet_, and to the _plate islands_, the course is s.w. by s. leagues and a half to the southermost _plate_. from _harbour briton_ to _cape miquelon_ is s.w. a quarter w. leagues. from the west head of _harbour briton_ to _cannaigre head_, the course is w. by s. distant leagues; between them are _gull-island_ and _deadman's bay_. _gull-island_ lies close under the land, miles to the westward of harbour _briton_. _deadman's bay_ is to the westward of _gull-island_, wherein you may anchor with the land winds. between _harbour briton_ and _cannaigre head_, is a bank stretching off from the shore between and miles, whereon is various depths of water from to fathom. fishermen say that they have seen the sea break in very bad weather, a good way without _gull-island_. [sidenote: cannaigre head.] [sidenote: cannaigre bay.] [sidenote: cannaigre rocks.] _cannaigre head_ which forms the east point of the bay of the same name, lies north easterly leagues and a half from the west-end of _brunet_; it is a high craggy point, easy to be distinguished from any point of view. from this head to _basstarre_ point, the course is w. by n. half n. leagues, and likewise w. by n. half n. leagues and a half to the rocks of _pass island_; but to give them a birth make a w. by n. course good. between _cannaigre head_ and _basstarre point_ is _cannaigre bay_, which extends itself about leagues inland, at the head of which is a salmon river. in the mouth of the bay lay the rocks of the same name above water, you may approach these rocks very near, there being no danger but what discovers itself. the channel between them and the north shore is something dangerous, by reason of a range of rocks which lie along shore, and extend themselves mile off. [sidenote: cannaigre harbour.] _cannaigre harbour_ which is very small, with fathom water in it, is within a point on the south-side of the bay, miles above the head: the passage into the harbour is on the s.e. side of the island, lying before it. nearly in the middle of the bay, abreast of this harbour, are two islands of a tolerable height, on the south-side of the westermost island, which is the largest, are some rocks above water. [sidenote: dawson's cove.] this cove is on the n.w. side of the bay, bears north, distance about miles from the head, and east miles from the w. end of the _great island_. in it are good fishing conveniences, and anchorage for vessels in and fathom water, but they will lay open to the southerly winds. between the s.w. point of this cove and _basstarre point_, which is miles distance, lays the range of rocks beforementioned. [sidenote: basstarre point.] _basstarre point_ which forms the west point of _cannaigre bay_, is of a moderate height, clear of wood, and bold too, all the way from it to _pass-island_, which bears n.w. by w. league from _basstarre point_. [sidenote: observations.] the land on the north-side of _fortune bay_ for the most part is hilly, rising directly from the sea, with craggy, barren hills, which extends or leag. inland, with a great number of rivulets and ponds. the land on the south side of _fortune bay_, has a different appearance to that on the north-side, being not so full of craggy mountains, and better cloathed with woods, which are of a short brushy kind, which makes the face of the country look green. [sidenote: pass island.] _pass island_ lies n. ° ' east leagues and a half from _cape miquelon_, it is the n.w. extremity of _fortune bay_, and lies very near the shore, is more than miles in circuit and is pretty high. on the s.w. side are several rocks above water, which extend themselves mile from the island, and on the n.w. side is a sunken rock at a quarter of a mile from the island; the passage between this island and the main, which is near two cables length wide, is very safe for small vessels, wherein you may anchor in fathom, a fine sandy bottom. this island is well situated for the cod fishery, there being very good fishing ground about it. [sidenote: on the soundings.] in the night time, or in foggy weather, ships ought to place no great dependance on the soundings in _fortune bay_, least they may be deceived thereby, for you have more water in many parts near the shore, and in several of its contained bays and harbours, than in the middle of the bay itself. description of _hermitage bay_. from _pass island_ to _great jervis harbour_, at the entrance into the bay of _despair_, the course is n. by e. a quarter e. near three leagues; and from _pass island_ to the west end of _long island_, the course is nne. miles, between them is the bay of _hermitage_, which lies in ene. leagues from _pass island_, with very deep water in most parts of it. [sidenote: fox islands.] the two _fox islands_, which are but small, lie nearly in the middle of _hermitage bay_, leagues and a half from _pass island_; near to these islands is good fishing ground. [sidenote: hermitage cove.] _hermitage cove_ is on the south-side of the bay, opposite to _fox's islands_. to sail into it, you must keep between the islands and the south shore, where there is not the least danger; in this cove is good anchorage for shipping in and fathom water, and good fishing conveniences, with plenty of wood and water. [sidenote: long island.] _long island_, which separates the bay of _despair_ from _hermitage_, is of a triangular form, about leagues in circuit, of a tolerable height, is hilly, uneven and barren. the east entrance into the bay of _despair_ from _hermitage bay_, is by the west-end of _long island_; about half a mile from the s.w. point of the said island, are two rocks above water, with deep water all round them. [sidenote: long island harbour.] this harbour lies on the south-side of _long island_, miles and a half from the west-end; before which is an island, and several rocks above water, there is a narrow passage into the harbour on each side of the island; this harbour is formed by two arms, one laying into the north, and the other to the eastward; they are both very narrow, and have in them from to fathom water; the east arm is the deepest, and the best anchorage. [sidenote: round harbour.] this harbour, wherein is fathom water, lies near miles to the e. ward of _long island harbour_, is also in _long-island_; it will only admit very small vessels, by reason the channel going in is very narrow. [sidenote: picarre.] _harbour picarre_ lies n. by w. half a league from _little fox island_, (which is the westermost of _fox islands_) to sail into it you must keep near the west-point to avoid some sunken rocks off the other, and anchor in the first cove on the east-side in or fathom, sheltered from all winds. [sidenote: galtaus.] this harbour, which is but small, lies near the east-point of _long-island_; at the entrance is several rocky islands. the best channel into the harbour is on the west-side of these islands, wherein is fathom water, but in the harbour is from to fathom. here are several places proper for erecting of stages; and both this harbour and _picarre_ are conveniently situated for a fishery, they laying contiguous to the fishing ground about _fox islands_. [sidenote: passage of long island] between the east-end of _long island_ and the main, is a very good passage out of _hermitage bay_, into the bay of _despair_. description of the bay of _despair_. the entrance of the bay of _despair_ lies between the west-end of _long island_ and _great jervis island_, (an island in the mouth of the harbour of the same name) the distance from one to the other is mile and a quarter, and in the middle between them is no soundings with fathoms. [sidenote: great jervis island.] _great jervis harbour_ is situated at the west entrance into the bay of _despair_ is a snug and safe harbour, with good anchorage in every part of it, in , or fathom, though but small will contain a great number of shipping, securely sheltered from all winds, and very convenient for wooding and watering. there is a passage into this harbour on either side of _great jervis island_, the southermost is the safest, there being in it no danger but the shore itself. to sail in on the north-side of the island, you must keep in the middle of the passage, until you are within two small rocks above water near to each other on your starboard-side, a little within the north point of the passage; you must then bring the said north point between these rocks, and steer into the harbour, in that directions will carry you clear of some sunken rocks which lie off the west point of the island; these rocks appear at low-water. the entrance into this harbour may be known by the east-end of _great jervis island_, which is a high steep craggy point, called _great jervis head_, and is the north point of the south entrance into the harbour. [sidenote: north bay.] this is an arm of the bay of _despair_, which extends to the northward leagues from _great jervis island_. in this bay is very deep water, and no anchorage but in the small bays and coves which are on each side of it. at the head of the bay of the east, which is an arm of the north bay, is a very fine salmon river, and plenty of various sorts of wood. [sidenote: eagle island.] to the northward of _long island_, the bay of _despair_ extends itself to the ne. about leagues, whereon are several arms and islands. the first is _eagle island_ laying on the north-side of _long island_, about half a cable's length from the shore; a little to the eastward of it is a small cove, wherein small vessels can anchor in fathom water; off the e. point of this cove are some sunken rocks, the outermost of which lay a quarter of a mile from the shore, and appears at half ebb. [sidenote: frenchman's harbour.] this harbour lies on the north-side of _long island_, miles above _eagle island_, in and before which vessels may anchor in various depths of water; about a cable's length to the eastward of the west point of the harbour is a sunken rock whereon is feet water; a little way further to the eastward is a small island not far from the shore, near to which is a rock that just covers at high water. [sidenote: isle bois.] on the north-side of the bay, opposite to _long island_, lies the _isle bois_, it is near leagues in length, and of a tolerable height; the passage on the north-side of it (called _lampadois_ passage) is very safe, but very deep water. [sidenote: fox island.] this island lies nearly in the middle of the bay, between the east-end of the isle of _bois_ and _long island_, it is of a round form, pretty high, and bold too all round. [sidenote: isle riches.] the _isle riches_ lies off the east-end of the isle of _bois_, it is about a mile in circuit, and pretty high; on the east-side of it are some small islands, and some sunken rocks quite a-cross from the island to the main, so that in sailing up the bay of _despair_, you must leave this island on your starboard-side. [sidenote: little river.] this is an arm of the bay laying in to the eastward from the isle of _riches_, it is very narrow, and counted a good place for a salmon fishery; its banks are stored with various sorts of wood. [sidenote: bay rotte.] this is a small bay which lays north from the east-end of the isle of _bois_, in which are some sunken rocks near the head. [sidenote: bay of conne.] from the isle of _riches_ the bay extends itself to the northward about five miles, commonly called the bay or river of _conne_, then branches into two arms, one still tending to the north, and the other to the eastward; the water is very shallow for some distance from the head of both. about these arms, and the bay of _conne_, are great plenty of all sorts of wood, common to this country, such as firr, pine, birch, witch-hasle, spruce, _&c._ [sidenote: observations.] all the country about the entrance into the bay of _despair_, and for a good way up it is very mountainous and barren, but about the head of the bay it appears to be pretty level, and well cloathed with wood. [sidenote: on the tides.] between st. _laurence_ and point _may_, an ese. moon makes high water at the islands of st. _peters_ and _miquelon_, and in all parts of _fortune bay_ a s.e. moon makes high water. in the bay of _despair_ a se. by s. moon makes high water; in all which places it flows up and down, or upon a perpendicular spring tides or feet; but it must be observed that they are every where greatly governed by the winds and weather. [sidenote: currents.] the currents on the sea coasts from cape _chapeaurouge_ towards st. _peter's_, sets generally to the sw. on the south-side of _fortune bay_ it sets to the eastward, and on the north-side to the westward. [sidenote: winds.] the south west, and westerly winds generally blow in the day during the summer, and about the evening they die away; and in the night you have land breezes or calms. * * * * * +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : sefety replaced with safety | | page : leagus replaced with league | | page : dantzc poinit replaced with dantzic point | | page : shiping replaced with shipping | | page : in the sidenote, recontre replaced with rencontre | | page : larier replaced with la'rier | | page : in the sidenote, cannaigree replaced with cannaigre | | page : aud replaced with and | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ none lost in the fog by james de mille i. old acquaintances gather around old scenes.--antelope, ahoy!--how are you, solomon?--round-about plan of a round about voyage.--the doctor warns, rebukes, and remonstrates, but, alas! in vain.--it must be done.--beginning of a highly eventful voyage. it was a beautiful morning, in the month of july, when a crowd of boys assembled on the wharf of grand pre. the tide was high, the turbid waters of mud creek flowed around, a fresh breeze blew, and if any craft was going to sea she could not have found a better time. the crowd consisted chiefly of boys, though a few men were mingled with them. these boys were from grand pre school, and are all old acquaintances. there was the stalwart frame of bruce, the roman face of arthur, the bright eyes of bart, the slender frame of phil, and the earnest glance of tom. there, too, was pat's merry smile, and the stolid look of bogud, and the meditative solemnity of jiggins, not to speak of others whose names need not be mentioned. amid the crowd the face of captain corbet was conspicuous, and the dark visage of solomon, while that of the mate was distinguishable in the distance. to all these the good schooner antelope formed the centre of attraction, and also of action. it was on board of her that the chief bustle took place, and towards her that all eyes were turned. the good schooner antelope had made several voyages during the past few months, and now presented herself to the eye of the spectator not much changed from her former self. a fine fresh coat of coal tar had but recently ornamented her fair exterior, while a coat of whitewash inside the hold had done much to drive away the odor of the fragrant potato. rigging and sails had been repaired as well as circumstances would permit, and in the opinion of her gallant captain she was eminently seaworthy. on the present occasion things bore the appearance of a voyage. trunks were passed on board and put below, together with coats, cloaks, bedding, and baskets of provisions. the deck was strewn about with the multifarious requisites of a ship's company. the antelope, at that time, seemed in part an emigrant vessel, with a dash of the yacht and the coasting schooner. in the midst of all this, two gentlemen worked their way through the crowd to the edge of the wharf. "well, boys," said one, "well, captain, what's the meaning of all this?" captain corbet started at this, and looked up from a desperate effort to secure the end of one of the sails. "why, dr. porter!" said he; "why, doctor!--how d'ye do?--and mr. long, too!--why, railly!" the boys also stopped their work, and looked towards their teachers with a little uneasiness. "what's all this?" said dr. porter, looking around with a smile; "are you getting up another expedition?" "wal, no," said captain corbet, "not 'xactly; fact is, we're kine o' goin to take a vyge deoun the bay." "down the bay?" "yes. you see the boys kine o' want to go home by water, rayther than by land." "by water! home by water!" repeated mr. long, doubtfully. "yes," said captain corbet; "an bein as the schewner was in good repair, an corked, an coal-tarred, an whitewashed up fust rate, i kine o' thought it would redound to our mootooil benefit if we went off on sich a excursion,--bein pleasanter, cheaper, comfortabler, an every way preferable to a land tower." "hem," said dr. porter, looking uneasily about. "i don't altogether like it. boys, what does it all mean?" thus appealed to, bart became spokesman for the boys. "why, sir," said he, "we thought we'd like to go home by water--that's all." "go home by water!" repeated the doctor once more, with a curious smile. "yes, sir." "what? by the bay of fundy?" "yes, sir." "who are going?" "well, sir, there are only a few of us. bruce, and arthur, and tom, and phil, and pat, besides myself." "bruce and arthur?" said the doctor; "are they going home by the bay of fundy?" "yes, sir," said bart, with a smile. "i don't see how they can get to the gulf of st. lawrence and prince edward's island from the bay of fundy," said the doctor, "without going round nova scotia, and that will be a journey of many hundred miles." "o, no, sir," said bruce; "we are going first to moncton." "o, is that the idea?" "yes, sir." "and where will you go from moncton?" "to shediac, and then home." "and are you going to newfoundland by that route, tom?" asked the doctor. "yes, sir," said tom, gravely. "from shediac?" "yes, sir." "i never knew before that there were vessels going from shediac to newfoundland." "o, i'm going to prince edward's island first, sir, with bruce and arthur," said tom. "i'll find my way home from there." the doctor smiled. "i'm afraid you'll find it a long journey before you reach home. won't your friends be anxious?" "o, no, sir. i wrote that i wanted to visit bruce and arthur, and they gave me leave." "and you, phil, are you going home by the antelope?" "yes, sir." "you are going exactly in a straight line away from it." "am i, sir?" "of course you are. this isn't the way to chester." "well, sir, you see i'm going to visit bart at st. john." "o, i understand. and that is your plan, then?" "yes, sir," said bart. "pat is going too." "where are you going first?" "first, sir, we will sail to the petitcodiac river, and go up it as far as moncton, where bruce, and arthur, and tom will leave us." "and then?" "then we will go to st. john, where phil, and pat, and i will leave her. solomon, too, will leave her there." "solomon!" cried the doctor. "what! solomon! is solomon going? why, what can i do without solomon? here! hallo!--solomon! what in the world's the meaning of all this?" thus summoned, solomon came forth from the cabin, into which he had dived at the first appearance of the doctor. his eyes were downcast, his face was demure, his attitude and manner were abject. "solomon," said the doctor, "what's this i hear? are you going to st. john?" "ony temp'ly, sah--jist a leetle visit, sah," said solomon, very humbly, stealing looks at the boys from his downcast eyes. "but what makes you go off this way without asking, or letting me know?" "did i, sah?" said solomon, rolling his eyes up as though horrified at his own wickedness; "the sakes now! declar, i clean forgot it." "what are you going away for?" "why, sah, for de good oh my helf. docta vises sea vyge; sides, i got frens in st. john, an business dar, what muss be tended to." "well, well," said the doctor, "i suppose if you want to go you'll find reasons enough; but at the same time you ought to have let me known before." "darsn't, sah," said solomon. "why not?" "fraid you'd not let me go," said solomon, with a broad grin, that instantly was suppressed by a demure cough. "nonsense," said the doctor; and then turning away, he spoke a few words apart with mr. long. "well, boys," said the doctor, at last, "this project of yours doesn't seem to me to be altogether safe, and i don't like to trust you in this way without anybody as a responsible guardian." bart smiled. "o, sir," said he, "you need not be at all uneasy. all of us are accustomed to take care of ourselves; and besides, if you wanted a responsible guardian for us, what better one could be found than captain corbet?" the doctor and mr. long both shook their heads. evidently neither of them attached any great importance to captain corbet's guardianship. "did you tell your father how you were going?" asked the doctor, after a few further words with mr. long. "o, yes, sir; and he told me i might go. what's more, he promised to charter a schooner for me to cruise about with phil and pat after i arrived home." "and we got permission, too," said bruce. "indeed!" said the doctor. "that changes the appearance of things. i was afraid that it was a whim of your own. and now, one thing more,--how are you off for provisions?" "wal, sir," said captain corbet, "i've made my calculations, an i think i've got enough. what i might fail in, the boys and solomon have made up." "how is it, solomon?" asked the doctor. solomon grinned. "you sleep in the hold, i see," continued the doctor. "yes, sir," said bruce. "it's whitewashed, and quite sweet now. we'll only be on board two or three days at the farthest, and so it really doesn't much matter how we go." "well, boys, i have no more to say; only take care of yourselves." with these words the doctor and mr. long bade them good by, and then walked away. the other boys, however, stood on the wharf waiting to see the vessel off. they themselves were all going to start for home in a few minutes, and were only waiting for the departure of the antelope. this could not now be long delayed. the tide was high. the wind fresh and fair. the luggage, and provisions, and stores were all on board. captain corbet was at the helm. all was ready. at length the word was given, the lines were cast off; and the antelope moved slowly round, and left the wharf amid the cheers of the boys. farther and farther it moved away, then down the tortuous channel of mud creek, until at last the broad expanse of minas basin received them. for this voyage the preparations had been complete. it had first been thought of several weeks before, and then the plan and the details had been slowly elaborated. it was thought to be an excellent idea, and one which was in every respect worthy of the "b. o. w. c." captain corbet embraced the proposal with enthusiasm. letters home, requesting permission, received favorable answers. solomon at first resisted, but finally, on being solemnly appealed to as grand panjandrum, he found himself unable to withstand, and thus everything was gradually prepared. other details were satisfactorily arranged, though not without much serious and earnest debate. the question of costume received very careful attention, and it was decided to adopt and wear the weather-beaten uniforms that had done service amidst mud and water on a former occasion. solomon's presence was felt to be a security against any menacing famine; and that assurance was made doubly sure by the presence of a cooking stove, which captain corbet, mindful of former hardships, had thoughtfully procured and set up in the hold. finally, it was decided that the flag which had formerly flaunted the breeze should again wave over them; and so it was, that as the antelope moved through mud creek, like a thing of life, the black flag of the "b. o. w. c." floated on high, with its blazonry of a skull, which now, worn by time, looked more than ever like the face of some mild, venerable, and paternal monitor. some time was taken up in arranging the hold. considerable confusion was manifest in that important locality. tin pans were intermingled with bedding, provisions with wearing apparel, books with knives and forks, while amid the scene the cooking stove towered aloft prominent. to tell the truth, the scene was rather free and easy than elegant; nor could an unprejudiced observer have called it altogether comfortable. in fact, to one who looked at it with a philosophic mind, an air of squalor might possibly have been detected. yet what of that? the philosophic mind just alluded to would have overlooked the squalor, and regarded rather the health, the buoyant animal spirits, and the determined habit of enjoyment, which all the ship's company evinced, without exception. the first thing which they did in the way of preparation for the voyage was to doff the garments of civilized life, and to don the costume of the "b. o. w. c." those red shirts, decorated with a huge white cross on the back, had been washed and mended, and completely reconstructed, so that the rents and patches which were here and there visible on their fair exteriors, served as mementos of former exploits, and called up associations of the past without at all deteriorating from the striking effect of the present. glengary bonnets adorned their heads, and served to complete the costume. the labor of dressing was followed by a hurried arrangement of the trunks and bedding; after which they all emerged from the hold and ascending to the deck, looked around upon the scene. above, the sky was blue and cloudless, and between them and the blue sky floated the flag, from whose folds the face looked benignantly down. the tide was now on the ebb, and as the wind was fair, both wind and tide united to bear them rapidly onward. before them was blomidon, while all around was the circling sweep of the shores of minas bay. a better day for a start could not have been found, and everything promised a rapid and pleasant run. "i must say," remarked captain corbet, who had for some time been standing buried in his own meditations at the helm,--"i must say, boys, that i don't altogether regret bein once more on the briny deep. there was a time," he continued, meditatively, "when i kine o' anticipated givin up this here occypation, an stayin to hum a nourishin of the infant. but man proposes, an woman disposes, as the sayin is,--an you see what i'm druv to. it's a great thing for a man to have a companion of sperrit, same as i have, that keeps a' drivin an a drivin at him, and makes him be up an doin. an now, i declar, if i ain't gittin to be a confirmed wanderer agin, same as i was in the days of my halcyon an shinin youth. besides, i have a kine o' feelin as if i'd be a continewin this here the rest of all my born days." "i hope you won't feel homesick," remarked bart, sympathetically. "homesick," repeated the captain. "wal, you see thar's a good deal to be said about it. in my hum thar's a attraction, but thar's also a repulsion. the infant drors me hum, the wife of my buzzum drives me away, an so thar it is, an i've got to knock under to the strongest power. an that's the identical individool thing that makes the aged corbet a foogitive an a vagabond on the face of the mighty deep. still i have my consolations." the captain paused for a few moments, and then resumed. "yes," he continued, "i have my consolations. surroundins like these here air a consolation. i like your young faces, an gay an airy ways, boys. i like to see you enjoy life. so, go in. pitch in. go ahead. sing. shout. go on like mad. carry on like all possessed, an you'll find the aged corbet smilin amid the din, an a flutterin of his venerable locks triumphant amid the ragin an riotin elements." "it's a comfort to know that, at any rate," said tom. "we'll give you enough of that before we leave, especially as we know it don't annoy you." "i don't know how it is," said the captain, solemnly, "but i begin to feel a sort of somethin towards you youngsters that's very absorbin. it's a kine o' anxious fondness, with a mixtoor of indulgent tenderness. how ever i got to contract sech a feelin beats me. i s'pose it's bein deprived of my babby, an exiled from home, an so my vacant buzzom craves to be filled. i've got a dreadful talent for doin the pariential, an what's more, not only for doin the pariential, but for feelin of it. so you boys, ef ever you see me a doin of the pariential towards youns, please remember that when i act like an anxious an too indulgent parient towards youns, it's because i feel like one." for some hours they traversed the waters, carried swiftly on by the united forces of the wind and tide. at last they found themselves close by blomidon, and under his mighty shadow they sailed for some time. then they doubled the cape, and there, before them, lay a long channel--the straits of minas, through which the waters pour at every ebb and flood. their course now lay through this to the bay of fundy outside; and as it was within two hours of the low tide, the current ran swiftly, hurrying them rapidly past the land. here the scene was grand and impressive in the extreme. on one side arose a lofty, precipitous cliff, which extended for miles, its sides scarred and tempest-torn, its crest fringed with trees, towering overhead many hundreds of feet, black, and menacing, and formidable. at its base was a steep beach, disclosed by the retreating tide, which had been formed by the accumulated masses of rock that had fallen in past ages from the cliffs above. these now, from the margin of the water up to high-water mark, were covered with a vast growth of sea-weed, which luxuriated here, and ran parallel to the line of vegetation on the summit of the cliff. on the other side of the strait the scene was different. here the shores were more varied; in one place, rising high on steep precipices, in others, thrusting forth black, rocky promontories into the deep channel; in others again, retreating far back, and forming bays, round whose sloping shores appeared places fit for human habitation, and in whose still waters the storm-tossed bark might find a secure haven. as they drifted on, borne along by the impetuous tide, the shores on either side changed, and new vistas opened before them. at last they reached the termination of the strait, the outer portal of this long avenue, which here was marked by the mighty hand of nature in conspicuous characters. for here was the termination of that long extent of precipitous cliff which forms the outline of blomidon; and this termination, abrupt, and stern, and black, shows, in a concentrated form, the power of wind and wave. the cliff ends abrupt, broken off short, and beyond this arise from the water several giant fragments of rock, the first of which, shaped like an irregular pyramid, rivals the cliff itself in height, and is surrounded by other rocky fragments, all of which form a colossal group, whose aggregated effect never fails to overawe the mind of the spectator. such is cape split, the terminus of cape blomidon, on the side of the bay of fundy. over its shaggy summits now fluttered hundreds of sea-gulls; round its black base the waves foamed and thundered, while the swift tide poured between the interstices of the rugged rocks. "behind that thar rock," said captain corbet, pointing to cape split, "is a place they call scott's bay. perhaps some of you have heard tell of it." "i have a faint recollection of such a place," said bart. "scott's bay, do you call it? yes, that must be the place that i've heard of; and is it behind this cape?" "it's a bay that runs up thar," said the captain. "we'll see it soon arter we get further down. it's a fishin and ship-buildin place. they catch a dreadful lot of shad thar sometimes." swiftly the antelope passed on, hurried on by the tide, and no longer feeling much of the wind; swiftly she passed by the cliffs, and by the cape, and onward by the sloping shores, till at length the broad bosom of the bay of fundy extended before their eyes. here the wind ceased altogether, the water was smooth and calm, but the tide still swept them along, and the shores on each side receded, until at length they were fairly in the bay. here, on one side, the coast of nova scotia spread away, until it faded from view in the distance, while on the other side the coast of new brunswick extended. between the schooner and this latter coast a long cape projected, while immediately in front arose a lofty island of rock, whose summit was crowned with trees. "what island is that?" asked tom. "that," said captain corbet, "is isle o' holt." "i think i've heard it called ile haute," said bart. "all the same," said captain corbet, "ony i believe it was named after the man that diskivered it fust, an his name was holt." "but it's a french name," said tom; "ile haute means high island." "wal, mebbe he was a frenchman," said captain corbet. "i won't argufy--i dare say he was. there used to be a heap o' frenchmen about these parts, afore we got red of 'em." "it's a black, gloomy, dismal, and wretched-looking place," said tom, after some minutes of silent survey. ii. first sight of a place destined to be better known.--a fog mill.--navigation without wind.--fishing.--boarding.--under arrest.--captain corbet defiant.--the revenue officials frowned down.--corbet triumphant. the antelope had left the wharf at about seven in the morning. it was now one o'clock. for the last two or three hours there had been but little wind, and it was the tide which had carried her along. drifting on in this way, they had come to within a mile of ile haute, and had an opportunity of inspecting the place which tom had declared to be so gloomy. in truth, tom's judgment was not undeserved. ile haute arose like a solid, unbroken rock out of the deep waters of the bay of fundy, its sides precipitous, and scarred by tempest, and shattered by frost. on its summit were trees, at its base lay masses of rock that had fallen. the low tide disclosed here, as at the base of blomidon, a vast growth of black sea-weed, which covered all that rocky shore. the upper end of the island, which was nearest them, was lower, however, and went down sloping to the shore, forming a place where a landing could easily be effected. from this shore mud flats extended into the water. "this end looks as though it had been cleared," said bart. "i believe it was," said the captain. "does anybody live here?" "no." "did any one ever live here?" "yes, once, some one tried it, i believe, but gave it up." "does it belong to anybody, or is it public property?" "o, i dare say it belongs to somebody, if you could only get him to claim it." "i say, captain," said bruce, "how much longer are we going to drift?" "o, not much longer. the tide's about on the turn, and we'll have a leetle change." "what! will we drift back again?" "o, i shouldn't wonder if we had a leetle wind afore long." "but if we don't, will we drift back again into the basin of minas?" "o, dear, no. we can anchor hereabouts somewhar." "you won't anchor by this island,--will you?" "o, dear, no. we'll have a leetle driftin first." as the captain spoke, he looked earnestly out upon the water. "thar she comes," he cried at last, pointing over the water. the boys looked, and saw the surface of the bay all rippled over. they knew the signs of wind, and waited for the result. soon a faint puff came up the bay, which filled the languid sails, and another puff came up more strongly, and yet another, until at length a moderate breeze was blowing. the tide no longer dragged them on. it was on the turn; and as the vessel caught the wind, it yielded to the impetus, and moved through the water, heading across the bay towards the new brunswick shore, in such a line as to pass near to that cape which has already been spoken of. "if the wind holds out," said captain corbet, "so as to carry us past cape d'or, we can drift up with this tide." "where's cape d'or?" "that there," said captain corbet, pointing to the long cape which stretched between them and the new brunswick shore. "an if it goes down, an we can't get by the cape, we'll be able, at any rate, to drop anchor there, an hold on till the next tide." the returning tide, and the fresh breeze that blew now, bore them onward rapidly, and they soon approached cape d'or. they saw that it terminated in a rocky cliff, with rocky edges jutting forth, and that all the country adjoining was wild and rugged. but the wind, having done this much for them, now began to seem tired of favoring them, and once more fell off. "i don't like this," said captain corbet, looking around. "what?" "all this here," said he, pointing to the shore. it was about a mile away, and the schooner, borne along now by the tide, was slowly drifting on to an unpleasant proximity to the rocky shore. "i guess we've got to anchor," said captain corbet; "there's no help for it." "to anchor?" said bruce, in a tone of disappointment. "yes, anchor; we've got to do it," repeated the captain, in a decided tone. the boys saw that there was no help for it, for the vessel was every moment drawing in closer to the rocks; and though it would not have been very dangerous for her to run ashore in that calm water, yet it would not have been pleasant. so they suppressed their disappointment, and in a few minutes the anchor was down, and the schooner's progress was stopped. "thar's one secret," said the captain, "of navigatin in these here waters, an that is, to use your anchor. my last anchor i used for nigh on thirty year, till it got cracked. i mayn't be much on land, but put me anywhars on old fundy, an i'm to hum. i know every current on these here waters, an can foller my nose through the thickest fog that they ever ground out at old manan." "what's that?" asked bart. "what did you say about grinding out fog?" "o, nothin, ony thar's an island down the bay, you know, called grand manan, an seafarin men say that they've got a fog mill down thar, whar they grind out all the fog for the bay of fundy. i can't say as ever i've seen that thar mill, but i've allus found the fog so mighty thick down thar that i think thar's a good deal in the story." "i suppose we'll lose this tide," said phil. "yes, i'm afeard so," said the captain, looking around over the water. "this here wind ain't much, any way; you never can reckon on winds in this bay. i don't care much about them. i'd a most just as soon go about the bay without sails as with them. what i brag on is the tides, an a jodgmatical use of the anchor." "you're not in earnest?" "course i am." "could you get to st. john from grand pre without sails?" "course i could." "i don't see how you could manage to do it." "do it? easy enough," said the captain. "you see i'd leave with the ebb tide, and get out into the bay. then i'd anchor an wait till the next ebb, an so on. bless your hearts, i've often done it." "but you couldn't get across the bay by drifting." "course i could. i'd work my way by short drifts over as far as this, an then i'd gradually move along till i kine o' canted over to the new brunswick shore. it takes time to do it, course it does; but what i mean to say is this--it can be done." "well, i wouldn't like to be on board while you were trying to do it." "mebbe not. i ain't invitin you to do it, either. all i was sayin is, it can be done. sails air very good in their way, course they air, an who's objectin to 'em? i'm only sayin that in this here bay thar's things that's more important than sails, by a long chalk--such as tides, an anchors in particular. give me them thar, an i don't care a hooter what wind thar is." lying thus at anchor, under the hot sun, was soon found to be rather dull, and the boys sought in vain for some way of passing the time. different amusements were invented for the occasion. the first amusement consisted in paper boats, with which they ran races, and the drift of these frail vessels over the water afforded some excitement. then they made wooden boats with huge paper sails. in this last bart showed a superiority to the others; for, by means of a piece of iron hoop, which he inserted as a keel, he produced a boat which was able to carry an immense press of sail, and in the faint and scarce perceptible breeze, easily distanced the others. this accomplishment bart owed to his training in a seaport town. at length one of them proposed that they should try to catch fish. captain corbet, in answer to their eager inquiries, informed them that there were fish everywhere about the bay; on learning which they became eager to try their skill. some herring were on board, forming part of the stores, and these were taken for bait. among the miscellaneous contents of the cabin a few hooks were found, which were somewhat rusty, it is true, yet still good enough for the purpose before them. lines, of course, were easily procured, and soon a half dozen baited hooks were down in the water, while a half dozen boys, eager with suspense, watched the surface of the water. for a half hour they held their lines suspended without any result; but at the end of that time, a cry from phil roused them, and on looking round they saw him clinging with all his might to his line, which was tugged at tightly by something in the water. bruce ran to help him, and soon their united efforts succeeded in landing on the deck of the vessel a codfish of very respectable size. the sight of this was greeted with cheers by the others, and served to stimulate them to their work. after this others were caught, and before half an hour more some twenty codfish, of various sizes, lay about the deck, as trophies of their piscatory skill. they were now more excited than ever, and all had their hooks in the water, and were waiting eagerly for a bite, when an exclamation from captain corbet roused them. on turning their heads, and looking in the direction where he was pointing, they saw a steamboat approaching them. it was coming from the head of the bay on the new brunswick side, and had hitherto been concealed by the projecting cape. "what's that?" said bart. "is it the st. john steamer?" "no, sir," said the captain. "she's a man-o'-war steamer--the revenoo cutter, i do believe." "how do you know?" "why, by her shape." "she seems to be coming this way." "yes, bound to minas bay, i s'pose. wal, wal, wal! strange too,--how singoolarly calm an onterrified i feel in'ardly. why, boys, i've seen the time when the sight of a approachin revenoo vessel would make me shiver an shake from stem to starn. but now how changed! such, my friends, is the mootability of human life!" the boys looked at the steamer for a few moments, but at length went back to their fishing. the approaching steamer had nothing in it to excite curiosity: such an object was too familiar to withdraw their thoughts from the excitement of their lines and hooks, and the hope which each had of surpassing the other in the number of catches animated them to new trials. so they soon forgot all about the approaching steamer. but captain corbet had nothing else to do, and so, whether it was on account of his lack of employment, or because of the sake of old associations, he kept his eyes fixed on the steamer. time passed on, and in the space of another half hour she had drawn very near to the antelope. suddenly captain corbet slapped his hand against his thigh. "declar, if they ain't a goin to overhaul us!" he cried. at this the boys all turned again to look at the steamer. "declar, if that fellow in the gold hat ain't a squintin at us through his spy-glass!" cried the captain. as the boys looked, they saw that the antelope had become an object of singular attention and interest to those on board of the steamer. men were on the forecastle, others on the main deck, the officers were on the quarter-deck, and all were earnestly scrutinizing the antelope. one of them was looking at her through his glass. the antelope, as she lay at anchor, was now turned with her stern towards the steamer, and her sails flapping idly against the masts. in a few moments the paddles of the steamer stopped, and at the same instant a gun was fired. "highly honored, kind sir," said captain corbet, with a grin. "what's the matter?" asked bart. "matter? why that thar steamer feels kine o' interested in us, an that thar gun means, heave to." "are you going to heave to?" "nary heave." "why not?" "can't come it no how; cos why, i'm hove to, with the anchor hard and fast, ony they can't see that we're anchored." suddenly a cry came over the water from a man on the quarter-deck. "ship aho-o-o-o-o-oy!" "hel-lo-o-o-o-o!" such was the informal reply of captain corbet. "heave to-o-o-o, till i send a boat aboard." "hoo-r-a-a-a-a-ay!" such was again captain corbet's cheerful and informal answer. "wal! wal wal!" he exclaimed, "it does beat my grandmother--they're goin to send a boat aboard." "what for?" captain corbet grinned, and shook his head, and chuckled very vehemently, but said nothing. he appeared to be excessively amused with his own thoughts. the boys looked at the steamer, and then at captain corbet, in some wonder; but as he said nothing, they were silent, and waited to see what was going to happen. meanwhile solomon, roused from some mysterious culinary duties by the report of the gun, had scrambled upon the deck, and stood with the others looking out over the water at the steamer. in a few moments the steamer's boat was launched, and a half dozen sailors got in, followed by an officer. then they put off, and rowed with vigorous strokes towards the schooner. captain corbet watched the boat for some time in silence. "cur'ouser an cur'ouser," he said, at length. "i've knowed the time, boys, when sech an incident as this, on the briny deep, would have fairly keeled me over, an made me moot, an riz every har o' my head; but look at me now. do i tremble? do i shake? here, feel my pulse." phil, who stood nearest, put his finger on the outstretched wrist of the captain. "doos it beat?" "no," said phil. "course it beats; but then it ony beats nateral. you ain't feelin the right spot--the humane pulse not bein sitooated on the back of the hand," he added mildly, "but here;" and he removed phil's inexperienced finger to the place where the pulse lies. "thar, now," he added, "as that pulse beats now, even so it beat a half hour ago, before that thar steamer hev in sight. why, boys, i've knowed the time when this humane pulse bet like all possessed. you see, i've lived a life of adventoor, in spite of my meek and quiet natoor, an hev dabbled at odd times in the smugglin business. but they don't catch me this time--i've retired from that thar, an the antelope lets the revenoo rest in peace." the boat drew nearer and nearer, and the officer at the stern looked scrutinizingly at the antelope. there was an air of perplexity about his face, which was very visible to those on board, and the perplexity deepened and intensified as his eyes rested on the flag of the "b. o. w. c." "leave him to me," said captain corbet. "leave that thar young man to me. i enjy havin to do with a revenoo officer jest now; so don't go an put in your oars, but jest leave him to me." "all right, captain; we won't say a word," said bruce. "we'll go on with our fishing quietly. come, boys--look sharp, and down with your lines." the interest which they had felt in these new proceedings had caused the boys to pull up their hooks; but now, at bruce's word, they put them in the water once more, and resumed their fishing, only casting sidelong glances at the approaching boat. in a few minutes the boat was alongside, and the officer leaped on board. he looked all around, at the fish lying about the deck, at the boys engaged in fishing, at captain corbet, at solomon, at the mysterious flag aloft, and finally at the boys. these all took no notice of him, but appeared to be intent on their task. "what schooner is this?" he asked, abruptly. "the schooner antelope, corbet master," replied the captain. "are you the master?" "i am." "where do you belong?" "grand pre." "grand pre? "yes." "hm," he replied, with a stare around--"grand pre--ah---hm." "yes, jest so." "what's that?" "i briefly remarked that it was jest so." "what's the reason you didn't lie to, when you were hailed?" "lay to?" "yes." "couldn't do it." "what do you mean by that?" asked the officer, who was rather ireful, and somewhat insulting in his manner. "wal bein as i was anchored here hard an fast, i don't exactly see how i could manage to go through that thar manoeuvre, unless you'd kindly lend me the loan of your steam ingine to do it on." "look here, old man; you'd better look out." "wal, i dew try to keep a good lookout. how much'll you take for the loan o' that spy-glass o' yourn?" "let me see your papers." "papers?" "yes, your papers." "hain't got none." "what's that?" "hain't got none." "you--haven't--any--papers?" "nary paper." the officer's brow grew dark. he looked around the vessel once more, and then looked frowningly at captain corbet, who encountered his glance with a serene smile. "look here, old man," said he; "you can't come it over me. your little game's up, old fellow. this schooner's seized." "seized? what for?" "for violation of the law, by fishing within the limits." "limits? what limits?" "no foreign vessel can come within three miles of the shore." "foreign vessel? do you mean to call me a foreigner?" "of course i do. you're a yankee fisherman." "am i?" "of course you are; and what do you mean by that confounded rag up there?" cried the officer, pointing to the flag of the "b. o. w. c." "if you think you can fish in this style, you'll find yourself mistaken. i know too much about this business." "do you? well, then, kind sir, allow me to mention that you've got somethin to larn yet--spite o' your steam injines an spy-glasses." "what's that?" cried the officer, furious. "i'll let you know. i arrest you, and this vessel is seized." "wait a minute, young sir," cried captain corbet; "not quite so fast, ef you please. you'll get yourself arrested. what do you mean by this here? do you know who i am? i, sir, am a subject of queen victory. my home is here. i'm now on my own natyve shore. a foreigner, am i? let me tell you, sir, that i was born, brung up, nourished, married, an settled in this here province, an i've got an infant born here, an i'm not a fisherman, an this ain't a fishin vessel. you arrest me ef you dar. you'll see who'll get the wust of it in the long run. i'd like precious well to get damages--yea, swingin damages--out of one of you revenoo fellers." the officer looked around again. it would not do to make a mistake. captain corbet's words were not without effect. "yea!" cried captain corbet. "yea, naval sir! i'm a free nova scotian as free as a bird. i cruise about my natyve coasts whar i please. who's to hender? seize me if you dar, an it'll be the dearest job you ever tried. this here is my own private pleasure yacht. these are my young friends, natyves, an amatoor fishermen. cast your eye down into yonder hold, and see if this here's a fishin craft." the officer looked down, and saw a cooking stove, trunks, and bedding. he looked around in doubt. but this scene had lasted long enough. "o, nonsense!" said bart, suddenly pulling up his line, and coming forward; "see here--it's all right," said he to the officer. "we're not fishermen. it's as he says. we're only out on a short cruise, you know, for pleasure, and that sort of thing." as bart turned, the others did the same. bruce lounged up, dragging his line, followed by arthur and the others. "we're responsible for the schooner," said bruce, quietly. "it's ours for the time being. we don't look like foreign fishermen--do we?" the officer looked at the boys, and saw his mistake at once. he was afraid that he had made himself ridiculous. the faces and manners of the boys, as they stood confronting him in an easy and self-possessed manner, showed most plainly the absurdity of his position. even the mysterious flag became intelligible, when he looked at the faces of those over whom it floated. "i suppose it's all right," he muttered, in a vexed tone, and descended into the boat without another word. "sorry to have troubled you, captain," said corbet, looking blandly after the officer; "but it wan't my fault. i didn't have charge of that thar injine." the officer turned his back without a word, and the men pulled off to the steamer. the captain looked after the boat in silence for some time. "i'm sorry," said he, at length, as he heaved a gentle sigh,--"i'm sorry that you put in your oars--i do so like to sass a revonoo officer." iii. solomon surpasses himself.--a period of joy is generally followed by a time of sorrow.--gloomy forebodings.--the legend of petticoat jack.--captain corbet discourses of the dangers of the deep, and puts in practice a new and original mode of navigation. this interruption put an end to their attempts at fishing, and was succeeded by another interruption of a more pleasing character, in the shape of dinner, which was now loudly announced by solomon. for some time a savory steam had been issuing from the lower regions, and had been wafted to their nostrils in successive puffs, until at last their impatient appetite had been roused to the keenest point, and the enticing fragrance had suggested all sorts of dishes. when at length the summons came, and they went below, they found the dinner in every way worthy of the occasion. solomon's skill never was manifested more conspicuously than on this occasion; and whether the repast was judged of by the quantity or the quality of the dishes, it equally deserved to be considered as one of the masterpieces of the distinguished artist who had prepared it. "dar, chil'en," he exclaimed, as they took their places, "dar, cap'en, jes tas dem ar trout, to begin on, an see if you ever saw anythin to beat 'em in all your born days. den try de stew, den de meat pie, den de calf's head; but dat ar pie down dar mustn't be touched, nor eben so much as looked at, till de las ob all." and with these words solomon stepped back, leaning both hands on his hips, and surveyed the banquet and the company with a smile of serene and ineffable complacency. "all right, solomon, my son," said bart. "your dinner is like yourself--unequalled and unapproachable." "bless you, bless you, my friend," murmured bruce, in the intervals of eating; "if there is any contrast between this present voyage and former ones, it is all due to our unequalled caterer." "how did you get the trout, solomon?" said phil. "de trout? o, i picked 'em up last night down in de village," said solomon. "met little boy from gaspereaux, an got 'em from him." "what's this?" cried tom, opening a dish--"not lobster!" "lobster!" exclaimed phil. "so it is." "why, solomon, where did you get lobster?" "is this the season for them?" "think of the words of the poet, boys," said bart, warningly,-- "in the months without the r, clams and lobsters pison are." solomon meanwhile stood apart, grinning from ear to ear, with his little black beads of eyes twinkling with merriment. "halo, solomon! what do you say to lobsters in july?" solomon's head wagged up and down, as though he were indulging in some quiet, unobtrusive laughter, and it was some time before he replied. "o, neber you fear, chil'en," he said; "ef you're only goin to get sick from lobsters, you'll live a long day. you may go in for clams, an lobsters, an oysters any time ob de yeah you like,--ony dey mus be cooked up proper." "i'm gratified to hear that," said bruce, gravely, "but at the same time puzzled. for mrs. pratt says the exact opposite; and so here we have two great authorities in direct opposition. so what are we to think?" "o, there's no difficulty," said arthur, "for the doctors are not of equal authority. mrs. pratt is a quack, but solomon is a professional--a regular, natural, artistic, and scientific cook, which at sea is the same as doctor." the dinner was prolonged to an extent commensurate with its own inherent excellence and the capacity of the boys to appreciate it; but at length, like all things mortal, it came to a termination, and the company went up once more to the deck. on looking round it was evident to all that a change had taken place. four miles away lay ile haute, and eight or ten miles beyond this lay the long line of nova scotia. it was now about four o'clock, and the tide had been rising for three hours, and was flowing up rapidly, and in a full, strong current. as yet there was no wind, and the broad surface of the bay was quite smooth and unruffled. in the distance and far down the bay, where its waters joined the horizon, there was a kind of haze, that rendered the line of separation between sea and sky very indistinct. the coast of nova scotia was at once enlarged and obscured. it seemed now elevated to an unusual height above the sea line, as though it had been suddenly brought several miles nearer, and yet, instead of being more distinct, was actually more obscure. even ile haute, though so near, did not escape. four miles of distance were not sufficient to give it that grand indistinctness which was now flung over the nova scotia coast; yet much of the mysterious effect of the haze had gathered about the island; its lofty cliffs seemed to tower on high more majestically, and to lean over more frowningly; its fringe of black sea-weed below seemed blacker, while the general hue of the island had changed from a reddish color to one of a dull slaty blue. "i don't like this," said captain corbet, looking down the bay and twisting up his face as he looked. "why not?" captain corbet shook his head. "what's the matter?" "bad, bad, bad!" said the captain. "is there going to be a storm?" "wuss!" "worse? what?" "fog." "fog?" "yes, hot an heavy, thick as puddin, an no mistake. i tell you what it is, boys: judgin from what i see, they've got a bran-new steam injine into that thar fog mill at grand manan; an the way they're goin to grind out the fog this here night is a caution to mariners." saying this, he took off his hat, and holding it in one hand, he scratched his venerable head long and thoughtfully with the other. "but i don't see any fog as yet," said bart. "don't see it? wal, what d'ye call all that?" said the captain, giving a grand comprehensive sweep with his arm, so as to take in the entire scene. "why, it's clear enough." "clear? then let me tell you that when you see a atmosphere like this here, then you may expect to see it any moment changed into deep, thick fog. any moment--five minutes 'll be enough to snatch everything from sight, and bury us all in the middle of a unyversal fog bank." "what'll we do?" "dew? that's jest the question." "can we go on?" "wal--without wind--i don't exactly see how. in a fog a wind is not without its advantages. that's one of the times when the old antelope likes to have her sails up; but as we hain't got no wind, i don't think we'll do much." "will you stay here at anchor?" "at anchor? course not. no, sir. moment the tide falls again, i'll drift down so as to clear that pint there,--cape chignecto,--then anchor; then hold on till tide rises; and then drift up. mebbe before that the wind 'll spring up, an give us a lift somehow up the bay." "how long before the tide will turn?" "wal, it'll be high tide at about a quarter to eight this evenin, i calc'late." "you'll drift in the night, i suppose." "why not?" "o, i didn't know but what the fog and the night together might be too much for you." "too much? not a bit of it. fog, and night, and snow-storms, an tide dead agin me, an a lee shore, are circumstances that the antelope has met over an over, an fit down. as to foggy nights, when it's as calm as this, why, they're not wuth considerin." captain corbet's prognostication as to the fog proved to be correct. it was only for a short time that they were allowed to stare at the magnified proportions of the nova scotia coast and ile haute. then a change took place which attracted all their attention. the change was first perceptible down the bay. it was first made manifest by the rapid appearance of a thin gray cloud along the horizon, which seemed to take in both sea and sky, and absorbed into itself the outlines of both. at the same time, the coast of nova scotia grew more obscure, though it lost none of its magnified proportions, while the slaty blue of ile haute changed to a grayer shade. this change was rapid, and was followed by other changes. the thin gray cloud, along the south-west horizon, down the bay, gradually enlarged itself; till it grew to larger and loftier proportions. in a quarter of an hour it had risen to the dimensions of the nova scotia coast. in a half an hour it was towering to double that height. in an hour its lofty crest had ascended far up into the sky. "it's a comin," said captain corbet. "i knowed it. grind away, you old fog mill! pile on the steam, you grand mananers!" "is there any wind down there?" "not a hooter." "is the fog coming up without any wind?" "course it is. what does the fog want of wind?" "i thought it was the wind that brought it along." "bless your heart, the fog takes care of itself. the wind isn't a bit necessary. it kine o' pervades the hull atmosphere, an rolls itself on an on till all creation is overspread. why, i've seen everything changed from bright sunshine to the thickest kind of fog in fifteen minutes,--yea, more,--and in five minutes." even while they were speaking the fog rolled on, the vast accumulation of mist rose higher and yet higher, and appeared to draw nearer with immense rapidity. it seemed as though the whole atmosphere was gradually becoming condensed, and precipitating its invisible watery vapor so as to make it visible in far-extending fog banks. it was not wind, therefore, that brought on the clouds, for the surface of the water was smooth and unruffled, but it was the character of the atmosphere itself from which this change was wrought. and still, as they looked at the approaching mist, the sky overhead was blue, and the sun shone bright. but the gathering clouds seemed now to have gained a greater headway, and came on more rapidly. in a few minutes the whole outline of the nova scotia coast faded from view, and in its place there appeared a lofty wall of dim gray cloud, which rose high in the air, fading away into the faintest outline. overhead, the blue sky became rapidly more obscured; ile haute changed again from its grayish blue to a lighter shade, and then became blended with the impenetrable fog that was fast enclosing all things; and finally the clouds grew nearer, till the land nearest them was snatched from view, and all around was alike shrouded under the universal veil; nothing whatever was visible. for a hundred yards, or so, around them, they could see the surface of the water; but beyond this narrow circle, nothing more could be discerned. "it's a very pooty fog," said captain corbet, "an i only wonder that there ain't any wind. if it should come, it'll be all right." "you intend, then, to go on just the same." "jest the same as ef the sky was clear. i will up anchor as the tide begins to fall, an git a good piece down, so as to dodge cape chegnecto, an there wait for the rising tide, an jest the same as ef the sun was shinin. but we can't start till eight o'clock this evenin. anyhow, you needn't trouble yourselves a mite. you may all go to sleep, an dream that the silver moon is guidin the traveller on the briny deep." the scene now was too monotonous to attract attention, and the boys once more sought for some mode of passing the time. nothing appeared so enticing as their former occupation of fishing, and to this they again turned their attention. in this employment the time passed away rapidly until the summons was given for tea. around the festive board, which was again prepared by solomon with his usual success, they lingered long, and at length, when they arose, the tide was high. it was now about eight o'clock in the evening, and captain corbet was all ready to start. as the tide was now beginning to turn, and was on the ebb, the anchor was raised, and the schooner, yielding to the pressure of the current, moved away from her anchorage ground. it was still thick, and darkness also was coming on. not a thing could be discerned, and by looking at the water, which moved with the schooner, it did not seem as though any motion was made. "that's all your blindness," said the captain, as they mentioned it to him. "you can't see anything but the water, an as it is movin with us, it doesn't seem as though we were movin. but we air, notwithstandin, an pooty quick too. i'll take two hours' drift before stoppin, so as to make sure. i calc'late about that time to get to a place whar i can hit the current that'll take me, with the risin tide, up to old petticoat jack." "by the way, captain," said phil, "what do you seafaring men believe about the origin of that name--petitcodiac? is it indian or french?" "'tain't neither," said captain corbet, decidedly. "it's good english; it's 'petticoat jack;' an i've hearn tell a hundred times about its original deryvation. you see, in the old french war, there was an english spy among the french, that dressed hisself up as a woman, an was familiarly known, among the british generals an others that emply'd him, as 'petticoat jack.' he did much to contriboot to the defeat of the french; an arter they were licked, the first settlers that went up thar called the place, in honor of their benefacture, 'petticoat jack;' an it's bore that name ever sence. an people that think it's french, or injine, or greek, or hebrew, or any other outlandish tongue, don't know what they're talkin about. now, i know, an i assure you what i've ben a sayin's the gospel terewth, for i had it of an old seafarin man that's sailed this bay for more'n forty year, an if he ain't good authority, then i'd like to know who is--that's all." at this explanation of the etymology of the disputed term, the boys were silent, and exchanged glances of admiration. it was some minutes after eight when they left their anchorage, and began to drift once more. there was no moon, and the night would have been dark in any case, but now the fog rendered all things still more obscure. it had also grown much thicker than it had been. at first it was composed of light vapors, which surrounded them on all sides, it is true, but yet did not have that dampness which might have been expected. it was a light, dry fog, and for two or three hours the deck, and rigging, and the clothes of those on board remained quite dry. but now, as the darkness increased, the fog became denser, and was more surcharged with heavy vapors. soon the deck looked as though it had received a shower of rain, and the clothes of those on board began to be penetrated with the chill damp. "it's very dark, captain," said bruce, at last, as the boys stood near the stern. "dradful dark," said the captain, thoughtfully. "have you really a good idea of where we are?" "an idee? why, if i had a chart,--which i haven't, cos i've got it all mapped out in my head,--but if i had one, i could take my finger an pint the exact spot where we are a driftin this blessed minute." "you're going straight down the bay, i suppose." "right--yea, i am; i'm goin straight down; but i hope an trust, an what's more, i believe, i am taking a kine o' cant over nigher the new brunswick shore." "how long will we drift?" "wal, for about two hours--darsn't drift longer; an besides, don't want to." "why not?" "darsn't. thar's a place down thar that every vessel on this here bay steers clear of, an every navigator feels dreadful shy of." "what place is that?" "quaco ledge," said captain corbet, in a solemn tone. "we'll get as near it as is safe this night, an p'aps a leetle nearer; but, then, the water's so calm and still, that it won't make any difference--in fact, it wouldn't matter a great deal if we came up close to it." "quaco ledge?" said bruce. "i've heard of that." "heard of it? i should rayther hope you had. who hasn't? it's the one great, gen'ral, an standin terror of this dangerous and iron-bound bay. there's no jokin, no nonsense about quaco ledge; mind i tell you." "where does it lie?" asked phil, after a pause. "wal, do you know whar quaco settlement is?" "yes." "wal, quaco ledge is nigh about half way between quaco settlement and ile haute, bein a'most in the middle of the bay, an in a terrible dangerous place for coasters, especially in a fog, or in a snow-storm. many's the vessel that's gone an never heard of, that quaco ledge could tell all about, if it could speak. you take a good snowstorm in this bay of fundy, an let a schooner get lost in it, an not know whar she is, an if quaco ledge don't bring her up all standin, then i'm a injine." "is it a large place?" "considerably too large for comfort," said the captain. "they've sounded it, an found the whole shoal about three an a half mile long, an a half a mile broad. it's all kivered over with water at high tide, but at half tide it begins to show its nose, an at low tide you see as pooty a shoal for shipwrecking as you may want; rayther low with pleasant jagged rocks at the nothe-east side, an about a hundred yards or so in extent. i've been nigh on to it in clear weather, but don't want to be within five miles of it in a fog or in a storm. in a thick night like this, i'll pull up before i get close." "you've never met with any accident there, i suppose." "me? no, not me. i always calc'late to give quaco ledge the widest kine o' berth. an i hope you'll never know anythin more about that same place than what i'm tellin you now. the knowlege which one has about that place, an places ginrally of that kine, comes better by hearsay than from actool observation." time passed on, and they still drifted, and at length ten o'clock came; but before that time the boys had gone below, and retired for the night. shortly after, the rattle of the chains waked them all, and informed them that the antelope had anchored once more. after this they all fell asleep. iv. in clouds and darkness.--a terrible warning.--nearly run down.--a lively place.--bart encounters an old acquaintance.--launched into the deep.--through the country.--the swift tide.--the lost boy. the boys had not been asleep for more than two hours, when they were awakened by an uproar on deck, and rousing themselves from sleep, they heard the rattle of the chains and the crank of the windlass. as their night attire was singularly simple, and consisted largely of the dress which they wore by day, being the same, in fact, with the exception of the hat, it was not long before they were up on deck, and making inquiries as to the unusual noise. that the anchor was being hoisted they already knew, but why it was they did not. "wal," said captain corbet, "thar's a good sou-wester started up, an as i had a few winks o' sleep, i jest thought i'd try to push on up the bay, an get as far as i could. if i'd ben in any other place than this, i wouldn't hev minded, but i'd hev taken my snooze out; but i'm too near quaco ledge by a good sight, an would rayther get further off. the sou-wester'll take us up a considerable distance, an if it holds on till arter the tide turns, i ask no more." soon the anchor was up, and the antelope spread her sails, and catching the sou-wester, dashed through the water like a thing of life. "we're going along at a great rate, captain," said bart. "beggin your pardon, young sir, we're not doin much. the tide here runs four knots agin us--dead, an the wind can't take us more'n six, which leaves a balance to our favor of two knots an hour, an that is our present rate of progression. you see, at that rate we won't gain more'n four or five miles before the turn o' tide. after that, we'll go faster without any wind than we do now with a wind. o, there's nothin like navigatin the bay o' fundy to make a man feel contempt for the wind. give me tides an anchors, i say, an i'll push along." the wind was blowing fresh, and the sea was rising, yet the fog seemed thicker than ever. the boys thought that the wind might blow the fog away, and hinted this to the captain. his only response was a long and emphatic whistle. "whe-e-e-ew! what! blow the fog away? this wind? why, this wind brings the fog. the sou-wester is the one wind that seafarin men dread in the bay of fundy. about the wust kine of a storm is that thar very identical wind blowin in these here very identical waters." captain corbet's words were confirmed by the appearance of sea and sky. outside was the very blackness of darkness. nothing whatever was visible. sea and sky were alike hidden from view. the waves were rising, and though they were not yet of any size, still they made noise enough to suggest the idea of a considerable storm, and the wind, as it whistled through the rigging, carried in its sound a menace which would have been altogether wanting in a bright night. the boys all felt convinced that a storm was rising, and looked forward to a dismal experience of the pangs of seasickness. to fight this off now became their chief aim, and with this intention they all hurried below once more to their beds. but the water was not rough, the motion of the schooner was gentle, and though there was much noise above, yet they did not notice any approach of the dreaded sea-sickness, and so in a short time they all fell asleep once more. but they were destined to have further interruptions. the interruption came this time in a loud cry from solomon, which waked them all at once. "get up, chil'en! get up! it's all over!" "what, what!" cried the boys; "what's the matter?" and springing up in the first moment of alarm, they stood listening. as they stood, there came to their ears the roaring of the wind through the rigging, the flapping of the sails, the dashing and roaring of the waters, in the midst of which there came also a shrill, penetrating sound, which seemed almost overhead--the sound of some steam whistle. "dar, dar!" cried solomon, in a tone of deadly fear. "it's a comin! i knowed it. we're all lost an gone. it's a steamer. we're all run down an drownded." without a word of response, the boys once more clambered on deck. all was as dark as before, the fog as thick, the scene around as impenetrable, the wind as strong. from a distance there came over the water, as they listened, the rapid beat of a steamboat's paddles, and soon there arose again the long, shrill yell of the steam whistle. they looked all around, but saw no sign of any steamer; nor could they tell exactly in which direction the sound arose. one thought it came from one side, another thought it came from the opposite quarter, while the others differed from these. as for captain corbet, he said nothing, while the boys were expressing their opinions loudly and confidently. at last bart appealed to captain corbet. "where is the steamer?" "down thar," said the captain, waving his hand over the stern. "what steamer is it? the revenue steamer?" "not her. that revenoo steamer is up to windsor by this time. no; this is the st. john steamer coming up the bay, an i ony wish she'd take us an give us a tow up." "she seems to be close by." "she is close by." "isn't there some danger that we'll be run down?" as those words were spoken, another yell, louder, shriller, and nearer than before, burst upon their ears. it seemed to be close astern. the beat of the paddles was also near them. "pooty close!" said the captain. "isn't there some danger that we'll be run down?" to this question, thus anxiously repeated, the captain answered slowly,-- "wal, thar may be, an then again thar mayn't. ef a man tries to dodge every possible danger in life, he'll have a precious hard time of it. why, men air killed in walkin the streets, or knocked over by sun-strokes, as well as run down at sea. so what air we to do? do? why, i jest do what i've allus ben a doin; i jest keep right straight on my own course, and mind my own biz. ten chances to one they'll never come nigh us. i've heard steamers howlin round me like all possessed, but i've never ben run down yet, an i ain't goin to be at my time o' life. i don't blieve you'll see a sign o' that thar steamer. you'll only hear her yellin--that's all." as he spoke another yell sounded. "she's a passin us, over thar," said the captain, waving his hand over the side. "her whistle'll contenoo fainter till it stops. so you better go below and take your sleep out." the boys waited a little longer, and hearing the next whistle sounding fainter, as captain corbet said, they followed his advice, and were soon asleep, as before. this time there was no further interruption, and they did not wake till about eight in the morning, when they were summoned to breakfast by solomon. on reaching the deck and looking around, a cry of joy went forth from all. the fog was no longer to be seen, no longer did there extend around them the wall of gloomy gray, shutting out all things with its misty folds. no longer was the broad bay visible. they found themselves now in a wide river, whose muddy waters bore them slowly along. on one side was a shore, close by them, well wooded in some places, and in others well cultivated, while on the other side was another shore, equally fertile, extending far along. "here we air," cried captain corbet. "that wind served us well. we've had a fust-rate run. i calc'lated we'd be three or four days, but instead of that we've walked over in twenty-four hours. good agin!" "will we be able to land at moncton soon?" "wal, no; not till the next tide." "why not?" "wal, this tide won't last long enough to carry us up thar, an so we'll have to wait here. this is the best place thar is." "what place is this?" "hillsborough." "hillsborough?" "yes. do you see that thar pint?" and captain corbet waved his arm towards a high, well-wooded promontory that jutted out into the river. "yes." "wal, i'm goin in behind that, and i'll wait thar till the tide turns. we'll get up to moncton some time before evenin." in a few minutes the antelope was heading towards the promontory; and soon she passed it, and advanced towards the shore. on passing the promontory a sight appeared which at once attracted the whole attention of the boys. immediately in front of them, in the sheltered place which was formed by the promontory, was a little settlement, and on the bank of the river was a ship-yard. here there arose the stately outline of a large ship. her lower masts were in, she was decorated with flags and streamers, and a large crowd was assembled in the yard around her. "there's going to be a launch!" cried bart, to whom a scene like this was familiar. "a launch!" cried bruce. "hurrah! we'll be able to see it. i've never seen one in my life. now's the time." "can't we get ashore?" said arthur. "of course," said phil; "and perhaps they'll let us go on board and be launched in her." the very mention of such a thing increased the general excitement. captain corbet was at once appealed to. "o, thar's lots of time," said he. "tain't quite high tide yet. you'll have time to get ashore before she moves. hullo, wade! whar's that oar?" the boys were all full of the wildest excitement, in the midst of which solomon appeared with the announcement that breakfast was waiting. to which bart replied,-- "o, bother breakfast!" "i don't want any," said bruce. "i have no appetite," said arthur. "nor i," said pat. "i want to be on board that ship," said phil. "we can easily eat breakfast afterwards," said tom. at this manifest neglect of his cooking, poor solomon looked quite heart-broken; but captain corbet told him that he might bring the things ashore, and this in some measure assuaged his grief. it did not take long to get ready. the oar was flung on board the boat, which had thus far been floating behind the schooner; and though the boat had a little too much water on board to be comfortable, yet no complaints were made, and in a few minutes they were landed. "how much time have we yet?" asked bart, "before high tide?" "o, you've got fifteen or twenty minutes," said captain corbet. "hurrah, boys! come along," said bart; and leading the way, he went straight to the office. as he approached it he uttered suddenly a cry of joy. "what's the matter, bart?" bart said nothing, but hurried forward, and the astonished boys saw him shaking hands very vigorously with a gentleman who seemed like the chief man on the place. he was an old acquaintance, evidently. in a few minutes all was explained. as the boys came up, bart introduced them as his friends, and they were all warmly greeted; after which the gentleman said,-- "why, what a crowd of you there is! follow me, now. there's plenty of room for you, i imagine, in a ship of fifteen hundred tons; and you've just come in time." with these words he hurried off, followed by all the boys. he led the way up an inclined plane which ran up to the bows of the ship, and on reaching this place they went along a staging, and finally, coming to a ladder, they clambered up, and found themselves on the deck of the ship. "i must leave you now, bart, my boy," said the gentleman; "you go to the quarter-deck and take care of yourselves. i must go down again." "who in the world is he, bart?" asked the boys, as they all stood on the quarter-deck. "was there ever such luck!" cried bart, joyously. "this is the ship sylph, and that is mr. watson, and he has built this ship for my father. isn't it odd that we should come to this place at this particular time?" "why, it's as good as a play." "of course it is. i've known mr. watson all my life, and he's one of the best men i ever met with. he was as glad to see me as i was to see him." but now the boys stopped talking, for the scene around them began to grow exciting. in front of them was the settlement, and in the yard below was a crowd who had assembled to see the launch. behind them was the broad expanse of the petitcodiac river, beyond which lay the opposite shore, which went back till it terminated in wooded hills. overhead arose the masts, adorned with a hundred flags and streamers. the deck showed a steep slope from bow to stern. but the scene around was nothing, compared with the excitement of suspense, and expectation. in a few minutes the hammers were to sound. in a few minutes the mighty fabric on which they were standing would move, and take its plunge into the water. the suspense made them hold their breath, and wait in perfect silence. around them were a few men, who were talking in a commonplace way. they were accustomed to launches, and an incident like this was as nothing in their lives, though to the boys it was sufficient to make their hearts throb violently, and deprive them of the power of speech. a few minutes passed. "we ought to start soon," said bart, in a whisper; for there was something in the scene which made them feel grave and solemn. the other boys nodded in silence. a few minutes more passed. then there arose a cry. and then suddenly there came to their excited ears the rattle of a hundred hammers. stroke after stroke, in quick succession, was dealt upon the wedges, which thus raised the vast structure from her resting-place. for a moment she stood motionless, and then-- then with a slow motion, at first scarce perceptible, but which every instant grew quicker, she moved down her ways, and plunged like lightning into the water. the stern sank deep, then rose, and then the ship darted through the water across the river. then suddenly the anchor was let go, and with the loud, sharp rattle of chains, rushed to the bed of the river. with a slight jerk the ship stopped. the launch was over. a boat now came from the shore, bringing the builder, mr. watson; and at the same time a steamer appeared, rounding a point up the river, and approaching them. "do you want to go to st. john, bart?" "not just yet, sir," said bart. "because if you do you can go down in the ship. the steamer is going to take her in tow at once. but if you don't want to go, you may go ashore in the boat. i'm sorry i can't stay here to show you the country, my boy; but i have to go down in the ship, and at once, for we can't lie here in the river, unless we want to be left high and dry at low tide. so good by. go to the house. mrs. watson'll make you comfortable as long as you like; and if you want to take a drive you may consider my horses your own." with these words he shook hands with all the boys for good by, and after seeing them safely on board the boat, he waited for the steamer which was to tow the sylph down the bay. the boys then were rowed ashore. by the time they landed, the steamer had reached the ship, a stout cable was passed on board and secured, her anchor was weighed, and then, borne on by steam, and by the tide, too, which had already turned, the sylph, in tow of the steamer, passed down the river, and was soon out of sight. bart then went to see mrs. watson, with all the boys. that lady, like her husband, was an old acquaintance, and in the true spirit of hospitality insisted on every one of them taking up their abode with her for an indefinite period. finding that they could not do this, she prepared for them a bounteous breakfast, and then persuaded them to go off for a drive through the country. this invitation they eagerly accepted. before starting, they encountered captain corbet. "don't hurry back, boys," said he, "unless you very pertik'l'ry wish to go up to moncton by the arternoon tide. don't mind me. i got several things to occoopy me here." "what time could we start up river?" "not before four." "o, we'll be back by that time." "wal. ony don't hurry back unless you like. i got to buy some ship-bread, an i got to fix some things about the boat. it'll take some time; so jest do as you like." being thus left to their own devices, and feeling quite unlimited with regard to time, the boys started off in two wagons, and took a long drive through the country. the time passed quickly, and they enjoyed themselves so much that they did not get back until dusk. "it's too late now, boys, to go up," said the captain, as he met them on their return. "we've got to wait till next tide. it's nearly high tide now." "all right, captain; it'll do just as well to go up river to-night." "amen," said the captain. but now mrs. watson insisted on their staying to tea, and so it happened that it was after nine o'clock before they were ready to go on board the antelope. going down to the shore, they found the boat ready, with some articles which captain corbet had procured. "i've been fixing the gunwales," said he; "an here's a box of pilot-bread. we were gettin out of provisions, an i've got in a supply, an i've bought a bit of an old sail that'll do for a jib. i'm afeard thar won't be room for all of us. some of you better stay ashore, an i'll come back." "i'll wait," said bart, taking his seat on a stick of timber. "an i'll wait, too," said bruce. the other boys objected in a friendly way, but bart and bruce insisted on waiting, and so the boat at length started, leaving them behind. in a short time it reached the schooner. captain corbet secured the boat's painter to the stem, and threw the oar on board. "now, boys, one of you stay in the boat, an pass up them things to me--will you?" "all right," said tom. "i'll pass them up." on this captain corbet got on board the schooner, followed by arthur, and phil, and pat. tom waited in the boat. "now," said captain corbet, "lift up that thar box of pilot-bread fust. 'tain't heavy. we'll get these things out afore we go ashore for the others." "all right," said tom. he stooped, and took the box of biscuit in his arms. at that time the tide was running down very fast, and the boat, caught by the tide, was forced out from the schooner with such a pressure that the rope was stiffened out straight. tom made one step forward. the next instant he fell down in the bottom of the boat, and those on board of the schooner who were looking at him saw, to their horror, that the boat was sweeping away with the tide, far down the river. v. a cry of horror.--what shall we do?--hard and fast.--bart and bruce.--gloomy intelligence.--the promontory.--the bore of the petitcodiac.--a night of misery.--a mournful waking.--taking counsel. a cry of horror escaped those on board, and for some time they stood silent in utter dismay. "the rope wasn't tied," groaned arthur. "yes, it was," said captain corbet; "it bruk; catch me not tyin it. it bruk; see here!" and he held up in the dim light the end of the rope which still was fastened to the schooner. "i didn't know it was rotten," he moaned; "'tain't over ten year old, that bit o' rope, an i've had it an used it a thousand times without its ever thinkin o' breakin." "what can we do?" cried arthur. "we must do something to save him." captain corbet shook his head. "we've got no boat," said he. "boat! who wants a boat?" "what can we do without a boat?" "why, up anchor, and go after him with the schooner." "the schooner's hard and fast," said captain corbet, mournfully. "hard and fast?" "yes; don't you notice how she leans? it's only a little, but that's a sign that her keel's in the mud." "i don't believe it! i won't believe it!" cried arthur. "come, boys, up with the anchor." as the boys rushed to the windlass, captain corbet went there, too, followed by the mate, and they worked at it for some time, until at last the anchor rose to the surface. but the antelope did not move. on the contrary, a still greater list to one side, which was now unmistakable, showed that the captain was right, and that she was actually, as he said, hard and fast. this fact had to be recognized, but arthur would not be satisfied until he had actually seen the anchor, and then he knew that the vessel was really aground. "do you mean to say," he cried at last, "that there is nothing to be done?" "i don't see," said captain corbet, "what thar is to be done till the schewner muves." "when will that be?" "not till to-morrow mornin." "how early?" "not before eight o'clock." "eight o'clock!" cried arthur, in horror. "yes, eight o'clock. you see we had to come in pooty nigh to the shore, an it'll be eight o'clock before we're floated." "and what'll become of poor tom?" groaned arthur. "wal," said the captain, "don't look on the wust. he may get ashore." "he has no oar. the oar was thrown aboard of the schooner." "still he may be carried ashore." "is there any chance?" "wal, not much, to tell the truth. thar's no use of buo-oyin of ourselves up with false hopes; not a mite. thar's a better chance of his bein picked up. that thar's likely now, an not unnatooral. let's all don't give up. if thar's no fog outside, i'd say his chances air good." "but it may be foggy." "then, in that case, he'll have to drift a while--sure." "then there's no hope." "hope? who's a sayin thar's no hope? why, look here; he's got provisions on board, an needn't starve; so if he does float for a day or two, whar's the harm? he's sure to be picked up eventooally." at this moment their conversation was interrupted by a loud call from the promontory. it was the voice of bruce. while these events had been taking place on board the schooner, bruce and bart had been ashore. at first they had waited patiently for the return of the boat, but finally they wondered at her delay. they had called, but the schooner was too far off to hear them. then they waited for what seemed to them an unreasonably long time, wondering what kept the boat, until at length bruce determined to try and get nearer. burt was to stay behind in case the boat should come ashore in his absence. with this in view he had walked down the promontory until he had reached the extreme point, and there he found himself within easy hail of the antelope. "schooner ahoy!" he cried. "a-ho-o-o-o-y!" cried captain corbet. "why don't you come and take us off?" he cried. after this there was silence for some time. at last captain corbet shouted out,-- "the boat's lost." "what!" "the boat's adrift." captain corbet said nothing about tom, from a desire to spare him for the present. so bruce thought that the empty boat had drifted off, and as he had been prepared to hear of some accident, he was not much surprised. but he was not to remain long in ignorance. in a few moments he heard arthur's voice. "bruce!" "hallo!" "the boat's gone." "all right." "tom's adrift in her!" "what!" shouted bruce. "tom's adrift in her." at this appalling intelligence bruce's heart seemed to stop beating. "how long?" he dried, after a pause. "half an hour," cried arthur. "why don't you go after him?" cried bruce again. "we're aground," cried arthur. the whole situation was now explained, and bruce was filled with his own share of that dismay which prevailed on board of the schooner; for a long time nothing more was said. at length arthur's voice sounded again. "bruce!" "hallo!" "get a boat, and come aboard as soon as you can after the tide turns." "all right. how early will the tide suit?" "eight o'clock." "not before?" "no." after this nothing more was said. bruce could see for himself that the tide was falling, and that he would have to wait for the returning tide before a boat could be launched. he waited for some time, full of despair, and hesitating to return to bart with his mournful intelligence. at length he turned, and walked slowly back to his friend. "well, bruce?" asked bart, who by this time was sure that some accident had happened. "the boat's adrift." "the boat!" "yes; and what's worse, poor tom!" "tom!" cried bart, in a horror of apprehension. "yes, tom's adrift in her." at this bart said not a word, but stood for some time staring at bruce in utter dismay. a few words served to explain to bart the situation of the schooner, and the need of getting a boat. "well," said bart, "we'd better see about it at once. it's eleven o'clock, but we'll find some people up; if not, we'll knock them up." and with these words the two lads walked up from the river bank. on reaching the houses attached to the shipyard, they found that most of the people were up. there was a good deal of singing and laughter going on, which the boys interpreted to arise from a desire to celebrate the launching of the ship. they went first to mrs. watson's house, where they found that good lady up. she listened to their story with undisguised uneasiness, and afterwards called in a number of men, to whom she told the sad news. these men listened to it with very serious faces. "it's no joke," said one, shaking his head. the others said nothing, but their faces spoke volumes. "what had we better do?" asked bruce. "of course ye'll be off as soon as ye can get off," said one. "the lad might have a chance," said another. "the return tide may drift him back, but he may be carried too far down for that." "he'll be carried below cape chignecto unless he gets to the land," said another. "isn't there a chance that he'll be picked up?" asked bart. the man to whom he spoke shook his head. "there's a deal of fog in the bay this night," said he. "fog? why, it's clear enough here." "so it is; but this place and the bay of fundy are two different things." "a regular sou-wester out there," said another man. "an a pooty heavy sea by this time," said another. and in this way they all contributed to increase the anxiety of the two boys, until at last scarce a ray of hope was left. "you'd better prepare yourselves for the worst," said one of the men. "if he had an oar he would be all right; but, as it is--well, i don't care about sayin what i think." "o, you're all too despondent," said mrs. watson. "what is the use of looking on the dark side? come, bart, cheer up. i'll look on the bright side. hope for the best. set out on the search with hope, and a good heart. i'm confident that he will be safe. you will pick him up yourselves, or else you will hear of his escape somewhere. i remember two men, a few years ago, that went adrift and were saved." "ay," said one of the men, "i mind that well. they were tom furlong and jim spencer. but that there boat was a good-sized fishing boat; an such a boat as that might ride out a gale." "nonsense," said mrs. watson. "you're all a set of confirmed croakers. why, bart, you've read enough shipwreck books to know that little boats have floated in safety for hundreds of miles. so hope for the best; don't be down-hearted. i'll send two or three men down now to get the boat ready for you. you can't do anything till the morning, you know. won't you stay here? you had better go to bed at once." but bart and bruce could not think of bed. "well, come back any time, and a bed will be ready for you," said mrs. watson. "if you want to see about the boat now, the men are ready to go with you." with those words she led the way out to the kitchen, where a couple of men were waiting. bart and bruce followed them down to a boat-house on the river bank, and saw the boat there which mrs. watson had offered them. this boat could be launched at any time, and as there was nothing more to be done, the boys strolled disconsolately about, and finally went to the end of the promontory, and spent a long time looking out over the water, and conversing sadly about poor tom's chances. there they sat late in the night, until midnight came, and so on into the morning. at last the scene before them changed from a sheet of water to a broad expanse of mud. the water had all retired, leaving the bed of the river exposed. of all the rivers that flow into the bay of fundy none is more remarkable than the petitcodiac. at high tide it is full--a mighty stream; at low tide it is empty--a channel of mud forty miles long; and the intervening periods are marked by the furious flow of ascending or descending waters. and now, as the boys sat there looking out upon the expanse of mud before them, they became aware of a dull, low, booming sound, that came up from a far distant point, and seemed like the voice of many waters sounding from the storm-vexed bay outside. there was no moon, but the light was sufficient to enable them to see the exposed riverbed, far over to the shadowy outline of the opposite shore. here, where in the morning a mighty ship had floated, nothing could now float; but the noise that broke upon their ears told them of the return of the waters that now were about to pour onward with resistless might into the empty channel, and send successive waves far along into the heart of the land. "what is that noise?" asked bruce. "it grows louder and louder." "that," said bart, "is the bore of the petitcodiac." "have you ever seen it?" "never. i've heard of it often, but have never seen it." but their words were interrupted now by the deepening thunder of the approaching waters. towards the quarter whence the sound arose they turned their heads involuntarily. at first they could see nothing through the gloom of night; but at length, as they strained their eyes looking down the river, they saw in the distance a faint, white, phosphorescent gleam, and as it appeared the roar grew louder, and rounder, and more all-pervading. on it came, carrying with it the hoarse cadence of some vast surf flung ashore from the workings of a distant storm, or the thunder of some mighty cataract tumbling over a rocky precipice. and now, as they looked, the white, phosphorescent glow grew brighter, and then whiter, like snow; every minute it approached nearer, until at last, full before them and beneath them, there rolled a giant wave, extending across the bed of the river, crescent-shaped, with its convex side advancing forwards, and its ends following after within short distance from the shore. the great wave rolled on, one mass of snow-white foam, behind which gleamed a broad line of phosphorescent lustre from the agitated waters, which, in the gloom of night, had a certain baleful radiance. as it passed on its path, the roar came up more majestically from the foremost wave; and behind that came the roar of other billows that followed in its wake. by daylight the scene would have been grand and impressive; but now, amid the gloom, the grandeur became indescribable. the force of those mighty waters seemed indeed resistless, and it was with a feeling of relief that the boys reflected that the schooner was out of the reach of its sweep. its passage was swift, and soon it had passed beyond them; and afar up the river, long after it had passed from sight, they heard the distant thunder of its mighty march. by the time the wave had passed, the boys found themselves excessively weary with their long wakefulness. "bart, my boy," said bruce, "we must get some rest, or we won't be worth anything to-morrow. what do you say? shall we go back to mrs. watson's?" "it's too late--isn't it?" "well, it's pretty late, no doubt. i dare say it's half past two; but that's all the more reason why we should go to bed." "well." "what do you say? do you think we had better disturb mrs. watson, or not?" "o, no; let's go into the barn, and lie down in the hay." "very well. hay makes a capital bed. for my part, i could sleep on stones." "so could i." "i'm determined to hope for the best about tom," said bruce, rising and walking off, followed by bart. "mrs. watson was right. there's no use letting ourselves be downcast by a lot of croakers--is there?" "no," said bart. the boys then walked on, and in a few minutes reached the ship-yard. here a man came up to them. "we've been looking for you everywhere," said the man. "mrs. watson is anxious about you." "mrs. watson?" "yes. she won't go to bed till you get back to the house. there's another man out for you, up the river." "o, i'm sorry we have given you all so much trouble," said bart; "but we didn't think that anybody would bother themselves about us." "well, you don't know mrs. watson that's all," said the man, walking along with them. "she's been a worrytin herself to death about you; and the sooner she sees you, the better for her and for you." on reaching the house the boys were received by mrs. watson. one look at her was enough to show them that the man's account of her was true. her face was pale, her manner was agitated, and her voice trembled as she spoke to them, and asked them where they had been. bart expressed sorrow at having been the cause of so much trouble, and assured her he thought that she had gone to bed. "no," said she; "i've been too excited and agitated about your friend and about you. but i'm glad that you've been found; and as it's too late to talk now, you had better go to bed, and try to sleep." with these words she gently urged them to their bedroom; and the boys, utterly worn out, did not attempt to withstand her. they went to bed, and scarcely had their heads touched the pillows before they were fast asleep. meanwhile the boys on board the antelope had been no less anxious; and, unable to sleep, they had talked solemnly with each other over the possible fate of poor tom. chafing from their forced inaction, they looked impatiently upon the ebbing water, which was leaving them aground, when they were longing to be floating on its bosom after their friend, and could scarcely endure the thought of the suspense to which they would be condemned while waiting for the following morning. captain corbet also was no less anxious, though much less agitated. he acknowledged, with pain, that it was all his fault, but, appealed to all the boys, one by one, asking them how he should know that the rope was rotten. he informed them that the rope was an old favorite of his, and that he would have willingly risked his life on it. he blamed himself chiefly, however, for not staying in the boat himself, instead of leaving tom in it. to all his remarks the boys said but little, and contented themselves with putting questions to him about the coast, the tides, the wind, the currents, and the fog. the boys on board went to sleep about one o'clock, and waked at sunrise. then they watched the shore wistfully, and wondered why bart and bruce did not make their appearance. but bart and bruce, worn out by their long watch, did not wake till nearly eight o'clock. then they hastily dressed themselves, and after a very hurried breakfast they bade good by to good mrs. watson. "i shall be dreadfully anxious about that poor boy," said she, sadly. "promise me to telegraph as soon as you can about the result." bart promised. then they hurried down to the beach. the tide was yet a considerable distance out; but a half dozen stout fellows, whose sympathies were fully enlisted in their favor, shoved the boat down over the mud, and launched her. then bart and bruce took the oars, and soon reached the schooner, where the boys awaited their arrival in mournful silence. vi. tom adrift.--the receding shores.--the paddle.--the roar of surf--the fog horn.--the thunder of the unseen breakers.--a horror of great darkness.--adrift in fog and night. when the boat in which tom was darted down the stream, he at first felt paralyzed by utter terror; but at length rousing himself, he looked around. as the boat drifted on, his first impulse was to stop it; and in order to do this it was necessary to find an oar. the oar which captain corbet had used to scull the boat to the schooner had been thrown on board of the latter, so that the contents of the boat might be passed up the more conveniently. tom knew this, but he thought that there might be another oar on board. a brief examination sufficed to show him that there was nothing of the kind. a few loose articles lay at the bottom; over these was the sail which captain corbet had bought in the ship-yard, and on this was the box of pilot-bread. that was all. there was not a sign of an oar, or a board, or anything of the kind. no sooner had he found out this than he tried to tear off one of the seats of the boat, in the hope of using this as a paddle. but the seats were too firmly fixed to be loosened by his hands, and, after a few frantic but ineffectual efforts, he gave up the attempt. but he could not so quickly give up his efforts to save himself. there was the box of biscuit yet. taking his knife from his pocket, he succeeded in detaching the cover of the box, and then, using this as a paddle, he sought with frantic efforts to force the boat nearer to the shore. but the tide was running very swiftly, and the cover was only a small bit of board, so that his efforts seemed to have but little result. he did indeed succeed in turning the boat's head around; but this act, which was not accomplished without the severest labor, did not seem to bring her nearer to the shore to any perceptible extent. what he sought to do was to achieve some definite motion to the boat, which might drag her out of the grasp of the swift current; but that was the very thing which he could not do, for so strong was that grasp, and so swift was that current, that even an oar would have scarcely accomplished what he wished. the bit of board, small, and thin, and frail, and wielded with great difficulty and at a fearful disadvantage, was almost useless. but, though he saw that he was accomplishing little or nothing, he could not bring himself to give up this work. it seemed his only hope; and so he labored on, sometimes working with both hands at the board, sometimes plying his frail paddle with one hand, and using the other hand at a vain endeavor to paddle in the water. in his desperation he kept on, and thought that if he gained ever so little, still, by keeping hard at work, the little that he gained might finally tell upon the direction of the boat--at any rate, so long as it might be in the river. he knew that the river ran for some miles yet, and that some time still remained before he would reach the bay. thus tom toiled on, half despairing, and nearly fainting with his frenzied exertion, yet still refusing to give up, but plying his frail paddle until his nerveless arms seemed like weights of lead, and could scarce carry the board through the water. but the result, which at the outset, and in the very freshness of his strength, had been but trifling, grew less and less against the advance of his own weakness and the force of that tremendous tide, until at last his feeble exertions ceased to have any appreciable effect whatever. there was no moon, but it was light enough for him to see the shores--to see that he was in the very centre of that rapid current, and to perceive that he was being borne past those dim shores with fearful velocity. the sight filled him with despair, but his arms gained a fresh energy, from time to time, out of the very desperation of his soul. he was one of those natures which are too obstinate to give up even in the presence of despair itself; and which, even when hope is dead, still forces hope to linger, and struggles on while a particle of life or of strength remains. so, as he toiled on, and fought on, against this fate which had suddenly fixed itself upon him, he saw the shores on either side recede, and knew that every passing moment was bearing him on to a wide, a cruel, and a perilous sea. he took one hasty glance behind him, and saw what he knew to be the mouth of the river close at hand; and beyond this a waste of waters was hidden in the gloom of night. the sight lent new energy to his fainting limbs. he called aloud for help. shriek after shriek burst from him, and rang wildly, piercingly, thrillingly upon the air of night. but those despairing shrieks came to no human ear, and met with no response. they died away upon the wind and the waters; and the fierce tide, with swifter flow, bore him onward. the last headland swept past him; the river and the river bank were now lost to him. around him the expanse of water grew darker, and broader, and more terrible. above him the stars glimmered more faintly from the sky. but the very habit of exertion still remained, and his faint plunges still dipped the little board into the water; and a vague idea of saving himself was still uppermost in his mind. deep down in that stout heart of his was a desperate resolution never to give up while strength lasted; and well he sustained that determination. over him the mist came floating, borne along by the wind which sighed around him; and that mist gradually overspread the scene upon which his straining eyes were fastened. it shut out the overhanging sky. it extinguished the glimmering stars. it threw a veil over the receding shores. it drew its folds around him closer and closer, until at last everything was hidden from view. closer and still closer came the mist, and thicker and ever thicker grew its dense folds, until at last even the water, into which he still thrust his frail paddle, was invisible. at length his strength failed utterly. his hands refused any longer to perform their duty. the strong, indomitable will remained, but the power of performing the dictates of that will was gone. he fell back upon the sail that lay in the bottom of the boat, and the board fell from his hands. and now there gathered around the prostrate figure of the lost boy all the terrors of thickest darkness. the fog came, together with the night, shrouding all things from view, and he was floating over a wide sea, with an impenetrable wall of thickest darkness closing him in on all sides. as he thus lay there helpless, he had leisure to reflect for the first time upon the full bitterness of his situation. adrift in the fog, and in the night, and borne onward swiftly down into the bay of fundy--that was his position. and what could he do? that was the one question which he could not answer. giving way now to the rush of despair, he lay for some time motionless, feeling the rocking of the waves, and the breath of the wind, and the chill damp of the fog, yet unable to do anything against these enemies. for nearly an hour he lay thus inactive, and at the end of that time his lost energies began to return. he rose and looked around. the scene had not changed at all; in fact, there was no scene to change. there was nothing but black darkness all around. suddenly something knocked against the boat. he reached out his hand, and touched a piece of wood, which the next instant slipped from his grasp. but the disappointment was not without its alleviation, for he thought that he might come across some bits of drift wood, with which he could do something, perhaps, for his escape. and so buoyant was his soul, and so obstinate his courage, that this little incident of itself served to revive his faculties. he went to the stern of the boat, and sitting there, he tried to think upon what might be best to be done. what could be done in such a situation? he could swim, but of what avail was that? in what direction could he swim, or what progress could he make, with such a tide? as to paddling, he thought of that no more; paddling was exhausted, and his board was useless. nothing remained, apparently, but inaction. inaction was indeed hard, and it was the worst condition in which he could be placed, for in such a state the mind always preys upon itself; in such a state trouble is always magnified, and the slow time passes more slowly. yet to this inaction he found himself doomed. he floated on now for hours, motionless and filled with despair, listening to the dash of the waves, which were the only sounds that came to his ears. and so it came to pass, in process of time, that by incessant attention to these monotonous sounds, they ceased to be altogether monotonous, but seemed to assume various cadences and intonations. his sharpened ears learned at last to distinguish between the dash of large waves and the plash of small ones, the sighing of the wind, the pressure of the waters against the boat's bows, and the ripple of eddies under its stern. worn out by excitement and fatigue, he lay motionless, listening to sounds like these, and taking in them a mournful interest, when suddenly, in the midst of them, his ears caught a different cadence. it was a long, measured sound, not an unfamiliar one, but one which he had often heard--the gathering sound which breaks out, rising and accumulating upon the ear, as the long line of surf falls upon some rocky shore. he knew at once what this was, and understood by it that he was near some shore; but what shore it might be he could not know. the sound came up from his right, and therefore might be the new brunswick coast, if the boat had preserved its proper position. but the position of the boat had been constantly changing as she drifted along, so that it was impossible to tell whether he was drifting stern foremost or bow foremost. the water moved as the boat moved, and there was no means by which to judge. he listened to the surf, therefore, but made no attempt to draw nearer to it. he now knew perfectly well that with his present resources no efforts of his could avail anything, and that his only course would be to wait. besides, this shore, whatever it was, must be very different, he thought, from the banks of the petitcodiac. it was, as he thought, an iron-bound shore. and the surf which he heard broke in thunder a mile away, at the foot of giant precipices, which could only offer death to the hapless wretch who might be thrown among them. he lay, therefore, inactive, listening to this rolling surf for hours. at first it grew gradually louder, as though he was approaching it; but afterwards it grew fainter quite as gradually, until at length it could no longer be heard. during all these lonely hours, one thing afforded a certain consolation, and that was, the discovery that the sea did not grow rougher. the wind that blew was the sou-wester, the dreaded wind of fog and, storm; but on this occasion its strength was not put forth; it blew but moderately, and the water was not very greatly disturbed. the sea tossed the little boat, but was not high enough to dash over her, or to endanger her in any way. none of its spray ever came upon the recumbent form in the boat, nor did any moisture come near him, save that which was deposited by the fog. at first, in his terror, he had counted upon meeting a tempestuous sea; but, as the hours passed, he saw that thus far there had been nothing of the kind, and, if he were destined to be exposed to such a danger, it lay as yet in the future. as long as the wind continued moderate, so long would he toss over the little waves without being endangered in any way. and thus, with all these thoughts, sometimes depressing, at other times rather encouraging, he drifted on. hours passed away. at length his fatigue overpowered him more and more, and as he sat there in the stern, his eyes closed, and his head fell heavily forward. he laid it upon the sail which was in front of him, so as to get an easier position, and was just closing his eyes again, when a sound came to his ears which in an instant drove every thought of sleep and of fatigue away, and made him start up and listen with intense eagerness. it was the sound of a fog horn, such as is used by coasting vessels, and blown during a fog, at intervals, to give warning of their presence. the sound was a familiar one to a boy who had been brought up on the fog-encircled and fish-haunted shores of newfoundland; and tom's hearing, which had been almost hushed in slumber, caught it at once. it was like the voice of a friend calling to him. but for a moment he thought it was only a fancy, or a dream, and he sat listening and quivering with excitement. he waited and listened for some time, and was just about to conclude that it was a dream, when suddenly it came again. there was no mistake this time. it was a fog horn. some schooner was sailing these waters. o for day-light, and o for clear weather, so that he might see it, and make himself seen! the sound, though clear, was faint, and the schooner was evidently at a considerable distance; but tom, in his eagerness, did not think of that. he shouted with all his strength. he waited for an answer, and then shouted again. once more he waited, and listened, and then again and again his screams went forth over the water. but still no response came. at last, after some interval, the fog horn again sounded. again tom screamed, and yelled, and uttered every sound that could possibly convey to human ears an idea of his presence, and of his distress. the sounds of the fog horn, however, did not correspond with his cries. it was blown at regular intervals, which seemed painfully long to tom, and did not seem to sound as if in answer to him. at first his hope was sustained by the discovery that the sounds were louder, and therefore nearer; but scarcely had he assured himself of this, when he perceived that they were growing fainter again, as though the schooner had approached him, and then sailed away. this discovery only stimulated him to more frantic exertions. he yelled more and more loudly, and was compelled, at last, to cease from pure exhaustion. but even then he did not cease till long after the last notes of the departing fog horn had faintly sounded in his ears. it was a disappointment bitter indeed, since it came after a reviving hope. what made it all the worse was a fixed idea which he had, that the schooner was no other than the antelope. he felt confident that she had come at once after him, and was now traversing the waters in search of him, and sounding the horn so as to send it to his ears and get his response. and his response had been given with this result! this was the end of his hopes. he could bear it no longer. the stout heart and the resolute obstinacy which had so long struggled against fate now gave way utterly. he buried his face in his hands, and burst into a passion of tears. he wept for a long time, and roused himself, at last, with difficulty, to a dull despair. what was the use of hoping, or thinking, or listening? hope was useless. it was better to let himself go wherever the waters might take him. he reached out his hand and drew the sail forward, and then settling himself down in the stern of the boat, he again shut his eyes and tried to sleep. but sleep, which a short time before had been so easy, was now difficult. his ears took in once more the different sounds of the sea, and soon became aware of a deeper, drearer sound than any which had hitherto come to him. it was the hoarse roar of a great surf, far more formidable than the one which he had heard before. the tumult and the din grew rapidly louder, and at length became so terrific that he sat upright, and strained his eyes in the direction from which it came. peering thus through the darkness, he saw the glow of phosphorescent waves wrought out of the strife of many waters; and they threw towards him, amid the darkness, a baleful gleam which fascinated his eyes. a feeling came to him now that all was over. he felt, as though he were being sucked into some vortex, where death lay in wait for him. he trembled. a prayer started to his lips, and burst from him. suddenly his boat seemed caught by some resistless force, and jerked to one side; the next instant it rose on some swelling wave, and was shot swiftly forward. tom closed his eyes, and a thrill of horror passed through every nerve. all at once a rude shock was felt, and the boat shook, and tom thought he was going down. it seemed like the blow of a rock, and he could think only of the ingulfing waters. but the waters hesitated to claim their prey; the rushing motion ceased; and soon the boat was tossing lightly, as before, over the waves, while the hoarse and thunderous roar of those dread unseen breakers, from which he had been so wondrously saved, arose wrathfully behind, as though they were howling after their escaped victim. a cry of gratitude escaped tom, and with trembling lips he offered a heart-felt prayer to that divine power whose mighty hand had just rescued him from a terrible doom. tom's agitation had been so great that it was long before he could regain his former calm. at last, however, his trembling subsided. he heard no longer the howling surf. all was calm and quiet. the wind ceased, the boat's motion was less violent, the long-resisted slumber came once more to his eyes. still his terror kept off sleep, and as his eyes would close, they would every moment open again, and he would start in terror and look around. at length he saw that the darkness was less profound. light was coming, and that light was increasing. he could see the dark waters, and the gloomy folds of the enclosing mist became apparent. he gave a heavy sigh, partly of terror at the thought of all that he had gone through, and partly of relief at the approach of light. well might he sigh, for this light was the dawn of a new day, and showed him that he had been a whole night upon the waters. and now he could no longer struggle against sleep. his eyes closed for the last time. his head fell forward on the wet sail. he was sound asleep. vii. lost in the fog.--the shoal and its rocks.--is it a reef?--the truth.--hoisting sail.--a forlorn hope.--wild steering.--where am i?--land, ho! tom slept for many hours; and when he at length awoke, he was stiffened in every limb, and wet to the skin. it was his constrained position and the heavy fog which had done this. he sat up and looked around with a bewildered air; but it did not take a long time for him to collect his wandering faculties, and arrive at the full recollection of his situation. gradually it all came before him--the night of horror, the long drift, the frantic struggles, the boom of the surf, the shrill, penetrating tone of the fog horn, his own wild screams for help, the thunder of the breakers, and the grasp of the giant wave; all these, and many more, came back to his mind; and he was all too soon enabled to connect his present situation with the desperate position of the preceding night. in spite of all these gloomy thoughts, which thus rushed in one accumulated mass over his soul, his first impulse had nothing to do with these things, but was concerned with something very different from useless retrospect, and something far more essential. he found himself ravenously hungry; and his one idea was to satisfy the cravings of his appetite. he thought at once of the box of biscuit. the sail which he had pulled forward had very fortunately covered it up, else the contents might have been somewhat damaged. as it was, the upper edges of the biscuits, which had been exposed before being covered by the sail, were somewhat damp and soft, but otherwise they were not harmed; and tom ate his frugal repast with extreme relish. satisfying his appetite had the natural effect of cheering his spirits, and led him to reflect with thankfulness on the very fortunate presence of that box of biscuit in the boat. had it not been for that, how terrible would his situation be! but with that he could afford to entertain hope, and might reasonably expect to endure the hardships of his situation. strange to say, he was not at all thirsty; which probably arose from the fact that he was wet to the skin. immersing one's self in water is often resorted to by shipwrecked mariners, when they cannot get a drink, and with successful results. as for tom, his whole night had been one long bath, in which he had been exposed to the penetrating effects of the sea air and the fog. he had no idea whatever of the time. the sun could not be seen, and so thick was the fog that he could not even make out in what part of the sky it might be. he had a general impression, however, that it was midday; and this impression was not very much out of the way. his breakfast refreshed him, and he learned now to attach so much value to his box of biscuit, that his chief desire was to save it from further injury. so he hunted about for the cover, and finding it underneath the other end of the sail, he put it on the box, and then covered it all up. in this position the precious contents of the box were safe. the hour of the day was a subject of uncertainty, and so was the state of the tide. whether he was drifting up or down the bay he could not tell for certain. his recollection of the state of the tide at petitcodiac, was but vague. he reckoned, however, from the ship launch of the preceding day, and then, allowing sufficient time for the difference in the tide, he approximated to a correct conclusion. if it were midday, he thought that the tide would be about half way down on the ebb. these thoughts, and acts, and calculations took up some time, and he now began to look around him. suddenly his eye caught sight of something not far away, dimly visible through the mist. it looked like a rock. a farther examination showed him that such was the case. it was a rock, and he was drifting towards it. no sooner had he ascertained this, than all his excitement once more awakened. trembling from head to foot at this sudden prospect of escape, he started to his feet, and watched most eagerly the progress of the boat. it was drifting nearer to the rock. soon another appeared, and then another. the rocks were black, and covered with masses of sea-weed, as though they were submerged at high tide. a little nearer, and he saw a gravelly strand lying just beyond the rocks. his excitement grew stronger and stronger, until at last it was quite uncontrollable. he began to fear that he would drift past this place, into the deep water again. he sprang into the bows, and grasping the rope in his hand, stood ready to leap ashore. he saw that he was drawing nearer, and so delayed for a while. nearer he came and nearer. at length the boat seemed to pass along by the gravelly beach, and move by it as though it would go no nearer. this tom could not endure. he determined to wait no longer. he sprang. he sank into the water up to his armpits, but he did not lose his hold of the rope. clutching this in a convulsive grasp, he regained his foothold, which he had almost lost, and struggled forward. for a few moments he made no headway, for the boat, at the pressure of the current, pulled so hard that he could not drag it nearer. a terrible fear came to him that the rope might break. fortunately it did not, and, after a short but violent struggle, tom conquered the resistance of the tide, and pulled the boat slowly towards the shore. he then towed it near to the rocks, dragged its bows up as far as he could, and fastened it securely. then he looked around. a few rocks were near him, about six feet high, jutting out of the gravel; and beyond these were others, which rose out of the water. most of them were covered with sea-weed. a few sticks of timber were wedged in the interstices of the nearest rocks. as to the rest, he saw only a rocky ledge of small extent, which was surrounded by water. beyond this nothing was visible but fog. at first he had thought that this was a beach, but now he began to doubt this. he walked all around, and went into the water on every side, but found no signs of any neighboring shore. the place seemed rather like some isolated ledge. but where was it, and how far away was the shore? if he could only tell that! he stopped, and listened intently; he walked all around, and listened more intently still, in hopes of hearing the sound of some neighboring surf. in vain. nothing of the kind came to his ears. all was still. the water was not rough, nor was there very much wind. there was only a brisk breeze, which threw up light waves on the surface. after a time he noticed that the tide was going down, and the area of the ledge was evidently enlarging. this inspired hope, for he thought that perhaps some long shoal might be disclosed by the retreating tide, which might communicate with the main land. for this he now watched intently, and occupied himself with measuring the distance from the rock where his boat was tied. doing this from time to time, he found that every little while the number of paces between the rock and the water's edge increased. this occupation made the time pass rapidly; and at last tom found his stopping-place extending over an area of about a hundred yards in length, and half as many in breadth. the rocks at one end had increased in apparent size, and in number; but the ledge itself remained unchanged in its general character. this, he saw, was its extreme limit, beyond which it did not extend. there was no communication with any shore. there was no more indication now of land than when he had first arrived. this discovery was a gradual one. it had been heralded by many fears and suspicions, so that at last, when it forced itself on his convictions, he was not altogether unprepared. still, the shock was terrible, and once more poor tom had to struggle with his despair--a despair, too, that was all the more profound from the hopes that he had been entertaining. he found, at length, in addition to this, that the tide was rising, that it was advancing towards his resting-place, and that it would, no doubt, overflow it all before long. it had been half tide when he landed, and but a little was uncovered; at full tide he saw that it would all be covered up by the water,--sea weed, rocks, and all,--and concealed from human eye. in the midst of these painful discoveries there suddenly occurred to him the true name and nature of this place. quaco ledge! that was the place which captain corbet had described. he recalled now the full description. here it lay before him; upon it he stood; and he found that it corresponded in every respect with the description that the captain had given. if this were indeed so, and the description were true,--and he could not doubt this,--how desperate his situation was, and how he had been deceived in his false hopes! far, far away was he from any shore!--in the middle of the bay; on a place avoided by all--a place which he should shun above all other places if he hoped for final escape! and now he was as eager to quit this ill-omened place as he had once been to reach it. the tide was yet low. he tried to push the boat down, but could not. he saw that he would have to wait. so he got inside the boat, and, sitting down, he waited patiently. the time passed slowly, and tom looked despairingly out over the water. something attracted his attention. it was a long pole, which had struck against the edge of the shoal. he got out of the boat, and, securing it, he walked back again. it was some waif that had been drifting about till it was thus cast at his feet. he thought of taking it for a mast, and making use of the sail. the idea was an attractive one. he pulled the sail out, unfolded it, and found it to be the jib of some schooner. he cut off one end of this, and then with his knife began to make a hole in the seat for his mast. it was very slow work, but he succeeded at last in doing it, and inserted the pole. then he fastened the sail to it. he was rather ignorant of navigation, but he had a general idea of the science, and thought he would learn by experience. by cutting off the rope from the edge of the sail he obtained a sheet, and taking off the cover of the biscuit box a second time, he put this aside to use as a rudder. but now, in what direction ought he to steer? this was an insoluble problem. he could tell now by the flow of the current the points of the compass, but could not tell in which direction he ought to go. the new brunswick coast he thought was nearest, but he dreaded it. it seemed perilous and unapproachable. he did not think much better of the nova scotia coast. he thought rather of cape d'or, as a promising place of refuge, or the petitcodiac. so, after long deliberation, he decided on steering back again, especially as the wind was blowing directly up the bay. by the time that he had finished these preparations and deliberations the boat was afloat. eagerly tom pushed it away from the shoal; eagerly, and with trembling hands, he let the sail unfold, and thrust the board into the water astern. the boat followed the impulse of the wind, and the young sailor saw with delight that his experiment was successful, and before long the dark rocks of quaco ledge were lost to view. now, where there is a definite object to steer by, or a compass to guide one, and a decent rudder, even an inexperienced hand can manage to come somewhere near the point that he aims at. but take a boat like tom's, and a rude and suddenly extemporized sail, with no other rudder than a bit of board, with no compass, and a surrounding of thick fog, and it would puzzle even an experienced sailor to guide himself aright. tom soon suspected that his course was rather a wild one; his board in particular became quite unmanageable, and he was fatigued with trying to hold it in the water. so he threw it aside, and boldly trusted to his sail alone. the boat seemed to him to be making very respectable progress. the wind was fresh, and the sea only moderate. the little waves beat over the bows, and there was quite a commotion astern. tom thought he was doing very well, and heading as near as possible towards the petitcodiac. besides, in his excitement at being thus saved from mere blind drifting, he did not much care where he went, for he felt assured that he was now on the way out of his difficulties. in an hour or two after leaving the ledge it grew quite dark, and tom saw that it would be necessary to prepare for the night. his preparations were simple, consisting in eating a half dozen biscuit. he now began to feel a little thirsty, but manfully struggled against this feeling. gradually the darkness grew deeper, until at last it assumed the intense character of the preceding night. but still tom sat up, and the boat went on. the wind did not slacken, nor did the boat's progress cease. hours passed by in this way. as to the tides, tom could not tell now very well whether they were rising or falling, and, in fact, he was quite indifferent, being satisfied fully with his progress. as long as the wind distended his sail, and bore the boat onward, he cared not whether the tide favored or opposed. hours passed, but such was tom's excitement that he still bore up, and thought nothing of rest or of sleep. his attention was needed, too, and so he kept wide awake, and his ears were ever on the stretch to hear the slightest sound. but at last the intense excitement and the long fatigue began to overpower him. still he struggled against his weakness, and still he watched and listened. hours passed on, and the wind never ceased to fill the sail, and the boat never ceased to go onward in a course of which tom could have no idea. it was a course totally different from the one which be intended--a course which depended on the chance of the wind; and one, too, which was varied by the sweep of the tide as it rose or fell; but the course, such as it was, continued on, and tom watched and waited until, at last, from sheer exhaustion, he fell sound asleep. his dreams were much disturbed, but he slept on soundly, and when he awaked it was broad day. he looked around in deep disappointment. fog was everywhere, as before, and nothing could be seen. whether he was near any shore or not he could not tell. suddenly he noticed that the wind was blowing from an opposite direction. how to account for this was at first a mystery, for the fog still prevailed, and the opposite wind could not bring fog. was it possible that the boat had turned during his sleep? he knew that it was quite possible. indeed, he believed that this was the case. with this impression he determined to act on the theory that the boat had turned, and not that the wind had changed. the latter idea seemed impossible. the wind was the chill, damp fog wind--the sou-wester. convinced of this, tom turned the boat, and felt satisfied that he had resumed his true course. after a time the wind went down, and the sail flapped idly against the mast. tom was in a fever of impatience, but could do nothing. he felt himself to be once more at the mercy of the tides. the wind had failed him, and nothing was left but to drift. all that day he drifted, and night came on. still it continued calm. tom was weary and worn out, but so intense was his excitement that he could not think of sleep. at midnight the wind sprung up a little; and now tom determined to keep awake, so that the boat might not again double on her track. he blamed himself for sleeping on the previous night, and losing so much progress. now he was determined to keep awake. his resolution was carried out. his intense eagerness to reach some shore, no matter where, and his fear of again losing what he had gained, kept sleep from his eyes. all that night he watched his boat. the wind blew fitfully, sometimes carrying the boat on rapidly, again dying down. so the next morning came. it was thursday. it was monday night when he had drifted out, and all that time he had been on the deep, lost in the fog. and now, wearied, dejected, and utterly worn out, he looked around in despair, and wondered where this would end. fog was everywhere, as before, and, as before, not a thing could be seen. hours passed on; the wind had sprang up fresh, and the boat went on rapidly. suddenly tom sprang upright, and uttered a loud cry. there full before him he saw a giant cliff, towering far overhead, towards which the boat was sailing. at its base the waves were dashing. over its brow trees were bending. in the air far above he heard the hoarse cries of sea-gulls. in his madness he let the boat drive straight on, and was close to it before he thought of his danger. he could not avoid it now, however, for he did not know how to turn the boat. on it went, and in a few moments struck the beach at the base of the cliff. the tide was high; the breeze was moderate, and there was but little sun. the boat was not injured by running ashore there. tom jumped out, and, taking the rope in his hands, walked along the rough and stony beach for about a hundred yards, pulling the boat after him. there the cliff was succeeded by a steep slope, beyond which was a gentle, grass-grown declivity. towards this he bent his now feeble steps, still tugging at the boat, and drawing it after him. at length he reached the grassy slope, and found here a rough beach. he fastened the boat securely to the trunk of a tree that grew near. then he lifted out the box of biscuit, and over this he threw the sail. he stood for a few moments on the bank, and looked all around for signs of some human habitation; but no signs appeared. tom was too exhausted to go in search of one. he had not slept for more than thirty hours. the country that he saw was cleared. hills were at a little distance, but the fog which hung all around concealed everything from view. one look was enough. overwhelmed with gratitude, he fell upon his knees, and offered up a fervent prayer of thankfulness for his astonishing escape. then fatigue overpowered him, and, rolling himself up in the sail, he went to sleep. viii. off in search.--eager outlook.--nothing but fog.--speaking a schooner.--pleasant anecdotes.--cheer up.--the heart of corbet. after the arrival of bruce and bart, captain corbet did not delay his departure much longer. the vessel was already afloat, and though the tide was still rising, yet the wind was sufficiently favorable to enable her to go on her way. the sails were soon set, and, with the new boat in tow, the antelope weighed anchor, and took her departure. for about two hours but little progress was made against the strong opposing current; yet they had the satisfaction of reaching the mouth of the river, and by ten o'clock, when the tide turned and began to fall, they were fairly in the bay. the wind here was ahead, but the strong tide was now in their favor, and they hoped for some hours to make respectable progress. during this time they had all kept an anxious lookout, but without any result. no floating craft of any kind appeared upon the surface of the water. coming down the river, the sky was unclouded, and all the surrounding scene was fully visible; but on reaching the bay, they saw before them, a few miles down, a lofty wall of light-gray cloud. captain corbet waved his hand towards this. "we're in for it," said he, "or we precious soon will be." "what's that?" asked phil. "our old friend--a fog bank. you'd ought to know it by this time, sure." there it lay, a few miles off, and every minute brought them nearer. the appearance of the fog threw an additional gloom over the minds of all, for they saw the hopeless character of their search. of what avail would it be to traverse the seas if they were all covered by such thick mists? still nothing else was to be done, and they tried to hope for the best. "any how," said captain corbet, "thar's one comfort. that thar fog may go as quick as it come. it ony needs a change of wind. why, i've knowed it all vanish in half an hour, an the fog as thick as it is now." "but sometimes it lasts long--don't it?" "i should think it did. i've knowed it hang on for weeks." at this gloomy statement the boys said not a word. soon after the schooner approached the fog bank, and in a little while it had plunged into the midst of its misty folds. the chill of the damp clouds, as they enveloped them, struck additional chill to their hearts. it was into the midst of this that poor tom had drifted, they thought, and over these seas, amidst this impenetrable atmosphere, he might even now be drifting. in the midst of the deep dejection consequent upon such thoughts, it was difficult for them to find any solid ground for hope. the wind was moderate, yet adverse, and the schooner had to beat against it. as she went on each tack, they came in sight of the shores; but as time passed, the bay widened, and captain corbet kept away from the land as much as possible. all the time the boys never ceased to maintain their forlorn lookout, and watched over the sides, and peered anxiously through the mist, in the hope that the gloomy waters might suddenly disclose to their longing eyes the form of the drifting boat and their lost companion. "i tell you what it is, boys," said captain corbet, after a long and thoughtful silence; "the best plan of acting in a biz of this kind is to pluck up sperrit an go on. why, look at me. you mind the time when that boat, that thar i-dentical, individdle boat, drifted away onst afore, with youns in it. you remember all about that,--course. well, look at me. did i mourn? did i fret? was i cast down? nary down; not me. i cheered up. i cheered up mr. long. i kep everybody in good sperrits. an what was the result? result was, you all turned up in prime order and condition, a enjyin of yourselves like all possessed, along with old o'rafferty. "again, my friends," he continued, as the boys made no remark, "consider this life air short an full of vycissitoods. ups an downs air the lot of pore fallen hoomanity. but if at the fust blast of misforten we give up an throw up the game, what's the good of us? the question now, an the chief pint, is this--who air we, an whar air we goin, an what air we purposin to do? fust, we air hooman beins; secondly, we air a traversin the vast an briny main; and thirdly, we hope to find a certain friend of ourn, who was borne away from us by the swellin tide. thar's a aim for us--a high an holy aim; an now i ask you, as feller-critters, how had we ought to go about it? had we ought to peek, an pine, an fret, an whine? had we ought to snivel, and give it up at the fust? or had we ought, rayther, to be up an doin,--pluck up our sperrits like men, and go about our important work with energy? which of these two, my friends? i pause for a reply." this was quite a speech for captain corbet, and the effort seemed quite an exhaustive one. he paused some time for a reply; but as no reply was forthcoming, he continued his remarks. "now, see here," said he; "this here whole business reminds me of a story i once read in a noospaper, about a man up in this here identical river, the petticoat jack, who, like a fool, pulled up his boat on the bank, and wont off to sleep in her. wal, as a matter of course, he floated off,--for the tide happened to be risin,--an when he woke up out of his cool an refreshin slumbers, he found himself afar on the briny deep, a boundin like 'a thing of life,' o'er the deep heavin sea. besides, it was precious foggy,--jest as it is now,--an the man couldn't see any more'n we can. wal, the story went on to say, how that thar man, in that thar boat, went a driftin in that thar fashion, in that thar fog; an he drifted, an drifted, an derifted, for days an days, up an down, on one side an t'other side, an round every way,--an, mind you, he hadn't a bit to eat, or to drink either, for that matter,--'t any rate, the paper didn't mention no such thing; an so, you know, he drifted, an d-e-e-e-rifted,--until at last he druv ashore. an now, whar d'ye think he druv?" the boys couldn't think. "guess, now." the boys couldn't guess. "d'ye guv it up?" they did. "wal, the paper said, he druv ashore at grand manan; but i've my doubts about it." the captain paused, looked all around through the fog, and stood for a moment as though listening to some sound. "i kine o' thought," said he, "that i detected the dash of water on the shore. i rayther think it's time to bring her round." the vessel was brought round on another tack, and the captain resumed his conversation. "what i was jest sayin," he continued, "reminds me of a story i onst heard, or read, i forget which (all the same, though), about two boys which went adrift on a raft. it took place up in scott's bay, i think, at a ship-yard in that thar locality. "these two unfortunate children, it seems, had made a raft in a playful mude, an embarkin on it they had been amoosin theirselves with paddlin about by pushin it with poles. at length they came to a pint where poles were useless; the tide got holt of the raft, an the ferrail structoor was speedily swept onward by the foorus current. very well. time rolled on, an that thar raft rolled on too,--far over the deep bellew sea,--beaten by the howlin storm, an acted upon by the remorseless tides. i leave you to pictoor to yourselves the sorrow of them thar two infant unfortunits, thus severed from their hum an parients, an borne afar, an scarce enough close on to keep 'em from the inclemency of the weather. so they drifted, an drifted, an de-e-rifted, until at last they druv ashore; an now, whar do you think it was that they druv?" the boys couldn't say. "guess now." the boys declined. "try." they couldn't. "name some place." they couldn't think of any. "d'ye guv it up?" asked the captain, excitedly. they did. "well, then," said he, in a triumphant tone, "they druv ashore on brier island; an ef that thar ain't pooty tall driftin, then i'm a injine." to this the boys had no reply to make. "from all this," continued the captain, "you must perceive that this here driftin is very much more commoner than you hev ben inclined to bleeve it to be. you also must see that thar's every reason for hope. so up with your gizzards! pluck up your sperrits! rise and look fortin an the footoor squar in the face. squar off at fortin, an hav it out with her on the spot. i don't want to hev you go mopin an whinin about this way. hello!" captain corbet suddenly interrupted his remarks by an exclamation. the exclamation was caused by the sudden appearance of a sail immediately to windward. she was coming up the bay before the wind, and came swiftly through the fog towards them. in passing on her way, she came astern of the antelope. "schooner, ahoy!" cried captain corbet; and some conversation took place, in which they learned that the stranger was the schooner wave, from st. john, and that she had not seen any signs whatever of any drifting boat. this news was received sadly by the boys, and captain corbet had to exert his utmost to rouse them from their depression, but without much effect. "i don't know how it is," said he, plaintively, "but somehow your blues air contiguous, an i feel as ef i was descendin into a depression as deep as yourn. i don't remember when i felt so depressed, cept last may--time i had to go off in the antelope with taters, arter i thought i'd done with seafarin for the rest of my life. but that thar vessel war wonderously resussutated, an the speouse of my buzzum druv me away to traverse the sea. an i had to tar myself away from the clingin gerasp of my weepin infant,--the tender bud an bulossum of an old man's life--tar myself away, an feel myself a outcast. over me hovered contennooly the image of the pinin infant, an my heart quivered with responsive sympathy. an i yearned--an i pined--an i groaned--an i felt that life would be intoll'ble till i got back to the babby. an so it was that i passed away, an had scace the heart to acknowledge your youthful cheers. wal, time rolled on, an what's the result? here i air. do i pine now? do i peek? not a pine! not a peek! as tender a heart as ever bet still beats in this aged frame; but i am no longer a purray to sich tender reminiscinsuz of the babby as onst used to consume my vitals." thus it was that the venerable captain talked with the boys, and it was thus that he sought, by every possible means, to cheer them up. in this way the day passed on, and after five or six hours they began to look for a turn of tide. during this time the schooner had been beating; and as the fog was as thick as ever, it was impossible for the boys to tell where they were. indeed, it did not seem as though they had been making any progress. "we'll have to anchor soon," said the captain, closing his eyes and turning his face meditatively to the quarter whence the wind came. "anchor?" "yes." "what for?" "wal, you see it'll soon be dead low tide, an we can't go on any further when it turns. we'll have wind an tide both agin us." "how far have we come now?" "wal, we've come a pooty considerable of a lick now--mind i tell you. 'tain't, of course, as good as ef the wind had ben favorable, but arter all, that thar tide was a pooty considerable of a tide, now." "how long will you anchor?" "why, till the next tarn of tide,--course." "when will that be?" "wal, somewhar about eleven o'clock." "eleven o'clock?" "yes." "why, that's almost midnight." "course it is." "wouldn't it be better to cruise off in the bay? it seems to me anything is better than keeping still." "no, young sir; it seems to me that jest now anythin is better than tryin to cruise in the bay, with a flood tide a comin up. why, whar d'ye think we'd be? it would ony take an hour or two to put us on cape chignecto, or cape d'or, onto a place that we wouldn't git away from in a hurry,--mind i tell you." to this, of course, the boys had nothing to say. so, after a half hour's further sail, the anchor was dropped, and the antelope stopped her wanderings for a time. tedious as the day had been, it was now worse. the fog was as thick as ever, the scene was monotonous, and there was nothing to do. even solomon's repasts had, in a great measure, lost their attractions. he had spread a dinner for them, which at other times, and under happier circumstances, would have been greeted with uproarious enthusiasm; but at the present time it was viewed with comparative indifference. it was the fog that threw this gloom over them. had the sky been clear, and the sun shining, they would have viewed the situation with comparative equanimity; but the fog threw terror all its own around tom's position; and by shutting them in on every side, it forced them to think of him who was imprisoned in the same way--their lost companion, who now was drifting in the dark. besides, as long as they were in motion, they had the consciousness that they were doing something, and that of itself was a comfort; but now, even that consolation was taken away from them, and in their forced inaction they fell back again into the same despondency which they had felt at petitcodiac. "it's all this fog, i do believe," said captain corbet. "if it want for this you'd all cheer up, an be as merry as crickets." "is there any prospect of its going away?" "wal, not jest yet. you can't reckon on it. when it chooses to go away, it does so. it may hang on for weeks, an p'aps months. thar's no tellin. i don't mind it, bein as i've passed my hull life in the middle of fog banks; but i dare say it's a leetle tryin to youns." the repast that solomon spread for them on that evening was scarce tasted, and to all his coaxings and remonstrances the boys made no reply. after the tea was over, they went on deck, and stared silently into the surrounding gloom. the sight gave them no relief, and gave no hope. in that dense fog twilight came on soon, and with the twilight came the shadows of the night more rapidly. at last it grew quite dark, and finally there arose all around them the very blackness of darkness. "the best thing to do," said captain corbet, "is to go to sleep. in all kinds of darkness, whether intunnel or extunnel, i've allus found the best plan to be to sleep it off. an i've knowed great men who war of my opinion. sleep, then, young sirs, while yet you may, while yer young blood is warm, an life is fresh an fair, an don't put it off to old age, like me, for you mayn't be able to do it. look at me! how much d'ye think i've slep sence i left mud creek? precious little. i don't know how it is, but bein alone with you, an havin the respons'bility of you all, i kine o' don't feel altogether able to sleep as i used to do; an sence our late loss--i--wal, i feel as though i'd never sleep agin. i'm talkin an talkin, boys, but it's a solemn time with me. on me, boys, rests the fate of that lad, an i'll scour these here seas till he turns up, ef i hev to do it till i die. anxious? yes, i am. i'm that anxious that the diskivery of the lost boy is now the one idee of my life, for which i forget all else; but allow me to say, at the same time, that i fully, furmly, an conshuentiously bleve an affum, that my conviction is, that that thar lad is bound to turn up all right in the end--right side up--with care--sound in every respect, in good order an condition, jest as when fust shipped on board the good schooner antelope, corbet master, for petticoat jack, as per bill ladin." the captain's tones were mournful. he heaved a deep sigh as he concluded, and relapsed into a profound and melancholy silence. the boys waited on deck for some time longer, and finally followed his advice, and sought refuge below. they were young and strong, and the fatigue which they felt brought on drowsiness, which, in spite of their anxiety, soon deepened into sleep. all slept, and at length captain corbet only was awake. it was true enough, as he had said, the fate of the lost boy rested upon him, and he felt it. his exhortations to the boys about keeping up their courage, and his stories about lost men who had drifted to a final rescue, were all spoken more with reference to himself than to them. he sought to keep up his own courage by these words. yet, in spite of his efforts, a profound depression came over him, and well nigh subdued him. no one knew better than he the many perils which beset the drifting boat in these dangerous waters--the perils of storm, the perils of fog, the perils of thick darkness, the perils of furious tides, the perils of sunken rocks, of shoals, and of iron-bound coasts. the boys had gone to sleep, but there was no sleep for him. he wandered restlessly about, and heavy sighs escaped him. thus the time passed with him until near midnight. then he roused the mate, and they raised the anchor and hoisted the sails. it was now the turn of tide, and the waters were falling again, and the current once more ran down the bay. to this current he trusted the vessel again, beating, as before, against the head wind, which was still blowing; and thus the antelope worked her way onward through all that dark and dismal night, until at last the faint streaks of light in the east proclaimed the dawn of another day. through all that night the boys slept soundly. the wind blew, the waves dashed, but they did not awake. the anchor was hoisted, and the sails were set, but the noise failed to rouse them. weariness of body and anxiety of mind both conspired to make their sleep profound. yet in that profound sleep the anxiety of their minds made itself manifest; and in their dreams their thoughts turned to their lost companion. they saw him drifting over the stormy waters, enveloped in midnight darkness, chilled through with the damp night air, pierced to the bone by the cold night wind; drifting on amid a thousand dangers, now swept on by furious tides towards rocky shores, and again drawn back by refluent currents over vast sunken sea-ledges, white with foam. thus through all the night they slept, and as they slept the antelope dashed on through the waters, whose foaming waves, as they tumbled against her sides and over her bows, sent forth sounds that mingled with their dreams, and became intermingled with poor tom's mournful cries. ix. awake once more.--where are we?--the giant cliff.--out to sea.--anchoring and drifting.--the harbor.--the search.--no answer.--where's solomon? scarce had the streaks of light greeted captain corbet's eyes, and given him the grateful prospect of another day, when the boys awaked and hurried up on deck. their first act was to take a hurried look all around. the same gloomy and dismal prospect appeared--black water and thick, impenetrable fog. "where are we now, captain?" asked bruce. "wal, a con-siderable distance down the bay." "what are you going to do?" "wal--i've about made up my mind whar to go." "where?" "i'm thinkin of puttin into quaco." "quaco?" "yes." "how far is it from here?" "not very fur, 'cordin to my calc'lations. my idee is, that the boat may have drifted down along here and got ashore. ef so, he may have made for quaco, an its jest possible that we may hear about him." "is this the most likely place for a boat to go ashore?" "wal, all things considered, a boat is more likely to go ashore on the new brunswick side, driftin from petticoat jack; but at the same time 'tain't at all certain. thar's ony a ghost of a chance, mind. i don't feel over certain about it." "will we get to quaco this tide?" "scacely." "do you intend to anchor again?" "wal, i rayther think i'll hev to do it. but we'd ought to get to quaco by noon, i calc'late. i'm a thinkin--hello! good gracious!" the captain's sudden exclamation interrupted his words, and made all turn to look at the object that had called it forth. one glance showed an object which might well have elicited even a stronger expression of amazement and alarm. immediately in front of them arose a vast cliff,--black, rocky, frowning,--that ascended straight up from the deep water, its summit lost in the thick fog, its base white with the foaming waves that thundered there. a hoarse roar came up from those breaking waves, which blended fearfully with the whistle of the wind through the rigging, and seemed like the warning sound of some dark, drear fate. the cliff was close by, and the schooner had been steering straight towards it. so near was it that it seemed as though one could have easily tossed a biscuit ashore. but though surprised, captain corbet was not in the least confused, and did not lose his presence of mind for a moment. putting the helm hard up, he issued the necessary commands in a cool, quiet manner; the vessel went round, and in a few moments the danger was passed. yet so close were they, that in wearing round it seemed as though one could almost have jumped from the stern upon the rocky shelves which appeared in the face of the lofty cliff. captain corbet drew a long breath. "that's about the nighest scratch i remember ever havin had," was his remark, as the antelope went away from the land. "cur'ous, too; i don't see how it happened. i lost my reckonin a little. i'm a mile further down than i calc'lated on bein." "do you know that place?" asked bart. "course i know it." "it's lucky for us we didn't go there at night." "yes, it is rayther lucky; but then there wan't any danger o' that, cos, you see, i kep the vessel off by night, an the danger couldn't hev riz. i thought we were a mile further up the bay; we've been a doin better than i thought for." "shall we be able to get into quaco any sooner?" "wal, not much." "i thought from what you said that we were a mile nearer." "so we air, but that don't make any very great difference." "why, we ought to get in all the sooner, i should think." "no; not much." "why not? i don't understand that." "wal, you see it's low tide now." "the tides again!" "yes; it's allus the tides that you must consider here. wal, it's low tide now, an the tide's already on the turn, an risin. we've got to anchor." "anchor!" "yes." "what, again?" "yes, agin. even so. ef we didn't anchor we'd only be drifted up again, ever so far, an lose all that we've ben a gainin. we're not more'n a mile above quaco harbor, but we can't fetch it with wind an tide agin us; so we've got to put out some distance an anchor. it's my firm belief that we'll be in quaco by noon. the next fallin tide will carry us thar as slick as a whistle, an then we can pursue our investigations." the schooner now held on her course for about a mile away from the shore, and then came to anchor. the boys had for a moment lost sight of this unpleasant necessity, and had forgotten that they had been using up the hours of the ebb tide while asleep. there was no help for it, however, and they found, to their disgust, another day of fog, and of inaction. time passed, and breakfast came. solomon now had the satisfaction of seeing them eat more, and gave manifest signs of that satisfaction by the twinkle of his eye and the lustre of his ebony brow. after this the time passed on slowly and heavily; but at length eleven o'clock came, and passed, and in a short time they were once more under way. "we're going to quaco now--arn't we?" asked phil. "yes; right straight on into quaco harbor, fair an squar." "i don't see how it's possible for you to know so perfectly where you are." "young sir, there ain't a nook, nor a corner, nor a hole, nor a stun, in all the outlinin an configoortion of this here bay but what's mapped out an laid down all c'rect in this here brain. i'd undertake to navigate these waters from year's end to year's end, ef i was never to see the sun at all, an even ef i was to be perpetooly surrounded by all the fogs that ever riz. yea, verily, and moreover, not only this here bay, but the hull coast all along to bosting. why, i'm at home here on the rollin biller. i'm the man for mount desert, an quoddy head, an grand manan, an all other places that air ticklish to the ginrality of seafarin men. why, young sir, you see before you, in the humble an unassumin person of the aged corbet, a livin, muvin, and sea-goin edition of blunt's coast pilot, revised and improved to a precious sight better condition than it's ever possible for them fellers in bosting to get out. by blunt's coast pilot, young sir, i allude to a celebrated book, as big as a pork bar'l, that every skipper has in his locker, to guide him on his wanderin way--ony me. i don't have no call to use sech, being myself a edition of useful information techin all coastin matters." the antelope now proceeded quickly on her way. several miles were traversed. "now, boys, look sharp," said the captain; "you'll soon see the settlement." they looked sharp. for a few moments they went onward through the water, and at length there was visible just before them what seemed like a dark cloud extending all along. a few minutes further progress made the dark cloud still darker, and, advancing further, the dark cloud finally disclosed itself as a line of coast. it was close by them, and, even while they were recognizing it as land, they saw before them the outline of a wharf. "good agin!" cried the captain. "i didn't come to the wharf i wanted, but this here'll do as well as any other, an i don't know but what it'll do better. here we air, boys. stand by thar, mate, to let fall the jib." on they went, and in a few minutes more the antelope wore round, and her side just grazed the wharf. the mate jumped ashore, lines were secured, and the antelope lay in safety. "an now, boys, we may all go ashore, an see if we can hear anything about the boat." with these words captain corbet stepped upon the wharf, followed by all the boys, and they all went up together, till they found themselves on a road. there they saw a shop, and into this they entered. no time was to be lost; the captain at once told his story, and asked his question. the answer was soon made. nothing whatever was known there about any boat. two or three schooners had arrived within two days, and the shopkeeper had seen the skippers, but they had not mentioned any boat. no boat had drifted ashore anywhere near, nor had any strange lad arrived at the settlement. this intelligence depressed them all. "wal, wal," said the captain, "i didn't have much hopes; it's jest as i feared; but, at the same time, i'll ask further. an first and foremost i'll go an see them schooners." he then went off with the boys in search of the schooners just mentioned. these were found without difficulty. one had come from up the bay, another from st. john, and a third from eastport. none of them had encountered anything like a drilling boat. the one from up the bay afforded them the greatest puzzle. she must have come down the very night of tom's accident. if he did drift down the bay in his boat, he must have been not very far from the schooner. in clear weather he could not have escaped notice; but the skipper had seen nothing, and heard nothing. he had to beat down against the wind, and anchor when the tide was rising; but, though he thus traversed so great an extent of water, nothing whatever attracted his attention. "this sets me thinkin," said the captain, "that, perhaps, he mayn't have drifted down at all. he may have run ashore up thar. thar's a chance of it, an we must all try to think of that, and cheer up, as long as we can." leaving the schooners, the captain now went through the settlement, and made a few inquiries, with no further result. nothing had been heard by any one about any drifting boat, and they were at last compelled to see that in quaco there was no further hope of gaining any information whatever about tom. after this, the captain informed the boys that he was going back to the schooner to sleep. "i haven't slep a wink," said he, "sence we left grand pre, and that's more'n human natur can ginrally stand; so now i'm bound to have my sleep out, an prepare for the next trip. you boys had better emply yourselves in inspectin this here village." "when shall we leave quaco?" "wal, i'll think that over. i haven't yet made up my mind as to what's best to be done next. one thing seems certain. there ain't no use goin out in this fog, an i've half a mind to wait here till to-morrow." "to-morrow!" "yes,--an then go down to st. john." "but what'll poor tom be doing?" "it's my firm belief that he's all right," said captain corbet, confidently. "at any rate, you'd better walk about now, an i'll try an git some sleep." as there was nothing better to be done, the boys did as he proposed, and wandered about the village. it was about two miles long, with houses scattered at intervals along the single street of which it was composed, with here, and there a ship-yard. at one end was a long, projecting ledge, with a light-house; at the other there was a romantic valley, through which a stream ran into the bay. on the other side of this stream were cliffs of sandstone rocks, in which were deep, cavernous hollows, worn by the waves; beyond this, again, was a long line of a precipitous shore, in whose sides were curious shelves, along which it was possible to walk for a great distance, with the sea thundering on the rocks beneath. at any other time they would have taken an intense enjoyment in a place like this, where there were so many varied scenes; but now their sense of enjoyment was blunted, for they carried in their minds a perpetual anxiety. none the less, however, did they wander about, penetrating up the valley, exploring the caverns, and traversing the cliffs. they did not return to the schooner till dusk. it would not be high tide till midnight, and so they prolonged their excursion purposely, so as to use up the time. on reaching the schooner they were welcomed by captain corbet. "i declar, boys," said he, "i'm getting to be a leetle the biggest old fool that ever lived. it's all this accident. it's onmanned me. i had a nap for two or three hours, but waked at six, an ever sence i've been a worretin an a frettin about youns. sence that thar accident, i can't bar to have you out of my sight, for i fear all the time that you ar gettin into mischief. an now i've been skeart for two mortal hours, a fancyin you all tumblin down from the cliffs, or a strugglin in the waters." "o, we can take care of ourselves, captain," said bart "no, you can't--not you. i wouldn't trust one of you. i'm getting to be a feeble creetur too,--so don't go away agin." "well, i don't think we'll have a chance in quaco. arn't we going to leave to-night?" "wal, that thar is jest the pint that i've been moosin on. you see it's thick; the fog's as bad as ever. what's the use of going out to-night? now, ef we wait till to-morrow, it may be clear, an then we can decide what to do." at this proposal, the boys were silent for a time. the experience which they had formed of the bay and its fogs showed them how useless would be any search by night, and the prospect of a clear day, and, possibly, a more favorable wind on the morrow, was very attractive. the question was debated by all, and considered in all its bearings, and the discussion went on until late, when it was finally decided that it would be, on the whole, the wisest course to wait until the following day. not the least influential of the many considerations that occurred was their regard for captain corbet. they saw that he was utterly worn out for want of sleep, and perceived how much he needed one night's rest. this finally decided them. early on the following morning they were all up, and eager to see if there was any change in the weather. the first glance around elicited a cry of admiration from all of them. above, all was clear and bright. the sun was shining with dazzling lustre; the sky was of a deep blue, and without a cloud on its whole expanse; while the wide extent of the bay spread out before them, blue like the sky above, which it mirrored, and throwing up its waves to catch the sunlight. a fresh north wind was blowing, and all the air and all the sea was full of light and joy. the scene around was in every respect magnificent. the tide was low, and the broad beach, which now was uncovered by the waters, spread afar to the right and left in a long crescent that extended for miles. on its lower extremity it was terminated by a ledge of black rocks, with the light-house before spoken of, while its upper end was bounded by cavernous cliffs of red sandstone, which were crowned with tufted trees. behind them were the white houses of the village, straggling irregularly on the borders of the long road, with here and there the unfinished fabric of some huge ship; while in the background were wooded hills and green sloping fields. out on the bay a grander scene appeared. far down arose a white wall, which marked the place where the fog clouds were sullenly retreating; immediately opposite, and forty miles away over the water, arose the long line of the nova scotia coast, which bounded the horizon; while far up arose cape chignecto, and beside it towered up the dark form of a lonely island, which they knew, in spite of the evident distortion of its shape, to be no other than ile haute. the wondrous effects which can be produced by the atmosphere were never more visible to their eyes than now. the coast of nova scotia rose high in the air, dark in color, apparently only half its actual distance away, while the summit of that coast seemed as level as a table. it seemed like some vast structure which had been raised out of the water during the night by some magic power. ile haute arose to an extraordinary height, its summit perfectly level, its sides perfectly perpendicular, and its color a dark purple hue. nor was cape chignecto less changed. the rugged cliff arose with magnified proportions to a majestic height, and took upon itself the same sombre color, which pervaded the whole of the opposite coast. another discussion was now begun as to their best plan of action. after talking it all over, it was finally decided to go to st. john. there they would have a better opportunity of hearing about tom; and there, too, if they did hear, they could send messages to him, or receive them from him. so it was decided to leave at about eleven o'clock, without waiting for high tide; for, as the wind was fair, they could go on without difficulty. after coming to this conclusion, and learning that the tide would not be high enough to float the schooner until eleven, they all took breakfast, and stimulated by the exhilarating atmosphere and the bright sunshine, they dispersed down the village towards the light-house. by ten o'clock they were back again. the tide was not yet up, and they waited patiently. "by the way, captain," asked bart, "what's become of solomon?" "solomon? o, he took a basket an went off on a kine o' foragin tower." "foraging?" "yes. he said he'd go along the shore, and hunt for lobsters." "the shore? what shore?" "why, away up thar," said the captain, pointing towards the headland at the upper end of the village. "how long since?" "wal, jest arter breakfast. it must hev ben afore seven." "it's strange that he hasn't got back." "yes; he'd ought to be back by this time." "he can't get any lobsters now; the tide is too high." "that's a fact." they waited half an hour. the rising tide already touched the antelope's keel. "solomon ought to be back," cried bart, starting up. "that's so," said captain corbet. "i'm afraid something's happened. he's been gone too long. two hours were enough." the boys all looked at one another with anxious faces. "if he went up that shore," said bart, "he may have got caught by the tide. it's a very dangerous place for anybody--let alone an old man like him." "wal, he did go up thar; he said partic'lar that he wanted to find somethin of a relish, an would hunt up thar. he said, too, he'd be back by nine." "i'm certain something's happened," cried bart, more anxiously than before. "if he's gone up there, he's been caught by the tide." captain corbet stared, and looked uneasy. "wal, i must say, that thar's not onlikely. it's a bad place, a dreadful bad place,--an him an old man,--a dreadful bad place. he'd be down here by this time, ef he was alive." "i won't wait any longer," cried bart. "i must go and see. come along, boys. don't let's leave poor old solomon in danger. depend upon it, he's caught up there somewhere." "wal, i think you're right," said captain corbet, "an i'll go too. but ef we do go, we'd better go with some preparations." "preparations? what kind of preparations?" "o, ony a rope or two," said captain corbet; and taking a coil of rope over his arm, he stepped ashore, and all the boys hurried after him. "i feel kine o' safer with a kile o' rope,--bein a seafarin man," he remarked. "give a seafarin man a rope, an he'll go anywhar an do anythin. he's like a spider onto a web." x. tom ashore.--storm at night.--up in the morning.--the cliffs and the beach.--a startling discovery.--a desert island.--a desperate effort.--afloat again. tom slept soundly for a long time in the spot where he had flung himself. the sense of security came to the assistance of his wearied limbs, and lulled him into profounder slumbers. there was nothing here that might rudely awaken him--no sudden boat shocks, no tossings and heavings of waves, no hoarse, menacing thunders of wrathful surges from rocky shores; nor were there distressing dreams to harass him, or any anxieties carried from his waking hours into the land of slumbers to annoy and to arouse. from monday night until this time on thursday, he had known but little sleep, and much fatigue and sorrow. now the fatigue and the sorrow were all forgotten, and the sleep was all his own. not a thought had he given to the land which he had reached so strangely. it was enough for him that he felt the solid ground beneath his feet. for hours he slept there, lying there like a log, wrapped in the old sail, moving not a limb, but given up altogether to his refreshing slumber. at length he waked, and, uncovering his head, looked around. at first he thought that he was in the boat, then he grew bewildered, and it was only after a persistent effort of memory that he could recollect his position. he looked all around, but nothing was visible. there was nothing around him but darkness, intense and utter. it was like the impenetrable veil that had enshrouded him during the night of his memorable voyage. he could not see where his boat was. a vague idea which he had of examining its fastening was dismissed. he felt hungry, and found the biscuit box lying under one corner of the sail. a few of these were sufficient to gratify his hunger. nothing more could be done, and he saw plainly that it would be necessary for him to wait there patiently until morning. once more, therefore, he rolled himself up in the sail, and tried to go to sleep. but at first his efforts were vain. the first fatigue had passed away, and now that he had been refreshed by sleep, his mind was too much occupied by thoughts of his past voyage to be readily lulled to sleep again. he could not help wondering what captain corbet and the boys were doing. that they were searching for him everywhere he well knew, but which direction they had chosen he could not tell. and what was the place whither he had drifted? he felt confident that it was the mouth of the petitcodiac, and could not help wondering at the accuracy of his course; yet, while wondering, he modestly refrained from taking the credit of it to himself, and rather chose to attribute it to the wind and tide. it was by committing himself so completely to their guidance, he thought, that he had done so well. in the midst of such thoughts as these, tom became aware of the howling of the wind and the dash of the waters. putting forth his head, he found that there was quite a storm arising; and this only added to his contentment. no fear had he now, on this solid ground, of rising wind or swelling wave. even the fog had lost its terrors. it was with feelings like these that he once more covered up his head from the night blast; and not long after he was once more asleep. when he next awaked, it was day. starting to his feet, he looked around him, and shouted for joy. the sky was clear. the sun was rising, and its rays, coming from over the distant hills, were glittering over the surface of the water. the wind had changed. the fog had dispersed. no sooner had he seen this than he was filled with curiosity to know where he was. this did not look much like the mouth of the petitcodiac. he stared around with a very strange sensation. immediately beside him, where he was standing, the easy slope went back for a hundred yards or so, covered with short, wild grass, with here and there a stunted tree. turning round, he saw the land rising by a steep acclivity towards the heights which bordered on the sea in such tremendous cliffs. over the heights, and along the crest of those cliffs, were flying great flocks of sea-gulls, which kept up one incessant chorus of harsh, discordant screams. in front of him spread out a broad sheet of water, on the opposite side of which arose a lofty line of coast. into this there penetrated a long strait, beyond which he could see broad waters and distant shores--a bay within a bay, approached by this strait. on each side of the strait were lofty, towering cliffs; and on one side, in particular, the cliffs were perpendicular, and ran on in a long and unbroken wall. the extremity of the cliff nearest him was marked by a gigantic mass of broken rock, detached from the main land, and standing alone in awful grandeur. what place was this? was this the mouth of the petitcodiac? was that broad bay a river? was he still dreaming, or what did it all mean? and that gigantic fragment severed from a cliff, which thus stood guard at the entrance of a long strait, what was that? could it be possible? was there indeed any other broken cape, or could it be possible that this was cape split? he hurried up the slope, and on reaching the top, saw that it descended on the other side towards the water. this water was a broad sheet, which extended for seven or eight miles, and was terminated by a lofty coast that extended down the bay as far as the eye could reach. one comprehensive glance was sufficient. he saw it all, and understood it all. it was not the mouth of the petitcodiac river. it was the entrance to the basin of minas that lay before him. there lay the great landmarks, seen under new aspects, it is true, yet now sufficiently distinguishable. there was the nova scotia coast. in yonder hollow was scott's bay. that giant rock was cape split. the long channel was the strait of minas, and the cliffs opposite were cape d'or and cape chignecto. and now the recognition of all these places brought to him a great and sudden shock. for what was this place on which he stood? was it any part of the main land? it was not. he looked around. it was an island. he saw its lofty cliffs, its wooded crest, its flocks of sea-gulls, its sloping east end, where he stood, running down to a low point. he had seen them all at a distance before; and now that he stood here, he recognized all. he was on ile haute! the moment that he recognized this startling fact, he thought of his boat. he hurried to the beach. the tide was very low. to his immense relief he found the fastening of the boat secure, and he turned away at once, without any further examination, to think over his situation, and consider the best plan for reaching the main land. making a comfortable seat for himself on the sail, he sat down, and drawing out the box, he took some biscuit. then feeling thirsty, he went off in search of fresh water. before he had walked many paces he found a brook. the brook was a small one, which ran from the lofty west end of the island to the low land of the east, and thence into the bay. the water was good, and tom satisfied his thirst by a long draught. judging by the position of the sun, it was now about seven o'clock in the morning; and tom seated himself once more, and began to try to think how it was that he should have come in a direction so entirely different from the one which he had believed himself to be taking. he had fully expected to land at petitcodiac, and he found himself far away on the other side of the bay. yet a little reflection showed him how useless it was to try to recall his past voyage, and how impossible it was for him to account for it, ignorant as he was of the true direction of the wind and of the tide. he contented himself with marking a rude outline of his course on his memorandum book, making allowance for the time when he turned on that course; and having summed it all up to his own satisfaction in a crooked line which looked like a slip-knot, he turned his attention to more important matters. there was one matter of first-rate importance which now pressed itself upon his thoughts, and that was, how to escape from his present situation. as far as he could see, there was no inhabitant on the island, no house, no cultivation, and no domestic animal. if there had been anything of that kind, they would be visible, he knew, from the point where he was standing. but all was deserted; and beyond the open ground in his neighborhood arose the east end, wooded all over its lofty summit. from captain corbet's words, and from his own observation, he knew that it was a desert island, and that if he wished to escape he would have to rely altogether upon his own resources. with this conclusion he once more turned his attention to his surroundings. nearest to him was cape d'or, about four miles away, and cape split, which was some distance farther. then there was the nova scotia shore, which appeared to be seven or eight miles distant. on the beach and within sight was the boat which offered a sure and easy mode of passing over to the main land. but no sooner did he recognize this fact than a difficulty arose. how was he to make the passage? the boat had come ashore at high tide, and was close up to the grassy bank. the tide was far down, and between the boat and the water was a broad beach, covered with cobblestones, and interspersed with granite boulders. it was too heavy a weight for him to move any distance, and to force it down to the water over such a beach was plainly impossible. on the other hand, he might wait until the boat floated at high tide, and then embark. but this, again, would be attended with serious difficulties. the tide, he saw, would turn as soon as he should get fairly afloat, and then he would have to contend with the downward current. true, he might use his sail, and in that case he might gain the nova scotia shore; but his experience of the tides had been so terrible a one, that he dreaded the tremendous drift which he would have to encounter, and had no confidence in his power of navigating under such circumstances. besides, he knew well that although the wind was now from the north, it was liable to change at any moment; so that even if he should be able to guide his boat, he might yet be suddenly enveloped by a fog when but half way over, and exposed once more to all those perils from which he had just escaped. the more he thought of all these dangers, the more deterred he felt from making any such attempt. rather would he wait, and hope for escape in some other way. but, as yet, he did not feel himself forced to anything so desperate as that. there was another alternative. at high tide the boat would be afloat, and then, as the tide fell, he could keep her afloat until it was at its lowest. he could then embark, and be carried by the returning water straight on to the straits of minas, and up into the basin. he now made a calculation, and concluded that it would be high tide about midday, and low tide about six in the evening. if he were to embark at that time, he would have two hours of daylight in which to run up with the tide. he saw now that his whole plan was perfectly feasible, and it only remained to make preparations for the voyage. as the whole afternoon would be taken up in floating the boat down to low-water mark, the morning would have to be employed in making whatever arrangements might be necessary. certain things were needed which required all that time. his hastily extemporized mast and sail had done wonderfully well, but he needed something to steer with. if he could only procure something that would serve the purpose of a rudder, he would feel well prepared for his voyage. on the search for this he now started. he walked all about the open ground, looking around in all directions, to see if he could find anything, but without any success. then he ascended the declivity towards the woods, but nothing appeared which was at all adapted to meet his wants. he saw a young tree, which he thought might do, and tried to cut it down with his pocket-knife. after about an hour's hard work he succeeded in bringing it down, and another hour was spent in trimming the branches. the result of all this labor at length lay at his feet in the shape of a rough pole, with jagged splinters sticking out all over it, which promised to be of about as much utility as a spruce bush. in utter disgust he turned away, leaving the pole on the ground, and making up his mind to sail, as he did before, without any rudder. in this mood he descended the declivity, and walked disconsolately towards the shore which was on the side of the island directly opposite to where the boat lay. he had not yet been near enough to see the beach; but now, as he came nearer, a cry of delight escaped him involuntarily; for there, all along the beach, and close up to the bank, lay an immense quantity of drift-wood, which had been brought here by the tide from all the upper waters of the bay. it was a most heterogeneous mixture that lay before him--chips from timber ponds, logs from ship-yards, boards from saw-mills, deals, battens, fence posts, telegraph poles, deal ends, edgings, laths, palings, railway sleepers, treenails, shingles, clapboards, and all the various forms which wood assumes in a country which makes use of it as the chief material of its manufactures. along the countless streams that flow into the bay, and along its far-winding shores, and along the borders of all its subsidiary bays, and inlets, and basins, the manufacture of wood is carried on--in saw-mills, in ship-yards, and in timber ponds; and the currents that move to and fro are always loaded with the fragments that are snatched away from these places, most of which are borne afar out to sea, but many of which are thrown all along the shores for hundreds of miles. ile haute, being directly in the way of some of the swiftest currents, and close by the entrance to a basin which is surrounded by mills and ship-yards, naturally received upon its shores an immense quantity of these scattered and floating fragments. such was the sight that now met the eyes of tom, and presented him with a countless number of fragments of wood adapted to his wants, at the very time when he had worked fruitlessly for two hours at fashioning one for himself. looking over the heaps of drift-wood, he found many pieces which suited him; and out of these he chose one which was shaped a little like an oar. securing this prize, he walked over to where the sail was, and deposited it there. then he ate some biscuit, and, after taking a draught from the cool brook, he rested, and waited, full of hope, for the rising of the tide. it was now rapidly approaching the boat. tom watched it for some time, and felt new happiness as he viewed the roll of every little surf. there was not much wind, and nothing but a gentle ripple on the water. all this was in his favor; for, if he wished for anything now, it was a moderate breeze and a light sea. from time to time he turned his attention to the straits of minas, and arranged various plans in his mind. at one time he resolved to try and reach pereau; again he thought that he would be content if he could only get to parrsboro'; and yet again, he came to the wise conclusion that if he got to any settlement at all he would be content. at another time he half decided to take another course, and try to reach scott's bay, where he felt sure of a warm welcome and a plenteous repast. aiming thus at so many different points, it mattered but little to him in what particular direction the tide might sweep him, so long as it carried him up the bay. the tide now came nearer, and tom went down to the beach for a few moments. he paced the distance between the boat and the water. he noticed a few things lying in the boat. in the bow was a coil of rope which captain corbet had probably obtained when he was ashore at petitcodiac. there was also a tin pan, used for baling. as the tide drew nearer, tom began to feel more and more impatient. again and again he paced the intervening space between the boat and the water, and chafed and fretted because it did not lessen more rapidly. if the boat were once fairly afloat, he felt that the time would pass much more rapidly; for then he would be working at some definite task, and not standing idly waiting. but everything has an end; and so, at length, the end came here. the water rose higher and higher, until, at length, it touched the keel. tom gave a shout of joy. he now untied the rope, and tried to shorten his suspense by pushing the boat towards the water; but his strength was insufficient. he could not move it. he would have to wait longer. thus far the things which he had taken out had been lying on the grass. it was now time to put them on board. so he carried down the sail, folded it up, and stowed it away neatly at the bottom of the boat. on this he stood the box of biscuit, taking care to put the cover over it, and to spread over that again one fold of the sail. this took up some time, and he had the gratification of seeing that the water had come up a few feet farther. he now tried once more to force the boat down, using his piece of board as a lever; but the board bent, and almost broke, without moving the boat. he stood for a moment waiting, and suddenly thought of the pole which he had left up in the woods. he determined to get this, and perhaps, with its help, he would be able to accomplish his wishes. so off he started at a run, and in a few minutes reached the place. hurrying back again, he inserted one end of the pole under the bow, and exerted all his force to press the boat downward into the water. at first it did not move; but shortly after, when the water had risen still higher, he made a new effort. this time he succeeded; the boat moved slightly. again. the boat moved farther. once more. still farther. and now he made a final trial. thrusting the pole again underneath, he exerted all his force for the last time, and pushed the boat down for about a yard. it was at last afloat. the tide had not yet fully attained its height, but was close to it. the wind was blowing from the north, as before, and quite moderately. the sea sparkled and glittered in the rays of the sun. the little wavelets tossed their heads on high, and danced far away ever the sea. the air was bright, and stimulating, and exhilarating. all the scene filled tom's heart with gladness; and the approach of his deliverance deepened and intensified this feeling. xi. afloat again.--the rushing water.--down to the bottom.--desperate circumstances.--can they be remedied?--new hopes and plans. the boat was at last afloat before tom's eyes. at first he had thought of holding it by the painter, and patiently standing on the beach, but the sight of it now changed his purposes. he thought that it would be a far more sensible plan to get on board, and keep the boat near the beach in that way. his bit of stick, which he had found among the drift-wood, could be used as an oar, and was good enough to enable him to move the boat as much as would be necessary. as he would have to wait for six hours at least, it was a matter of great importance that he should be as little fatigued as possible, especially as he had to look forward to a voyage, after the tide had fallen, attended with the possibility of increased labor and exertion. all these thoughts came rapidly to his mind, but passed in much less time than it takes to tell it, so that tom had scarcely seen the boat afloat than he rushed through the water, and clambered into it. then, taking his stick, he stood up and looked around. the scene around has already been described. tom kept his stick in the water, so as to have it ready for use. he purposed keeping the boat at a convenient distance from the shore by pushing and paddling. by keeping it within a distance of from three to six yards, he thought he would, for the present at least, be able to keep afloat, and yet avoid the sweep of the tides. he did not expect to remain in this particular spot all the time, but expected to find some place which would be out of the way of the tide, where he could float comfortably without being forced to keep in too close to the land. but suddenly tom's thoughts and speculations were rudely interrupted. it appeared to him that there was a very unusual feeling about the boat. she did not seem as high out of the water as she ought to have been, and her bows seemed to be lower than they had been. there was also a slight vibration in her, which he had never noticed before, and which struck him now as very peculiar. in the midst of this there came to his ears a low, faint, and scarcely perceptible sound, made up of peculiar bubbling and gurgling noises, which sounded from the boat. one brief examination showed him that the boat was certainly very much deeper in the water than she had been. five seconds later her bows had sunk farther. two seconds more, and tom's feet were surrounded by water up to his ankles. the boat was filling! scarce had he made this discovery than the water rose swiftly up, the boat sank quickly down, the sea rolled over her sides, and the boat went to the bottom. very fortunate was it for tom, at that moment, that he had not pushed out farther from the shore. when the boat went down he was not more than three or four yards off, and he did not sink lower than up to his neck. but the shock was a sudden one, and for a moment almost paralyzed him. the next instant, however, he recovered from it; and looking round, he saw the box of biscuit floating within his reach. making a wild dash at this, he secured it, and waded ashore with it in safety. he then turned mournfully to look after the boat, and found that it was visible, floating on the surface. as he left it, it had floated up, his weight being the only thing that had sent it below. the tide was still coming in, so that it did not float away. tom flung off his coat and waistcoat, and hurrying into the water, soon caught and dragged it as near as he could to the beach. then he secured it once more, and waited. standing there, he looked gloomily at the vessel, wherein such precious hopes had been freighted only to be lost. what had happened? why could not the boat float? what was the matter with her? these were the wondering questions which occurred to him without his being able to give any answer. one thing he saw plainly, and that was, that he had lost this tide. the next high tide would be after midnight, and the next would be between one and two on the following day. if he could find out what was the matter with the boat, and fix it, he would have to wait till the next day, unless he chose to watch for his chance after midnight, and make the journey then. he was not a boy who could be long inactive; so now, after a brief period, in which he gave up to the natural despondency of his soul, he stirred himself up once more, and sought comfort in occupation. the box of biscuit did not seem much injured, it had not floated long enough for the sea-water to penetrate it. assuring himself of this, he next turned to the boat and took out its contents. these were the old sail, the coil of rope, and the baling dipper. by this time the tide had reached its height, and after the usual time of delay, began to fall once more. the boat was secured to the shore, and after a time the water began to leave her. tom sat at a little distance, wondering what could be the matter with her, and deferring his examination until the boat should be left aground. it was a mystery to him how this sudden change had occurred, and why the boat, which had floated so well during his long drift, should now, all of a sudden, begin to leak with such astonishing rapidity. something must have happened--something serious, too; but what it was, or how it had happened, he could not, for the life of him, conjecture. as tom sat there, the tide gradually left the boat; and as the tide left, the water ran out, keeping at just the same level inside as the water outside. this showed, even to his inexperienced eyes, that the leak must be a very large one, since it admitted of such a ready flow of water in and out. the water descended lower and lower as he sat, until, at last, the boat was left by the retreating waves. the water had all run out. tom now advanced, and proceeded to examine her. when he was arranging her cargo before, the coil of rope had been in the bows. this had prevented him from detecting anything wrong in the boat. but now, since everything had been taken out, one glance only was quite sufficient to make known to him instantly the whole difficulty. there, in the bows, underneath the very place where the coil of rope had lain, was a huge aperture. the planks had been beaten in, and one side of the bow was destroyed beyond hope of remedy. the sight of such an irremediable calamity as this renewed for a time the despondency which he had felt at the first sinking of the boat. full of depression, he turned away, and tried to account for it all. it was on the previous day that he had landed--about twenty-four hours ago. how had he passed the time since then, and what had happened? this he tried to remember. in the first place, up to the moment of landing the boat was perfectly sound, and far from all injury. it had not been hurt during the drift. it had struck at one place, but the long voyage that had followed showed that no damage had resulted. finally, it had not been harmed by landing on quaco ledge. since that time he had drifted in safety far across the bay, without meeting with any accident. all this proved clearly that the damage must have been done to the boat since his landing on the island. he found it very difficult to recall anything that had happened since then. on his first arrival he was worn out and exhausted. he remembered vaguely how he came in sight of the giant cliff, how he dragged the boat along, how he secured it to a tree, and then how he flung himself down on the grass and fell asleep. after that all was obscure to his memory; but he could recall his waking at midnight and listening to the roar of the wind and the dash of the surf. evidently there must have been a heavier sea on the beach at that time than when he landed, and this was sufficient to account for the accident to the boat. she had been beating on the rough rocks at high tide, exposed to the full sweep of the surf, and her bows had been stove in. the melancholy spectacle of the ruined boat made tom see that his stay on the island might be prolonged even beyond the following day. no sooner had this thought occurred to him than he went over to the articles which he had taken out of the boat, and passed them all in review before him, as though he were anxious to know the full extent of his resources. he spread out the wet sail in the sun. he spread out his coat and waistcoat. in the pocket of the latter he found a card of matches, which were a little damp. these he seized eagerly and laid on the top of a stone, exposed to the rays of the sun, so as to dry them. the clothes which he kept on were wet through, of course, but he allowed them to dry on him. he had been working now pretty industriously all the morning, first at searching after a piece of wood, then in cutting down the pole, then in searching among the drift-wood, and finally at the boat. he felt, at length, hungry; and as he could not yet decide upon what was to be done next, he determined to satisfy his desires, and kill the time by taking his dinner. the repast was a frugal one, consisting as before, of biscuit, which were washed down by cold water; but tom did not complain. the presence of food of any sort was a cause for thankfulness to one in his position, and it was with a feeling of this sort, in spite of his general depression of spirits, that he ate his meal. after this he felt much more refreshed, and began to consider what he had better do next. of course, the centre of interest to him was the boat, and he could not give up that hope of escape without a struggle. as long as there was a hope of making his way from the island by means of that, so long might he keep up his heart; but if the damage that had been done should prove irreparable, how would he be able to endure his situation? whatever it was, it would be best to know the worst once for all. perhaps he might stop the leak. he had material around which seemed to be the right sort of thing to stop a leak with. he had the piece of sail, which could be cut up into small pieces, and used to stop the leak. if he had possessed a hatchet and some nails, he would have made an effort to repair the fracture in the planks of the boat; but as he had nothing of that sort, he tried to devise some method by which the water might be kept out. as he thought, there gradually grew up in his mind the rude outline of a plan which promised something, and seemed to him to be certainly worth trying. at any rate, he thought, it will serve to give me an occupation; and any occupation, even if it proves to be of no practical value, is better than sitting here doing nothing at all. having something to do once more quickened tom's energies anew, and starting to his feet, he prepared to put his plan into execution. first of all, in order to carry out that plan, it was necessary for him to get a number of blocks and boards of different sizes. these, he knew, could easily be found among the driftwood on the beach. over there he hurried, and after a moderate search he succeeded, at length, in finding bits of wood that seemed suited to the purpose which he had in view. with these he came back to the boat; but as there was a large number of them, he had to make several journeys before the whole collection was brought over. then he took his pole, and, putting a block under it, used it as a lever to raise up the boat. by dexterous management he succeeded in doing this, and at the same time he ran a board underneath the bow of the boat as it was slightly raised. this manoeuvre he repeated several times, each time raising his lever higher, by means of a higher fulcrum, and thus constantly raising the bow of the boat; while after each elevation the bow was secured in its new position by running an additional board underneath it, over the other preceding boards. by carefully and perseveringly pursuing this course, he at length succeeded in raising the bow of the boat about a foot in the air. this gave him an opportunity to examine it thoroughly outside as well as inside, and to see the whole extent of the damage that had been done. it has already been said that the damage was serious. tom's examination now convinced him that it was in every respect as serious as he had supposed, if not still more so. even if he did possess a hatchet and nails, or a whole box full of tools, he doubted whether it would be in his power to do anything whatever in the way of repairing it. no less than three of the lower planks of the bows, down to the very keel, were beaten in and broken so badly that they seemed actually crushed and mangled. it must have been a fearful beating, and pounding, and grinding on the rocks which had caused this. the planks, though thus broken, still held together; but it seemed to tom that with a blow of his fist he could easily beat it all in; and as he looked at it he could not help wondering how it had happened that the work which the rocks had thus so nearly effected had not been completely finished. however, the planks did hold together yet; and now the question was, could any thing be done? in answer to this question, tom thought of the old sail and the coil of rope. already he had conceived the rude outline of a plan whereby the entrance of the water might be checked. the plan was worth trying, and he determined to set about it at once, and use up the hours before him as long as he could, without any further delay. if by any possibility he could stop that leak, he determined to start off at the next high tide, that very night, and run the risk. it was a daring, even a foolhardy thought; but tom was desperate, and the only idea which he had was, to escape as soon as possible. he now made some measurements, after which he went to the old sail, and cut a piece from the end of it. this he divided into smaller pieces, each about a yard square. each of these pieces he folded up in three folds, so as to make them about a foot wide and eighteen inches long. others he folded into six folds, making them about half the size of the larger pieces. all this took up much time, for he measured and planned very carefully, and his calculations and measurements had to be done slowly and cautiously. returning to the boat with these bits of folded canvas, he put one of the larger pieces on the inside, against the bow, right over the broken place. another large piece was placed carefully over this, and then the smaller pieces were laid against these. in this way he adjusted all the pieces of canvas in such a way as to cover up the whole place where the leak was. then he went over to the drift-wood, and spent a long time searching after some bits of wood. he at length found a half dozen pieces of board, about a foot long, and from six to eight inches in width. he also found some bits of scantling, and palings, which were only a foot or so in length. all these he brought back, and laid them down on the beach near the boat. he now proceeded to place these bits of wood in the bows, in such a way as to keep the canvas in a firm position. his idea was, that the canvas, by being pressed against the opening, might keep out the water, and the wood, by being properly arranged, might keep the canvas secure in its place. the arrangement of the wood required the greatest care. first of all, he took the smallest bits, and stood these up against the canvas, so that they might correspond as nearly as possible with the curve of the bows. a few more pieces were placed in the hollow part of this curve, and outside these the larger pieces were placed. between the outside pieces and the inner ones he thrust some of the smallest pieces which he could find. after thus arranging all his boards, he found that there lay between the outside board and the first seat of the boat a space of about one foot. selecting a piece of wood of about that length, he put one end against the board, and the other against the seat, and pressed it into a position where it served to keep the board tight in its place. then he took other pieces of about the same length, and arranged them in the same way, so that, by being fixed between the board and the seat, they might keep the whole mass of boards and canvas pressed tight against the opening in the bows. after placing as many blocks in position as he conveniently could, his next work was to secure them all. in order to effect this, another journey to the drift-wood was necessary, and another search. this time he selected carefully a number of sticks, not more than half an inch in thickness, some of them being much thinner. he found pieces of paling, and laths, and shingles which suited his ideas. returning with these to the boat, he proceeded to thrust them, one by one, into the interstices of the boards, using a stone to drive them into their places. at last the work was finished as far as he could accomplish it, and there remained nothing more to be done. as far as he could see, by shaking, and pulling, and pushing at the collection of sticks and canvas, it was very firm and secure. every stick seemed to be tight, and the pressure which they maintained against the aperture was so strong that the wood-work now was forced out a little distance beyond the outline of the boat. he examined most carefully all about the bows on the outside, but saw no place which did not seem to be fully protected. it seemed to him now as though that piled-up canvas ought to resist the entrance of the water, or, if not, at least that it ought not to allow it to enter so rapidly but that he could easily keep the boat baled out. he was not altogether confident, yet he was hopeful, and as determined as ever to make a trial. xii. waiting for high water.--a trial.--a new discovery.--total failure.--down again.--overboard.--a struggle for life. tom's work was thus, at length, accomplished, and it remained now to get the boat in readiness and wait. slowly and carefully he raised the bow by means of the lever, and one by one he withdrew the boards which held it up. at last the boat lay on the beach, ready to receive the uplifting arms of the returning tide whenever it should make its appearance again. tom saw with satisfaction that the boat was about three yards down below high-water mark, on the spot to which he had dragged it after the failure of his last experiment. this, of course, would be so much in his favor, for it would thus be able to float before the water should reach its height. he had worked hard all the afternoon, and it was already dark. the tide, which had been falling, had some time ago reached its lowest point, and was now returning. between him and the lowest point was a great distance, for the tides here rise to a perpendicular height of over forty feet; but tom knew that the time required to traverse the long space that here intervened between high and low-water mark was precisely the same as if it had only to rise a few feet. he was very hungry, but some things had yet to be done. he had to put on board the boat the articles that he had taken ashore. his matches were now quite dry, and he put them in his pocket with a deep sense of their value to him in his present position. his clothes also were dry, and these he put on. the sail, the coil of rope, and the box of biscuit were put on board the boat. tom had still to make his frugal repast; but this was soon accomplished, and he felt again a sense of exceeding thankfulness at the possession of the box of biscuit. at length his evening meal was over, and by the time that he had finished it, it had grown quite dark. he now went to the boat, and tied up the sail around the mast. there was nothing to which he could fasten the boat; but it was not necessary, as he was on the watch. the water continued smooth, the wind was from the north, as before, and there was no sign of fog. overhead the sky was free from clouds, and the stars twinkled pleasantly to his upturned eyes, as if to encourage him. there was no moon, however, and though it was not very dark, yet it was sufficiently so to veil the nearest shores in gloom, and finally to withdraw them altogether from his view. still it was not a matter of necessity that he should see the opposite shores, for he knew that his chief, and indeed his only reliance must be upon the tide; and this would bear him in its upward course on the morrow. the night was only needed to float the boat down as far as low-water mark. the process of floating her would serve to test the security of the fastenings, and show whether he could venture to make the attempt. for hours tom waited, sometimes seated in the boat, at other times walking along the beach down to the water. he found it difficult to keep himself awake, and therefore did not venture to sit down long. wearied with his long work through the day, the necessity of constant exertion wearied him still more, until at length he could scarce draw his legs after him. but all things have an end, and so it was with tom's dreary watch; for at length the waters came up, and touched the boat, and surrounded it, until at last, to his great joy, tom found himself afloat. he seized his stick, and pushed the boat into deeper water, a few yards off, with the intention of keeping her at about that distance from the shore. the one thought that was now in his mind referred exclusively to his work in the boat. was it firm? would it hold? did it leak? the boat was floating, certainly. how long would if continue to do so? for a few minutes he waited anxiously, as he floated there in deep water, with his eyes fixed on the work in the bow, and his ears listening intently to detect any sign of that warning, gurgling sound, which had struck terror to his heart on his last embarkation. but no sign came of any sound of that sort, and he heard nothing but the gentle dash of the water against the sides of the boat. thus about five minutes passed. at the end of that time, he raised the sail, which he had laid along the bottom of the boat, and examined underneath it. the first touch of his fingers at the bottom lessened very largely the hope that was in him, and at once chased away the feeling of exultation that was rising. for there, in the bottom of the boat, he felt as much as an inch of water. after the first shock, he tried to believe that it was only the water that was in the boat before; and so, taking comfort in this thought, he waited for further developments, but at the same time took the dipper, so as to be ready to bale out the water, and have a struggle for it in case the worst should happen. another minute assured him that this was not the water which had been in the boat before. a new supply was entering, and in the space of that short time of waiting it had risen to the height of another inch. tom felt a sudden pang of dismay, but his stout heart did not quail, nor did his obstinate resolution falter. since it was the sea water that was coming in, he determined to have a fight with it for the possession of the boat. so he set to work bravely, and began to bale. he pulled up the sail, so as to have plenty of elbow-room, and worked away, dipping out the water; but, as he dipped, he perceived that it was gradually getting deeper. he dipped faster, but without any visible improvement, indeed, his efforts seemed to have but very little effect in retarding the entrance of the water. it grew deeper and deeper. one inch of water soon deepened to two inches, and thence to three. soon after four inches were felt. and now the water came in more rapidly. it seemed to tom as though it had been delayed at first, for a little time, in finding an entrance, but that now, after the entrance was found, it came pouring in with ever-accelerated speed. tom struggled on, hoping against hope, and keeping up his efforts long after they were proved to be useless. but the water came in faster and faster, until at length tom began to see that he must seek his safety in another way. flinging down his dipper, then, with a cry of vexation, he started up, and, seizing his bit of board, he looked around for the shore. he had been caught by some side current, and had been carried along in such a way that he was about a hundred yards from the island, and seemed to be drifting up the bay. the dark, shadowy shores were much farther away than he had suspected. while struggling to bale out the boat, he had forgotten how necessary it was to keep near to the shore. he now saw his mistake, and strove to paddle the boat back again. with such a clumsy oar it is not likely that he could have achieved his desire at all, had the flood tide been stronger; but now it was about at its height, and would soon turn, if it was not turning already. the current, therefore, was but a weak one, and tom found himself able to move slowly back; but his progress was very slow, and working at such a disadvantage was excessively fatiguing. at last he saw that if he trusted to paddling he could never reach the shore. in a moment another idea suggested itself; there was no time to lose, and he at once acted on it. darting forward, he loosed the sail. the wind was still blowing from the north; at once the sail was filled, and, yielding to this new power, the boat began to move more rapidly. tom tied the sheet astern, and, seizing his paddle, tried to scull the boat. for some minutes he kept up this work, and the boat moved steadily forward, nearer and still nearer, until the land was at length not more than thirty or forty yards off. but by this time the danger had come nearer, and the boat was already half full of water. tom began to see that it could not float as far as the shore. what was he to do? he waited a little longer. he looked around. the boat was drawing nearer, yet soon it must go down. to ease it, it would be necessary to relieve it of his own weight. he did not lose his presence of mind for a moment, but determined at once to jump overboard. in his perfect coolness he thought of one or two things which were of importance to him, and performed them swiftly and promptly. first he took the box of biscuit, and placed it on the heap of boards and canvas in the bows, so that it might remain as long as possible out of reach of the water. then he took the card of matches out of his waistcoat pocket, and put them in his hat, which he replaced on his head. to secure thus from damage the two necessaries of food and fire was but the work of a few seconds. to throw off his coat, waistcoat, and trousers, and hang them over the top of the short mast, was the work of a few seconds more. by the time this had been done, the water was nearly up to the gunwales. in five seconds more the boat would have gone down; but, so well had tom's work been done, and so promptly, that these five seconds were saved. having done what he wished, he let himself down into the water; and, holding on by the stern of the boat, he allowed himself to float after it, kicking out at the same time, so as to assist, rather than retard, its progress. by this time the land was not more than twenty yards away. the boat did not sink so rapidly now, but kept afloat much better; still the water rose to a level with the gunwales, and tom was too much rejoiced to find that it kept afloat at all to find fault with this. the wind still blew, and the sail was still up; so that the water-logged vessel went on at a very respectable rate, until at length half the distance which tom had noticed on going overboard was traversed. the boat seemed to float now, though full of water, and tom saw that his precious biscuit, at any rate, would not be very much harmed. nearer and nearer now he came until at last, letting himself down, his feet touched bottom. a cry of delight escaped him; and now, bracing himself firmly against the solid land below, he urged the boat on faster, until at length her deep-sunk bows grated against the gravel of the beach. he hurried up to the box of biscuit, and put this ashore in a safe place; after which he secured the boat to a jagged rock on the bank. he found now that he had come to a different part of the beach altogether, for his boat was lying at the spot where the little brook ran into the sea. well was it for him, in that rash and hazardous experiment, that he had floated off before the tide was high. it had led to his drifting up the bay, instead of down, and by a weak current, instead of a strong one. the wind had thus brought him back. had it been full tide, he would have drifted out from the shore, and then have been carried down the bay by the falling water to swift and sure destruction. tom now took off his wet shirt, and put on the dry clothes which he had so prudently hung on the top of the mast. he perceived that he had not a very pleasant lookout for the night, for the sail which he had formerly used to envelop himself with was now completely saturated. it was also too dark to go to the woods in search of ferns or mosses on which to sleep. however, the night was a pleasant one, and the grass around would not be so bad a resting-place as he had been forced to use while drifting in the boat. he had now become accustomed to hardship by bitter experience, and so he looked forward to the night without care. the day had been an eventful one, indeed, for him, and his last adventure had been full of peril, from which he had been most wonderfully rescued. these thoughts were in his mind, and he did not fail to offer up prayers of heartfelt gratitude to that good and merciful being who had thus far so wonderfully preserved him. with such feelings in his heart, he sought out a sleeping-place, and after some search he found a mossy knoll. seating himself here, he reclined his back against it, and in a few minutes the worn-out boy was buried in a deep sleep. he slept until late on the following day, and on waking looked around to see if there were any sails in view. none were visible. the tide was about half way up, and the wide waters spread before him without any vessel in sight. he then began his preparations for the day. he hung his shirt upon a bush, and spread out the wet sail on the grass. an examination of the biscuit showed him that they had scarcely been injured at all, the water having penetrated only the lower part of the box. he removed the lower layer of biscuit, and spread them out on a rock in the sun to dry. after this he breakfasted, and wandered about for a time. he then took a swim, and felt much refreshed. by the time that his swim was over, he found that the hot sun had dried his shirt, so that he could once more assume that very important article of clothing. the sun climbed high towards the zenith, and the tide came up higher, as tom sat there alone on his desert island, looking out upon the sea. the boat from which he had hoped so much had proved false to those hopes, and all the labors of the previous day had proved useless. his attempt to escape had nearly resulted in his destruction. he had learned from that experiment that no efforts of his could now effect his rescue. he had done the very best he could, and it would not be possible for him, with his present resources, to contrive anything better than that which had so miserably failed. if he could only procure some tar, he might then stop up the interstices; but as it was, nothing of his construction would avail to keep back the treacherous entrance of the water. it seemed now to him that his stay on the island was destined to be prolonged to a much greater extent than he had first thought of, and there did not seem any longer a hope of saving himself by his own exertions. alone on a desert island! it was a dreadful fact which now forced itself more and more upon tom's mind, until at length he could think of nothing else. hitherto he had fought off the idea whenever it presented itself, and so long as he had been able to indulge in any hope of freeing himself by his own exertions, he prevented himself from sinking into the gloom of utter despair. but now he could no longer save himself from that gloom, and the thought grew darker and drearier before him--the one fact of his present situation. alone on a desert island! a very interesting thing to read about, no doubt; and tom, like all boys, had revelled in the portrayals of such a situation which he had encountered in his reading. no one had entered with more zest than he into the pages of robinson crusoe, and no one had enjoyed more than he the talks which boys love to have about their possible doings under such circumstances. but now, to be here, and find himself in such a place,--to be brought face to face with the hard, stern, dismal fact,--was another thing altogether. what oppressed him most was not the hardships of his position. these he could have withstood if there had been nothing worse. the worst part of his present life was its solitude. if bart had been here with him, or bruce, or arthur, or phil, or pat, how different it would have been! even old solomon would have enabled him to pass the time contentedly. but to be alone,--all alone,--without a soul to speak to,--that was terrible. tom soon found that the very way to deepen his misery was to sit still and brood over it. he was not inclined to give way to trouble. it has already been seen that he was a boy of obstinate courage, resolute will, and invincible determination. he was capable of struggling to the last against any adversity; and even if he had to lose, he knew how to lose without sinking into complete despair. these moods of depression, or even of despair, which now and then did come, were not permanent. in time he shook them off, and looked about for some new way of carrying on the struggle with evil fortune. so now he shook off this fit of depression, and starting up he determined not to sit idle any longer. "i won't stand it," he muttered. "there's lots of things to be seen, and to be done. and first of all i've got to explore this island. come, tom, my boy; cheer up, old fellow. you've pretended to admire robinson crusoe; act up to your profession. and first of all, my boy, you've got to explore juan fernandez." the sound of his own voice had the effect of encouraging and inspiriting him, while the purpose which he thus assigned to himself was sufficient to awaken his prostrated energies. there was something in the plan which roused all his curiosity, and turned his thoughts and feelings into a totally new direction. no sooner, then, had this thought occurred to him, than he at once set out to put it into execution. first of all he took one parting look at the scene around him. the sun had now passed its meridian, and it seemed to be one o'clock or after. the tide was high. the boat, which had at first floated, was now nearly full of water. tom threw a melancholy glance at this fresh proof of the utter futility of all his labor, and then examined the fastenings, so that it might not drift away during his absence. then he searched among the drift-wood until he found a stout stick to assist him in climbing, and to serve as a companion in his walk, after which he started. the sun was bright, but over the sky some clouds were gathering, and the opposite shores seemed to have grown darker than they were a few hours ago, having assumed a hue like olive green. the wind had also died away, and the water was as smooth as glass. xiii. where's solomon?--an anxious search.--the beach.--the cavernous cliffs.--up the precipice.--along the shore.--back for boats. the loss of solomon had filled the boys with anxiety, and even captain corbet shared in the common feeling. he had preferred to set out, as he said, with a coil of rope; but the sight of this seemed to make solomon's fate appear darker, and looked as though he might have fallen over a precipice, or into a deep pool of water. they all knew that a serious accident was not at all improbable. they had seen the lofty and rugged cliffs that lined the bay shore, and knew that the rising waters, as they dashed over them, might form the grave of a man far younger and more active than the aged solomon. he was weak and rheumatic; he was also timid and easily confused. if the water had overtaken him anywhere, he might easily fall a prey. in his efforts to escape, he would soon become so terrified that his limbs would be paralyzed. he might then stumble over the rocks, and break some of his bones, or he might be intrapped in some recess of the cliffs, from which escape might be impossible without external help. full of thoughts like these, the boys went on, with captain corbet, up through the village, looking carefully around as they went on, and making inquiries of every one whom they met. no one, however, could give them any information. at last they reached the end of the village. here, on the left, there arose a high hill. the road wound round this, and descended into a valley, through which a stream ran to the bay. in this valley there was a ship-yard, where the half-finished fabric of a large ship stood before them, and from which the rattle of a hundred axes rose into the air. the valley itself was a beautiful place, running up among steep hills, till it was lost to view among a mass of evergreen trees and rich foliage. below the shipyard was a cove of no very great depth, but of extreme beauty. beyond this was a broad beach, which, at the farthest end, was bounded by the projecting headland before alluded to. the headland was a precipitous cliff of red sandstone, crowned at the summit with a fringe of forest trees, white at its base were two or three hollow caverns, worn into the solid rock by the action of the surf. one of these was about thirty feet in height at its mouth, and ran back for sixty or seventy feet, narrowing all the way, like a funnel, from its entrance to its farthest extremity. the tide was now nearly at its height, and progress down the beach and along the cliff was impossible. the caves were cut off also, and the water penetrated them for some distance. at low tide one could easily walk down to the extreme point of the headland, and rounding this, he would find it possible to go along in front of the cliffs for an immense distance, either by walking along the rough beach at their foot, or, if the water should rise again, by going along rocky shelves, which projected for miles from the surface of the cliff. reaching the head of the beach, captain corbet paused, and looked around. "before goin any further," said he, "we'd better ask the folks at this ship-yard. it ain't possible to tell whether he's gone by the beach or not. he may have gone up the valley." "o," said bart, dolefully, "he must have gone by the beach." "i rayther think i'll ask, at any rate," said the captain. so saying, he walked up towards a house that was not far off, and accosted some men who were standing there. on hearing his question, they were silent for a few moments; and at last one of them recollected seeing an aged colored man passing by early in the morning. he had a basket on his arm, and in every way corresponded to the description of solomon. he was on his way up the shore. "did he go down to the pint," asked captain corbet, "or up to the top of the cliff?" the man couldn't say for certain; but as far as he could recollect, it seemed to him that he went down to the pint. "about what time?" "between eight and nine o'clock--in fact, about eight--not much later." "did he speak to any one here?" "no; he walked past without stoppin. an do you say he ain't got back?" "not yet." "wal," said the man, "for an old feller, an a feller what don't know the country hereabouts, he's gone on a dangerous journey; an ef he's tried to get back, he's found it a pooty hard road to travel." "isn't there any chance of his gettin back by the cliff?" "not with the water risin onto his path." "is there any way of gettin up to the top of the cliff?" "wal, fur a active young feller it wouldn't be hard, but for a pore old critter like that thar, it couldn't be done--no how." "wal, boys," said captain corbet, sorrowfully, "i guess we'd better get on, an not lose any more time." they walked away in silence for some time, until at last they reached the foot of the cliff. a path here ran up in a winding direction so as to reach the top. "it seems too bad," said captain corbet, "not to be able to get to the beach. i wish i'd come in the boat. what a fool i was not to think of it!" "o, i dare say the top of the cliff will do," said bruce. "wal, it'll have to do. at any rate i've got the kile of rope." "we shall be able to see him from the top just as well, and perhaps better." "wal, i hope so; but we'll be a leetle too far above him for my fancy,--ony we can use the rope, i s'pose. can any of you youngsters climb?" "o, yes," said bart, "all of us." "what kind of heads have you got--stiddy?" "yes, good enough," said bruce. "i'll engage to go anywhere that i can find a foothold; and here's bart, that'll go certainly as far, and perhaps farther. and here's phil, that can do his share. as for pat, he can beat us all; he can travel like a fly, upside down, or in any direction." "wal, i'm glad to hear that, boys, for it's likely you'll be wanted to do some climbin afore we get back. i used to do somethin in that way; but since i've growed old, an rheumatic, i've got kine o' out o' the way of it, an don't scacely feel sech confidence in myself as i used to onst. but come, we mustn't be waitin here all day." at this they started up the path, and soon reached the top of the cliff. arriving here, they found themselves in a cultivated meadow, passing through which they reached a pasture field. after a walk of about a quarter of a mile, they came to the cliff that ran along the shore of the bay, and on reaching this, the whole bay burst upon their view. it was still a beautiful day; the sun was shining brilliantly, and his rays were reflected in a path of dazzling lustre from the face of the sea. the wind was fresh, and the little waves tossed up their heads across where the sunlight fell, flashing back the rays of the sun in perpetually changing light, and presenting to the eye the appearance of innumerable dazzling stars. far away rose the nova scotia shore as they had seen it in the morning, while up the bay, in the distance, abrupt, dark, and precipitous, arose the solitary ile haute. beneath them the waters of the bay foamed and splashed; and though there was not much surf, yet the waters came rolling among the rocks, seething and boiling, and extending as far as the eye could reach, up and down, in a long line of foam. reaching the edge, they all looked down. at the bottom there were visible the heads of black rocks, which arose above the waves at times, but which, however, at intervals, were covered with the rolling waters that tossed around them in foam and spray. nearer and higher up there were rocks which projected like shelves from the face of the cliff, and seemed capable of affording a foothold to any climber; but their projection served also to conceal from view what lay immediately beneath. along the whole beach, however, up and down, there appeared no sign of human life. anxiously they looked, hoping to see some human form, in some part of that long line of rock; but none was visible, and they looked at one another in silence. "wal, he don't turn up yet; that's clar," said captain corbet. "we can see a great deal from here, too," said bart, in a despondent tone. "ay, an that's jest what makes the wust of it. i thought that one look from a commandin pint would reveal the wanderer to our eyes." "perhaps he is crouching in among the rocks down there." "wal, i rayther think he'd manage to git up a leetle further out of the reach of the surf than all that." "he may be farther on." "true; an i dare say he is, too." "there don't seem to be any place below these rocks, where he would be likely to be." "no; i think that jest here he could climb up, as fur as that thar shelf, certain. he may be old an rheumatic, but he's able enough to climb that fur." "i don't think anything could have happened to him here, or we should see some signs of him." "course we would--we'd see his remains--we'd see his basket, or his hat, floatin and driftin about. but thar's not a basket or a hat anywhar to be seen." "the cliff is long here, and runs in so from that point, that if he went up any distance, it would be easy for him to be caught by the rising tide." "course it would. o, yes, course. that's the very thing that struck me. it's very dangerous for an ole inexperienced man. but come, we mustn't stand talkin, we must hurry on, or we may as well go back agin, at onst." starting forward, they walked on for some time in silence. for about a hundred yards they were able to keep close to the edge of the cliff, so as to look over; but after that they encountered a dense alder thicket. in order to traverse this, they had to go farther inland, where there was some sort of an opening. there they came to a wood where the underbrush was thick, and the walking difficult. this they traversed, and at length worked their way once more to the edge of the cliff. looking down here, they found the scene very much like what it had been farther back. the waves were dashing beneath them among rocks whose black crests were at times visible among the foam, while from the cliffs there were the same projecting shelves which they had noticed before. "see there!" cried bart, pointing to a place behind them. "do you see how the cliff seems to go in there--just where the alder bushes grow? that looks like a place where a man might be caught. i wonder if he isn't there." "can't we go and see?" "i don't think you can git thar." "o, it isn't far," said bart. "i'll run back and look down. the rest of you had better go on; i'll join you soon." "i'll go with you," said bruce. "very well." bruce and bart then set out, and forced their way through the dense alder bushes, until at length they found themselves near the place. here there was a chasm in the line of cliff, reaching from the top to the bottom. the sides were precipitous, and they could see perfectly well all the way down. at the bottom the water was rolling and tossing; and this, together with the precipitous cliffs, showed them plainly that no one could have found shelter here. sadly and silently they returned, and rejoined the others, who had been walking along in advance. "wal?" said captain corbet, interrogatively. bart shook his head. they then walked on for some time in silence. "come," said captain corbet; "we've been makin one mistake ever sence we started." "what's that?" "we've kep altogether too still. how do we know but we've passed him somewhar along down thar. we can't see behind all them corners." "let's shout now--the rest of the way." "yes; that's it; yell like all possessed." the cries of the boys now burst forth in shrill screams and yells, which were echoed among the woods and rocks around. "now," cried captain corbet, "all together!" the boys shouted all together. "that'll fetch him," said the captain, "ef anythin doos. it's a pity we didn't think of this afore. what an ole fool i must ha ben to forgit that!" the boys now walked on shouting, and screaming, and yelling incessantly, and waiting, from time to time, to listen for an answer. but no answer came. at times captain corbet's voice sounded forth. his cry was a very peculiar one. it was high pitched, shrill, and penetrating, and seemed as though it ought to be heard for miles. but the united voices of the boys, and the far-piercing yell of the captain, all sounded equally in vain. no response came, and at last, after standing still and listening for a longer time than usual, they all looked despondingly at one another, as though each were waiting for the other to suggest some new plan of action. captain corbet stood and looked musingly out upon the sea, as though the sight of the rolling waters assisted his meditations. it was some time before he spoke. "i tell you what it is, boys," said he at last. "we've ben makin another mistake." "how so?" "we've gone to work wrong." "well, what can we do now?" "wal, fust an foremost, i muve we go back on our tracks." "go back?" "yas." "why?" "wal, you see, one thing,--solomon can't hev come further than this by no possibility, onless he started straight off to walk all the way up the bay agin, back to petticoat jack by the shore route,--an as that's too rough a route for an ole man, why, i calc'late it's not to be thought of. ef, on the contrairy, he only kem out to hunt for fish, 'tain't likely he come as fur as this, an in my pinion he didn't come nigh as fur. you see we're a good piece on, and solomon wouldn't hev come so fur if he'd cal'lated to get back to the schewner. what d'ye say to that?" "i've thought of that already," said bruce, sadly. "we've certainly gone as far as he could possibly have gone." "terrew," said captain corbet, solemnly. "but what can we do now?" asked bart. "fust of all, go back." "what! give him up?" "i didn't say that. i said to go back, an keep a good lookout along the shore." "but we've done that already." "yes, i know; but then we didn't begin to yell till quite lately, whereas we'd ought to hev yelled from the time of fust startin. now, i think ef we went back yellin all the way, we'd have a chance of turnin him up somewhar back thar whar we fust came in sight of the cliff. very likely, if he ain't already drownded, he's a twisted himself up in some holler in the cliff back thar. he couldn't hev got this fur, certain,--unless he'd ben a runnin away." all this seemed so certain to the boys that they had nothing to say in opposition to it. in fact, as bruce said, they had already gone as far as solomon could possibly have gone, and this thought had occurred to them all. captain corbet's proposition, therefore, seemed to them the only course to follow. so they all turned and went back again. "what i was a goin to say," remarked captain corbet, after walking a few paces,--"what i was a goin to say was this. the mistake i made was in not gettin a boat." "a boat? why we've traced the coast from the cliff well enough--haven't we?" "no, not well enough. we'd ought to have planned this here expedition more kerfully. it wan't enough to go along the top of the cliff this here way. you see, we've not been able to take in the lower part of the cliff underneath. we'd ought to hev got a boat. some of us could hev gone along the cliff, jest as we hev ben doin, and the others could have pulled along the shore an kep up a sharp lookout that way. we've lost any quantity o' time that way, but that's no reason why we should lose any more; so i muve that some of us go back, right straight off, an get a boat at the ship-yard, an come back. i'll go, unless some o' youns think yourselfes smarter, which ain't onlikely." "o, you can't run, captain," said bart. "bruce and i will go, and we'll run all the way." "wal, that's the very best thing that you could do. you're both young, an actyve. as for me, my days of youth an actyvity air over, an i'm in the sere an yaller leaf, with spells o' rheumatics. so you start off as quick as your legs can carry you, an ef you run all the way, so much the better." the boys started off at this, and going on the full run, they hurried, as fast as possible, back over the path they had traversed, and through the woods, and over the fields, and down the cliff towards the ship-yard. phil and pat, however, remained with captain corbet; and these three walked back along the edge of the cliff; still looking down carefully for signs of solomon, and keeping up constantly their loud, shrill cries. thus they walked back, till, at length, they reached the place where the alders were growing. here they were compelled to make a detour as before, after which they returned to the cliff, and walked along, shouting and yelling as when they came. xiv. back again.--calls and cries.--captain corbet's yell.--a significant sign.--the old hat.--the return cry.--the boat rounds the point. captain corbet, with phil and pat, walked along the top of the cliff in this way, narrowly scrutinizing the rocks below, and calling and shouting, until, at length, they reached the place at which they had first come out upon the shore. "now, boys," said the captain, "from here to the pint down thar is all new ground. we must go along here, an keep a good lookout. if we hev any chance left of findin anythin, it's thar. i'm ony sorry we didn't examine this here fust an foremost, before wanderin away off up thar, whar 'tain't at all likely that solomon ever dreamed of goin. i hope the boys won't be long gettin off that thar boat." "perhaps they can't get one." "o, yes, they can. i saw two or three down thar." they now walked on a little farther. at this place the cliff was as steep as it had been behind; but the rocky shelves were more numerous, and down near the shore they projected, one beyond another, so that they looked like natural steps. "if solomon was caught by the tide anywhar hereabouts," said captain corbet, "thar's no uthly reason why he shouldn't save himself. he could walk up them rocks jest like goin up stairs, an git out of the way of the heaviest surf an the highest tide that these shores ever saw." "it all depends," said phil, "on whether he staid about here, or went farther up." "course--an it's my opinion that he did stay about here. he was never such an old fool as to go so far up as we did. why, ef he'd a done so over them rocks, he'd never have got the use of his legs agin." "strange we don't see any signs of him." "o, wal, thar's places yet we hevn't tried." "one thing is certain--we haven't found any signs of him. if anything had happened, we'd have seen his basket floating." "yes, or his old hat." "i should think, if he were anywhere hereabouts, he'd hear the noise; we are shouting loud enough, i'm sure. as for your voice, why, he ought to hear it a mile away; and the point down there doesn't seem to be a quarter that distance." "o, it's further than that; besides, my voice can't penetrate so easily down thar. it gits kine o' lost among the rocks. it can go very easy in a straight line; but when it's got to turn corners an go kine o' round the edges o' sharp rocks, it don't get on so well by a long chalk. but i think i'll try an divarsify these here proceedins by yellin a leetle lower down." so saying, captain corbet knelt down, and putting his head over the cliff, he uttered the loudest, and sharpest, and shrillest yell that he could give. then he listened in silence, and the boys also listened in breathless expectation for some time. but there was no response whatever. captain corbet arose with a sigh. "wal, boys," said he, in a mournful tone, "we must git on to the pint. we'd ought to know the wust pooty soon. but, at any rate, i'm bound to hope for the best till hope air over." the little party now resumed their progress, and walked on towards the point, shouting at intervals, as before. from this place on as far as the point, the ground was clear, and there was nothing to bar their way. they could go along without being compelled to make any further detour, and could keep near enough to the edge to command a view of the rocks below. they walked on, and shouted without ceasing, and thus traversed a portion of the way. suddenly captain corbet's eye caught sight of something in the water. it was round in shape, and was floating within a few feet of the shore, on the top of a wave. as captain corbet looked, the wave rolled from underneath it, and dashed itself upon the rocks, while the floating object seemed to be thrown farther out. the tide had turned already, and was now on the ebb, so that floating articles, such as this, were carried away from the shore, rather than towards it. upon this captain corbet fastened his gaze, and stood in silence looking at it. at length he put his hand on phil's shoulder, and directed the attention of the boys to the floating object. "do you see that?" said he. "what?" "that thing." "what--that round thing?" "yes, that round thing. look sharp at it now. what doos it look like to your young eyes?" phil and pat looked at it very carefully, and in silence. then phil looked up into captain corbet's face without saying a word. "wal?" "what is it, do you think?" asked phil, in a low voice. "what do you think?" "sure an it's a hat--a sthraw hat," said pat. captain corbet exchanged a meaning glance with phil. "do you think it's his hat?" asked phil. "whose else can it be?" phil was silent, and his gaze was once more directed to the floating object. as it rose and fell on the waves, it showed the unmistakable outline of a straw hat, and was quite near enough for them to recognize its general character and color. it was dark, with the edges rather ragged, a broad brim, and a roomy crown, not by any means of a fashionable or graceful shape, but coarse, and big, and roomy, and shabby--just such a hat as solomon had put on his head when he left grand pre with them on this memorable and ill-fated voyage. they looked at it for a long time in silence, and none of them moved. captain corbet heaved a deep sigh. "this here," said he, "has been a eventfool vyge. i felt a derred persentment afore i started. long ago i told you how the finger of destiny seemed to warn me away from the ocean main. i kem to the conclusion, you remember, that henceforth i was to dwell under my own vine an fig tree, engaged in the tender emplymint of nussin the infant. but from this i was forced agin my own inclynations. an what's the result? why, this--that thar hat! see here, boys;" and the venerable seaman's tone grew deeper, and more solemn, and more impressive; "see here, boys," he repeated; "for mor'n forty year hev i follered the seas, an traversed the briny deep; but, though i've hed my share of storms an accydints, though i've ben shipwrecked onst or twiste, yet never has it ben my lot to experience any loss of human life. but now, but now, boys, call to mind the startlin events of this here vyge! think of your companion an playmate a driftin off in that startlin manner from petticoat jack! an now look here--gaze upon that thar! words air footil!" "do you give him up, then?" cried phil. "poor, poor old solomon!" captain corbet shook his head. "'deed, thin, an i don't!" cried pat. "what's a hat? 'tain't a man, so it isn't. many's the man that's lost his hat, an ain't lost his life. it's a windy place here, an ole solomon's hat's a mile too big for him, so it is--'deed an it is." captain corbet shook his head more gloomily than ever. "ow, sure an ye needn't be shakin yer head that way. sure an haven't ye lost hats av yer own, over an over?" "never," said the captain. "i never lost a hat." "niver got one blowed off? 'deed an ye must have." "i never got one blowed off. when the wind blowed hard i allus kep 'em tied on." "well, solomon hadn't any tie to his, an it cud tumble off his old pate asy enough, so it cud. sure he's lost it jumpin over the rocks. besides, where's his basket?" "at the bottom, no doubt." "sure an it cud float." "no; i dar say it was full of lobsters." "any how, i'll not believe he's gone till i see him," cried pat, earnestly. "seein's believin." "ef he's gone," said captain corbet, more solemnly than ever, "ye'll never see him. these waters take too good care of a man for that." "well, yer all givin up too soon," said pat. "come along now; there's lots of places yet to examin. give one of yer loudest yells." captain corbet did so. in spite of his despondency as to poor old solomon's fate, he was not at all unwilling to try any further chances. on this occasion he seemed to gain unusual energy out of his very despair; and the yell that burst from him was so high, so shrill, so piercing, and so far penetrating, that the former cries were nothing compared to it. "well done!" cried pat. "sure an you bet yerself that time, out an out." "stop!" cried phil. "listen. what's that?" far away, as they listened, they heard a faint cry, that seemed like a response. "is that the echo?" asked phil, anxiously. "niver an echo!" cried pat, excitedly. "shout agin, captain, darlin." captain corbet gave another shout as loud and as shrill as the preceding one. they listened anxiously. again they heard the cry. it was faint and far off; yet it was unmistakably a human cry. their excitement now grew intense. "where did it come from?" cried phil. "wal, it kine o' seemed to me that it came back thar," said the captain, pointing to the woods. "'deed an it didn't," cried pat; "not a bit of it. it was from the shore, jest ahead; from the pint, so it was, or i'm a nagur." "i think it came from the shore, too," said phil; "but it seemed to be behind us." "niver a bit," cried pat; "not back there. we've been there, an whoever it was wud have shouted afore, so he wud. no, it's ahead at the pint. he's jest heard us, an he's shoutin afther us. hooray! hurry up, an we'll be there in time to save him." pat's confidence was not without its effect on the others. without waiting any longer, they at once set off at a run, stopping at intervals to yell, and then listening for a response. to their delight, that response came over and over again; and to their still greater joy, the sound each time was evidently louder. beyond a doubt, they were drawing nearer to the place from which the sounds came. this stimulated them all the more, so that they hurried on faster. the edge of the cliff was not covered by any trees, but the ground at its summit had been cleared, so that progress was not at all difficult. they therefore did not take much time in traversing the space that intervened between the spot where they had first heard the cry, and the point where the cliff terminated. the cry grew steadily louder, all the way, until at last, when they approached the point, it seemed to come directly from beneath. the cliff here was perpendicular for about forty feet down, and below this it seemed to retreat, so that nothing could be seen. the tide was on the ebb; but it was still so high that its waves beat below them, and seemed to strike the base of the rock. beyond, on the right, there was a sloping ledge, which descended from the cliffs into the sea, over which the waves were now playing. it was from the hollow and unseen recess down at the foot of the cliff that the cry seemed to arise, which had come in response to the calls of those on the summit. on reaching the place above, they knelt down, and looked over, but were not able to distinguish any human being, or any sign of the presence of one. but as they looked anxiously over, the cry arose, not very loud, but quite distinct now, and assured them that this was the place which sheltered the one who had uttered that cry. captain corbet now thrust his head over as far as he could, and gave a call in his loudest voice. "hal-lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" to which there came up in answer a cry that sounded like-- "hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i!" "solomo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-on!" "he-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ey!" "is that yo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ou?" "it's me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!" "where are y-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ou?" "he-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-re!" "come u-u-u-u-u-u-u-up!" "ca-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-n't!" "why no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ot?" "too hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-gh!" "go round the pi-i-i-i-i-i-nt!" "too high ti-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-de!" "wa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-it!" "all ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ght!" captain corbet now sprang up as nimbly as a young lad, and looked at phil and pat with an expression of such exceeding triumph, that his face seemed fairly to shine. "it is solomon!" he cried. but it was of no use for him to convey that piece of information to the boys, who already knew that fact quite as well as he did. "it is solomon," he repeated; "an now the pint is, how air we to git him up?" "let me go down," said pat. "how?" "sure an i can git down wid that bit o' rope you have." "mebbe you can, an then agin mebbe you can't; but s'posin you was to git down, how upon airth would that help the matter?" "sure an we cud give him a pull up." "i don't think we could manage that," said captain corbet, "and you couldn't, at any rate, if you were down thar with him. as far as i see, we'll hev to wait till the tide falls." "wouldn't it be better," said phil, "for us to go around, so as to come nearer?" "how? whar?" "why, down to the beach, and then we could walk around the point." "walk? why, it's high water." "so it is--i forgot that." "the fact is, we can't git any nearer than we air now. then, agin, the boys'll be along in a boat soon. they ought to be here by this time; so let's sit down here, an wait till they heave in sight." with a call of encouragement to solomon which elicited a reply of satisfaction, captain corbet sat down upon the grass, and the boys followed his example. in this position they waited quietly for the boat to come. meanwhile, bart and bruce had hurried on as rapidly as their legs could carry them, and at length reached the path which went down to the beach. down this they scrambled, and not long afterwards they reached the ship-yard. here they obtained a boat without any difficulty, which the workmen launched for them; and then they pushed off, and pulled for the point, with the intention of rowing along opposite the shore, and narrowly inspecting it. scarcely had they reached the point, however, when a loud and well-known voice sounded from on high. they both turned and looked up, still pulling. there they saw captain corbet, and phil, and pat, all of whom were shouting and making furious gestures at them. "we've found him! come in closer!" cried captain corbet. "whe-e-e-re?" cried bruce. but before any answer could come, a loud, shrill scream, followed by a yell of delight, burst forth from some place still nearer. burt and bruce both started, and looked towards the place from which this last cry came. there a very singular and pleasing sight met their eyes. about six feet above the water was a shelf of rock, that ran down sloping to the beach, and over this there projected a great mass of the cliff. in this recess there crouched a familiar figure. he had no hat, but between his legs, as he sat there, he held a basket, to which he clung with his knees and his hands. as he sat there his eyes were fixed upon them, and their whites seemed enlarged to twice their ordinary dimensions, while yell after yell came from him. "help, he-e-e-e-e-lp! mas'r ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-art! o, mas'r ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-art! he-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-lp! sa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ave me!" "hurrah! hurrah!" cried bart and bruce, in a burst of heartfelt joy. "he-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-lp!" came forth once more from solomon. "all right," cried bart; and at once the boat pointed towards the place where solomon was sitting. the water nearer the shore was somewhat rough, but fortunately there were no rocks just there, and they were able to bring the boat in close to the place where solomon was confined. at their approach solomon moved slowly down the incline of the rock, on his hands and knees, for there was not room for him to stand upright; and as he moved he pushed the basket before him, as though there was something inside of uncommon value. reaching, at length, a spot where the rock was about the level of the boat, he waited for them to approach. soon the boat touched the rock. "come, old sol," cried bart, "jump in!" "hyah, take hole ob dis yar," said solomon, even in that moment of rescue refusing to move till his precious basket should be safe. bart grasped it, and put it into the boat, noticing, as he did so, that it was full of lobsters. "come, solomon, hurry up. i don't like the boat to be knocking here this way." "all right, sah," said solomon, crawling along rather stiffly; "ben tied up in a knot all day, an feel so stiff dat i don't know as i'll git untied agin fur ebber mo. was jest makin my will, any way, as you came along." by this time solomon had tumbled into the boat, and worked his way aft, though not without many groans. "it's de cold rocks, an de wet," he groaned. "sech an attack o' rheumaticses as dis ole nigga's gwine to hab beats all! any how, i ben an sabed de lobsta. loss me ole hat, but didn't car a mite fer dat so long as i sabed de lobsta." "all right," cried bart; and at this the two boys pulled away from the rocks and rounded the point. as they came into the sight of those who were waiting on the top of the cliff, a shout of joy arose. xv. exploring juan fernandez.--the cliffs.--the tangled underbrush.--the fog bank.--is it coming or going?--the steamer.--vain appeals.--new plans. starting off, as we have seen, to explore the island, tom first directed his steps towards the elevated land which has before been mentioned. at first his path was easy, and the descent very gradual; but at length it became more difficult, and he had to ascend a steep hill, which was over-strewn with stones and interspersed with trees and mounds. up among these he worked his way, and at length the ascent ceased. he was on the summit of the island. here he walked to the edge of the area on which he stood, and found himself on the edge of a precipice that went sheer down to a beach, which was apparently two hundred feet beneath him. the precipice seemed actually to lean forward out of the perpendicular, and so tremendous was the view beneath, that tom, although not by any means inclined to be nervous, found his head grow giddy as he looked down. looking forth thus from his dizzy elevation, he could see across the bay to the new brunswick shore, and could mark the general course which his drifting boat must have taken over those deep, dark, and treacherous waters. the sea was broad, and blue, and tranquil, and desolate, for even from this commanding height not a sail was visible. there was nothing here which could attract tom's attention for any long period; so he prepared to continue his progress. in front of him lay a wood, before plunging in which he turned to see if there were any vessels coming through the straits of minas. none were visible; so, turning back once more, he resumed his journey, and went forward among the trees. his path now became a difficult one. it was necessary to keep away from the edge of the cliff, but still not to go out of sight of it. the trees were principally spruce and fir, but there were also birch and maple. he also noticed mountain ash and willow. beneath him all the ground was covered with soft moss, in which he sank to his ankles, while on every side were luxuriant ferns and evergreen trailers. tom recognized all these with great satisfaction, for they showed him the means of furnishing for himself a soft couch, that might be envied by many a man in better circumstances. progress soon grew more difficult, for there were numerous mounds, and dense underbrush, through which he could only force his way by extreme effort. windfalls also lay around in all directions, and no sooner would he have fairly surmounted one of them, than another would appear. thus his progress was exceedingly slow and laborious. after about a half an hour of strenuous exertion, tom found himself in the midst of an almost impassable jungle of tangled, stunted fir trees. he tried to avoid these by making a detour, but found that they extended so far that he could only pass them by going along close to the edge of the cliff. this last path he chose, and clinging to the branches, he passed for more than a hundred yards along the crest of a frightful precipice, where far down there yawned an abyss, at whose bottom was the sea; while abreast of him in the air there floated great flocks of gulls, uttering their hoarse yells, and fluttering fiercely about, as though trying to drive back this intruder upon their domains. once or twice tom was compelled to stop, and turn away his face from the abyss, and thrust himself in among the trees; but each time he regained his courage, after a little rest, and went on as before. at length he passed the thick spruce underbrush, and found the woods less dense. he could now work his way among them without being compelled to go so close to the edge of the cliff; and the dizzy height and the shrieks of the gulls no longer disturbed his senses. the trees here were not so high as those at the other end of the island, but were of much smaller size, and seemed stunted. there were no maples or other forest trees, but only scraggy fir, that seemed too exposed to the winds from the sea to have much health or verdure. the underbrush was wanting to a great extent, but moss was here in large quantities, and thick clusters of alder bushes. wild shrubs also--such as raspberries and blueberries--were frequently met with; while ledges of weather-beaten rock jutted out from amid thick coverings of moss. walking here was not at all difficult, and he went on without any interruption, until, at last, he found any farther progress barred by a precipice. he was at the lower or western end of the island. he looked down, and found beneath him a great precipice, while rocks jutted out from the sea, and ledges projected beyond. the gulls were present here, as elsewhere, in great flocks, and still kept up their noisy screams. tom looked out over the sea, and saw its waters spread far away till it was lost in the horizon. on the line of that horizon he saw a faint gray cloud, that looked like a fog bank. it had, to his eyes, a certain gloomy menace, and seemed to say to him that he had not seen the last of it yet. on the left of the broad sea, the nova scotia coast ran along till it was lost in the distance; and on the right was the long line of the new brunswick shore, both of which had now that dark hue of olive green which he had noticed on the land opposite before he had started. suddenly, while he was looking, his eyes caught sight of something white that glistened brightly from the blue water. it was about midway between the two coasts, and he knew it at once to be some sailing vessel. he could not make out more than one sail, and that showed that the vessel was either coming up the bay or going down; for if it had been crossing, she would, of course, have lain broadside on to his present locality, and would have thus displayed two sails to his view. the sight of this vessel agitated him exceedingly; and the question about her probable course now entered his mind, and drove away all other thoughts. whether that vessel were going up or down became of exclusive importance to him now, if she were coming up, she might approach him, and hear his hail, or catch sight of his signals. suddenly he reflected that he had no way of attracting attention, and a wild desire of running back and setting up the longest pole or board that he could find came into his mind; but such was the intensity of his curiosity, and the weight of his suspense, that he could not move from the spot where he was until he had satisfied himself as to the vessel's course. he sat down not far from the edge of the precipice, and, leaning forward with his hands supporting his chin, he strained his eyes over the intervening distance, as he tried to make out in which way the vessel was going. it seemed fully ten miles away, and her hull was not visible. it was only the white of her sails that he saw; and as the sunlight played on these from time to time, or fell off from the angle of reflection, the vessel was alternately more or less visible, and thus seemed by turns to draw nearer and depart farther from his sight. thus for a long time he sat, alternately hoping and desponding, at every play of those sails in the sunlight. the calm of the water showed him that, even if the vessel were coming up, he could not expect any very rapid progress. there was now no wind, and the surface of the water was perfectly unruffled. besides, he knew that the tide was falling rapidly. how, then, could he expect that the vessel could come any nearer, even if she were trying to? thoughts like these at last made him only anxious to keep the vessel in sight. if her destination lay up the bay, she would probably anchor; if it lay down the bay, she would drift with the tide. he thought, then, that if she only would remain in sight, it would be a sufficient proof of her course. thus he sat, watching and waiting, with all his soul intent upon those flashing sails, and all his thoughts taken up with the question as to the course of that solitary bark. it seemed a long time to him, in his suspense; but suspense always makes time seem long. at last, however, even though he hoped so persistently for the best, his hope began to die within him. fainter and fainter grew those sails; at intervals rarer and rarer did their flash come to his eyes, until at length the sight of them was lost altogether, and nothing met his eyes but the gloomy gray of the fog cloud on the far horizon. even after he had lost hope, and become convinced that she was gone, tom sat there for a long time, in a fixed attitude, looking at that one spot. he would have sat there longer, but suddenly there came to his ears a peculiar sound, which made him start to his feet in a moment, and filled him with a new excitement. he listened. the sound came again. a flush of joy spread over his face, his heart beat faster and faster, and he listened as though he could scarce believe his senses. as he listened, the sounds came again, and this time much louder. there was now no mistake about it. it was a regular boat, which tom knew well to be the peculiar sound made by the floats of a steamer's paddles. he had often heard it. he had but recently heard it, when the revenue steamer was approaching the antelope, and again during the foggy night, when the whistle roused them, and the same beat of the paddles came over the midnight waters. and now, too, he heard it. he gave a shout of joy, and started off to catch sight of her. for a few paces only he ran, and then stopped. he was puzzled. he did not know in which direction it was best to go. he was at the west end of the island, but could not make out very well the direction of the sounds. he tried to think whether the steamer would pass the island on the north side or the south. he did not know, but it seemed to him that she would certainly go to the north of it. there was no time to be lost, and standing there to listen did not seem to be of any use, even if his impatience had allowed him to do so. accordingly he hurried back by the way that he had come along the north side of the island. for some time he ran along through the trees, and at length, in about fifteen or twenty minutes, he reached the place where the dense underbrush was, by the edge of the cliff. from this point a wide view was commanded. on reaching it he looked out, and then up the bay, towards the straits of minas. he could see almost up to the straits, but no steamer appeared. for a moment he stood bewildered, and then the thought came to him, that he had mistaken altogether the steamer's course. she could not be coming down on the north side of the island, but on the south side. with a cry of grief he started back again, mourning over his error, and the time that he had lost. on reaching the more open wood, he thought that it would be better to hurry across the island to the south side, and proceeded at once to do so. the way was rough and tedious. once or twice he had to burst through thickets of alder, and several times he had to climb over windfalls. at length, in his confusion, he lost his way altogether; he had to stop and think. the shadows of the trees showed him where the south lay, and he resumed his journey. at length, after most exhaustive efforts, he reached a part of the cliff, where a fringe of alders grew so thick, that he was scarce aware that he was at his destination, until the precipice opened beneath him. here he stood, and, pressing apart the dense branches, he looked out. there was the steamer, about two miles off, already below where he was standing, and going rapidly down the bay with the falling tide. another cry of grief burst from tom. where he was standing he could see the vessel, but he himself was completely concealed by the clustering bushes. he now lamented that he had left his first position, and saw that his only chance was to have remained there. to stay where he was could not be thought of. there was scarce a chance now of doing anything, since the steamer was so far away; but what chance there was certainly depended on his being in some conspicuous position. he started off, therefore, to the west point, where he had watched the schooner for so long a time. he hurried on with undiminished energy, and bounded over windfalls, and burst through thickets, as before. but in spite of his efforts, his progress could not be more rapid than it had formerly been. his route was necessarily circuitous, and before he could find the desired point, many more minutes had elapsed. but he reached it at last, and there, on the bare rock, springing forward, he waved his hat in the air, and sent forth a piercing cry for help. but the steamer was now as much as four or five miles away--too far altogether for his loudest cry to go. his screams and his gestures did not appear to attract the slightest attention. she moved on her way right under the eyes of the frantic and despairing boy, nor did she change her course in the slightest degree, nor did her paddles cease to revolve, but went rolling round, tossing up the foam, and bearing far, far away that boat on which poor tom had rested his last hope. as for tom, he kept up his screams as long as he could utter a sound. he tore off his coat, and shook it up and down, and waved it backward and forward. but none of these things were heard or seen. the steamboat passed on, until, at length, even tom became convinced that further efforts were useless. this last blow was too much. tom sank under it, and, falling on his face, he burst into a flood of tears. struggling up at length from this last affliction, tom roused himself, and his buoyancy of soul began once more to assert itself. "come now, thomas, my son," said he, as he dried his eyes, "this sort of thing will never do, you know. you're not a baby, my boy; you've never been given to blubbering, i think. cheer up, then, like a man, and don't make me feel ashamed of you." this little address to himself had, as before, the effect of restoring his equanimity, and he thought with calmness upon his recent disappointments. he saw, by the passage of these vessels, what he had for a time lost sight of, namely, that this island, though uninhabited, was still in the middle of a bay which was constantly traversed by sailing vessels and steamboats. the latter ran regularly up to the basin of minas from st. john. as to the former, they were constantly passing to and fro, from the large ship down to the small fishing vessel. inhabited countries surrounded him on every side, between the coasts of which there was a constant communication. if he only kept patient, the time must come, and that, too, before very long, when he would be delivered. in order to secure this delivery, however, he saw that it would be necessary to arrange some way by which he might attract the notice of passing vessels. on this subject he meditated for a long time. it would be necessary, he thought, to have some sort of a signal in some conspicuous place. among the drift-wood he might, perhaps, be able to find some sort of a pole or staff which he could set up. one might not be enough, but in that case he could put up two, or three, or half a dozen. the next thing to decide about was the choice of a place. there was the east end, and the west end--which was the better? the west end, where he was standing, was high; but then it was surrounded by trees, and unless he could set up a very tall staff, it could scarcely be noticed. the east end, on the contrary, was lower; but then it was bare, and any kind of a signal which might be set up there could hardly fail to attract attention. he could also pile up a heap of drift-wood, and set fire to it, and, by this means, if a vessel were passing by, he could be certain of securing attention. it did not make much difference which end the signals were placed upon, as far as referred to the passing of vessels; for all that passed by would go along the island, so that both ends would be visible to them. as to the signals, he felt confident that he could find a staff, or, if one would not be long enough, several could be fastened together. the coil of rope in the boat would enable him to do this. the sail would afford material for a flag. all these plans came to his mind as he stood there; and the prospect of once more doing something which was to help him to escape from his prison drove away the last vestige of his grief. his courage again arose, hope revived, and he burst forth into a light and joyous song. very different was he now from the despairing lad who, but a short time before, had been pouring forth his tears of sorrow; and yet but a few minutes had passed since then. the steamer was yet in sight down the bay, but tom, who had lately been so frantic in his efforts to attract her attention, now cast a glance after her of perfect indifference. and now it was necessary for him to return to the east end of the island, and look about for the means of putting into execution his plan for making a signal. he started off on his return without any further delay. the path back was as rough and toilsome as the way down had been; but tom was now full of hope, and his elastic spirits had revived so thoroughly that he cared but little for the fatigue of the journey. it was traversed at last, and he descended the slope to the place from which he had started. his exploration of the island had been quite complete. it seemed to him to be about a mile and a half in length, and a half a mile or so in width. the east end, where he had first arrived, was the only place where it was at all desirable to stay. immediately on his arrival he examined the boat, and found it secure. to his surprise it was now about sunset. he had forgotten the lapse of time. he was hungry; so he sat down, ate his biscuit, drank his water, and rested from the toils of the day. xvi. a sign for the outer world.--a shelter for the outcast's head.--tom's camp and camp-bed.--a search after something to vary a too monotonous diet.--brilliant success. tom sat down after his eventful day, and took his evening meal, as has been said. he rested then for some time. his excessive labors had fatigued him less than the great excitement which he had undergone, and now he felt disinclined to exert himself. but the sun had set, and darkness was coming on rapidly; so he rose, at last, and went over to the drift-wood. here, after a search of about half an hour, he found something which was very well suited to his purpose. it was a piece of scantling about twenty feet long, and not very thick; and to this he saw that he could fasten the pole that he had made up in the woods. these two pieces would make, when joined, a very good flag-staff. these he brought up to the bank. then he collected an armful of dry chips and sticks, which he carried over to a spot near where the boat lay. a rock was there, and against one side of this he built a pile of the chips. he then tried a match, and found that it was quite dry, and lighted it without any difficulty. with this he kindled the fire, and soon saw, with great satisfaction, a bright and cheerful blaze. he was so delighted with the fire that he brought up a dozen more loads of wood, which he laid near. then he drew up the bit of scantling, and bringing the coil of rope, he cut a piece off, and proceeded to fasten to the scantling the pole which he had procured in the woods. he did this by winding the rope around in a close and even wind; and, finally, on concluding his task, he found that it was bound firmly enough to stand any breeze. it took a long time to finish this; but tom had slept late in the morning, and, though fatigued, he was not sleepy. after this he sat down in front of the fire, and enjoyed its friendly light and its genial glow. he kept heaping on the fuel, and the bright flames danced up, giving to him the first approach to anything like the feeling of comfort that he had known since he had drifted away from the antelope. nor was it comfort only that he was mindful of while he watched and fed the fire. he saw in this fire, as it shone out over the water, the best kind of a signal, and had some hope of being seen and hailed by some passing vessel. in this hope he sat up till midnight, looking out from time to time over the water, and expecting every instant to see the shadow of some approaching vessel. but midnight came, and tom at length thought of sleep. the sail had dried thoroughly through the day; so now he used it once more as a coverlet, and, folding himself in it, he reclined, as before, against the mossy bank, and slept. on awaking the next day, he arose and looked around. to his deep disappointment, he could see nothing. there was a fog over all the scene. the wind had changed, and his old enemy was once more besieging him. it was not so thick, indeed, as it had been, being light and dry, so that the ground was not at all moistened; but still the view was obscured, so that no vessel could be seen unless it came within half a mile; and that was rather closer than most vessels would care to come to his island. this day was sunday, and all tom's plans had to be deferred until the following day. however, it was not at all disagreeable to him to get rid of the necessity of work; and, indeed, never before did he fully appreciate the nature of the day of rest. the rest was sweet indeed to his exhausted and overworn frame, and he did not go far away from his fire. he had found some embers still glowing in the morning, and had kindled the fire anew from these, without drawing any more upon his precious store of matches. he resolved now to keep the coals alive all the time, by feeding the fire during the day, and covering it up with ashes by night. it was sunday,--the day of rest,--and tom felt all the blessedness of rest. on the whole, it turned out to be the pleasantest day which he had known since he left the schooner. left now to quiet reflection, he recalled the events of the last week, and had more leisure to feel thankful over the wonderful safety which he had met with. even now on the island he was not without his comforts. he had food and warmth. so, on the whole, though he had his moments of sadness, yet the sadness was driven out by cheerfulness. it was not all dismal. the words of that poem which is familiar to every school-boy rang in his ears:-- "o, solitude, where are the charms that sages have seen in thy face? better dwell in the midst of alarms than reign in this horrible place." yet these words were accompanied and counterbalanced by the more pleasing and consoling sentiments of others, which on this day accorded better with tom's mood:-- "there's mercy in every place; and mercy--encouraging thought!-- gives even affliction a grace, and reconciles man to his lot." nothing occurred during the day to disturb the quiet of the island, and tom went to bed early that night, so as to have a long sleep, and fortify himself for the labors of the morrow. the ashes were raked carefully round the coals, which, when tom waked in the morning, were easily kindled again. he was up early on that monday morning. he saw, with deep disappointment, that the fog still covered every thing, and that the wind was blowing quite brisk from the south-west, and raising rather a heavy sea. but he had a great deal to do now, and to this he turned his attention. first of all, he had to finish his signal-staff and set it up. he was very much troubled about the proper material for a flag. the canvas was rather too heavy; but as he had nothing else, he had to take this. he fastened a bit of the rope to the head of the staff, so as to form a loop, and through this he ran a piece which was long enough to serve for halyards. thus far he had not used up more than a quarter of the coil of rope; but he needed all that was left for other purposes. the next thing was to set up his staff. to do this required much labor. he had already selected the place which seemed most suitable. it was at the extreme point of a tongue of land which projected beside the brook, and only a little distance from his resting-place. here the ground was soft; and choosing a sharp stone, he worked diligently for about a couple of hours, until at length he succeeded in digging a hole which was about eighteen inches in depth. then he fastened ropes to the staff, where the pole joined it, so that four lines came down far enough to serve as stays. having done this, he inserted the end of the staff in the hole, and thrust in the earth all around it, trampling it in, and beating it down as tight as he could with a stone. after this he procured some sticks from the drift-wood, and, sharpening the ends, he secured the stays by fastening them to these sticks, which he drove into the ground. the staff then seemed to be as secure as was necessary. it only remained now to hoist up his flag; and this he did without any difficulty, securing it at half mast, so that it might serve unmistakably as a signal of distress. upon completing this, tom rested on the mound, and from that distance he contemplated the signal with a great deal of calm and quiet satisfaction. it was his own device, and his own handiwork, and he was very proud of it. but he did not allow himself a long rest. there yet remained much to be done, and to this he now directed his attention. he had been thinking, during his last employment, upon the necessity which he had of some shelter. a plan had suggested itself which he felt confident that he could carry into execution without any very great trouble. the fog that now prevailed, and which was far different from the light mist of the previous day, accompanied also, as it was, by the damp south-west wind, made some sort of a shelter imperatively necessary, and that, too, before another night. to pass this night in the fog would be bad enough; but if it should happen to rain also, his situation would be miserable indeed. he now set out for the beach, and found, without much difficulty, some pieces of wood which were necessary to his purpose. bringing these back, he next looked about for a good situation. there was a rock not far from the fire, and in front of this was a smooth spot, where the land was flat, and covered with short grass. on the left it sloped to the brook. this seemed to him to be the best place on the island. it was sufficiently sheltered. it was dry, and in case of rain the water would not be likely to flood it. with all these it also possessed the advantage of being sufficiently conspicuous to any passing vessel which might be attracted by the signal-staff. here, then, tom determined to erect his place of residence. his first work was to select two long and slender pieces of wood, and sharpen the ends of them. then he drove each of them into the ground in such a way that their tops crossed one another. these he bound fast together. two other stakes were driven into the ground, and secured in the same way, about six or seven feet off. another long piece of scantling was then placed so as to pass from one to the other of the two crossed sticks, so that it rested upon them. this last was bound tight to the crossed sticks, and thus the whole structure formed a camp-shaped frame. over this tom now threw the sail, and brought it down to the ground on either side, securing it there with pegs. at the back of the camp a piece of the sail was folded over and secured so as to cover it in; while in front another piece of the sail hung down until it nearly reached the ground. this could hang down at night, and be folded over the top by day. tom now tore up some sods, and laid them over the edge of the canvas on each side, where it touched the ground, and placed on these heavy stones, until at length it seemed sufficiently protected from the entrance of any rain that might flow down the roof. his last task consisted in collecting a large quantity of moss and ferns from the woods, which he strewed over the ground inside, and heaped up at one end, so as to form a soft and fragrant bed. when this was accomplished the camp was finished. it had taken a long time, and when at last the work was done, it began to grow dark. tom noticed this with surprise. he had been working so incessantly that he was not mindful of the flight of time, and now the day was done, and the evening was upon him before he was aware. but there were other things still for him to do before he could rest from his labors. his fire was just flickering around its last embers, and if he wished to have a pleasant light to cheer the solitude and the darkness of his evening hours, it would be necessary to prepare a supply of fuel. to this he attended at once, and brought up several armfuls of drift-wood from the beach. placing these near the fire, he kindled it up afresh, and flung upon the rising flames a generous supply of fuel. the fires caught at it, and crackled as they spread through the dry wood, and tossed up their forked tongues on high, till in the dusk of evening they illuminated the surrounding scene with a pleasant light. a few more armfuls were added, and then the work for the day was over. that work had been very extensive and very important. it had secured a means of communication with the outer world, and had also formed a shelter from the chill night air, the fog, and the storm. it was with a very natural pride that tom cast his eyes around, and surveyed the results of his ingenuity and his industry. the camp opened towards the fire, from which it was not so far distant but that tom could attend to it without any very great inconvenience. the fire shone pleasantly before him as he sat down at his evening repast. as the darkness increased, it threw a ruddier glow upon all the scene around, lighting up field and hill, and sending long streams of radiance into the fog that overhung the sea. tom had prepared an unusually large supply of fuel, this evening, for the express purpose of burning it all up; partly for his own amusement, and partly in the hope that it might meet the eyes of some passing navigator. it was his only hope. to keep his signals going by night and day was the surest plan of effecting a speedy escape. who could tell what might be out on the neighboring sea? how did he know but that the antelope might be somewhere near at hand, with his companions on board, cruising anxiously about in search after the missing boat? he never ceased to think that they were following after him somewhere, and to believe that, in the course of their wanderings, they might come somewhere within sight of him. he knew that they would never give him up till they assuredly knew his fate, but would follow after him, and set other vessels on the search, till the whole bay, with all its shores and islands, should be thoroughly ransacked. fortunate was it for him, he thought, that there was so large a supply of drift-wood at hand on the beach, dry, portable, and in every way convenient for use. thanks to this, he might now disperse the gloom of dark and foggy nights, and keep up a better signal in the dark than he could do in the light. thus the fuel was heaped on, and the fire flamed up, and tom sat near, looking complacently upon the brilliant glow. thus far, for nearly a week, he had fed on biscuit only; but now, as he ate his repast, he began to think that it was a very monotonous fare, and to wonder whether it might not be possible to find something which could give a zest to his repasts. the biscuit were holding out well, but still he felt a desire to husband his resources, and if any additional food could in any way be procured, it would not only be a relish, but would also lessen his demand upon his one sole source of supply. he thought earnestly upon the subject of fish. he turned his thoughts very seriously to the subject of fish-hooks, and tried to think of some way by which he could capture some of the fish with which these waters abounded. but this idea did not seem to promise much. in the first place, he could think of no possible way in which he could procure any serviceable hook; in the second place, even if he had a hook and line all ready and baited, he did not see how he would be able to cast it within reach of any fish. his boat would not float him even for the little distance that was required to get into the places where fish might be. he could only stand upon the beach out of their reach. but, in the course of his thoughts, he soon perceived that other sources of food were possible to him besides the fish that were caught by hook and line. his mind reverted to the populous realm of shell-fish. these were all before him. round the rocks and amid the sea-weed there certainly must be mussels. at low tide, amid the ledges and the sand, there surely must be some lobsters. before him there was an extensive mud flat, where there ought to be clams. here was his fire, always ready, by night and by day. why should he not be able to make use of that fire, not only for cheering his mind, and giving him warmth, and signaling to passers-by, but also for cooking his meals? this was the question that he asked himself as he ate his biscuit. he could not see why he should not be able to accomplish this. as far as he could see, there ought to be plenty of shell-fish of various kinds on these shores. the more he thought of it, the more probable it seemed. he determined to solve the difficulty as soon as possible. on former occasions he had arranged his work on the evening for the succeeding day. on this evening he marked out this work for the morrow, and arranged in his mind a comprehensive and most diligent search for shell-fish, which should embrace the whole circuit of the island. with this in his mind, he arranged the fire as usual, so as to keep it alive, and then retired to his camp for the night. the presence of a roof over his head was grateful in the extreme. he let down the canvas folds over the entrance, and felt a peculiar sense of security and comfort. the moss and ferns which he had heaped up were luxuriously soft and deliciously fragrant. over these he stretched his wearied limbs with a sigh of relief, and soon was asleep. so comfortable was his bed, and so secure his shelter, that he slept longer than usual. it was late when he awaked. he hurried forth and looked around. the fog still rested over everything. if possible it was thicker and more dismal than even on the preceding day. to his surprise, he soon noticed that it had been raining quite heavily through the night. around, in many places, he saw pools of water, and in the hollows of the rocks he saw the same. this could only have been done by the rain. going back to his camp, he saw that the canvas was quite wet. and yet the rain had all rolled off. not a drop had entered. the moss and the fern inside were perfectly dry, and he had not the slightest feeling of dampness about him. his camp was a complete success. he now went off to search for clams. the tide had been high at about six in the morning. it was now, as he judged, about ten or eleven, and the water was quite low. selecting a piece of shingle from his wood-pile, he walked down over the mud flat that extended from the point, and, after going a little distance, he noticed the holes that give indications of the presence of clams beneath. turning up the sand, he soon threw out some of them. he now dug in several different places, and obtained sufficient for the day. these he carried back to the bank in triumph. then he stirred up his fire, heaped on plenty of wood, and arranged his clams in front so as to roast them. in spite of mrs. pratt's theories, the clams were found by tom to be delicious, and gave such relish to the biscuit, that he began to think whether he could not make use of the baling dipper, and make a clam chowder. this breakfast was a great success, and tom now confidently expected to find other shell-fish, by means of which his resources might be enlarged and improved. xvii. solomon's solemn tale.--a costly lobster.--off again.--steam whistles of all sizes.--a noisy harbor.--arrival home.--no news. the shout of joy uttered by those on the top of the cliff at seeing old solomon safe was responded to by those in the boat; and then, as the latter went on her way, captain corbet set out to return to the beach, followed by phil and pat. soon they were all reunited, and, the boat being landed, they returned in triumph to the antelope. on their way back, solomon told them the story of his adventures. "went out," said he, "on a splorin scursion, cos i was termined to try an skewer somethin to make a dinnah to keep up de sperrit ob dis yah party. ben trouble nuff, an dat's no reason why we should all starb. i tought by de looks ob tings dar was lobstas somewhar long dis yah sho, an if i got a chance, i knowed i could get 'em. dar was lots ob time too, ef it hadn't ben fur dat ar pint; dat's what knocked me. lots o' lobstas--could hab picked up a barl full, ony hadn't any barl to pick up." "well, but how did you happen to get caught?" "dat ar's jes what i'm a comin to. you see, i didn't tink ob dat ar pint when i went up de sho,--but knowed i had lots ob time; so i jes tought i'd make sure ob de best ob de lobstas. wan't goin to take back any common lobstas,--bet you dat,--notin for me but de best,--de bery best ones dar. dat ar's what kep me. it takes a heap ob time an car to get de best ones, when dar's a crowd lyin about ob all sizes, an de water comin in too." "but didn't you see that the tide was coming up to the point?" "nebber see a see,--not a see; lookin ober de lobstas all de time, an mos stracted wid plexity cos i couldn't cide bout de best ones. dar was lots an lots up dar at one place, dough i didn't go fur,--but ef i'd gone fur, i'd hab got better ones." "how far did you go?" "not fur,--ony short distance,--didn't want to go too fur away for feah ob not gittin back in time. an so i started to come back pooty soon, an walked, an walked. las, jes as i got to de pint, i rose my ole head, an looked straight afore me, an thar, clar ef i didn't fine myself shut in,--reglar prison,--mind i tell you,--an all round me a reglar cumferince ob water an rock, widout any way ob scape. tell you what, if dar ebber was a ole rat in a trap, i was at dat ar casion." "couldn't you have waded through it before it got too high?" "waded? not a wade; de water was rough an deep, an de bottom was stones dat i'd slipped oba an almost broke my ole head, sides bein drownded as dead as a herrin. why, what you tink dis ole nigga's made ob? i'm not a steam injine, nor a mowin machine, nor a life boat. i'm ony a ole man, an shaky in de legs too,--mind i tell you." "well, how did you manage it?" "manage! why, i didn't manage at all." "how did you find that place where you were sitting?" "wasn't settin. i was tied up in a knot, or rolled up into a ball. any way, i wasn't settin." "well, how did you find the place?" "wal, i jes got up dar. i stood on de sho till de water drobe me, an i kep out ob its way till at las i found myself tied up de way you saw me." "why didn't you halloo?" "hollar? didn't i hollar like all possessed?" "we didn't hear you." "wal, dat ar's dredful sterious. an me a hollarin an a yellin like mad. tell you what, i felt as ef i'd bust my ole head open, i did yell that hard." "couldn't you manage to climb up that cliff?" "dat cliff? climb up? me? what! me climb up a cliff? an dat cliff? why, i couldn't no more climb up dat ar cliff dan i could fly to de moon. no, sah. much as i could do to keep whar i was, out ob de water. dat was enough." "don't you know that we walked two miles up the shore?" "two miles! two! de sakes, now, chil'en! did you, railly? ef i'd a ony knowed you war a comin so near, wouldn't i a yelled? i bet i would." "why, you didn't think we'd have left you." "lef me? nebber. but den i didn't tink you'd magine anyting was wrong till too late. what i wanted was help, den an dar. de trouble was, when you did come, you all made dat ar circumbendibus, an trabelled clean an clar away from me." "we thought at first you could not be so near the point." "but de pint was de whole difficulty. dat's de pint." "well, at any rate, you've saved the lobsters." "yah! yah! yah! yes. bound to sabe dem dar. loss my ole hat, an nearly loss my ole self; but still i hung on to dem dar lobstas. tell you what it is now, dey come nigh onto bein de dearest lobstas you ebber eat. i'be done a good deal in de way ob puttin myself out to get a dinna at odd times for you, chil'en; but dis time i almost put myself out ob dis mortial life. so when you get your dinnas to-day, you may tink on what dat ar dinna come nigh to costin." "i wonder that you held on to them so tight, when they brought you into such danger." "hole on? why, dat ar's de berry reason why i did hole on. what, let go ob dem arter all my trouble on dat count? no. i was bound to hab somethin to show whenebber i got back, if i ebber did get back; and so here i am, all alibe, an a bringin my lobstas wid me." "well, solomon," said bart, in a kindly tone, "old man, the lobsters have come near costing us pretty dear, and we felt bad enough, i can tell you, when we went up there along the shore calling for you and getting no answer." "what, you did car for de ole man, mas'r bart--did you?" said solomon, in a tremulous voice. tears started to his eyes as he said it, and all power of saying anything more seemed to depart from him. he fell back behind the others, and walked on for the rest of the way in silence, but at times casting upon bart glances that spoke volumes, and talking to himself in inaudible tones. in this way they soon reached the wharf where the schooner was lying. the first thing that they noticed was, that the schooner was aground. the tide had gone out too far for her to float away, and consequently there was no hope of resuming their voyage for that day. "we're in for it, captain," said bruce "yes; i felt afeard of it," said the captain. "we've got to wait here till the next tide." "we'll leave to-night, of course." "o, yes. we must get off at the night's tide, and drop down the bay." "how far had we better go?" "wal, i ben a thinkin it all over, an it's my opinion that we'd better go to st. john next. we may hear of him there, an ef he don't turn up we can send out some more vessels, an give warnin that he's astray on the briny biller." "at what time will we be able to leave?" "wal, it'll not be high tide till near one o'clock, but we can git off ef thar's a wind a leetle before midnight." "do you think the wind will hold on?" the captain raised his head, and looked at the sky; then he looked out to sea, and then he remained silent for a few minutes. "wal," said he, at last, slowly and thoughtfully, "it'll take a man with a head as long as a hoss to answer that thar. it mought hold on, an then agin it moughtn't." "at any rate, i suppose we can drift." "o, yes; an of the wind doosn't come round too strong, we can git nigh down pooty close to st. john by mornin." "we'll run down with the tide." "percisely." "well, i suppose we'll have to put the time through the best way we can, and try to be patient. only it seems hard to be delayed so much. first there was the fog, which made our search useless; and now, when there comes a bright day, when we can see where we're going, here we are tied up in quaco all day and all night." "it doos seem hard," said captain corbet, gravely, "terrible hard; an ef i owned a balloon that could rise this here vessel off the ground, an convey her through the air to her nat'ral element, i'd hev it done in five minutes, an we'd all proceed to walk the waters like things of life. but i don't happen to own a balloon, an so thar you air. "but, boys," continued the captain, in a solemn voice, elevating his venerable chin, and regarding them with a patriarchal smile,--"boys, don't begin to go on in that thar old despondent strain. methinks i hear some on you a repinin, an a frettin, cos we're stuck here hard an fast. don't do it, boys; take my advice, an don't do it. bear in mind the stirrin an memiorable events of this here mornin. see what a calamity was a threatenin us. why, i declare to you all, thar was a time when i expected to see our aged friend solomon no more in the flesh. you could not tell it by my manner, for i presarved a calm an collected dumeanour; but yet, i tell you, underneath all that icy calm an startlin good-natur of my attitood, i concealed a heart that bet with dark despair. at that moment, when we in our wanderins had reached the furthest extremity that we attained onto, i tell you my blood friz, an my har riz in horror! methought it were all up with solomon; and when i see his hat, it seemed to me jest as though i was a regardin with despairin eye his tumestun whereon war graven by no mortial hand the solemn an despairin epigram, 'hic jacet!' "so now, my friends," continued the captain, as he brushed a tear-drop from his eye, "let us conterrol our feelins. let us be calm, and hope for the best. when solomon took his departoor, an was among the missin, i thought that an evil fortin was a berroodin over us, and about to consume us. but that derream air past. solomon is onst more among the eatables. he cooks agin the mortial repast. he lives! so it will be with our young friend who has so mysteriously drifted away from our midst. cheer up, i say! them's my sentiment. he'll come to, an turn up, all alive--right side up--with care,--c. o. d.,--o. k.,--to be shaken before taken,--marked and numbered as per margin,--jest as when shipped, in good order an condition, on board the schooner antelope, corbet master, of grand pre." these words of captain corbet had a very good effect upon the boys. they had already felt very much cheered by the escape of solomon, and it seemed to them to be a good omen. if solomon had escaped, so also might tom. and, as their anxiety on solomon's account had all been dispelled by his restoration, so also might they hope that their anxiety about tom would be dispelled. true, he had been lost to them for a much longer time, and his absence was certainly surrounded by a more terrible obscurity than any which had been connected with that of solomon. yet this one favorable circumstance served to show them that all might not be so dark as they had feared. thus, therefore, they began to be more sanguine, and to hope that when they reached st. john, some tidings of the lost boy might be brought to them. solomon's exertions towards giving them a dinner were on this day crowned with greater success than had been experienced for some days past. their exertions had given them an appetite, and they were able to eat heartily for the first time since tom's departure. the rest of the day passed very slowly with them. they retired early, and slept until midnight. at that time they waked, and went on deck, when they had the extreme satisfaction of seeing the vessel get under way. a moderate breeze was blowing, which was favorable, and though the tide was not yet in their favor, yet the wind was sufficient to bear them out into the bay. then the boys all went below again, full of hope. the night passed away quietly, and without any incident whatever. they all slept soundly, and the dreams that came to them were pleasant rather than otherwise. awaking in the morning by daylight, they all hurried up on deck, and encountered there a new disappointment; for all around them they saw again the hated presence of the fog. the wind also had died away, and the vessel's sails flapped idly against her masts. "where are we now?" asked bruce, in a despondent tone. "wal," said captain corbet, "as nigh as i can reckon, we're two or three miles outside of st. john harbor." "how is the tide?" "wal, it's kine o' agin us, jest now." "there doesn't seem to be any wind." "not much." "shall we get into st. john to-day?" "wal, i kine o' think we'll manage it." "how soon?" "wal, not much afore midday. you see we're driftin away jest now." "don't you intend to anchor till the next rise of tide?" "o, yes; in about ten minutes we'd ought to be about whar i want to anchor." at this disheartening condition of affairs the boys sank once more into a state of gloom. in about ten minutes, as captain corbet said, the schooner was at anchor, and there was nothing to do but to wait. "we'll run in at turn o' tide," said he. breakfast came, and passed. the meal was eaten in silence. then they went on deck again, fretting and chafing at the long delay. not much was said, but the boys stood in silence, trying to see through the thick fog. "it was so fine when we left," said bart, "that i thought we'd have it all the way." "wal, so we did--pooty much all; but then, you see, about four this mornin we run straight into a fog bank." "has the wind changed?" "wal, thar don't seem jest now to be any wind to speak of, but it kine o' strikes me that it's somethin like southerly weather. hence this here fog." after a few hours the vessel began to get under way again; and now, too, there arose a light breeze, which favored them. as they went on they heard the long, regular blast of a steam whistle, which howled out a mournful note from time to time. together with this, they heard, occasionally, the blasts of fog horns from unseen schooners in their neighborhood, and several times they could distinguish the rush of some steamer past them, whose whistle sounded sharply in their ears. as they drew nearer, these varied sounds became louder, and at length the yell of one giant whistle sounded close beside them. "we're a enterin o' the harbure," said captain corbet. hours passed away from the time the antelope raised anchor until she reached the wharf. in passing up the harbor, the shadowy forms of vessels at anchor became distinguishable amid the gloom, and in front of them, as they neared the wharf, there arose a forest of masts belonging to schooners. it was now midday. suddenly there arose a fearful din all around. it was the shriek of a large number of steam whistles, and seemed to come up from every side. "is that for the fog?" asked bruce. "o, no," said bart; "those are the saw-mills whistling for twelve o'clock." the boys had already completed their preparations for landing, and had changed their eccentric clothing for apparel which was more suited to making their appearance in society. bart had insisted that they should go to his house, and wait until they might decide what to do; and the boys had accepted his hospitable invitation. they stepped on shore full of hope, not doubting that they would hear news of tom. they had persuaded themselves that he had been picked up by some vessel which was coming down the bay, and had probably been put ashore here; in which case they knew that he would at once communicate with bart's people. they even thought that tom would be there to receive them. "of course he will be," said bart; "if he did turn up, they'd make him stay at the house, you know; and he'd know that we fellows would come down here in the hope of hearing about him. so we'll find him there all right, after all. hurrah!" but, on reaching his home, bart's joyous meeting with his family was very much marred by the deep, dark, and bitter disappointment that awaited him and his companions. they knew nothing whatever about tom. bart's father was shocked at the story. he knew that no boy had been picked up adrift in the bay during the past week. such an event would have been known. he felt exceedingly anxious, and at once instituted a search among the coasting vessels. the search was a thorough one, but resulted in nothing. there was no one who had seen anything of a drifting boat. all reported thick fog in the bay. the result of this search plunged bart and his friends into their former gloom. other searches were made. inquiries were sent by telegraph to different places, but without result. the fate of the missing boy now became a serious question as for bart and his friends, they were inconsolable. xviii. down the bay.--drifting and anchoring.--in the dark, morally and physically.--eastport, the jumping-off place.--grand manan.--wonderful skill.--navigating in the fog.--a plunge from darkness into light, and from light into darkness. it was saturday when bart reached home. as much was done on that day as possible. bart was in the extreme of wretchedness, and so eager was he to resume the search for his friend, that his father gave his permission for him to start off again in the antelope. the other boys also were to go with him. they determined to scour the seas till they found tom, or had learned his fate. mr. damer also assured bart that he would take the matter in hand himself, and would send out two schooners to go about the bay. in addition to this, he would telegraph to different places, so that the most extensive search possible might be instituted. every part of the coast should be explored, and even the islands should be visited. all this gave as much consolation to bart and his friends as it was possible for them to feel under the circumstances. as much as possible was done on saturday, but the next day was an idle one, as far as the search was concerned. bart and the boys waited with great impatience, and finally on monday morning they left once more in the antelope. it was about five o'clock in the morning, the tide was in their favor, and, though there was a head wind, yet be fore the turn of tide they were anchored a good distance down the bay. "my idee is this," said captain corbet. "i'll explore the hull bay in search of that driftin boy. i'll go down this side, cross over, and come up on t'other. we'll go down here first, an not cross over till we get as fur as quoddy head. i think, while we air down thar, i'll call at eastport an ask a few questions. but i must say it seems a leetle too bad to have the fog go on this way. if this here had ony happened a fortnight ago, we'd have had clear weather an fair winds. it's too bad, i declar." they took advantage of the next tide to go down still farther, and by twelve o'clock on monday night they were far down. since leaving st. john they had seen nothing whatever, but they had heard occasionally the fog horns of wandering schooners, and once they had listened to the yell of a steamer's whistle. "i've allus said," remarked captain corbet, "that in navigatin this here bay, tides is more important than winds, and anchors is more important than sails. that's odd to seafarin men that ain't acquainted with these waters, but it air a oncontrovartible fact. most of the distressin casooalties that happen hereabouts occur from a ignorance of this on the part of navigators. they will pile on sail. now, in clar weather an open sea, pile it on, i say; but in waters like these, whar's the use? why, it's flyin clar in the face of providence. now look at me--do i pile on sail? not me. catch me at it! when i can git along without, why, i git. at the same time, i don't think you'll find it altogether for the good of your precious health, boys, to be a movin about here in the fog at midnight. better go below. you can't do no good a settin or a standin up here, squintin through a darkness that might be felt, an that's as thick as any felt i ever saw. so take my advice, an go below, and sleep it off." it was impossible to gainsay the truth of captain corbet's remarks, and as it was really midnight, and the darkness almost as thick as he said, the boys did go below, and managed to get to sleep in about a minute and a half after their heads touched the pillows. before they were awake on the following day the anchor was hoisted, and the antelope was on her way again. "here we air, boys," said the captain, as they came on deck, "under way--the antelope on her windin way over the mounting wave, a bereasting of the foamin biller like all possessed. i prophesy for this day a good time as long as the tide lasts." "do you think we'll get to eastport harbor with this tide?" "do i think so?--i know it. i feel it down to my butes. eastport harbure? yea! an arter that we hev all plain-sailin." "why, won't the fog last?" "i don't car for the fog. arter we get to eastport harbure we cease goin down the bay. we then cross over an steal up the other side. then it's all our own. if the fog lasts, why, the wind'll last too, an we can go up flyin, all sails set; an i'll remuve from my mind, for the time bein, any prejudyce that i have agin wind at sails." "do you intend to go ashore at eastport?" "yes, for a short time--jest to make inquiries. it will be a consolation, you know." "of course." "then i'll up sail, an away we'll go, irrewspective of tides, across the bay." by midday the captain informed them that they were in eastport harbor. "see thar," said he, as he pointed to a headland with a light-house. "that thar is the entrance. they do call this a pootyish place; but as it's this thick, you won't hev much chance to see it. don't you want to go ashore an walk about?" "not if we can help it. of course we'll have to ask after poor tom, but we haven't any curiosity." "wal, p'aps not--ony thar is people that find this a dreadful cur'ous place. it's got, as i said, a pootyish harbure; but that ain't the grand attraction. the grand attraction centres in a rock that's said to be the eastest place in the neighborin republic,--in short, as they call it, the 'jumpin-off place.' you'd better go an see it; ony you needn't jump off, unless you like." sailing up the harbor, the fog grew light enough for them to see the shore. the town lay in rather an imposing situation, on the side of a hill, which was crowned by a fort. a large number of vessels lay about at the wharves and at anchor. here they went ashore in a boat, but on making inquiries could gain no information about tom; nor could they learn anything which gave them the slightest encouragement. "we've got to wait here a while so as to devarsefy the time. suppose we go an jump off?" said the captain. the boys assented to this in a melancholy manner, and the captain led the way through the town, till at last he halted at the extreme east end. "here," said he, "you behold the last extremity of a great an mighty nation, that spreads from the atlantic to the pacific, an from the gulf of mexiky to the very identical spot that you air now a occypyin of. it air a celebrated spot, an this here air a memorable momient in your youthful lives, if you did but know it!" there was nothing very striking about this place, except the fact which captain corbet had stated. its appearance was not very imposing, yet, on the other hand, it was not without a certain wild beauty. before them spread the waters of the bay, with islands half concealed in mist; while immediately in front, a steep, rocky bank went sheer down for some thirty or forty feet to the beach below. "i suppose," said the captain, "that bein pilgrims, it air our dooty to jump; but as it looks a leetle rocky down thar, i think we'd best defer that to another opportoonity." returning to the schooner, they weighed anchor, set sail, and left the harbor. on leaving it, they did not go back the way they had come, but passed through a narrow and very picturesque channel, which led them by a much shorter route into the bay. on their left were wooded hills, and on their right a little village on the slope of a hill, upon whose crest stood a church. outside the fog lay as thick as ever, and into this they plunged. soon the monotonous gray veil of mist closed all around them. but now their progress was more satisfactory, for they were crossing the bay, and the wind was abeam. "are you going straight across to nova scotia now?" asked bart. "wal, yes; kine o' straight across," was the reply; "ony on our way we've got to call at a certain place, an contenoo our investergations." "what place is that?" "it's the island of grand manan--a place that i allers feel the greatest respect for. on that thar island is that celebrated fog mill that i told you of, whar they keep grindin night an day, in southerly weather, so as to keep up the supply of fog for old fundy. whatever we'd do without grand manan is more'n i can say." "is the island inhabited?" asked bruce. "inhabited? o, dear, yas. thar's a heap o' people thar. it's jest possible that a driftin boat might git ashore thar, an ef so we'll know pooty soon." "how far is it?" "o, ony about seven or eight mile." "we'll be there in an hour or so, then?" "wal, not so soon. you see, we've got to go round it." "around it?" "yes" "why?" "cos thar ain't any poppylation on this side, an we've got to land on t'other." "why are there no people on this side?" "cos thar ain't no harbures. the cliffs air six hundred feet high, and the hull shore runs straight on for ever so fur without a break, except two triflin coves." "how is it on the other side?" "wal, the east side ain't a bad place. the shore is easier, an thar's harbures an anchorages. thar's a place they call whale cove, whar i'm goin to land, an see if i can hear anythin. the people air ony fishers, an they ain't got much cultivation; but it's mor'en likely that a driftin boat might touch thar somewhar." the antelope pursued her course, but it was as much as three hours before she reached her destination. they dropped anchor then, and landed. the boys had already learned not to indulge too readily in hope; but when they made their inquiries, and found the same answer meeting them here which they had received in other places, they could not avoid feeling a fresh pang of disappointment and discouragement. "wal, we didn't git much good out of this place," said captain corbet. "i'm sorry that we have sech a arrand as ourn. ef it warn't for that we could spend to-night here, an to-morry i'd take you all to see the fog mill; but, as it is, i rayther think i won't linger here, but perceed on our way." "where do we go next--to nova scotia?" "wal, not jest straight across, but kine o' slantin. we head now for digby; that's about straight opposite to st. john, an it's as likely a place as any to make inquiries at." "how long will it be before we get there?" "wal, some time to-morry mornin. to-night we've got nothin at all to do but to sweep through the deep while the stormy tempests blow in the shape of a mild sou-wester; so don't you begin your usual game of settin up. you ain't a mite of good to me, nor to yourselves, a stayin here. you'd ought all to be abed, and, ef you'll take my advice, you'll go to sleep as soon as you can, an stay asleep as long as you can. it'll be a foggy night, an we won't see a mite o' sunshine till we git into digby harbure. see now, it's already dark; so take my advice, an go to bed, like civilized humane beings." it did not need much persuasion to send them off to their beds. night was coming on, another night of fog and thick darkness. this time, however, they had the consolation of making some progress, if it were any consolation when they had no definite course before them; for, in such a cruise as this, when they were roaming about from one place to another, without any fixed course, or fixed time, the progress that they made was, after all, a secondary consideration. the matter of first importance was to hear news of tom, and, until they did hear something, all other things were of little moment. the antelope continued on her way all that night, and on the next morning the boys found the weather unchanged. breakfast passed, and two or three hours went on. the boys were scattered about the decks, in a languid way, looking out over the water, when suddenly a cry from pat, who was in the bows, aroused all of them. immediately before them rose a lofty shore, covered in the distance with dark trees, but terminating at the water's edge in frowning rocks. a light-house stood here, upon which they had come so suddenly that, before they were over their first surprise, they were almost near enough to toss a biscuit ashore. "wal, now, i call that thar pooty slick sailin," exclaimed captain corbet, glancing at the lighthouse with sparkling eyes. "i tell you what it is, boys, you don't find many men in this here day an age that can leave manan at dusk, when the old fog mill is hard at work, and travel all night in the thickest fog ever seen, with tide agin him half the time, an steer through that thar fog, an agin that thar tide, so as to hit the light-house as slick as that. talk about your scientific navigation--wouldn't i like to see what one of them thar scientific captings would do with his vessel last night on sech a track as i run over! wouldn't i like to run a race with him? an ef i did, wouldn't i make a pile to leave and bequeath to the infant when his aged parient air buried beneath the cold ground?" while captain corbet was speaking, the schooner sailed past the light-house, and the thick fog closed around her once more. on one side, however, they could see the dim outline of the shore on their right. on they sailed for about a quarter of a mile, when suddenly the fog vanished, and, with scarce a moment's notice, there burst upon them a blaze of sunlight, while overhead appeared the glory of the blue sky. the suddenness of that transition forced a cry of astonishment from all. they had shot forth so quickly from the fog into the sunlight that it seemed like magic. they found themselves sailing along a strait about a mile in width, with shores on each side that were as high as blomidon. on the right the heights sloped up steep, and were covered with trees of rich dark verdure, while on the other side the slope was bolder and wilder. houses appeared upon the shore, and roads, and cultivated trees. this strait was several miles in length, and led into a broad and magnificent basin. here, in this basin, appeared an enchanting view. a sheet of water extended before their eyes about sixteen miles in length and five in breadth. all around were lofty shores, fertile, well tilled, covered with verdurous trees and luxuriant vegetation. the green of the shores was dotted with white houses, while the blue of the water was flecked with snowy sails. immediately on the right there appeared a circular sweep of shore, on which arose a village whose houses were intermingled with green trees. into this beautiful basin came the old french navigators more than two centuries ago, and at its head they found a place which seemed to them the best spot in acadie to become the capital of the new colony which they were going to found here. so they established their little town, and these placid waters became the scene of commercial activity and of warlike enterprise, till generations passed away, and the little french town of port royal, after many strange vicissitudes, with its wonderful basin, remained in the possession of the english conqueror. "now," said captain corbet, "boys, look round on that thar, an tell me of you ever see a beautifuller place than this. thar's ony one place that can be compared with this here, an that's grand pre. but for the life o' me, i never can tell which o' the two is the pootiest. it's strange, too, how them french fellers managed to pick out the best places in the hull province. but it shows their taste an judgment--it doos, railly." it was not long before the antelope had dropped anchor in front of the town of digby, and captain corbet landed with the boys as soon as possible. there was as good a chance of tom being heard of here as anywhere; since this place lay down the bay, in one sense, and if by any chance tom had drifted over to the nova scotia shore, as now seemed probable, he would be not unlikely to go to digby, so as to resume his journey, so rudely interrupted, and make his way thence to his friends. digby is a quiet little place, that was finished long ago. it was first settled by the tory refugees, who came here after the revolutionary war, and received land grants from the british government. at first it had some activity, but its business soon languished. the first settlers had such bright hopes of its future that they regularly laid out a town, with streets and squares. but these have never been used to any extent, and now appear grown over with grass. digby, however, has so much beauty of scenery around it, that it may yet attract a large population. on landing here, captain corbet pursued the same course as at other places. he went first to one of the principal shops, or the post office, and told his story, and afterwards went to the schooners at the wharves. but at digby there was precisely the same result to their inquiries as there had been at other places. no news had come to the place of any one adrift, nor had any skipper of any schooner noticed anything of the kind during his last trip. "what had we better do next?" "wal," said captain corbet, "we can ony finish our cruise." "shall we go on?" "yes." "up the bay?" "yes. i'll keep on past ile haute, an i'll cruise around minas. you see these drifts may take him in a'most any direction. i don't see why he shouldn't hev drifted up thar as well as down here." it was wednesday when they reached digby. on the evening of that day the antelope weighed anchor, and sailed out into the bay of fundy. it was bright sunshine, with a perfectly cloudless sky inside, but outside the antelope plunged into the midst of a dense and heavy fog. xix. tom's devices.--rising superior to circumstances.--roast clams.--baked lobster.--boiled mussels.--boiled shrimps.--roast eggs.--dandelions.--ditto, with eggs.--roast dulse.--strawberries.--pilot-bread.--strawberry cordial. meanwhile another day had passed away on ile haute. when we last saw tom he had succeeded in finding some clams, which he roasted in front of his fire, and made thus a very acceptable relish. this not only gratified his palate for the time, but it also stimulated him to fresh exertions, since it showed him that his resources were much more extensive than he had supposed them to be. if he had ever dreaded getting out of all his provisions, he saw now that the fear was an unfounded one. here, before his eyes, and close beside his dwelling-place, there extended a broad field full of food. in that mud flat there were clams enough to feed him for all the rest of his life, if that were necessary. but what was more, he saw by this the possibility that other articles of food might be reckoned on, by means of which he would be able to relieve his diet from that monotony which had thus far been its chief characteristic. if he could find something else besides clams and biscuit, the tedium of his existence here would be alleviated to a still greater degree. he spent some time in considering this subject, and in thinking over all the possible kinds of food which he might hope to obtain. sea and land might both be relied on to furnish food for his table in the desert. the sea, he knew, ought to supply the following:-- . clams, . lobsters, . mussels, in addition to other things which he had in his mind. the land, on the other hand, ought to furnish something. now that his attention was fairly directed to this important subject, he could think of several things which would be likely to be found even on this island, and the search for which would afford an agreeable amusement. the more he thought of all this, the more astonished he was at the number of things which he could think of as being likely to exist here around him. it was not so much for the sake of gratifying his appetite, as to find some occupation, that he now entered eagerly upon putting this new project into execution. fish, flesh, and fowl now offered themselves to his endeavors, and these were to be supplied by land, sea, and sky. this sudden enlargement of his resources, and also of his sphere of operations, caused him to feel additional satisfaction, together with a natural self-complacency. to the ordinary mind ile haute appeared utterly deserted and forlorn--a place where one might starve to death, if he had to remain for any length of time; but tom now determined to test to the utmost the actual resources of the island, so as to prove, to himself what one unaided boy could do, when thus thrown upon his own intelligent efforts, with dire necessity to act as a stimulus to his ingenuity. first of all, then, there was his box of biscuit, which he had brought with him. to this must be added his first discovery on the island, namely, the clams. nothing could be of greater importance than this, since it afforded not merely a relish, but also actual food. the next thing that he sought after was lobsters, and he went off in search of these as soon as he could on the following day. he waited till the tide was low, which was at about twelve o'clock, and then went down along the beach. at high tide, the water came close up to the foot of the lofty cliff; but at ebb, it descended for some distance, so that there was some sort of a beach even in places that did not promise any. the beach nearest to where tom had taken up his abode was an expanse of mud and sand; but passing along beyond this, on the north side, it became gravelly. about a hundred yards to the west, on this side of the island, he came to the place where he had tied his boat, on that eventful time when he had drifted here. below this, the beach extended down for a long distance, and at the lowest point there were rocks, and sharp stones, and pebbles of every size. here tom began his search, and before he had looked five minutes, he found several lobsters of good size. a little farther search showed him that there was a large supply of these, so that, in fact, sufficient support might have been obtained for a whole ship's company. by the time that he had found a half dozen of these, and had brought them back to his hearth-stone, it had grown too dark to search for any more. tom's search, however, had been so successful, that he felt quite satisfied; and though the day had passed without any change in the weather or any lifting of the fog, though he had listened in vain for any sound over the waters which might tell of passers by, though his signal had not been seen, and his bright burning fire had not been noticed, yet the occupation of thought and of action which he had found for himself, had been sufficient to make the time pass not unpleasantly. his evening repast was now a decided improvement on that of the preceding day. first of all, he spread some clams in the hot ashes to roast; and then, taking the dipper which had been used for baling, he filled it with water, and placing this on the fire, it soon began to boil. into this he thrust the smallest lobster, and watched it as the water bubbled around it, and its scaly covering turned slowly from its original dark hue to a bright red color. his success thus far stimulated him to make some attempts at actual cookery. removing some of the lobster from its shell, he poured out most of the water from the pan, and into what remained he again put the lobster, cutting it up as fine as he could with his knife. into this he crumbled some biscuit, and stirred it up all together. he then placed it over the fire till it was well baked. on removing it and tasting it, he found it most palatable. it was already sufficiently salt, and only needed a little pepper to make it quite equal to any scolloped lobster that he had ever tasted. his repast consisted of this, followed by the roast clams, which formed an agreeable variety. tom now felt like a giant refreshed; and while sitting in front of the evening fire, he occupied his mind with plans for the morrow, which were all directed towards enlarging his supply of provisions. he awaked late on the next morning, and found the weather unchanged. he tried to quell his impatience and disappointment, and feeling that idleness would never do, he determined to go to work at once, and carry out the plans of the preceding day. it was now thursday, the middle of the second week, and the fog had clung pertinaciously around him almost all that time. it was indeed disheartening, and idleness under such circumstances would have ended in misery and despair; but tom's perseverance, and obstinate courage, and buoyant spirits enabled him still to rise above circumstances, and struggle with the gloom around him. "o, go on, go on," he muttered, looking around upon the fog. "let's see who can stand it longest. and now for my foraging expedition." making a hearty repast out of the remnants of the supper of the preceding evening, he went first to the shore, so as to complete his search there while the tide should be low. it was going down now, and the beach was all before him. he wandered on till he came to where there was an immense ledge of sharp rocks, that went from the foot of the precipice down into the bay. over these he clambered, looking carefully around, until at last he reached the very lowest point. here he soon found some articles of diet, which were quite as valuable in their way as the clams and lobsters. first of all, he found an immense quantity of large mussels. these were entangled among the thick masses of sea-weed. he knew that the flavor of mussels was much more delicate than that of clams or lobsters, and that by many connoisseurs these, when good and fresh, were ranked next to oysters. this discovery, therefore, gave him great joy, and he filled his pan, which he had carried down, and took them back to the shore. he also took an armful of sea-weed, and, reaching his camping-place, he threw the mussels in a hollow place in the sand, placing the sea-weed around them. in this way he knew that they would keep fresh and sweet for any reasonable length of time. returning to the ledges of rock, he walked about among them, and found a number of pools, some of which were of considerable size. these had been left by the retreating water; and in these hollows he soon saw a number of small objects moving about. some of them he caught without much difficulty, and saw that they were shrimps. he had hoped to find some of these, but the discovery came to him like some unexpected pleasure, and seemed more than he had any right to count on. beside the shrimps his other discoveries seemed inferior. there was a large number, and they could be caught without much trouble. he soon filled his pan, and brought these also to his camping-place. these he deposited in a little pool, which was on the surface of some rocks that lay not far from the shore. over these he also laid some sea-weed. the tide was now coming up, but tom made a further journey to the beach, so as to secure something which he had noticed during his previous expedition. this was a marine plant called dulse, which, in these waters, grows very plentifully, and is gathered and dried by the people in large quantities. it was a substance of which tom was very fond, and he determined to gather some, and dry it in the sun. collecting an armful of this, he took it to the shore, and spread it out over the grass, though, in that damp and foggy atmosphere, there was not much prospect of its drying. it was now about three o'clock in the afternoon, and tom's researches along the shore were successfully terminated. he had found all the different articles that he had thought of and his new acquisitions were now lying about him. these were,-- clams, lobsters, mussels, shrimps, dulse. as he murmured to himself the list of things, he smiled triumphantly. but still there was work to be done. tom intended to keep fashionable hours, and dine late, with only a lunch in the middle of the day. his explorations of the afternoon were to be important, and he hoped that they would be crowned with a portion of that success which had attended the work of the morning. he took, therefore, a hasty lunch of biscuit and cold lobster, washed down with water, and then set forth. this time he turned away from the shore, and went to the top of the island. he carried in his hand a bit of rope, about a dozen feet in length, and went along the edge of the cliff as far as he could, turning aside at times to avoid any clumps of trees or bushes that grew too thickly. in front of him the line of cliff extended for some distance, and he walked along, until, at last, he came to a place where the gulls flew about in larger flocks than usual, almost on a line with the top of the rock. he had not noticed them particularly on his former walk along here; but now he watched them very attentively, and finally stood still, so as to see their actions to better advantage. tom, in fact, had made up his mind to procure some gulls' eggs, thinking that these would make an addition to his repast of great importance; and he now watched the motions of these birds, so as to detect the most accessible of their nests. he did not have to watch long. a little observation showed him a place, just under the cliff, not far away from him. hastening forward, he bent over, and, looking down, he saw a large number of nests. they had been constructed on a shelf of rock immediately below the edge of the cliff, and the eggs were within easy reach. the gulls flew about wildly, as the intruder reached down his hands towards their nests, and screamed and shrieked, while some of them rushed towards him, within a few feet of his head, as though they would assail him and beat him off. but tom's determination did not falter. he cared no more for the gulls than if they were so many pigeons, but secured as many eggs as he could carry. these he took with him back to his camp. but he was not yet satisfied. he was anxious to have some vegetables; and over the open ground, among the grass, he had seen plants which were very familiar to him. there were dandelions; and tom saw in them something that seemed worth more than any of his other acquisitions. going forth in search of these, he managed to get his pan full of them. these he washed, and after cutting off the roots, he put them in the pan with water, and then set them over the fire to boil. while they were boiling tom went off once more, and found some wild strawberries. they were quite plentiful about here, and this was the season for them. he stripped a piece of bark from a birch tree, as the country people do, and formed from this a dish which would hold about a quart. this he filled after a moderate search. he took the strawberries to his camp, and then, going back to the woods, he procured some more birch bark, out of which he made a half dozen dishes. it was now about five o'clock, and tom thought it was time for him to begin to cook his dinner. the dandelions were not quite cooked as yet; so tom had to wait; but while doing so, he heated some stones in the fire. by the time they were heated, the dandelions were cooked; and tom, removing the pan, put some shrimps and mussels in it, to boil over the fire. he then removed the stones, and placed one of the lobsters among them in such a way, that it was surrounded on every side in a hot oven. he then buried a few clams among the hot ashes, and did the same with three or four of the gulls' eggs. one of the hot stones was reserved for another purpose. it was the largest of them, and was red hot when he drew it from the fire, but soon cooled down enough to resume its natural color, although it retained an intense heat. over this he spread some of the wet dulse, which soon crackled and shrivelled up, sending forth a rich and fragrant steam. in roasting this dulse, a large piece would shrink to very small proportions, so that half of tom's armful, when thus roasted, was reduced to but a small handful. after finishing this, he drew the gulls' eggs from the fire, and taking off the shells, he cut them in slices, and put them with the dandelions. then he took the shrimps and mussels from the fire, and removing them from the pan, he separated them, and put them into different bark dishes. the clams were next drawn forth, and though rather overdone, they were, nevertheless, of tempting appearance and appetizing odor. finally, the lobster was removed, and tom contented himself with one of the claws, which he placed on a dish, reserving the remainder for another time. and now the articles were all cooked, and tom's repast was ready. he looked with a smile of gratification upon the various dishes which his ingenuity and industry had drawn forth from the rocks, and cliffs, and mud, and sand of a desert island, and wondered whether other islands, in tropical climates, could yield a more varied or more nutritious supply. he thought of other plants which might be found here, and determined to try some that seemed to be nutritious. here is the repast which tom, on that occasion, spread before himself:-- . roast clams, . baked lobster, . boiled mussels, . boiled shrimps, . roast eggs, . dandelions, . dandelions with eggs, . roast dulse, . strawberries, . pilot-bread. in one thing only did tom fall short of his wishes, and that was in the way of drinks. but before that dinner was finished, even this was remedied; for necessity, the great mother of invention, instigated tom to squeeze about half of his strawberries into a little water. out of this he formed a drink with a flavor that seemed to him to be quite delicious. and that made what tom called,-- . strawberry cordial. xx. new discoveries.--the boat.--a great swell.--meditations and plans.--a new, and wonderful, and before unheard-of application of spruce gum.--i'm afloat! i'm afloat! tom sat there over his banquet until late. he then went down to the beach, and brought up a vast collection of driftwood, and throwing a plenteous supply upon the fire, he lay down beside it, and looked out over the water, trying, as usual, to see something through the thick mist. the flames shot up with a crackle and a great blaze, and the bright light shone brilliantly upon the water. the tide was now up, and the boat was full before him. tom fixed his eyes upon this boat, and was mournfully recalling his unsuccessful experiment at making her sea-worthy, and was waiting to see her sink down to her gunwales as she filled, when the thought occurred to him that she was not filling so rapidly as she might, but was floating much better than usual. a steady observation served to show him that this was no fancy, but an actual fact; and the confirmation of this first impression at once drove away all other thoughts, and brought back all the ideas of escape which he once had cherished. the boat was admitting the water, certainly, yet she certainly did not leak quite so badly as before, but was floating far better than she had done on the night of his trial. what was the meaning of this? now, the fact is, he had not noticed the boat particularly during the last few days. he had given it up so completely, that it ceased to have any interest in his eyes. raising his signal, building his house, and exploring the island had taken up all his thoughts. latterly he had thought of nothing but his dinner. but now the change in the boat was unmistakable, and it seemed to him that the change might have been going on gradually all this time without his noticing it until it had become so marked. what was the cause of this change? that was the question which he now sought to answer. after some thought he found a satisfactory explanation. for a number of days the boat had been admitting the water till she was full. this water had remained in for an hour or more, and this process of filling and emptying had been repeated every tide. the atmosphere also had been wet, and the wood, thus saturated with water so frequently, had no chance of getting dry. tom thought, therefore, that the wooden framework, which he had constructed so as to tighten the leak, had been gradually swelling from the action of the water; and the planks of the boat had been tightening their cracks from the same cause, so that now the opening was not nearly so bad as it had been. thus the boat, which once had been able to float him for a quarter of an hour or more, ought now to be able to float him for at least double that time. tom watched the boat very attentively while the tide was up; and, when at length it began to retreat, and leave it once more aground, he noticed that it was not more than half full of water. if any confirmation had been needed to the conclusions which he had drawn from seeing the improved buoyancy of the boat, it would have been afforded by this. tom accepted this with delight, as an additional circumstance in his favor; and now, having become convinced of this much, he set his wits to work to see if some plan could not be hit upon by means of which the boat could once more be made sea-worthy. tom's indefatigable perseverance must have been noticed by this time. to make the best of circumstances; to stand face to face with misfortune, and shrink not; to meet the worst with equanimity, and grasp eagerly at the slightest favorable change,--such was the character that tom had shown during his experience of the past. now, once more, he grasped at this slight circumstance that appeared to favor his hopes, and sought to find some way by which that half-floating boat could be made to float wholly, and bear him away to those shores that were so near by. too long had he been submitting to this imprisonment; too long had he been waiting for schooners to pass and to bring him help; too long had he been shut in by a fog that seemed destined never to lift so long as he was here. if he could only form some kind of a boat that would float long enough to land him on the nearest coast, all that he wished would be gratified. as he thought over this subject, he saw plainly what he had felt very strongly before--that the boat could not be sea-worthy unless he had some tar with which to plaster over the broken bow, and fill in the gaping seams; but there was no tar. still, did it follow that there was nothing else? might not something be found upon the island which would serve the purpose of tar? there must be some such substance and perhaps it might be found here. tom now thought over all the substances that he could bring before his mind. would clay do? no; clay would not. would putty? no, and besides, he could not get any. what, then, would serve this important purpose? tar was produced from trees. were there no trees here that produced some sticky and glutinous substance like tar? there was the resin of pine trees, but there were no pines on the island. what then? these fir trees had a sort of sticky, balsamic juice that exuded plentifully from them wherever they were cut. might he not make some use of that? suddenly, in the midst of reflections like these, he thought of the gum that is found on spruce trees--spruce gum! it was an idea that deserved to be followed up and carried out. thus far he had never thought of spruce gum, except as something which he, like most boys, was fond of chewing; but now it appeared before his mind as affording a possible solution of his difficulty. the more he thought of it, the more did it seem that this would be adapted to his purpose. the only question was, whether he could obtain enough of it. he thought that he might easily obtain enough if he only took the proper time and care. with this new plan in his mind, tom retired for the night, and awaked the next morning by the dawn of day. it was still foggy; but he was now so resigned, and was so full of his new plan, that it did not trouble him in the slightest degree. in fact, he was so anxious to try this, that the sight of a boat landing on the beach, all ready to take him off, would not have afforded him an unmixed satisfaction. he took his tin dipper, and went up at once into the woods. here he looked around very carefully, and soon found what he wanted. he knew perfectly well, of course, how to distinguish spruce trees from fir, by the sharp, prickly spires of the former, and so he was never at a loss which trees to search. no sooner had he begun, than he was surprised at the quantities that he found. to an ordinary observer the trunk of the spruce tree seems like any other tree trunk--no rougher, and perhaps somewhat smoother than many; but tom now found that on every tree almost there were little round excrescences, which, on being picked at with the knife, came off readily, and proved to be gum. vast quantities of a substance which goes by the name of spruce gum are manufactured and sold; but the pure gum is a very different article, having a rich, balsamic odor, and a delicate yet delicious flavor; and tom, as he filled his pan, and inhaled the fragrance that was emitted by its contents, lamented that his necessities compelled him to use it for such a purpose as that to which this was destined. after four or five hours' work, he found that he had gathered enough. he had filled his pan no less than six times, and had secured a supply which was amply sufficient to give a coating of thick gum over all the fractured place. the tide, which had already risen, was now falling, and, as soon as the boat was aground, and the water out of her, tom proceeded to raise her bows, in precisely the same manner as he had raised the boat on a former occasion. the next thing was to bring the gum into a fit condition for use. this he did by kindling the fire, and melting it in his tin pan. this would rather interfere with the use of that article as a cooking utensil, but now that tom's mind was full of this new purpose, cooking and things of that sort had lost all attractions for him. as for food, there was no fear about that. he had his biscuit, and the lobster and shell-fish which he had cooked on the preceding day were but partially consumed. enough remained to supply many more meals. the gum soon melted, and then a brush was needed to apply it to the boat. this was procured by cutting off a little strip of canvas, about a yard long and six inches wide. by picking out some of the threads, and rolling it up, a very serviceable brush was formed. taking the gum now in its melted state, tom dipped his brush into it, and applied it all over the broken surface of the bow, pressing the hot liquid in close, and allowing it to harden in the cracks. his first coating of gum was very satisfactorily applied, and it seemed as though a few more coatings ought to secure the boat from the entrance of the water. the gum was tenacious, and its only bad quality was its brittleness; but, as it would not be exposed to the blows of any hard substances, it seemed quite able to serve tom's wants. tom now went down to the drift-wood and brought up a fresh supply of fuel, after which he melted a second panful of gum, and applied this to the boat. he endeavored to secure an entrance for it into all the cracks that did not seem to be sufficiently filled at the first application, and now had the satisfaction of seeing all of those deep marks filled up and effaced by the gum. one place still remained which had not yet been made secure against the entrance of the water, and that was where the planks gaped open from the blow that had crushed in the bows. here the canvas that was inside protruded slightly. torn ripped up some of the canvas that was on the tent, and taking the threads, stuffed them in the opening, mixing them with gum as he did so, until it was filled; and then over this he put a coating of the gum. after this another pan, and yet another, were melted, and the hot gum each time was applied. this gave the whole surface a smooth appearance, that promised to be impenetrable to the water. the gum which he had collected was enough to fill two more pans. this he melted as before, and applied to the bows. each new application clung to the one that had preceded it, in a thick and quickly hardening layer, until at last, when the work was done, there appeared a coating of this gum formed from six successive layers, that was smooth, and hard, and without any crack whatever. it seemed absolutely water-tight; and tom, as he looked at it now, could not imagine where the water could penetrate. yet, in order to make assurance doubly sure, he collected two more panfuls, and melting this he applied it as before. after this was over, he made a torch of birch bark, and lighting this, he held the flame against the gum till the whole outer surface began to melt and run together. this served to secure any crevices that his brush might have passed by without properly filling. the work was now complete as far as tom could do it; and on examining it, he regretted that he had not thought of this before. he felt an exultation that he had never known in his life. if he, by his own efforts, could thus rescue himself, what a cause it would be always after to struggle against misfortune, and rise superior to circumstances! as to the voyage, tom's plan was the same that it had been on a former occasion. he would float the boat at high tide, and then push off, keeping her near the shore, yet afloat until ebb tide. then, when the tide should turn, and the current run up the bay, he would put off, and float along with the stream until he reached land. according to his calculations it would be high tide about two hours after dark, which would be some time after ten. he would have to be up all night; for the tide would not turn until after four in the morning. but that did not trouble him. he would have too much on his mind to allow him to feel sleepy, and, besides, the hope which lay before him would prevent him from feeling fatigue. one thing more remained, and that was, to bring up a fresh supply of fuel. the night would be dark, and while floating in the boat, he would need the light of the fire. so he brought up from the beach an ample supply of drift-wood, and laid it with the rest. when tom's work was ended, it was late in the day, and he determined to secure some sleep before he began his long night's work. he knew that he could waken at the right time; so he laid himself down in his tent, and soon slept the sleep of the weary. by ten o'clock he was awake. he found the water already up to the boat. there was no time to lose. he carried his box of biscuit on board, and filled his pan with water from the brook, so as to secure himself against thirst in case the boat should float away farther than he anticipated. then he took his paddle, and got into the boat. the water came up higher. most anxiously tom watched it as it rose. the fire was burning low, and in order to make more light, tom went ashore and heaped an immense quantity of wood upon it. the flames now blazed up bright, and on going back again to the boat, the water was plainly visible as it closed around the bows. most anxiously he now awaited, with his eyes fastened upon the bottom of the boat. he had not brought the old sail this time, but left it over his tent, and he could see plainly. higher came the water, and still higher, yet none came into the boat, and tom could scarce believe in his good fortune. at last the boat floated! yes, the crisis had come and passed, and the boat floated! there was now no longer any doubt. his work was successful; his deliverance was sure. the way over the waters was open. farewell to his island prison! welcome once more the great world! welcome home, and friends, and happiness! in that moment of joy his heart seemed almost ready to burst. it was with difficulty that he calmed himself; and then, offering up a prayer of thanksgiving, he pushed off from the shore. the boat floated! the tide rose, and lingered, and fell. the boat floated still. there was not the slightest sign of a leak. every hour, as it passed, served to give tom a greater assurance that the boat was sea-worthy. he found no difficulty in keeping her afloat, even while retaining her near the shore, so that she might be out of the way of the currents. at length, when the tide was about half way down, he found the fire burning too low, and determined to go ashore and replenish it. a rock jutted above the water not far off. to this he secured the boat, and then landing, he walked up the beach. reaching the fire, he threw upon it all the remaining wood. returning then to the boat, he boarded her without difficulty. the tide fell lower and lower. and now tom found it more and more difficult to keep the boat afloat, without allowing her to be caught by the current. he did not dare to keep her bows near the shore, but turned her about, so that her stem should rest from time to time on the gravel. at last the tide was so low that rocks appeared above the surface, and the boat occasionally struck them in a very unpleasant manner. to stay so near the shore any longer was not possible. a slight blow against a rock might rub off all the brittle gum, and then his chances would be destroyed. he determined to put out farther, and trust himself to providence. slowly and cautiously he let his boat move out into deeper water. but slowness and caution were of little avail. in the deeper water there was a strong current, which at once caught the boat and bore her along. tom struggled bravely against it, but without avail. he thought for a moment of seeking the shore again, but the fear that the boat would be ruined deterred him. there was a little wind blowing from the southwest, and he determined to trust to the sail. he loosened this, and, sitting down, waited for further developments. the wind filled the sail, and the boat's progress was checked somewhat, yet still she drifted down the bay. she was drifting down past the north shore of the island. tom could see, amid the gloom, the frowning cliffs as he drifted past. the firelight was lost to view; then he looked for some time upon the dark form of the island. at last even that was lost to view. he was drifting down the bay, and was already below ile haute. xxi. scott's bay and old bennie.--his two theories.--off to the desert island.--landing.--a picnic ground.--gloom and despair of the explorers.--all over.--sudden summons. it was on wednesday evening that the antelope passed from the sunshine and beauty of digby basin out into the fog and darkness of the bay of fundy. the tide was falling, and, though the wind was in their favor, yet their progress was somewhat slow. but the fact that they were moving was of itself a consolation. in spite of captain corbet's declared preference for tides and anchors, and professed contempt for wind and sails, the boys looked upon these last as of chief importance, and preferred a slow progress with the wind to even a more rapid one by means of so unsatisfactory a method of travel as drifting. at about nine on the following morning, the antelope reached a little place called wilmot landing, where they went on shore and made the usual inquiries with the usual result. embarking again, they sailed on for the remainder of that day, and stopped at one or two places along the coast. on the next morning (friday) they dropped anchor in front of hall's harbor--a little place whose name had become familiar to them during their memorable excursion to blomidon. here they met with the same discouraging answer to their question. "wal," said captain corbet, "we don't seem to meet with much success to speak of--do we?" "no," said bart, gloomily. "i suppose your pa'll be sendin schooners over this here same ground. 'tain't no use, though." "where shall we go next?" "wal, we've ben over the hull bay mostly; but thar's one place, yet, an that we'll go to next." "what place is that?" "scott's bay. "my idee is this," continued captain corbet: "we'll finish our tower of inspection round the bay of fundy at scott's bay. thar won't be nothin more to do; thar won't remain one single settlement but what we've called at, 'cept one or two triflin places of no 'count. so, after scott's bay, my idee is to go right straight off to old minas. who knows but what he's got on thar somewhar?" "i don't see much chance of that." "why not?" "because, if he had drifted into the straits of minas, he'd manage to get ashore." "i don't see that." "why, it's so narrow." "narrer? o, it's wider'n you think for; besides, ef he got stuck into the middle of that thar curn't, how's he to get to the shore? an him without any oars? answer me that. no, sir; the boat that'll drift down petticoat jack into the bay, without gettin ashore, 'll drift up them straits into minas jest the same." "well, there does seem something in that. i didn't think of his drifting down the petitcodiac." "somethin? bless your heart! ain't that everythin?" "but do you think there's really a chance yet?" "a chance? course thar is. while thar's life thar's hope." "but how could he live so long?" "why shouldn't he?" "he might starve." "not he. didn't he carry off my box o' biscuit?" "think of this fog." "o, fog ain't much. it's snow an cold that tries a man. he's tough, too." "but he's been so exposed." "exposed? what to? not he. didn't he go an carry off that ole sail?" "i cannot help thinking that it's all over with him?" "don't give him up; keep up; cheer up. think how we got hold of ole solomon after givin him up. i tell you that thar was a good sign." "he's been gone too long. why, it's going on a fortnight?" "wal, what o' that ef he's goin to turn up all right in the end? i tell you he's somewhar. ef he ain't in the bay of fundy, he may be driftin off the coast o' maine, an picked up long ago, an on his way home now per steamer." bart shook his head, and turned away in deep despondency, in which feeling all the other boys joined him. they had but little hope now. the time that had elapsed seemed to be too long, and their disappointments had been too many. the sadness which they had felt all along was now deeper than ever, and they looked forward without a ray of hope. on friday evening they landed at scott's bay, and, as old bennie griggs's house was nearest, they went there. they found both the old people at home, and were received with an outburst of welcome. captain corbet was an old acquaintance, and made himself at home at once. soon his errand was announced. bennie had the usual answer, and that was, that nothing whatever had been heard of any drifting boat. but he listened with intense interest to captain corbet's story, and made him tell it over and over again, down to the smallest particular. he also questioned all the boys very closely. after the questioning was over, he sat in silence for a long time. at last he looked keenly at captain corbet. "he's not ben heard tell of for about twelve days?" "no." "an it's ben ony moderate weather?" "ony moderate, but foggy." "o, of course. wal, in my 'pinion, fust an foremust, he ain't likely to hev gone down." "that thar's jest what i say." "an he had them biscuit?" "yes--a hull box." "an the sail for shelter?" "yes." "wal; it's queer. he can't hev got down by the state o' maine; for, ef he'd got thar, he'd hev sent word home before this." "course he would." old bennie thought over this for a long time again, and the boys watched him closely, as though some result of vital importance hung upon his final decision. "wal," said bennie at last, "s'posin that he's alive,--an it's very likely,--thar's ony two ways to account for his onnat'ral silence. them air these:-- "fust, he may hev got picked up by a timber ship, outward bound to the old country. in that case he may be carried the hull way acrost. i've knowed one or two sech cases, an hev heerd of severial more. "second. he may hev drifted onto a oninhabited island." "an oninhabited island?" repeated captain corbet. "yea." "wal," said captain corbet; after a pause, "i've knowed things stranger than that." "so hev i." "air thar any isle of the ocean in particular that you happen to hev in your mind's eye now?" "thar air." "which?" "ile haute." "wal, now, railly, i declar--ef i wan't thinkin o' that very spot myself. an i war thinkin, as i war a comin up the bay, that that thar isle of the ocean was about the only spot belongin to this here bay that hadn't been heerd from. an it ain't onlikely that them shores could a tale onfold that mought astonish some on us. i shouldn't wonder a mite." "nor me," said bennie, gravely. "it's either a timber ship, or a desert island, as you say,--that's sartin," said captain corbet, after further thought, speaking with strong emphasis. "thar ain't a mite o' doubt about it; an which o' them it is air a very even question. for my part, i'd as soon bet on one as t'other." "i've heerd tell o' several seafarin men that's got adrift, an lit on that thar isle," said bennie, solemnly. "wal, so hev i; an though our lad went all the way from petticoat jack, yet the currents in thar wandorins to an fro could effectooate that thar pooty mighty quick, an in the course of two or three days it could land him high an dry on them thar sequestrated shores." "do you think there is any chance of it?" asked bruce, eagerly, directing his question to bennie. "do i think? why, sartin," said bennie, regarding bruce's anxious face with a calm smile. "hain't i ben a expoundin to you the actool facts?" "well, then," cried bart, starting to his feet, "let's go at once." "let's what?" asked captain corbet. "why, hurry off at once, and get to him as soon as we can." "an pray, young sir, how could we get to him by leavin here jest now?" "can't we go straight to ile haute?" "scacely. the tide'll be agin us, an the wind too, till nigh eleven." bart gave a deep sigh. "but don't be alarmed. we'll go thar next, an as soon as we can. you see we've got to go on into minas basin. now we want to leave here so as to drop down with the tide, an then drop up with the flood tide into minas bay. i've about concluded to wait here till about three in the mornin. we'll drop down to the island in about a couple of hours, and'll hev time to run ashore, look round, and catch the flood tide." "well, you know best," said bart, sadly. "i think that's the only true an rational idee," said bennie. "i do, railly; an meantime you can all get beds here with me, an you can hev a good bit o' sleep before startin." this conversation took place not long after their arrival. the company were sitting in the big old kitchen, and mrs. bennie was spreading her most generous repast on the table. after a bounteous supper the two old men talked over the situation until bedtime. they told many stories about drifting boats and rafts, compared notes about the direction of certain currents, and argued about the best course to pursue under certain very difficult circumstances, such, for example, as a thick snow-storm, midnight, a heavy sea, and a strong current setting upon a lee shore, the ship's anchor being broken also. it was generally considered that the situation was likely to be unpleasant. at ten o'clock bennie hurried his guests to their beds, where they slept soundly in spite of their anxiety. before three in the morning he awaked them, and they were soon ready to reembark. it was dim morning twilight as they bade adieu to their hospitable entertainers, and but little could be seen. captain corbet raised his head, and peered into the sky above, and sniffed the sea air. "wal, railly," said he, "i do declar ef it don't railly seem as ef it railly is a change o' weather--it railly doos. why, ain't this rich? we're ben favored at last. we're agoin to hev a clar day. hooray!" the boys could not make out whether the captain's words were justified or not by the facts, but thought that they detected in the air rather the fragrance of the land than the savor of the salt sea. there was no wind, however, and they could not see far enough out on the water to know whether there was any fog or not. bennie accompanied them to the boat, and urged them to come back if they found the boys and let him rest in scott's bay. but the fate of that boy was so uncertain, that they could not make any promise about it. it was a little after three when the antelope weighed anchor, and dropped down the bay. there was no wind whatever. it was the tide only that carried them down to their destination. soon it began to grow lighter, and by the time that they were half way, they saw before them the dark outline of the island, as it rose from the black water with its frowning cliffs. the boys looked at it in silence. it seemed, indeed, a hopeless place to search in for signs of poor tom. how could he ever get ashore in such a place as this, so far out of the line of his drift; or if he had gone ashore there, how could he have lived till now? such were the gloomy and despondent thoughts that filled the minds of all, as they saw the vessel drawing nearer and still nearer to those frowning cliffs. as they went on the wind grew stronger, and they found that it was their old friend--the sou-wester. the light increased, and they saw a fog cloud on the horizon, a little beyond ile haute. captain corbet would not acknowledge that he had been mistaken in his impressions about a change of weather, but assured the boys that this was only the last gasp of the sou-wester, and that a change was bound to take place before evening. but though the fog was visible below ile haute, it did not seem to come any nearer, and at length the schooner approached the island, and dropped anchor. it was about half past four in the morning, and the light of day was beginning to be diffused around, when they reached their destination. as it was low tide, they could not approach very near, but kept well off the precipitous shores on the south side of the island. in the course of her drift, while letting go the anchor, she went off to a point about half way down, opposite the shore. scarce had her anchor touched bottom, than the impatient boys were all in the boat, calling on captain corbet to come along. the captain and wade took the oars. it was a long pull to the shore, and, when they reached it, the tide was so low that there remained a long walk over the beach. they had landed about half way down the island, and, as they directed their steps to the open ground at the east end, they had a much greater distance to traverse than they had anticipated. as they walked on, they did not speak a word. but already they began to doubt whether there was any hope left. they had been bitterly disappointed as they came near and saw no sign of life. they had half expected to see some figure on the beach waiting to receive them. but there was no figure and no shout of joy. at length, as they drew nearer to the east end, and the light grew brighter, bart, who was in advance, gave a shout. they all hurried forward. bart was pointing towards something. it was a signal-staff, with something that looked like a flag hoisted half mast high. every heart beat faster, and at once the wildest hopes arose. they hurried on over the rough beach as fast as possible. they clambered over rocks, and sea-weed, and drift-wood, and at length reached the bank. and still, as they drew nearer, the signal-staff rose before them, and the flag at half mast became more and more visible. rushing up the bank towards this place, each trying to outstrip the others, they hurried forward, full of hope now that some signs of tom might be here. at length they reached the place where tom had been so long, and here their steps were arrested by the scene before them. on the point arose the signal-staff, with its heavy flag hanging down. the wind was now blowing, but it needed almost a gale to hold out that cumbrous canvas. close by were the smouldering remains of what had been a huge fire, and all around this were chips and sticks. in the immediate neighborhood were some bark dishes, in some of which were shrimps and mussels. clams and lobsters lay around, with shells of both. not far off was a canvas tent, which looked singularly comfortable and cosy. captain corbet looked at all this, and shook his head. "bad--bad--bad," he murmured, in a doleful tone. "my last hope, or, rayther, one of my last hopes, dies away inside of me. this is wuss than findin' a desert place." "why? hasn't he been here? he must have been here," cried bart. "these are his marks. i dare say he's here now--perhaps asleep--in the camp. i'll go--" "don't go--don't--you needn't," said captain corbet, with a groan. "you don't understand. it's ben no pore castaway that's come here--no pore driftin lad that fell upon these lone and desolate coasts. no--never did he set foot here. all this is not the work o' shipwracked people. it's some festive picnickers, engaged in whilin away a few pleasant summer days. all around you may perceive the signs of luxoorious feastin. here you may see all the different kind o' shellfish that the sea produces. yonder is a luxoorious camp. but don't mind what i say. go an call the occoopant, an satisfy yourselves." captain corbet walked with the boys over to the tent. his words had thrown a fresh dejection over all. they felt the truth of what he said. these remains spoke not of shipwreck, but of pleasure, and of picnicking. it now only remained to rouse the slumbering owner of the tent, and put the usual questions. bart was there first, and tapped at the post. no answer. he tapped again. still there was no answer. he raised the canvas and looked in. he saw the mossy interior, but perceived that it was empty. all the others looked in. on learning this they turned away puzzled. "wal, i thought so," said captain corbet. "they jest come an go as the fancy takes 'em. they're off on cape d'or to-day, an back here to-morrer." as he said this he seated himself near the tent, and the boys looked around with sad and sombre faces. it was now about half past five, and the day had dawned for some time. in the east the fog had lifted, and the sun was shining brightly. "i told you thar'd be a change, boys," said the captain. as he spoke there came a long succession of sharp, shrill blasts from the fog horn of the antelope, which started every one, and made them run to the rising ground to find out the cause. xxii. astounding discovery.--the whole party of explorers overwhelmed.--meeting with the lost.--captain corbet improves the occasion.--conclusion. at the sound from the antelope they had all started for the rising ground, to see what it might mean. none of them had any idea what might be the cause, but all of them felt startled and excited at hearing it under such peculiar circumstances. nor was their excitement lessened by the sight that met their eyes as they reached the rising ground and looked towards the schooner. a change had taken place. when they had left, solomon only had remained behind. but now there were two figures on the deck. one was amidships. the schooner was too far away for them to see distinctly, but this one was undoubtedly solomon; yet his gestures were so extraordinary that it was difficult to identify him. he it was by whom the blasts on the fog horn were produced. standing amidships, he held the fog horn in one hand, and in the other he held a battered old cap which supplied the place of the old straw hat lost at quaco. after letting off a series of blasts from the horn, he brandished his cap wildly in the air, and then proceeded to dance a sort of complex double-shuffle, diversified by wild leaps in the air, and accompanied by brandishings of his hat and fresh blasts of the horn. but if solomon's appearance was somewhat bewildering, still more so was that of the other one. this one stood astern. suddenly as they looked they saw him hoist a flag, and, wonder of wonders, a black flag,--no other, in short, than the well-known flag of the "b. o. w. c." that flag had been mournfully lowered and put away on tom's disappearance, but now it was hoisted once more; and as they looked, the new comer hoisted it and lowered it, causing it to rise and fall rapidly before their eyes. nor did the wonder end here. they had taken away the only boat that the schooner possessed in order to come ashore, leaving solomon alone. they had noticed no boat whatever as they rowed to land. but now they saw a boat floating astern of the antelope, with a small and peculiarly shaped sail, that now was flapping in the breeze. evidently this boat belonged to the new comer. but who was he? how had he come there? what was the meaning of those signals with that peculiar flag, and what could be the reason of solomon's joy? they stood dumb with astonishment, confused, and almost afraid to think of the one cause that each one felt to be the real explanation of all this. too long had they searched in vain for tom,--too often had they sunk from hope to despair,--too confident and sanguine had they been; and now, at this unexpected sight, in spite of the assurance which it must have given them that this could be no other than tom, they scarce dared to believe in such great happiness, and were afraid that even this might end in a disappointment like the others. but, though they stood motionless and mute, the two figures on board the antelope were neither one nor the other. solomon danced more and more madly, and brandished his arms more and more excitedly, and there came forth from his fog horn wilder and still wilder peals, and the flag rose and fell more and more quickly, until at last the spectators on the shore could resist no longer. "g-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d ger-ra-a-a-cious!" this cry burst from captain corbet. it was enough. the spell was broken. a wild cry burst forth from the boys, and with loud, long shouts of joy they rushed down the bank, and over the beach, back to their boat. the captain was as quick as any of them. in his enthusiasm he forgot his rheumatism. there was a race, and though he was not even with bruce and bart, he kept ahead of pat, and arthur, and phil, and old wade. hurrah! and hurrah again! yes, and hurrah over and over; and many were the hurrahs that burst from them as they raced over the rocky beach. then to tumble into the boat, one after another, to grasp the oars, to push her off, to head her for the schooner, and to dash through the water on their way back, was but the work of a few minutes. the row to the schooner was a tedious one to those impatient young hearts. but as they drew nearer, they feasted their eyes on the figure of the new comer, and the last particle of doubt and fear died away. first, they recognized the dress--the familiar red shirt. tom had worn a coat and waistcoat ashore at hillsborough on that eventful day; but on reaching the schooner, he had flung them off, and appeared now in the costume of the "b. o. w. c." this they recognized first, and then his face was revealed--a face that bore no particular indication of suffering or privation, which seemed certainly more sunburnt than formerly, but no thinner. soon they reached the vessel, and clambered up; and then with what shouts and almost shrieks of joy they seized tom! with what cries and cheers of delight they welcomed him back again, by turns overwhelming him with questions, and then pouring forth a torrent of description of their own long search! captain corbet stood a little aloof. his face was not so radiant as the faces of the boys. his features were twitching, and his hands were clasped tight behind his back. he stood leaning against the mainmast, his eyes fixed on tom. it was thus that he stood when tom caught sight of him, and rushed up to shake hands. captain corbet grasped tom's hand in both of his. he trembled, and tom felt that his hands were cold and clammy. "my dear boys," he faltered, "let us rejice--and--be glad--for this my son--that was dead--is alive agin--" a shudder passed through him, and he stopped, and pressed tom's hand convulsively. then he gave a great gasp, and, "thar, thar," he murmured, "it's too much! i'm onmanned. i've suffered--an agonized--an this--air--too much!" and with these words he burst into tears. then he dropped tom's hand, and retreated into the cabin, where he remained for a long time, but at last reappeared, restored to calmness, and with a smile of sweet and inexpressible peace wreathing his venerable countenance. by this time the boys had told tom all about their long search; and when captain corbet reappeared, tom had completed the story of his adventures, and had just reached that part, in his wanderings, where he had left the island, and found himself drifting down the bay. as that was the point at which tom was last lost sight of in these pages, his story may be given here in his own words. "yes," said he, "you see i found myself drifting down. there was no help for it. the wind was slight, and the tide was strong. i was swept down into a fog bank, and lost sight of ile haute altogether. well, it didn't matter very much, and i wasn't a bit anxious. i knew that the tide would turn soon, and then i'd come up, and fetch the land somewhere; so i waited patiently. at last, after about--well, nearly an hour, the tide must have turned, and i drifted back, and there was wind enough to give me quite a lift; and so all of a sudden i shot out of the fog, and saw ile haute before me. i was coming in such a way that my course lay on the south side of the island, and in a short time i came in sight of the schooner. i tell you what it is, i nearly went into fits--i knew her at once. a little farther on, and i saw you all cutting like mad over the beach to my camp. i was going to put after you at first; but the fact is, i hated the island so that i couldn't bear to touch it again, and so i concluded i'd go on board and signal. so i came up alongside, and got on board. solomon was down below; so i just stepped forward, and put my head over the hatchway, and spoke to him. i declare i thought he'd explode. he didn't think i was a ghost at all. it wasn't fear, you know--it was nothing but delight, and all that sort of thing, you know. well, you know, then we went to work signaling to you, and he took the fog horn, and i went to the flag, and so it was." "i don't know how we happened not to see your boat," said bruce. "o, that's easy enough to account for," said tom. "i was hid by the east point of the island. i didn't see the schooner till i got round, and you must have been just getting ashore at that time." during all this time solomon had been wandering about in a mysterious manner; now diving below into the hold, and rattling the pots and pans; again emerging upon deck, and standing to listen to tom and look at him. his face shone like a polished boot; there was a grin on his face that showed every tooth in his head, and his little twinkling black beads of eyes shone, and sparkled, and rolled about till the winking black pupils were eclipsed by the whites. at times he would stand still, and whisper solemnly and mysteriously to himself, and then, without a moment's warning, he would bring his hands down on his thighs, and burst into a loud, long, obstreperous, and deafening peal of uncontrollable laughter. "solomon," said tom, at last, "solomon, my son, won't you burst if you go on so? i'm afraid you may." at this solomon went off again, and dived into the hold. but in a minute or two he was back again, and giggling, and glancing, and whispering to himself, as before. solomon and captain corbet thus had each a different way of exhibiting the same emotion, for the feeling that was thus variously displayed was nothing but the purest and most unfeigned joy. "see yah, mas'r tom--and chil'n all," said solomon, at last. "ise gwine to pose dat we all go an tend to sometin ob de fust portance. hyah's mas'r tom habn't had notin to eat more'n a mont; an hyah's de res ob de blubbed breddern ob de bee see double what been a fastin since dey riz at free clock dis shinin and spicious morn. dis yah's great an shinin casium, an should be honnad by great and strorny stivities. now, dar ain't no stivity dat can begin to hole a can'l to a good dinna, or suppa, or sometin in de eatin line. so ise gwine to pose to honna de cobbery ob de probable son by a rale ole-fashioned, stunnin breakfuss. don't be fraid dar'll be any ficiency hyah. i got tings aboard dat i ben a savin for dis spicious an lightful cobbery. ben no eatin in dis vessel ebber sence de loss chile took his parter an drifted off. couldn't get no pusson to tetch nuffin. got 'em all now; an so, blubbed breddern, let's sem'l once more, an ole solomon'll now ficiate in de pressive pacity ob gran pandledrum. an i pose dat we rect a tent on de sho oh dis yah island, and hab de banket come off in fust chop style." "the island!" cried tom, in horror. "what! the island? breakfast on the island? what a horrible proposal! look here, captain. can't we get away from this?" "get away from this?" repeated the captain, in mild surprise. "yes," said tom. "you see, the fact is, when a fellow's gone through what i have, he isn't over fond of the place where he's had that to go through. and so this island is a horrible place to me, and i can't feel comfortable till i get away out of sight of it. breakfast! why, the very thought of eating is abominable as long as that island is in sight." "wal, railly, now," said captain corbet, "i shouldn't wonder if thar was a good deal in that, though i didn't think of it afore. course it's natral you shouldn't be over fond of sech, when you've had sech an oncommon tough time. an now, bein' as thar's no uthly occasion for the antelope to be a lingerin' round this here isle of the ocean, i muve that we histe anchor an resume our vyge. it's nigh onto a fortnight sence we fust started for petticoat jack, and sence that time we've had rare and strikin vycissitoods. it may jest happen that some on ye may be tired of the briny deep, an may wish no more to see the billers bound and scatter their foamin spray; some on ye likewise may be out o' sperrits about the fog. in sech a case, all i got to say is, that this here schooner'll be very happy to land you at the nighest port, scott's bay, frincense, from which you may work your way by land to your desired haven. sorry would i be to part with ye, specially in this here moment of jy; but ef ye've got tired of the antelope, tain't no more'n's natral. wal, now,--what d'ye say--shall we go up to scott's bay, or will ye contenoo on to petticoat jack, an accomplitch the riginal vyge as per charter party?" the boys said nothing, but looked at tom as though referring the question to him. "as far as i am concerned," said tom, who noticed this reference to him, "it's a matter of indifference where we go, so long as we go out of sight of this island. if the rest prefer landing at scott's bay, i'm agreed; at the same time, i'd just as soon go on to petitcodiac." "an what do the rest o' ye say?" asked the captain, somewhat anxiously. "for my part," said bruce, "i think it's about the best thing we can do." the others all expressed similar sentiments, and captain corbet listened to this with evident delight. "all right," said he, "and hooray! solomon, my aged friend, we will have our breakfast on board, as we glide past them thar historic shores. pile on what you have, and make haste." in a few minutes more the anchor was up, and the antelope was under way. in about half an hour solomon summoned them below, where he laid before them a breakfast that cast into the shade tom's most elaborate meal on the island. with appetites that seemed to have been growing during the whole period of tom's absence, the joyous company sat down to that repast, while solomon moved around, his eyes glistening, his face shining, his teeth grinning, and his hips moving, as, after his fashion, he whispered little solomonian pleasantries to his own affectionate heart. at this repast the boys began a fresh series of questions, and drew from tom a full, complete, and exhaustive history of his island life, more particularly with regard to his experience in house-building, and housekeeping; and with each one, without exception, it was a matter of sincere regret that it had not been his lot to be tom's companion in the boat and on the island. after breakfast they came up on deck. the wind had at length changed, as captain corbet had prophesied in the morning, and the sky overhead was clear. down the bay still might be seen the fog banks, but near at hand all was bright. behind them ile haute was already at a respectful distance, and cape chignecto was near. "my christian friends," said captain corbet, solemnly,--"my christian friends, an dear boys. agin we resoom the thread of our eventfool vyge, that was brok of a suddent in so onparld a manner. agin we gullide o'er the foamin biller like a arrer shot from a cross-bow, an culleave the briny main. we have lived, an we have suffered, but now our sufferins seem to be over. at last we have a fair wind, with a tide to favor us, an we'll be off hillsborough before daybreak to-morrer. an now i ask you all, young sirs, do you feel any regretses over the eventfool past? i answer, no. an wan't i right? didn't i say that that thar lad would onst more show his shinin face amongst us, right side up, with care, in good order an condition, as when shipped on board the antelope, corbet master, from grand pre, an bound for petticoat jack? methinks i did. hence the vally of a lofty sperrit in the face of difficulties. an now, young sirs, in after life take warnin by this here vyge. never say die. don't give up the ship. no surrender. england expects every man to do his dooty. for him that rises superior to succumstances is terewly great; an by presarvin a magnanumous mind you'll be able to hold up your heads and smile amid the kerrash of misfortin. now look at me. i affum, solemn, that all the sufferins i've suffered have ben for my good; an so this here vyge has eventooated one of the luckiest vyges that you've ever had. an thus," he concluded, stretching out his venerable hands with the air of one giving a benediction,--"thus may it be with the vyge of life. may all its storms end in calms, an funnish matter in the footoor for balmy rettuspect. amen!" it was a close approach to a sermon; and though the words were a little incoherent, yet the tone was solemn, and the intention good. after this the captain dropped the lofty part of a mentor, and mingled with the boys as an equal. this time the voyage passed without any accident. before daybreak on the following morning they reached hillsborough, where mrs. watson received them with the utmost joy. in a few days more the boys had scattered, and bart arrived home with the story of tom's rescue. the castaways by captain mayne reid ________________________________________________________________________ this is certainly not a very long book, being about a half to a third of most books of this genre. it starts off with a group of people in a ship's boat, the ship itself having foundered in a typhoon in the celebes sea. the ship's captain and his two children, the irish ship's carpenter, and the malay pilot, are all that finally come to shore, though when the book starts there are a body that has to be thrown overboard, and a seaman who has gone mad and who throws himself there. thereafter we are introduced to one natural history topic per chapter, be it a plant, a tree or an animal. there are various perils that have to be overcome--the upas tree, an ourang-outang, a tree that drops its fruit like a heavy bomb, a python, and quite a few more. luckily they don't meet any unfriendly dyaks during the journey they undertake to get from their landing-place to the town of bruni, many hundreds of miles away. on the whole they are saved by the courage, knowledge and skill of the co-hero, the malay pilot, who is one of the best in that region with a blow-pipe. he makes himself one, and it is just as well he did, as you will see. the book is well-written, and as it will only take you five hours or less, you could probably find the time to read it. nh ________________________________________________________________________ the castaways by captain mayne reid chapter one. a castaway crew. a boat upon the open sea--no land in sight! it is an open boat, the size and form showing it to be the pinnace of a merchant-ship. it is a tropical sea, with a fiery sun overhead, slowly coursing through a sky of brilliant azure. the boat has neither sail nor mast. there are oars, but no one is using them. they lie athwart the tholes, their blades dipping in the water, with no hand upon the grasp. and yet the boat is not empty. seven human forms are seen within it,-- six of them living, and one dead. of the living, four are full-grown men; three of them white, the fourth of an umber-brown, or _bistre_ colour. one of the white men is tall, dark and bearded, with features bespeaking him either a european or an american, though their somewhat elongated shape and classic regularity would lead to a belief that he is the latter, and in all probability a native of new york. and so he is. the features of the white man sitting nearest to him are in strange contrast to his, as is also the colour of his hair and skin. the hair is of a carroty shade, while his complexion, originally reddish, through long exposure to a tropical sun exhibits a yellowish, freckled appearance. the countenance so marked is unmistakably of milesian type. so it should be, as its owner is an irishman. the third white man, of thin, lank frame, with face almost beardless, pale cadaverous cheeks, and eyes sunken in their sockets, and there rolling wildly, is one of those nondescripts who may be english, irish, scotch, or american. his dress betokens him to be a seaman, a common sailor. he of the brown complexion, with flat spreading nose, high cheek-bones, oblique eyes, and straight, raven black hair, is evidently a native of the east, a malay. the two other living figures in the boat are those of a boy and girl. they are white. they differ but little in size, and but a year or two in age, the girl being fourteen and the boy about sixteen. there is also a resemblance in their features. they are brother and sister. the fourth white, who lies dead in the bottom of the boat, is also dressed in seaman's clothes, and has evidently in his lifetime been a common sailor. it is but a short time since the breath departed from his body; and judging by the appearance of the others, it may not be long before they will all follow him into another world. how weak and emaciated they appear, as if in the last stage of starvation! the boy and girl lie along the stern-sheets, with wasted arms, embracing each other. the tall man sits on one of the benches, gazing mechanically upon the corpse at his feet; while the other three also have their eyes upon it, though with very different expressions. that upon the face of the irishman is of sadness, as if for the loss of an old shipmate; the malay looks on with the impassive tranquillity peculiar to his race; while in the sunken orbs of the nondescript can be detected a look that speaks of a horrible craving--the craving of cannibalism. the scene described, and the circumstances which have led to it, call for explanation. it is easily given. the tall dark-bearded man is captain robert redwood, the skipper of an american merchant-vessel, for some time trading among the islands of the indian archipelago. the irishman is his ship-carpenter, the malay his pilot, while the others are two common sailors of his crew. the boy and girl are his children, who, having no mother or near relatives at home, have been brought along with him on his trading voyage to the eastern isles. the vessel passing from manilla, in the philippines, to the dutch settlement of macassar, in the island of celebes, has been caught in a _typhoon_ and swamped near the middle of the celebes sea; her crew have escaped in a boat--the pinnace--but saved from death by drowning only to find, most of them, the same watery grave after long-procrastinated suffering from thirst, from hunger, from all the agonies of starvation. one after another have they succumbed, and been thrown overboard, until the survivors are only six in number. and these are but skeletons, each looking as if another day, or even another hour, might terminate his wretched existence. it may seem strange that the youthful pair in the stern-sheets, still but tender children, and the girl more especially, should have withstood the terrible suffering beyond a period possible to many strong men, tough sailors every one of them. but it is not so strange after all, or rather after knowing that, in the struggle with starvation, youth always proves itself superior to age, and tender childhood will live on where manhood gives way to the weakness of inanition. that captain redwood is himself one of the strongest of the survivors may be due partly to the fact of his having a higher organism than that of his ship-comrades. but, no doubt, he is also sustained by the presence of the two children, his affection for them and fear for their fate warding off despair, and so strengthening within him the principle of vitality. if affection has aught to do with preserving life, it is strong enough in the irishman to account also for the preservation of his; for although but the carpenter in captain redwood's ship, he regards the captain with a feeling almost fraternal. he had been one of his oldest and steadiest hands, and long service has led to a fast friendship between him and his old skipper. on the part of the irishman, this feeling is extended to the youthful couple who recline, with clasped hands, along the sternmost seat of the pinnace. as for the malay, thirst and hunger have also made their marks upon him; but not as with those of occidental race. it may be that his bronze skin does not show so plainly the pallor of suffering; but, at all events, he still looks lithe and life-like, supple and sinewy, as if he could yet take a spell at the oar, and keep alive as long as skin and bone held together. if all are destined to die in that open boat, he will certainly be the last. he with the hollow eyes looks as if he would be the first. down upon this wretched group, a picture of misery itself, shines the hot sun of the tropics; around it, far as eye could reach, extends the calm sea, glassed, and glancing back his lays, as though they were reflected from a sheet of liquid fire; beneath them gleams a second firmament through the pellucid water, a sky peopled with strange forms that are not birds: more like are they to dragons; for among them can be seen the horrid form of the devil-fish, and the still more hideous figure of the hammer-headed shark. and alone is that boat above them, seemingly suspended in the air, and only separated from these dreadful monsters by a few feet of clear water, through which they can dart with the speed of electricity. alone, with no land in sight, no ship or sail, no other boat--nothing that can give them a hope. all bright above, around, and beneath; but within their hearts only darkness and the dread of death! chapter two. the hammer-head. for some time the castaways had been seated in moody silence, now and then glancing at the corpse in the bottom of the boat, some of them no doubt thinking how long it might be before they themselves would occupy the same situation. but now and then, also, their looks were turned upon one another, not hopefully, but with a mechanical effort of despair. in one of these occasional glances, captain redwood noticed the unnatural glare in the eyes of the surviving sailor, as also did the irishman. simultaneously were both struck with it, and a significant look was exchanged between them. for a period of over twenty hours this man had been behaving oddly; and they had conceived something more than a suspicion of his insanity. the death of the sailor lying at the bottom of the boat, now the ninth, had rendered him for a time more tranquil, and he sat quiet on his seat, with elbows resting on his knees, his cheeks held between the palms of his hands. but the wild stare in his eyes seemed to have become only more intensified as he kept them fixed upon the corpse of his comrade. it was a look worse than wild; it had in it the expression of _craving_. on perceiving it, and after a moment spent in reflection, the captain made a sign to the ship-carpenter, at the same time saying,-- "murtagh, it's no use our keeping the body any longer in the boat. let us give it such burial as the sea vouchsafes to a sailor,--and a true one he was." he spoke these words quietly, and in a low tone, as if not intending them to be heard by the suspected maniac. "a thrue sailor!" rejoined the irishman. "truth ye're roight there, captin. och, now! to think he's the ninth of them we've throwed overboard, all the crew of the owld ship, exceptin' our three selves, widout countin' the malay an' the childer. if it wasn't that yer honour's still left, i'd say the best goes first; for the nigger there looks as if he'd last out the whole lot of--" the captain, to whom this imprudent speech was torture, with a gesture brought it to an abrupt termination. he was in fear of its effect not on the malay, but on the insane sailor. the latter, however, showed no sign of having heard or understood it; and in a whisper murtagh received instructions how to act. "you lay hold of him by the shoulders," were the words spoken, "while i take the feet. let us slip him quietly over without making any stir. saloo, remain you where you are; we won't need your help." this last speech was addressed to the malay, and in his own language, which would not be understood by any other than himself. the reason for laying the injunction upon him was, that he sat in the boat beyond the man deemed mad, and his coming across to the others might excite the latter, and bring about some vaguely dreaded crisis. the silent malay simply nodded an assent, showing no sign that he comprehended why his assistance was not desired. for all that, he understood it, he too having observed the mental condition of the sailor. rising silently from their seats, and advancing toward the dead body, the captain and carpenter, as agreed upon, laid hold of and raised it up in their arms. even weak as both were, it was not much of a lift to them. it was not a corpse, only a skeleton, with the skin still adhering, and drawn tightly over the bones. resting it upon the gunwale of the boat, they made a moment's pause, their eyes turned heavenward, as if mentally repeating a prayer. the irishman, a devout believer in the efficacy of outward observances, with one hand detached from the corpse, made the sign of the cross. then was the body again raised between them, held at arm's length outward, and tenderly lowered down upon the water. there was no plunge, only a tiny plashing, as if a chair, or some other piece of light wood-work, had been dropped gently upon the surface of the sea. but slight as was the sound, it produced an effect, startling as instantaneous. the sailor, whose dead comrade was thus being consigned to the deep, as it were, surreptitiously, all at once sprang to his feet, sending forth a shriek that rang far over the tranquil water. with one bound, causing the pinnace to heel fearfully over, he placed himself by the side over which the corpse had been lowered, and stood with arms upraised, as if intending to plunge after it. the sight underneath should have awed him. the dead body was slowly, gradually sinking, its garb of dark blue guernsey shirt becoming lighter blue as it went deeper down in the cerulean water; while fast advancing to meet it, as if coming up from the darkest depths of the ocean, was a creature of monstrous shape, the very type of a monster. it was the hideous hammer-headed shark, the dreaded _zygaena_ of the celebes sea. with a pair of enormous eyes glaring sullenly out from two immense cheek-like protuberances, giving to its head that singular sledge-hammer appearance whence it has its name, it advanced directly toward the slow-descending corpse, itself, however, moving so rapidly that the spectators above had scarce taken in the outlines of its horrid form, when this was no longer visible. it was hidden in what appeared a shower of bluish pearls suddenly projected underneath the water, and enveloping both the dead body of the sailor and the living form of the shark. through the dimness could be distinguished gleams of a pale phosphoric sheen like lightning flashes through a sky cloud; and soon after froth and bubbles rose effervescing upon the surface of the sea. it was a terrible spectacle, though only of an instants duration. when the subaqueous cloud cleared away, and they again looked with peering eyes down into the pellucid depths, there was nothing there, neither dead body of man, nor living form of monster. the _zygaena_ had secured its prey, and carried the skeleton corpse to some dark cavern of the deep! [note .] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . the hammer-headed shark, in common language, is rightly designated one of the most hideous of marine animals. we mean hideous in outward appearance, for, of course, there is much both wonderful and beautiful in its internal organisation, and in the exquisite fitness of its structure for its peculiar part in the economy of nature. in the general outline of its body, which is something like that of a cylinder, it resembles the ordinary sharks; and its distinctive feature is its head, which, on either side, expands like a double-headed hammer. the eyes are very large, and placed at each extremity. it is found in the mediterranean sea, as well as in the indian ocean, and is noted for its fierceness and voracity. chapter three. the albatross. captain redwood and the irishman were horrified at the sight that had passed under their eyes. so, too, were the children, who had both started up from their reclining attitude, and looked over the side of the boat. even the impassive malay, all his life used to stirring scenes, in which blood was often shed, could not look down into those depths, disturbed by such a tragical occurrence, without having aroused within him a sensation of horror. all of them recoiled back into the boat, staggering down upon their seats. one alone remained standing, and with an expression upon his face as if he was desirous of again beholding the sight. it was not a look that betrayed pleasure, but one grim and ghastly, yet strong and steady, as if it penetrated the profoundest depths of the ocean. it was the look of the insane sailor. if his companions had still held any lingering doubts about his insanity, it was sufficient to dispel them. it was the true stare of the maniac. it was not long continued. scarce had they resumed their seats when the man, once more elevating his arms in the air, uttered another startling shriek, if possible louder and wilder than before. he had stepped upon one of the boat seats, and stood with body bent, half leaning over the gunwale, in the attitude of a diver about to make his headlong plunge. there could be no mistaking his intention to leap overboard, for his comrades could see that his muscles were strained to the effort. all three--the captain, murtagh, and the malay--suddenly rose again, and leant forward to lay hold on him. they were too late. before a finger could touch him he had made the fatal spring; and the next moment he was beneath the surface of the sea! none of them felt strong enough to leap after and try to save him. in all probability, the effort would have been idle, and worse; for the mad fancy that seemed urging him to self-destruction might still influence his mind, and carry another victim into the same vortex with himself. restrained by this thought, they stood up in the boat, and watched for his coming up again. he did so at length, but a good distance off. a breeze had been gradually springing up, and during his dive the pinnace had made some way, by drifting before it. when his head was again seen above the curling water, he was nearly a hundred yards to windward of the boat. he was not so far off as to prevent them from reading the expression upon his face, now turned toward them. it had become changed, as if by magic. the wild look of insanity was gone, and in its place was one almost equally wild, though plainly was it an expression of fear, or indeed terror. the immersion into the cold, deep sea, had told upon his fevered brain, producing a quick reaction of reason; and his cries for help, now in piteous tones sent back to the boat, showed that he understood the peril in which he had placed himself. they were not unheeded. murtagh and the malay rushed, or rather tottered, to the oars; while the captain threw himself into the stern, and took hold of the tiller-ropes. in an instant the pinnace was headed round, and moving through the water in the direction of the swimmer; who, on his side, swam toward them, though evidently with feeble stroke. there seemed not much doubt of their being able to pick him up. the only danger thought of by any of them was the _zygaena_; but they hoped the shark might be still occupied with its late prey, and not seeking another victim. there might be another shark, or many more; but for some time past one only had been seen in the neighbourhood of the boat; the shark, as they supposed, which had but recently devoured the dead body of the sailor. trusting to this conjecture, they plied the oars with all the little strength left in their arms. still, notwithstanding their feeble efforts, and the impediment of pulling against the wind, they were nearing the unfortunate man, surely, if slowly. they had got over half the distance; less than half a cable's length was now between the boat and the struggling swimmer. not a shark was to be seen on the water, nor beneath it--no fish of any kind--nothing whatever in the sea. only, in the sky above, a large bird, whose long scimitar-shaped wings and grand curving beak told them what it was--an albatross. it was the great albatross of the indian seas, with an extent of wing beyond that of the largest eagle, and almost equalling the spread of the south american condor. [note .] they scarce looked at it, or even glanced above, they were looking below for the _zygaena_--scanning the surface of the water around them, or with their eyes keenly bent, endeavouring to penetrate its indigo depths in search of the monstrous form. no shark in sight. all seemed well; and despite the piteous appeals of the swimmer, now toiling with feebler stroke, and scarce having power to sustain himself they in the pinnace felt sure of being able to rescue him. less than a quarter cable's length lay between. the boat, urged on by the oars, was still lessening the distance. five minutes more, and they would be close to their comrade, and lift him over the gunwale. still no _zygaena_ in sight--no shark of any kind. "poor fellow! he seems quite cured; we shall be able to save him." it was captain redwood who thus spoke. the irishman was about making a little hopeful rejoinder, when his speech was cut short by a cry from saloo, who had suspended his stroke, as if paralysed by some sudden despair. the malay, who, as well as murtagh, had been sitting with his back toward the swimmer, had slewed himself round with a quick jerk, that told of some surprise. the movement was caused by a shadow flitting over the boat; something was passing rapidly through the air above. it had caught the attention of the others, who, on hearing saloo's cry, looked up along with him. they saw only the albatross moving athwart the sky, no longer slow sailing as before, but with the swift-cutting flight of a falcon pouncing down upon its prey. it seemed descending not in a straight line, but in an acute parabolic curve, like a thunderbolt or some aerolite projected toward the surface of the sea. but the bird, with a whirr like the sound of running spindles, was going in a definite direction, the point evidently aimed at being the head of the swimmer! a strange commingled shout arose over the ocean, in which several voices bore part. surprise pealed forth from the lips of those in the boat, and terror from the throat of the struggling man, while a hoarse croak from the gullet of the albatross, followed by what appeared a mocking scream of triumph. then quick succeeded a crashing sound, as the sharp heavy beak of the bird broke through the skull of the swimmer, striking him dead, as if by the shot of a six-pounder, and sending his lifeless body down toward the bottom of the sea! it came not up again--at all events, it was never more seen by his castaway companions; who, dropping the oars in sorrowful despair, allowed the boat to drift away from the fatal spot--in whatever direction the soft-sighing breeze might capriciously carry it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . the albatross is the largest of the ocean-birds. its wings, when extended, measuring fifteen feet, and its weight sometimes exceeding twenty to twenty-four pounds. the common albatross is the _diomedea exulans_ of naturalists. its plumage, except a few of the wing feathers, is white; its long, hard beak, which is very powerful, is of a pale yellow colour; and its short, webbed feet are flesh coloured. it is frequently met with in the southern ocean. the species mentioned in the text is the black-beaked albatross, which frequents the india waters. the albatross is a formidable enemy to the sailor, for if one falls overboard, he will assuredly fall a victim to this powerful bird, unless rescued immediately by his comrades. its cry has some resemblance to that of the pelican; but it will also, when excited, give rent to a noise not unlike the braying of an ass. the female makes a rude nest of earth on the sea-shore, and deposits therein her solitary egg, which is about four inches long, white, and spotted at the larger end. chapter four. the cry of the dugong. until the day on which the ninth sailor had died of starvation, and the tenth had been struck dead by the sea-bird, the castaways had taken an occasional spell at the oars. they now no longer touched, nor thought of them. weakness prevented them, as well as despondency. for there was no object in continuing the toil; no land in sight, and no knowledge of any being near. should a ship chance to come their way, they were as likely to be in her track lying at rest, as if engaged in laboriously rowing. they permitted the oars, therefore, to remain motionless between the thole pins, themselves sitting listlessly on the seats, most of them with their heads bent despairingly downward. the malay alone kept his shining black eyes on the alert, as if despair had not yet prostrated him. the long sultry day that saw the last of their two sailor comrades, at length came to a close, without any change in their melancholy situation. the fierce hot sun went down into the bosom of the sea, and was followed by the short tropic twilight. as the shades of night closed over them, the father, kneeling beside his children, sent up a prayer to him who still held their lives in his hand; while murtagh said the amen; and the dark-skinned malay, who was a mohammedan, muttered a similar petition to allah. it had been their custom every night and morning, since parting from the foundered ship, and during all their long-protracted perils in the pinnace. perhaps that evening's vesper was more fervent than those preceding it; for they felt they could not last much longer, and that all of them were slowly, surely dying. this night, a thing something unusual, the sky became obscured by clouds. it might be a good omen, or a bad one. if a storm, their frail boat would run a terrible risk of being swamped; but if rain should accompany it, there might be a chance of collecting a little water upon a tarpaulin that lay at the bottom. as it turned out, no rain fell, though there arose what might be called a storm. the breeze, springing up at an early hour of the day, commenced increasing after sunset. it was the first of any consequence they had encountered since taking to the boat; and it blew right in the direction whither they intended steering. with the freshening of the wind, as it came cool upon his brow, the castaway captain seemed to become inspired with a slight hope. it was the same with murtagh and the malay. "if we only had a sail," muttered the captain, with a sigh. "sail, cappen--lookee talpolin!" said saloo, speaking in "pigeon english," and pointing to the tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat. "why no him makee sail?" "yis, indade; why not?" questioned the irishman. "comee, multa! you help me; we step one oal--it makee mass--we lig him up little time." "all roight, sloo," responded murtagh, leaning over and seizing one of the oars, while the malay lifted the tarpaulin from where it lay folded up, and commenced shaking the creases out of it. with the dexterity of a practised sailor, murtagh soon had the oar upright, and its end "stepped," between two ribs of the boat, and firmly lashed to one of the strong planks that served as seats. assisted by the captain himself, the tarpaulin was bent on, and with a "sheet" attached to one corner rigged sail-fashion. in an instant it caught the stiff breeze, and bellied out; when the pinnace feeling the impulse, began to move rapidly through the water, leaving in her wake a stream of sparkling phosphorescence that looked like liquid fire. they had no compass, and therefore could not tell the exact direction in which they were being carried. but a yellowish streak on the horizon, showing where the sun had set, was still lingering when the wind began to freshen, and as it was one of those steady, regular winds, that endure for hours without change, they could by this means guess at the direction--which was toward that part of the horizon where the yellowish spot had but lately faded out; in short, toward the west. westward from the place where the cyclone had struck the ship, lay the great island of borneo. they knew it to be the nearest land, and for this had they been directing the boat's course ever since their disaster. the tarpaulin now promised to bring them nearer to it in one night, than their oars had done with days of hopeless exertion. it was a long twelve-hour night; for under the "line"--and they were less than three degrees from it--the days and nights are equal. but throughout all its hours, the wind continued to blow steadily from the same quarter; and the spread tarpaulin, thick and strong, caught every puff of it acting admirably. it was, in fact, as much canvas as the pinnace could well have carried on such a rough sea-breeze, and served as a storm-try sail to run her before the wind. captain redwood himself held charge of the tiller; and all were cheered with the fine speed they were making--their spirits rising in proportion to the distance passed over. before daylight came to add to their cheerfulness, they must have made nearly a hundred miles; but ere the day broke, a sound fell upon their ears that caused a commotion among them--to all giving joy. it came swelling over the dark surface of the deep, louder than the rush of the water or the whistling of the wind. it resembled a human voice; and although like one speaking in agony, they heard it with joy. there was hope in the proximity of human beings, for though these might be in trouble like themselves, they could not be in so bad a state. they might be in danger from the storm; but they would be strong and healthy--not thirsting skeletons like the occupants of the pinnace. "what do you think it is, captin?" asked the irishman. "moight it be some ship in disthriss?" before the captain could reply, the sound came a second time over the waters, with a prolonged wail, like the cry of a suffering sinner on his death-bed. "the _dugong_!" exclaimed saloo, this time recognising the melancholy note, so like to the voice of a human being. "it is," rejoined captain redwood. "it's that, and nothing more." he said this in a despairing tone, for the dugong, which is the _manatee_, or sea-cow of the eastern seas, could be of no service to them; on the contrary, its loud wailings spoke of danger--these being the sure precursors of a storm. [note .] to him and murtagh, the presence of this strange cetaceous animal gave no relief; and, after hearing its call, they sank back to their seats, relapsing into the state of half despondency, half hopefulness, from which it had startled them. not so with saloo, who better understood its habits. he knew they were amphibious, and that, where the dugong was found, land could not be a long way off. he said this, once more arousing his companions by his words to renewed expectancy. the morning soon after broke, and they beheld boldly outlined against the fast-clearing sky the blue mountains of borneo. "land!" was the cry that came simultaneously from their lips. "land--thank the lord!" continued the american skipper, in a tone of pious gratitude; and as his pinnace, still obedient to the breeze and spread tarpaulin, forged on toward it, he once more knelt down in the bottom of the boat, caused his children to do the same, and offered up a prayer--a fervent thanksgiving to the god alike of land and sea, who was about to deliver him and his from the "dangers of the deep." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . we are unwilling to interrupt the course of our narrative by disquisitions on subjects of natural history, and, therefore, relegate to a note the following particulars about the dugong. this strange mammal belongs to a genus of the family _manatidae_, or herbivorous cetacea. the species of which a member was discovered by our castaways, is the _halicore indicus_, or dugong of the indian archipelago; and, as we have said, is never found very far from land. its dentition resembles, in some respects, that of the elephant; and from the structure of its digestible organs it can eat only vegetable food; that is, the _algae_, or weeds, growing on submarine rocks in shallow water. when it comes to the surface to breathe, it utters a peculiar cry, like the lowing of a cow. its length, when full-grown, is said to be twenty feet, but few individuals seem to exceed twelve feet. in its general appearance it is very much like the _manatee_, or manatus, which haunts the mouths of the great south american rivers. chapter five. running the breakers. the almighty hand that had thus far helped the castaways on their course, with a favouring wind bringing them in sight of borneo's isle, was not going to crush the sweet hopes thus raised by wrecking their boat upon its shores. and yet for a time it seemed as if this were to be their fate. as they drew near enough to the land to distinguish its configuration, they saw a white line like a snow-wreath running between it and them, for miles to right and left, far as the eye could reach. they knew it to be a barrier of coral breakers, such as usually encircle the islands of the indian seas--strong ramparts raised by tiny insect creatures, to guard these fair gardens of god against the assaults of an ocean that, although customarily calm, is at times aroused by the _typhoon_, until it rages around them with dark scowling waves, like battalions of demons. on drawing near these reefs, captain redwood, with the eye of an experienced seaman, saw that while the wind kept up there was no chance for the pinnace to pass them; and to run head on to them would be simply to dash upon destruction. sail was at once taken in, by letting go the sheet, and dropping the tarpaulin back into the bottom of the boat. the oar that had been set up as a mast was left standing, for there were five others lying idle in the pinnace; and with four of these, saloo and murtagh each taking a pair, the boat was manned, the captain himself keeping charge of the tiller. his object was not to approach the land, but to prevent being carried among the breakers, which, surging up snow-white, presented a perilous barrier to their advance. to keep the boat from driving on the dangerous reef, was just as much as the oarsmen could accomplish. weakened as they were, by long suffering and starvation, they had a tough struggle to hold the pinnace as it were in _statu quo_--all the tougher from the disproportion between such a heavy craft and the light oar-stroke of which her reduced and exhausted crew were capable. but as if taking pity upon them, and in sympathy with their efforts, the sun, as he rose above the horizon, seemed to smile upon them and hush the storm into silence. the wind, that throughout the night had been whistling in their ears, all at once fell to a calm, as if commanded by the majestic orb of day; and along with the wind went down the waves, the latter subsiding more gradually. it was easier now to hold the pinnace in place, as also to row her in a direction parallel to the line of the breakers; and, after coasting for about a mile, an opening was at length observed where the dangerous reef might perhaps be penetrated with safety. setting the boat's head toward it, the oars were once more worked with the utmost strength that remained in the arms of the rowers, while her course was directed with all the skill of which an american skipper is capable. yet the attempt was one of exceeding peril. though the wind had subsided, the swell was tremendous; billow after billow being carried against the coral reefs with a violence known only to the earthquake and the angry ocean. vast volumes of water surged high on either side, projecting still higher their sparkling shafts of spray, like the pillars of a waterspout. between them spread a narrow space of calm sea--yet only comparatively calm, for even there an ordinary boat, well managed, would be in danger of getting swamped. what then was the chance for a huge pinnace, poorly manned, and therefore sure of being badly trimmed? it looked as if after all the advantages that had arisen--that had sprung up as though providentially in their favour--captain redwood and the small surviving remnant of his crew were to perish among the breakers of borneo, and be devoured by the ravenous sharks which amidst the storm-vexed reefs find their congenial home. but it was not so to be. the prayer offered up, as those snow-white but treacherous perils first hove in sight, had been heard on high; and he who had guided the castaways to the danger, stayed by their side, and gave strength to their arms to carry them through it. with a skill drawn from the combination of clear intelligence and long experience, captain redwood set the head of his pinnace straight for the narrow and dangerous passage; and with a strength inspired by the peril, murtagh and the malay pulled upon their oars, each handling his respective pair as if his life depended on the effort. with the united will of oarsmen and steerer the effort was successful; and ten seconds later the pinnace was safe inside the breakers, moving along under the impulse of two pairs of oars, that rose and fell as gently as if they were pulling her over the surface of some placid lake. in less than ten minutes her keel touched bottom on the sands of borneo, and her crew, staggering ashore, dropped upon their knees, and in words earnest as those uttered by columbus at cat island, or the pilgrims on plymouth rock, breathed a devout thanksgiving for their deliverance. chapter six. a gigantic oyster. "water! water!" the pain of hunger is among the hardest to endure, though there is still a harder--that of thirst. in the first hours of either, it is doubtful which of the two kinds of suffering is the more severe; but, prolonged beyond a certain point, hunger loses its keenness of edge, through the sheer weakness of the sufferer, while the agony of thirst knows no such relief. suffering, as our castaways were, from want of food for nearly a week, their thirst was yet more agonising; and after the thanksgiving prayer had passed from their lips, their first thought was of water--their cry, "water! water!" as they arose to their feet they instinctively looked around to see if any brook or spring were near. an ocean was flowing beside them; but this was not the kind of water wanted. they had already had enough of the briny element, and did not even turn their eyes upon it. it was landward they looked; scanning the edge of the forest, that came down within a hundred yards of the shore-- the strip of sand on which they had beached their boat trending along between the woods and the tide-water as far as the eye could trace it. a short distance off, however, a break was discernible in the line of the sand-strip--which they supposed must be either a little inlet of the sea itself, or the outflow of a stream. if the latter, then were they fortunate indeed. saloo, the most active of the party, hastened toward it; the others following him only with their eyes. they watched him with eager gaze, trembling between hope and fear-- captain redwood more apprehensive than the rest. he knew that in this part of the bornean coast months often pass without a single shower of rain; and if no stream or spring should be found they would still be in danger of perishing by thirst. they saw saloo bend by the edge of the inlet, scoop up some water in his palms, and apply it to his lips, as if tasting it. only for an instant, when back to them came the joyful cry,-- "_ayer! ayer manis! sungi_!" (water! sweet water! a river!) scarce more pleasantly, that morning at day-break, had fallen on their ears the cry of "land!" than now fell the announcement of the malay sailor, making known the proximity of water. captain redwood, who was acquainted with the malay language, translated the welcome words. sweet water, saloo had described it. emphatically might it be so termed. all hastened, or rather rushed, toward the stream, fell prostrate on their faces by its edge, and drank to a surfeit. it gave them new life; and, indeed, it had given them their lives already, though they knew it not. it was the outflow of its current into the ocean that caused the break in the coral reef through which their boat had been enabled to pass. otherwise they might have found no opening, and perished in attempting to traverse the surging surf. the madrepores will not build their subaqueous coral walls where rivers run into the ocean; hence the open spaces here and there happily left, that form deep transverse channels admitting the largest ships. no longer suffering from thirst, its kindred appetite now returned with undivided agony, and the next thought was for something to eat. they again turned their eyes toward the forest, and up the bank of the stream that came flowing from it. but saloo had seen something in the sea, near the spot where the pinnace had been left; and, calling upon murtagh to get ready some dry wood and kindle a fire, he ran back toward the boat. murtagh, the rest accompanying him, walked to the edge of the woods where the stream issued from the leafy wilderness. just beyond the strip of sand the forest abruptly ended, the trees standing thick together, and rising like a vast vegetable wall to a height of over a hundred feet. only a few straggled beyond this line. the very first of them, that nearest the sea, was a large elm-like tree, with tall trunk, and spreading leafy limbs that formed a screen from the sun, now well up in the sky, and every moment growing more sultry. it offered a convenient camping-place; and under its cool shadow they could recline until with restored strength they might either seek or build themselves a better habitation. an ample store of dry faggots was lying near; and murtagh having collected them into a pile, took out his flint and steel, and commenced striking a light. meanwhile their eyes were almost constantly turned toward saloo, all of them wondering what had taken him back to the boat. their wonder was not diminished when they saw him pass the place where the pinnace had been pulled up on the sand, and wade straight out into the water--as if he were going back to the breakers! presently, after he had got about knee-deep, they saw him stoop down, until his body was nearly buried under the sea, and commence what appeared to be a struggle with some creature still concealed from their observation. nor was their wonder any the less, when at length he rose erect again, holding in his hands what for all the world looked like a huge rock, to which a number of small shells and some sea-weed adhered. "what does the malay crather want wid a big stone?" was the interrogatory of the astonished irishman. "and, look, captin, it's that same he's about bringin' us. i thought it moight be some kind of shill-fish. hungry as we are, we can't ate stones?" "not so fast, murtagh," said the captain, who had more carefully scrutinised the article saloo had taken up. "it's not a stone, but what you first supposed it--a shell-fish." "that big thing a shill-fish! arrah now, captin, aren't you jokin'?" "no, indeed. what saloo has got in his arms, if i'm not mistaken, is an oyster." "an oysther? two fut in length and over one in breadth. why, it's as much as the malay can carry. don't yez see that he's staggerin' under it?" "very true; but it's an oyster for all that. i'm now sure of it, as i can see its shape, and the great ribs running over it. make haste, and get your fire kindled; for it's a sort of oyster rather too strong-flavoured to be eaten raw. saloo evidently intends it to be roasted." murtagh did as requested, and by the time the malay, bearing his heavy burden, reached the tree, smoke was oozing through a stack of faggots that were soon after ablaze. "tha, cappen ledwad," said the malay, flinging his load at the captain's feet. "tha plenty shell-fiss--makee all we big blakfass. inside find good meat. we no need open him. hot coalee do that." they all gathered around the huge shell, surveying it with curiosity, more especially the young people. it was that strange testaceous fish found in the indian seas, and known to sailors as the "singapore oyster"--of which specimens are not rare measuring a yard in length, and over eighteen inches in breadth at the widest diameter. their curiosity, however, was soon satisfied; for with stomachs craving as theirs, they were in no very fit condition for the pursuit of conchological studies; and saloo once more lifting the large oyster-- just as much as he could do--dropped it among the faggots, now fairly kindled into a fire. more were heaped around and over it, until it was buried in the heart of a huge pile, the sea-weeds that still clung to it crackling, and the salt water spurting and spitting, as the smoke, mingled with the bright blaze, ascended toward the overshadowing branches of the tree. in due time saloo, who had cooked singapore oysters before, pronounced it sufficiently roasted; when the faggots were kicked aside, and with a boat-hook, which murtagh had brought from the pinnace, the oyster [note .] was dragged out of the ashes. almost instantly it fell open, its huge valves displaying in their concave cups enough "oyster-meat" to have afforded a supper for a party of fifteen individuals instead of five--that is, fifteen not so famished as they were. with some knives and other utensils, which the irishman had also brought away from the boat, they seated themselves around the grand bivalve; nor did they arise from their seats until the shells were scraped clean, and hunger, that had so long tortured them, was quite banished from their thoughts. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . strictly speaking, the singapore oyster is a gigantic species of clam, (_tridacna_). chapter seven. a dangerous locality. after their ample meal of oyster "roasted in the shell," which was a breakfast instead of a supper, they rested for the remainder of the day, and all through the following night. they required this lengthened period of repose, not because they stood in need of sleep, but from the exhaustion of weakness, consequent upon their long spell of hunger and thirst. they slept well, considering that they had no couch, nor any covering, but the tattered clothes they wore upon their bodies. but they had become accustomed to this kind of bed; as to one even less comfortable, and certainly not safer--on the hard planks of the pinnace. nor did the cold discomfort them; for although the nights are colder on land than at sea, and in the tropics sometimes even chilly, that night was warm throughout; and nothing interfered with their slumbers except some horrid dreams, the sure sequence of suffering and perils such as they had been passing through. the morning rose bright and beautiful, as nearly all bornean mornings do. and the castaways rose from their recumbent position, feeling wonderfully restored both in strength and spirits. henry and helen-- these were the names of the young people--were even cheerful, inclined to wander about and wonder at the strange objects around: the beautiful beach of silvery sand; the deep blue sea; the white breakers beyond, rising over it like along snow-wreath; the clear fresh-water stream alongside, in which they could see curious fish disporting themselves; the grand forest-trees, among them stately palms and tall lance-like bamboos;--in short, a thousand things that make tropical scenery so charming. notwithstanding the scenic beauty, there was something needed before it could be thoroughly enjoyed, and this was breakfast. the contents of the great oyster had given full satisfaction for the time; but that was nearly twenty-four hours ago, and the appetites of all were once more keenly whetted. what was to take the edge off them? this was the question that occupied their thoughts, and the answer was not so easy. saloo went in search of another singapore oyster; murtagh started along the bank of the stream, in the hope of beguiling some of the red and gold fish he saw playing "backgammon" in it, as he had seen the trout and salmon in his native killarney; while the captain, having procured a rifle, that had been brought away in the boat, and which he well knew how to handle, wandered off into the woods. henry and helen remained under the tree, as their father did not think there could be any danger in leaving them alone. he was well enough acquainted with the natural history of borneo to know that there were neither lions nor tigers in the island. had it been on the neighbouring island of sumatra, or some desert coast of the mainland--in malacca, cochin-china, or hindustan--he might have dreaded exposing them to the attack of tigers. but as there was no danger of encountering these fierce creatures on the shores of borneo, he told the children to stay under the tree until he and the others should return. the young people were by this time rather tired of remaining in a recumbent position. it was that to which they had been too long constrained while in the boat, and it felt irksome; moreover, the oyster, wonderfully restoring their strength, had brought back their wonted juvenile vigour, so that they felt inclined for moving about a bit. for a time they indulged this inclination by walking to and fro around the trunk of the tree. soon, however, weariness once more came upon them, and they desired to have a seat. squatting upon the ground is an attitude only easy to savages, and always irksome to those accustomed to habits of civilised life, and to sitting upon chairs. they looked about for something upon which they might sit but nothing appeared suitable. there were neither logs nor large stones; for the beach, as well as the adjacent shore, was composed of fine drift sand, and no trees seemed to have fallen near the spot. "i have it!" exclaimed henry, after puzzling his brains a bit, his eye guiding him to a settlement of the difficulty. "the shells--the big oyster shells--the very things for us to sit upon, sister nell." as he spoke, he stooped down and commenced turning over one of the shells of the immense bivalve--both of which had been hitherto lying with their concave side uppermost. it was nigh as much as the boy, still weak, could do to roll it over, though helen, seeing the difficulty, laid hold with her little hands and assisted him. both the huge "cockles" were speedily capsized; and their convex surfaces rising nearly a foot above the level of the ground, gave the young people an excellent opportunity of getting seated. both sat down--each upon a shell--laughing at the odd kind of stools thus conveniently provided for them. they had not been long in their sedentary attitude, when a circumstance occurred which told them how unsafe a position they had chosen. they were conversing without fear, when henry all at once felt something strike him on the arm, and then, with a loud crash, drop down upon the shell close under his elbow, chipping a large piece out of it. his first impression was that some one had thrown a stone at him. it had hit him on the arm, just creasing it; but on looking at the place where he had been hit, he saw that the sleeve of his jacket was split, or rather torn, from shoulder to elbow, as if a sharp-tooth curry-comb had been drawn violently along it. he felt pain, moreover, and saw blood upon his shirt underneath! he looked quickly around to ascertain who had thus rudely assailed him-- anxiously, too, for he was in some dread of seeing a savage spring from the bushes close by. on turning, he at once beheld the missile that had rent his jacket-sleeve lying on the sand beside him. it was no stone, but a round or slightly oval-shaped ball, as big as a ten-pound shot, of a deep-green colour, and covered all over with spurs like the skin of a hedgehog! he at once saw that it had not been thrown at him by any person; for, with the sharp, prickly protuberances thickly set all over it, no one could have laid hand upon it. clearly it had fallen from the tree overhead. helen had perceived this sooner than he; for sitting a little way off, she had seen the huge ball drop in a perpendicular direction-- though it had descended with the velocity of lightning. beyond doubt, it was some fruit or nut, from the tree under which they were seated. from the way in which the jacket-sleeve had suffered, as well as the skin underneath--to say nothing of the piece chipped out of the shell--it was evident, that had the ponderous pericarp fallen upon henry's skull, it would have crushed it as a bullet would the shell of an egg. young as the two were, they were not so simple as to stay in that spot an instant longer. on the tree that could send down such a dangerous missile there might be many more--equally ready to rain upon them--and with this apprehension both sprang simultaneously to their feet, and rushed out into the open ground, not stopping till they believed themselves quite clear of the overshadowing branches that so ill protected them. they looked back at the seats they had so abruptly vacated, and the green globe lying beside them, and then up to the tree; where they could see other similar large globes, only at such a vast height looking no bigger than peaches or apricots. they did not dare to venture back to their seats, nor, although tempted by a strong curiosity to examine it, to approach the fallen fruit. in fact, the arm of henry was badly lacerated; and his little sister, on seeing the blood upon his shirt sleeve, uttered an alarm that brought first saloo, and then the others, affrighted to the spot. "what is it?" were the interrogations of the two white men, as they came hurrying up, while the impressive malay put none--at once comprehending the cause of the alarm. he saw the scratched arm, and the huge green globe lying upon the ground. "_dulion_!" he said, glancing up to the tree. "durion!" echoed the captain, pronouncing the word properly, as translated from saloo's pigeon english. "yes, cappen; foolee me no think of him befole. belly big danger. it fallee on skull, skull go clashee clashee." this was evident without saloo's explanation. the lacerated arm and broken shell were evidences enough of the terrible effects that would have been produced had the grand pericarp in its downward descent fallen upon the heads of either of the children, and they all saw what a narrow escape henry had of getting his "cocoa-nut" crushed or split open. chapter eight. shooting at fruit. as soon as the three men had got well up to the ground and ascertained the cause of helen's alarm, and the damage done to henry's jacket and skin, murtagh was the first to make a demonstration. he did so by running in under the tree, and stooping to lay hold of the fruit that had caused the misfortune. saloo saw him do this without giving a word of warning. he was, perhaps, a little piqued that the irishman should make himself so conspicuous about things he could not possibly be supposed to understand, and which to the malay himself were matters of an almost special knowledge. there was a twinkle of mischief in his eye as he contemplated the meddling of murtagh, and waited for the _denouement_. the latter, rashly grasping the spiny fruit, did not get it six inches above the ground, before he let go again, as if it had been the hottest of hot "purtatees." "och, and what have i done now!" he cried, "i'm jagged all over. there isn't a smooth spot upon it--not so much as a shank to take howlt of!" "you takee care, multa," cautioned saloo. "you lookee aloff. may be you get jagee in de skull!" murtagh took the hint, and, giving one glance upward, ran back with a roar from under the shadow of the tree. the malay, seemingly satisfied with his triumph, now glided underneath the durion, and keeping his eye turned upward, as if intently watching something, he struck the fruit with the piece of pointed stick which he had been using in the search after singapore oysters, and sent it spinning out upon the open sand beach. then following, he took out his knife, and inserting the blade among its thickly set spines, cleft it open, displaying the pulp inside. there was enough to give each person a taste of this most luscious of fruits, and make them desirous of more; even had they not been hungry. but the appetites of all were now keen, and neither the chase nor the fishery had produced a single thing to satisfy them. all three had returned empty-handed. there were many more nuts on the durion-tree. they could see scores of the prickly pericarps hanging overhead, but so high as to make the obtaining of them apparently impossible. they were as far away as the grapes from the fox of the fable. the stem of the tree rose over seventy feet before throwing out a single branch. it was smooth, moreover, offering neither knot nor excrescence for a foothold. for all this saloo could have climbed it, had he been in proper strength and condition. but he was not so. he was still weak from the effects of his suffering at sea. something more must be had to eat--whether game, fish or shell-fish. the one great oyster appeared to be a stray. saloo had begun to despair of being able to find another. the fruit of the durion proved not only pleasant eating, but exceedingly nutritious. it would sustain them, could they only get enough of it. how was this to be obtained? for a time they stood considering; when captain redwood became impressed with an original idea. in addition to his own rifle, a large ship's musket had been put into the pinnace. he thought of chain-shot, and its effects; and it occurred to him that by this means the durions might be brought down from their lofty elevation. no sooner conceived than carried into execution. the musket was loaded with a brace of balls united by a piece of stout tarred string. a shot was fired into the tree, aimed at a place where the fruit appeared thickest. there was havoc made among the adjacent leaves; and five or six of the great pericarps came crashing to the earth. a repetition of the firing brought down nearly a dozen, enough to furnish the whole party with food for at least another twenty-four hours. having collected the fallen pericarps, they carried them to another tree that stood near, amid whose leafy branches appeared to be no fruits either so sweet to the lips or dangerous to the skull. thither also they transferred their quarters, along with the paraphernalia brought up from the boat, intending to make a more permanent encampment under the newly chosen tree. for the time they kindled no fire, as the weather was warm enough, and the durions did not require cooking; and while making their mid-day meal of the raw fruit, saloo interested them by relating some particulars of the tree from which it had been obtained. we shall not follow the malay's exact words, for, as spoken in "pigeon english," they would scarce be understood; but shall lay before our readers some account of this strange and valuable fruit-tree, culled partly from saloo's description and partly from other sources. the durion is a forest tree of the loftiest order, bearing resemblance to the elm, only with a smooth bark, which is also scaly. it is found growing throughout most of the islands of the indian archipelago; and, like the mangosteen, does not thrive well in any other part of the world. this is perhaps the reason its fruit is so little known elsewhere, as when ripe it will not bear transportation to a great distance. the fruit is nearly globe-shaped, though a little oval, and in size equals the largest cocoa-nut. as the reader already knows, it is of a green colour, and covered with short stout spines, very sharp-pointed, whose bases touch each other, and are consequently somewhat hexagonal in shape. with this _chevaux-de-frise_ it is so completely armed, that when the stalk is broken close off it is impossible to take up the fruit without having one's fingers badly pricked. the outer rind is so tough and strong, that no matter from what height the fruit falls it is never crushed or broken. from the base of the fruit to its apex, five faint lines may be traced running among the spines. these form the divisions of the carpels where the fruit can be cut open with a sharp knife, though requiring a considerable exertion of strength. the five cells found within are of a silken white colour, each filled with an oval-shaped mass of cream-coloured pulp containing several seeds of the size of chestnuts. the pulp forms the edible portion of the fruit, and its consistence and flavour are both difficult to be described. mr wallace, the celebrated hunter naturalist, thus quaintly describes it:-- "a rich, butter-like custard, highly flavoured with almonds, gives the best general idea of it; but intermingled with it come wafts of flavour that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, brown-sherry, and other incongruities. then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp, which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. it is neither acid, nor sweet, nor juicy; yet one feels the want of none of these qualities, for it is perfect as it is. it produces no nausea, or other bad effects; and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. in fact, to eat durions is a new sensation, worth a voyage to the east to experience. when the fruit is ripe it falls of itself; and the only way to eat durions to perfection is to get them as they fall, and the smell is then less overpowering. when unripe, it makes a very good vegetable if cooked, and it is also eaten by the dyaks raw. in a good fruit season large quantities are preserved salted, in jars and bamboos, and kept the year round, when it acquires a most disgusting odour to europeans, but the dyaks appreciate it highly as a relish with their rice. there are in the forest two varieties of wild durions with much smaller fruits, one of them orange-coloured inside. it would not perhaps be correct to say that the durion is the best of all fruits, because it cannot supply the place of a sub-acid juicy kind; such as the orange, grape, mango, and mangosteen, whose refreshing and cooling qualities are so wholesome and grateful; but as producing a food of the most exquisite flavour, it is unsurpassed. if i had to fix on two only as representing the perfection of the two classes, i should certainly choose the durion and the orange as the king and queen of fruits. "the durion is however sometimes dangerous. when the fruit begins to ripen it falls daily and almost hourly, and accidents not unfrequently happen to persons walking or working under the trees. when the durion strikes a man in its fall it produces a dreadful wound, the strong spines tearing open the flesh, whilst the blow itself is very heavy; but from this very circumstance death rarely ensues, the copious effusion of blood preventing the inflammation which might otherwise take place. a dyak chief informed me that he had been struck by a durion falling on his head, which he thought would certainly have caused his death, yet he recovered in a very short time." both the natives of the malayan archipelago and strangers residing there regard the durion as superior to all other kinds of fruit--in short, the finest in the world. the old traveller, luischott, writing of it as early as , says that in flavour it surpasses all other fruits. while another old traveller, doctor paludanus, thus speaks of it: "this fruit is of a hot and humid nature. to those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions, but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food. the natives give it honourable titles, exalt it, and make verses on it." [note .] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . to these particulars we may add that the durion (_durio zibethinus_) belongs to the natural family of _sterculiaceae_, of the same sub-order (_bombaceae_) as the silk-cotton tree. it grows to a great stature; its leaves are like those of the cherry, and its pale yellow flowers hang in large bunches. each tree yields about two hundred fruit in a year. the fruit contains ten to twelve seeds, as large as pigeons' eggs, and these, when roasted, are as good as, and taste very much like, roasted chestnuts. chapter nine. gagging a gavial. after finishing their dinner of durions, the three men again sallied forth, to see whether something more substantial could be found for a later repast--either flesh, fowl, or fish. as before, they went in different directions--captain redwood into the forest, murtagh up the stream, and saloo along the sea-beach, where he waded out into the water, still in the hope of picking up another large oyster. he took with him a stalk of bamboo, pointed at one end, to be used as a probe in the soft bottom in case any oysters might be lying _perdu_ beneath the sand. henry and helen were again left to themselves, but this time they were not to remain seated under any tree--at least, not all the time. the father, before leaving, had enjoined upon both of them to take a bath; ablution having become very necessary on account of their having been so long cribbed up in the somewhat dirty pinnace. it would be also of service in promoting their restoration to health and strength. they went into the water, not together, but at some distance apart--henry choosing to go down to the sea, while helen entered the stream close by, as it had clear water with a smooth, sandy bed; besides, she thought it was safer, being free from surf or currents. it was only safer in appearance, as the sequel proved; for the hunters and fisherman had scarce scattered off out of hearing, when a cry broke upon the still air of noon that startled the bright-winged birds of the bornean forest, and stopped their songs as quickly as would have done a shot from captain redwood's rifle. it was heard by the captain himself, strolling among the tree trunks, and looking aloft for game; by murtagh on the river bank, endeavouring to beguile the sly fish to his baited hook; by saloo, wading knee-deep in search of singapore oysters; and by henry swimming about upon the buoyant incoming tide. more distinctly than all the rest, the little helen heard it--since it was she who gave it utterance. it was a cry of distress, and brought all the others together, and running toward the point whence it came. there was no difficulty about their knowing the direction, for one and all recognised helen's voice, and knew where she had been left. in less than sixty seconds' time they stood together upon the bank of the stream, on the same spot from which they had parted; and there beheld a spectacle that thrilled them with fear, and filled them with horror. the girl, finding it not deep enough by the edge of the stream--at this point nearly a hundred yards in width--had waded midway across, where it came quite up to her neck; and there she stood, her head alone showing above the surface. beyond her, and coming from the opposite side, showed another head, so hideous it was no wonder that, on first perceiving it, she had given way to affright, and voice to her terror. it was the head of an enormous reptile, of lizard shape, that had crawled out from a reedy covert on the opposite side of the river, and having silently let itself down into the water, was now swimming toward the terrified bather. there could be no mistaking the monster's intent, for it was coming straight toward its victim. "_a gavial_!" cried saloo, as his eyes rested on the body of the huge saurian, full twenty feet in length, with its head over a yard long, and jaws nearly the same, the upper one surmounted by a long knob-like protuberance, that distinguishes it from all other reptiles. "a gavial!" echoed the others, though not inquiringly; for they knew too well both the shape and character of the creature that was crossing the river. as all four first reached the bank--arriving nearly at the same instant of time--there were about twenty yards between the hideous saurian and her who seemed destined to destruction. on first perceiving her danger, the girl had made a few plunges to get back to the bank; but, hindered by the depth to which she had unwarily waded, and overcome by terror, she had desisted from the attempt; and now stood neck-deep, giving utterance to cries of despair. what was to be done? in less than a minute more the jaws of the saurian would close upon her crashing her fair, tender form between its teeth as though she were only some ordinary prey--a fish, or the stem of some succulent water-plant! her father stood on the bank a very picture of distress. of what use the rifle held half-raised in his hands? its bullet, not bigger than a pea, would strike upon the skull of such a huge creature harmlessly, as a drop of hail or rain. even could he strike it in the eye--surging through the water as it was, a thing so uncertain--that would not hinder it from the intent so near to accomplishment. the irishman, with only fish-hooks in his hand, felt equally impotent; and what could the boy henry do, not only unarmed but undressed--in short, just as he had been bathing--_in puris naturalibus_! all three were willing to rush into the water, and getting between the reptile and its victim, confront the fierce creature, even to their own certain sacrifice. and this, one, or other, or all of them, would have done, had they not been prevented by saloo. with a loud shout the malay, hitherto apparently impassive, called upon them to hold back. they obeyed, seeing that he intended to act, and had already taken his measures for rescuing the girl. they could not tell what these were, and only guessed at them by what they saw in his hands. it was nothing that could be called a weapon--only a piece of bamboo, pointed at one end, which he had taken from among the embers of last night's fire and sharpened with his knife, when he went off in search of the singapore oysters. it was the same stick he had been using to probe for them under the sand. on seeing the gavial as it started toward the girl, he had quickly drawn out his knife, and sharpened the other end of the stake while coming across the beach. with this sorry apology for a weapon, and while they were still wondering, he dashed into the stream; and almost before any of the others had recovered from their first surprise, they saw him plunge past the spot where stood the affrighted girl. in another instant his black head, with the long dark hair trailing behind it, appeared in close juxtaposition to the opened jaws of the reptile. then the head was seen suddenly to duck beneath the surface, while at the same time a brown-skinned arm and hand rose above it with a pointed stake in its grasp--like the emblematic representation seen upon some ancient crest. then was seen an adroit turning of the stick, so quick as to be scarce perceptible--immediately followed by a backward spring upon the part of the lizard, with a series of writhings and contortions, in which both its body and tail took part, till the water around it was lashed into foam. in the midst of this commotion, the head of the malay once more appeared above the surface, close to that of the girl; who, under the guidance of her strangely-skilled and truly courageous rescuer, was conducted to the bank, and delivered safe into her father's arms; stretched open to embrace her. it was some time, however, before the stream recovered its wonted tranquillity. for nearly half an hour the struggles of the great saurian continued, its tail lashing the water into foam, as through its gagged jaws a stream rushed constantly down its throat, causing suffocation. but, in spite of its amphibious nature, drowning was inevitable; and soon after became an accomplished fact--the huge reptilian carcass drifting down stream, towards the all-absorbing ocean, to become food for sharks, or some other marine monster more hideous and ravenous than itself. if, indeed, a more hideous and ravenous monster is to be found! it is sometimes called the gangetic crocodile, but it is even uglier than either crocodile or alligator, and differs from both in several important particulars. as, for instance, in its mouth--its jaws being curiously straight, long, and narrow; and in the shape of its head, which has straight perpendicular sides, and a quadrilateral upper surface. it has double, or nearly double, the number [note .] of the teeth of the crocodile of the nile, though the latter is well enough supplied with these potent implements of destruction! it is an amphibious animal, and fond of the water, in which its webbed hind feet enable it to move with considerable celerity. the huge reptile which threatened helen's safety was twenty feet in length, but the gavial sometimes attains the extraordinary dimensions of eight to nine yards. sincere was the gratitude of captain redwood for the address and courage displayed by the malay in rescuing his daughter, and his regret was great that he had no means of rewarding his faithful follower. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . as many as one hundred and twenty. chapter ten. burrowing birds. the fruit diet, however delicious, was not strengthening. saloo said so, and murtagh agreed with him. the irishman declared he would rather have a meal of plain "purtatees and buttermilk," though a bit of bacon, or even ship's "junk," would be more desirable. all agreed that a morsel of meat--whether salted or fresh--would be highly beneficial; indeed, almost necessary to the complete restoration of their strength. how was animal food to be procured? the forest, so far as captain redwood had explored it, seemed altogether untenanted by living creature. he had now been tramping for upwards of an hour among the trees without seeing either bird or quadruped. and although there were fish in the stream, and should have been shell-fish along the sea-beach, neither murtagh nor saloo had succeeded in procuring any. a keen craving for animal food had grown upon them, and they were not without some regretful thoughts at having permitted the dead gavial to drift out to sea. even from the carcass of the saurian they might have obtained steaks that, if not very dainty or delicate, would at least have been eatable. discouraged by their want of success, and still feeling feeble, they did not go out again that day, but remained resting under the tree. while they were munching their evening meal--of durions, as the dinner had been--the malay commenced discoursing upon eggs, which set them all thinking about them. if they only had a few, it would be just the very thing to nourish and give them strength. but where were the eggs to be obtained? this was the question asked him by the irishman, who could at that moment have eaten a dozen, boiled, fried, poached, in omelette, or even, as he said himself, have "sucked" them. "iggs indade!" he exclaimed, as saloo made mention of the article; "i'd loike to see one, an could ate a basketful of them, if they were as big as swans'. what puts iggs in your head, nigger?" "eggs no long way off," rejoined the malay. "plenty egg if we knowee whale find 'em." "how do you know that? ye're ravin', saloo." "no lavin, multa. you heal lass night the malee? all night longee he cly wail." "hear the malee. what's that?" "biggee fowl like tulkey. saloo heal him. make moan likee man go die." "och, thair was that, thrue enough. i heerd something scramin' all the night. i thought it might be a banshee, if thair is that crayther in this counthry. a bird, you say? what of that? its squalling won't give us any iggs, nor lade to its nest nayther." "ness not belly fal way. malee make ness in sand close to sea-shole. mollow mornin' i go lookee, maybe findee." all throughout the previous night they had heard a voice resounding along the shore in loud, plaintive wailings, and captain redwood had remarked its being a strange note to him, never having heard the like before. he believed the cries to come from some species of sea-fowl that frequented the coast, but did not think of the probability of their nests being close at hand. as day broke he had looked out for them in hopes of getting a shot. even had they been gulls, he would have been glad of one or two for breakfast. but there were no birds in sight, not even gulls. saloo now told them that the screams heard during the night did not come from sea-fowl, but from birds of a very different kind, that had their home in the forest, and only came to the sea-coast during their season of breeding; that their presence was for this purpose, and therefore denoted the proximity of their nests. while they were yet speaking on the subject, their eyes were suddenly attracted to a number of the very birds about which they were in converse. there was quite a flock of them--nearly fifty in all. they were not roosted upon the trees, nor flying through the air, but stepping along the sandy beach with a sedate yet stately tread, just like barn-door fowl on their march toward a field of freshly-sown grain, here and there stooping to pick up some stray seed. they were about the size of cochin-chinas, and from their flecked plumage of glossy black and rose-tinted white colour, as well as from having a combed or helmeted head, and carrying their tails upright, they bore a very striking resemblance to a flock of common hens. they, in fact, belonged to an order of birds closely allied to the gallinaceous tribe, and representing it on the continent of australia as also in several of the austro-malayan islands, where the true gallinaceae do not exist. there are several distinct species of them; some, as the _tallegalla_ or "brush turkey" of australia, approaching in form and general appearance to the turkey, while others resemble the common fowl, and still others might be regarded as a species of pheasant. they have the singular habit of depositing their eggs in mounds of rubbish, which they scrape together for this purpose, and then leave them to what might appear a sort of spontaneous incubation. hence they are usually called "mound-builders," though they do not all adhere to the habit; some of them choosing a very different though somewhat analogous mode of getting their eggs hatched. naturalists have given them the name of _megapoda_, on account of their very large feet, which, provided with long curved claws, enable them to scratch the ground deeply and rake together the rubbish into heaps for the safe deposit of their eggs. sometimes these megapodes, as the australians call them, for they are as common in australia as borneo, raise heaps of fifteen feet in height, and not less than sixty feet in circumference at the base. they are large and heavy birds, unwieldy in their motions, slow and lumbering in their flight. their legs are thick, and their toes are also thick and long. there is some difference between their nest-building ways and those of the tallegalla; yet, on the whole, the similarity is very striking, as may be seen from the following account. tracing a circle of considerable radius, says mr wood, the birds begin to travel round it, continually grasping with their large feet the leaves, and grasses, and dead twigs which are lying about, and flinging them inwards towards the centre. each time they finish their rounds they narrow their circle, so that they soon clear away a large circular belt, having in its centre a low, irregular heap. by repeating the operation they decrease the _diameter_ of the mound while increasing its _height_, until at length a large and rudely conical mound is formed. next they scrape out a cavity of about four feet in the middle of the heap, and here deposit the eggs, which are afterwards covered up, to be hatched by the combined effects of fermentation and the sun. but the bird does not thus escape any of the cares of maternity, for the male watches the eggs carefully, being endowed with a wonderful instinct which tells him the temperature suitable for them. sometimes he covers them thickly with leaves, and sometimes lays them nearly bare, repeating these operations frequently in the course of a single day. the eggs at last are hatched, but when the young bird escapes from the shell it does not leave the mound, remaining therein for at least twelve hours. even after a stroll in the open air it withdraws to its mound toward evening, and is covered up, like the egg, only not to so great a depth. it is a singular fact that in all cases a nearly cylindrical hole, or shaft, is preserved in the centre of the heap, obviously intended to admit the cooling air from without, and to allow of the escape of the gases fermenting within. in each nest as much as a bushel of eggs is frequently deposited. as these are of excellent flavour, they are quite as much esteemed by the white man as by the aborigine. the tallegalla has a habit of scratching large holes in the ground while dusting itself, says mr wood, after the manner of gallinaceous birds; and these holes often serve to guide the egg-hunter towards the nest itself. after this digression let us return to the megapodes of borneo, whose appearance had strongly excited the curiosity of captain redwood and his party. the birds that had now displayed themselves to the eyes of our party of castaways were of the species known as "maleos," by saloo called malee. they had not just then alighted, but came suddenly into view around the spur of a "dune," or sand-hill, which up to that moment had hindered them from being observed. as the spectators were quietly reclining under the obscure shadow of the tree, the birds did not notice them, but stalked along the shore about their own business. what this business was soon became apparent; for although one or another of the birds made occasional stop to pick up some worm, weed, or seed, it was evident they were not making their evening promenade in search of food. now and again one would dart quickly away from the flock, running with the swiftness of a pheasant, then suddenly stop, survey the ground in every direction, as if submitting it to examination, and finally, with a cackling note, summon the others to its side. after this a general cackle would spring up, as if they were engaged in some consultation that equally regarded the welfare of all. it was noticed that those taking the initiative in these prospecting rushes and summonings, differed a little from the others. the casque or bonnet-shaped protuberance at the back of their heads was larger, as were also the tubercles at their nostrils; the red upon their naked cheeks was of brighter and deeper hue; while their plumage was gayer and more glossy, the rufous-white portion of it being of a more pronounced rose or salmon colour. these were the male birds or "cocks" of the flock, though the difference between them and the hens was much less than that between chanticleer and the ladies of his barn-yard harem, and only noticeable when they drew very near to the spectators. they were still two hundred yards from the spot where the latter lay watching them, and by the direction in which they were going it was not likely they would come any nearer. captain redwood had taken hold of the musket, intending to load it with some slugs he chanced to have, and try a long shot into the middle of the flock; but saloo restrained him with a word or two spoken in a whisper. they were,-- "don't try shot, cappen. too long way off. you miss all. maybe they go lookee place for billy eggs. much betta we waitee while." thus cautioned, the captain laid aside the gun, while they all remained silently watching the maleos, which continued their course, with its various divergences, still unconscious of being observed. when they were nearly in front of the camping-place, at a spot where the sand lay loose and dry, above the reach of the ordinary tidal influx, all made a stop at the summons of one who, from the superior style of his plumage and the greater grandeur of his strut, appeared a very important individual of the tribe--in all likelihood the "cock of the walk." here a much longer period was spent in the cackling consultation, which at length came to an end, not as before in their passing on to another place, but by the whole flock setting to, and with their great clawed feet scratching up the sand, which they scattered in clouds and showers all around them. for a time they were scarce visible, the sand dust flying in every direction, and concealing the greater portion of them beneath its dun cloud; and this sort of play was continued for nearly half an hour. it was not intended for play, however, for when it at length came to a termination the spectators under the tree could perceive that a large cavity had been hollowed out in the sand, of such extent, as to diameter and depth, that more than half the flock, when within its circumference, were invisible from their point of observation. from that moment it could be noted that several birds were always down in the pit thus excavated, some going in, others coming out, as if taking their turn in the performance of a common duty; and it was further noticed that the ones so occupied were those of less conspicuous plumage--in fact the hens; while the cocks strutted around, with their tails elevated high in the air, and with all the pride and importance usually assumed by masters of a grand ceremonial. for another hour this singular scene was kept up, saloo hindering his companions from making any movement to interrupt it, by promising them a great reward for non-interference. the scene at length terminated in another grand scraping match, by which the sand was flung back into the pit with the accompanying storm of dust, and then emerging from the cloud there commenced a general stampede of the megapodes, the birds separating into parties of two and three, and going in different directions. they rushed away at lightning speed, some along the smooth sand beach, while others rose right up into the air, and on loud whirring wings flew off into the forest. "now!" said saloo, with joy gleaming in his dark, oriental eyes. "now we getee pay for patient waitee--we hab egg--better than dulion--belly bess solt of egg malee." as there was no need for further concealment or caution, all started to their feet and hastened out to the spot where the departed fowls had been at work. there was no longer any signs of a hollow, but a level surface corresponding with that around, and but for the fresh look of the recently disturbed sand, and the scoring that told of claws having disturbed it, no one could have thought that a flock of birds resembling barn-door fowl had just made such a large cavity in the ground, and then filled it up again. saloo and murtagh ran down to the pinnace, and each brought back an oar. with these used as shovels, the loose sand was once more removed, and nearly three dozen large eggs of a reddish or brick colour were exposed to view, lying in a sort of irregular stratification. they were of the usual ovoid form, smaller at one end than the other, though but slightly elongated. what was most notable was their immense size, considering the bulk of the birds that voided them; for while the latter were not larger than common hens, the eggs were as big as those of a goose. the contents of one which murtagh, in his careless hibernian way, accidentally broke--and which were caught in a tin pannikin that held as much as a good-sized breakfast cup--filled the pannikin to its brim. it was quite a seasonable supply. these fine eggs proved not inferior to those of the common hen; indeed they were thought superior, and in flavour more like the eggs of a guinea-fowl or turkey. about a dozen of them were cooked for breakfast, and in more ways than one. some were boiled, one of the half shells of the same singapore oyster serving for a saucepan; while in the other, used as a frying-pan, an immense omelette was frittered to perfection. it was quite a change from the fruit diet of the durion, reversing our present as well as the old roman fashion of eating, though not contrary to the custom of some modern nations--the spaniards, for example. instead of being _ab ovo ad malum_, it was _ab malo ad ovum_. [note .] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . the banshee, or benshie, sometimes called the shrieking woman, is an imaginary being, supposed by the irish to predict, by her shrieks and wails, the death of some member in the family over which she exercises a kind of supervision. to this fable moore alludes in one of his songs-- "how oft has the benshee cried." note . the romans began their noonday meal with eggs, and ended with a dessert; _ab ovo ad malum_. chapter eleven. the lanoons. certainly the most nutritious of all things eatable or drinkable is the substance, or fluid, called milk. it becomes blood almost immediately, and then flesh, or muscle, as was designed by the creator. hence it is the first food given to all animated creatures--not alone to the _mammalia_, but to the oviparous animals--even to the infantile forms of the vegetable itself. to the first it is presented in the form of simple milk, or "lacteal fluid;" to the second in the "white" of the egg; while the young tree or plant, springing from its embryo, finds it in the farina, or succulent matter, with which it is surrounded, and in which it has hitherto lain embedded and apparently lifeless, till the nursing sun calls it into a growing existence. it is albumen, gluten, and other substances combined, all existing in the udder, in the egg-shell, in the seed, root, or fruit; from which springs the progeny, whether it be man or beast, flying bird or swimming fish, creeping reptile or fast-rooted forest tree. the meal of oyster-meat had restored to healthy action the long-fasting stomachs of the castaways; the durion fruit, coming like a _dessert_, had no doubt acted with an exceedingly beneficial effect; but not till they had partaken of the true "staff of life"--represented in one of its elementary forms, the egg--did they feel their blood running in its right channels, alike restoring their vigour and strength. murtagh was one of the first to feel revivified, and declare himself ready for anything. but they were all much invigorated, and began to think and talk of plans for the future. the question, of course, was, how they should quit the shore on which shipwreck, and afterwards a chance wind, had cast them? so far the coast appeared to be uninhabited, and although not so very inhospitable, as their experience had proved, still it would never do for them to remain there. the american merchant-skipper had no ambition to match the scotchman selkirk, and make a second crusoe of himself. neither would murtagh or the malay have cared to act as his man friday for any very prolonged period of hermitage, so long as there was a mode of escaping from it. during the remainder of that evening, therefore, they talked of a change of quarters, and discussed various plans for bringing this about. it was a question whether they should take to their boat and again put out to sea, or endeavour, by an overland expedition, to reach some part of the coast where they might find a european, and therefore a civilised, settlement. captain redwood knew there were more than one of these on the great island of borneo. there were the dutch residencies of sambas and sarabang; the english government depot on the islet of labuan; and the strange heterogeneous settlement--half colony, half kingdom--then acknowledging the authority of the bold british adventurer, sir james brooke, styled "rajah of sarawak." if any of these places could be attained, either coastwise or across country, our castaways might consider their sufferings at an end; and it was only a question which would be the easiest to reach, and what the best way of reaching it. after due consideration, labuan was the point decided upon. from that part of the coast captain redwood supposed himself to be, it was by far the nearest civilised settlement--in fact, the only one that offered a chance of being reached by travellers circumstanced as they. of course they had no intention to start immediately. their strength was not sufficiently restored, and they were only discussing the question of a journey to be undertaken before long, and the probabilities of their being able to accomplish it. although they were now safe on land, and need no longer dread the "dangers of the deep," they did not yet believe themselves delivered from all peril. the part of the coast on which they had landed appeared uninhabited; but it was not this that made them uneasy. on the contrary, human beings were the very things they did not desire just then to see. from the place where his ship had been struck by the typhoon, and the distance and direction in which they had since drifted, captain redwood conjectured--was indeed almost sure of it--that they were on some part of the north-eastern coast of borneo, where it fronts the celebes sea; and he had traded long enough among the islands of the malayan archipelago to know that this was a most dangerous locality, not from beasts of prey, but fierce, predatory men; from pirates, in short. these sea-robbers, issuing from their hiding-places and strongholds among the lagoons of many of the malayan islands--more especially mindanao--are to be met with all through the indian archipelago; but their most favourite cruising-grounds are in the seas lying around the sooloo isles, and stretching between borneo and new guinea. they are usually known as "lanoons," from illanon, the southern peninsula of mindanao, their principal place of refuge and residence. but they have also other haunts and ports where they make rendezvous-- many on the shores of the celebes sea, in the island of celebes itself, and also along the eastern and northern coast of borneo. in this last they are usually known as "dyak pirates," a name not very correct; since most of these freebooters are of pure malayan race, while the bornean dyaks take but little part in their plundering, and are themselves often its victims. the craft in which they carry on their nefarious calling are large junk-like vessels termed "praus," with short, stumpy masts and huge square sails of woven matting stuff. but they place more dependence upon their broad paddle-bladed oars and skilled oarsmen, each prau having from thirty to forty rowers, and some very large ones a much greater number. these, seated in double rows along each side of the vessel, take no part in the fighting, which is done by the chiefs and warriors stationed above on a sort of platform or upper deck that extends nearly the whole length of the prau. the advantage derived from the oars is, that in the tropical seas very light winds and calms are of common occurrence, during either of which the prau can easily overtake an ordinary sailing-ship. and when a brisk wind arises, and it is desirable to avoid any vessel that may be endeavouring to come up with them, they can, by means of their strong rowing force, get to windward of the chasing craft, and so out of harm's way. ships are not always the objects of their piratical cruisings, or they might at times find it but an unprofitable business. combined with sea piracy, they make frequent land expeditions along the coasts of the different islands, going up the inlets and rivers, and plundering the towns or other settlements situated on their banks. and their booty does not always consist of goods, chattels, and money, but of men, women, and children; for they are men-robbers as well as murderers and pirates. their captives are carried off to their places of rendezvous, and there kept until they can be sold into slavery--a market for this kind of commodity being easily found in almost every island of the malayan archipelago--whether it be dutch, spanish, portuguese, or under the dominion of its own native rulers, the sultans and rajahs. well aware of all these circumstances, captain redwood knew the danger he and his party would incur should they fall into the hands of the lanoons. so long as they were out upon the open sea, and in fear of perishing by starvation, they had never had a thought about pirates. then the sight of a prau--even with the certainty of its being a piratical craft--would have been welcome; since death by the malay kris, or slavery to the most cruel taskmaster, would have been a relief from the sufferings they were enduring, from hunger as from thirst. now, however, that these were things of the past, and they were not only safe delivered from the perils of the deep, but seemed in no farther danger of starvation, the pirates had become the subject of their gravest fears, and their eyes were habitually on the alert--now scanning the sea-shore on both sides, and now directed toward the forest, whenever any noise from that quarter occurred to excite suspicion. while in this frame of mind, the boat which had brought them safely ashore caused them a good deal of apprehension. they might themselves have easily found concealment among the trees that stood thickly on the land-side; but the large pinnace lying upon the open beach was a conspicuous object, and could be seen miles off by any one straying along the shore, or coming abruptly out of the forest. if there were any pirates' nest near, the boat would surely betray them, and the question arose as to what should be done with it. to have dragged it up the sand, and hidden it among the underwood, is probably what they would have done had they been possessed of sufficient strength. but they knew that they were not, and therefore the thing was not thought of. it was as much as they could yet do to drag their own bodies about, much less a heavy ship's boat. murtagh suggested breaking it up, and letting the fragments float off upon the waves. but captain redwood did not approve of this mode. the craft that had so long carried them through an unknown sea, and at length set them safely ashore, deserved different treatment. besides, they might again stand in need of it; for it was not yet certain whether they were on the coast of the bornean mainland, or one of the numerous outlying islets to be found along its eastern side. if an island, the boat would still be required to carry them across to the main. while they were engaged in discussing this subject on the day they had made discovery of the maleos' eggs, saloo's sharp eye, wandering about, caught sight of something that promised a solution of the difficulty. it was the little stream not far off, or rather, the estuary formed by its current, which, flowing out through the sands, had cut a channel deep enough for the keel of a much larger craft than a ship's pinnace. "why we no blingee boat up libba?" he asked. "saloo is right; it may be done," assented the captain. "troth an' that may it. it's clivver of the nigger to be the first of us to think of that same. then we'd betther set about it at once-- hadn't we, captin?" "by all means," was the reply; and the three men, rising to their feet, walked off toward the boat, leaving the young people under the tree. chapter twelve. krissing a constrictor. it took them nearly an hour to get the pinnace round into the stream, and opposite the place they had fixed upon for their temporary encampment. the current acting against their feeble efforts at rowing, was the cause of delay. they succeeded, however, and the boat was made safe from being observed by the eye of any one going along the beach. but, to make it still more secure, they poled it in under the branches of an over-hanging tree not far off--a large indian fig, or _banyan_, whose umbrageous top overshadowed the water nearly half-way across the stream. to one of its numerous root-stems the craft was made fast by means of the tiller-ropes; and they were stepping out of it to return to their camping-place, when a shout from saloo warned them of some danger ahead. it was not ahead, but _overhead_; for, as his companions looked up-- following the example of the malay--they saw what at first appeared to be one of the stems of the banyan in motion, as if endowed with life! they were soon convinced of their mistake; for instead of the moving thing being part of the fig-tree, its supple, cylindrical body and glittering scales showed it to be a serpent. it was a python, and one of enormous dimensions, as they could tell by what they saw of it, knowing that this was only a portion of the whole; at least ten feet of it were depending from the tree, while, judging by the taper of its body, and applying the ordinary rule as to serpent shape, there could not be less than ten or twelve other feet concealed among the branches above. as saloo first caught sight of it, it was descending from the tree, no doubt having been disturbed by the noise made in mooring the boat, and tempted to forsake its perch for some purpose unknown. it was coming down head foremost--not along any of the stems, but in an open space between them--its tail coiled round a branch above, affording it a support for this descent, monkey or 'possum-fashion. its snout had already touched the ground, and perhaps its whole body would soon have been elongated upon the earth but for the shout of saloo. at this it suddenly jerked up its head, but without taking in any of its coils above; and with jaws agape and tongue protruding, it commenced oscillating around as if trying its range, and ready to pounce upon any creature that came within the radius of that wide circle of which its forked tongue was describing the circumference. the warning of the malay was given soon enough to save captain redwood, but not the ship-carpenter. murtagh was either too long in hearing, or too slow in giving heed to it. he was a step or two in advance of the others, carrying in his arms some implements from the boat. in looking around and above he saw the snake sweeping about in its grand circular vibrations, and at the same time perceived that he was within their range. it was but the simple obedience of instinct to leap to one side, which he did; but as ill luck would have it, hampered by the _impedimenta_ carried in his arms, he came in violent collision with one of the stems of the banyan, which not only sent him back with a rebound, but threw him down upon the earth, flat on his face. he would have done better by lying still, for in that position the snake could not have coiled around and constricted him. and the python rarely takes to its teeth till it has tried its powers of squeezing. but the ship-carpenter, ignorant of this herpetological fact, and as an irishman not highly gifted either with patience or prudence, after scrambling a while upon his hands and knees, stood once more upon his feet. he had scarcely got into an erect attitude when his body was embraced by a series of spiral annulations that extended from head to foot--huge thick rings, slimy and clammy to the touch, which he knew to be the foldings of the python. had there been any lanoons, or dyak pirates, within a mile's distance, they might have heard the cry that escaped him. the forest birds heard it afar off, and ceased their chatterings and warblings, so that there was no sound for some time save the continuous shrieks and ejaculations that came from murtagh's lips. captain redwood, altogether unarmed, leaped back into the pinnace to seize the boat-hook, thinking it the best weapon for the occasion. it might have been of service if obtainable in time. but long before he could have returned with it the ship-carpenter's ribs would have been compressed into a mass of broken bones, and the breath crushed out of his body. this would certainly have been the lamentable result but for a weapon with which a malay is always armed, carrying it on his body nearer than his shirt, and almost as near as his skin. it was the _kris_. as a matter of course, saloo had one, and luckily for his old shipmate, "multa," he knew how to handle it with skill, so that, in driving its twisted blade through the python's throat, he did not also impale upon its point the jugular vein of the irishman. he did the one dexterously without doing the other, and the consequence was that the huge snake, suffering keenly from having its throat pierced through, quickly uncoiled itself from the body of its intended victim, glad to let the latter escape, and only thinking of getting free itself by scuttling off into the thickest of the underwood, where it disappeared evidently writhing in pain. too anxious about the condition of their comrade, neither captain redwood nor saloo thought of pursuing it, but stooped down over the released body of the irishman, who had fallen prostrate to the earth. on due examination it proved that there was not much harm done beyond a terrible fright; and after some congratulations, he was induced to get once more upon his feet and accompany them to the camp. but for saloo and his kris, beyond doubt he would never have returned to it alive. for the python in the old world is quite as formidable as the boa in the new. perhaps it is even more to be dreaded; for, notwithstanding its great length--twenty-five to thirty feet--it is exceedingly nimble and its muscular strength is immense. there are numerous authentic stories on record of its having crushed the buffalo and the tiger in its huge constricting folds. the _python reticulatus_ is probably the largest species. chapter thirteen. chicks quick to take wing. two more days passed without any occurrence of an unusual nature, though the castaways made several short excursions and explorations into the forest, and also up and down the shore, keeping, however, close to the edge of the timber. these ended without any important discovery being made, but confirmed them in their conjecture that the coast on which they had been cast was uninhabited, at least for a considerable distance on each side of the place where they had landed. the most disappointing thing about these exploratory trips was their fruitlessness in obtaining food, the chief object for which they had been made. excepting some stray roots and berries of an esculent nature, they had nothing to eat after the maleos' eggs were consumed; and these had lasted them only into the second day. it is true the durion stood near, and its fruit would for a time keep them from starving. still it would do little for the restoration of their strength; and upon such diet it would be a long time before they could undertake the arduous journey contemplated with any fair prospect of being able to finish it. no more singapore oysters could be found, no fish caught; and such birds and beasts of the forest as captain redwood had accidentally got a glimpse of, had either flown or fled away without giving him as much as the chance of a snap shot. at night they again heard the stridulous clamour of the maleos, and every morning looked out for them; but these fine fowls did not put in another appearance, much less deposit three dozen eggs right under their eyes, and in a convenient spot for being gathered. saloo, however, who knew all about their habits, believed he might yet find another ovarium; and with this view, on the morning of the third day, after giving up all further attempts at getting shell-fish, he started upon a "prospecting" expedition after eggs, the others going with him. their route led along the shore, and among the dry sand-wreaths, swirled up near the selvedge of the woods. if another egg depository existed, it was there it should be found. he told his companions that not only did different gangs of the maleos bury their eggs in different places, but the same tribe or flock had the habit of returning to the beach at different times, each time laying their collected eggs in a new and separate pit. that, moreover, these curious birds, guided by instinct or cunning, are accustomed to conceal the place of deposit, which might be easily recognised by their tracks and scratchings. this they do by scoring the ground in other places, and giving to the surface the same appearance as it bears over the spot where their eggs have been left to the hatching of the sun. in this searching excursion saloo had brought with him a boat-hook; and it was not long before he had an opportunity of proving the truth of his words. a place where the sand was very much tracked by the huge feet of the megapodes soon presented itself, exactly resembling the spot where they had procured the first supply of eggs. but on probing it with the boat-hook, saloo at once pronounced it one of the sham nests. after all, the creatures did not show too much cunning; for the presence of this pretended place of deposit told the malay that a real one would not be far off; and, sure enough, another was soon after discovered, which, on being sounded by the iron point of the boat-hook, gave back a firm feel and a sharp metallic click, that told him there were eggs underneath. the sand as before, was carefully removed--murtagh having brought with him an oar for the purpose--when, for the second time, nearly three dozen beautiful salmon-coloured eggs were disclosed to their view. these were carefully taken up, and carried back to the place of encampment, where they were left lying upon the ground, the party resuming their quest, in hope of being able to lay in a larger and more permanent supply. as it chanced, another considerable receptacle was struck, giving back sweet music to the probing of the boat-hook; and its contents were also added to the larder. as the last lot had been found under sand that appeared but recently stirred, it followed that they were fresher than those of the second finding, and therefore was it determined upon that they should be first eaten. the egg-gatherers having been now several hours engaged, and again become almost as hungry as when first cast upon the shore, once more kindled a fire, set the huge shells upon it, and using the one as a boiling-pot, and the other as a frying-pan, prepared themselves a meal of two courses--_oeuf bouille_ and _omelette_. next day they again went in search of other eggs, intending to lay in a store against the eventuality of any possible period of famine. but although they discovered several scratched places, and carefully "sounded" them, no more maleos' eggs could be found; and they came to the conclusion that they had despoiled all the "incubator" beds existing on that section of the bornean coast. by reason of their rapidly-increasing strength, their appetites were by this time almost insatiable. they were, therefore, not long in using up all the "setting" last gathered, and were about to begin upon the other lot that did not seem so "newly laid." these had been kept separate, and permitted to lie where they had first placed them--out on the open surface of the sand, some fifteen or twenty yards beyond the shadow of the tree. negligently, and somewhat unwisely, had this been done; for during the day the hot sun shining down upon them would naturally have a tendency to spoil and addle them. still the time had not been very long; and as no one thought of their being damaged, they were preparing to turn them into eggs poached, fried, boiled, or otherwise. saloo had rekindled the fire, and got ready his pots and pans; while murtagh, who had stepped out to the "larder", was about to take up one of the eggs, and carry it to the "kitchen." but at that moment a sight met the eyes of the irishman, that not only astonished, but caused him to sing out so excitedly as at once to attract the attention of the others to the same singular spectacle. it was that of an egg rolling, as it were, spontaneously over the ground? and not only one egg; for, as they continued to gaze a while, the whole lot, as if taking their cue from it, commenced imitating the movement, some with a gentle, others a more violent motion! murtagh sprang back affrighted, and stood with his red hair on end, gazing at the odd and inexplicable phenomenon. the others were as much puzzled as he--all except the malay, who at a glance understood the philosophy of the movement. "young malee inside," he cried in explanation. "we no eat egg, we get chickee. wait little minnit. you him see come out full featha." truly enough the "chicks" did come out, not as down-covered helpless creatures, but pults in full plumage, as saloo had predicted: at all events, full enough to enable them to fly; for as the shells one after another commenced crackling--burst outward by the young birds' strength--each showed a perfect fledgling; that, springing forth from the shivered encasement, like jack out of his box, at once flapped its little wings, and essayed short flights over the surface of the sand. so much were the spectators taken by surprise, that one and all of the new-born but completely equipped birds, would have winged their way into the forest and been lost, had it not been for saloo, who, accustomed to such transformations, was in no way discomposed, but preserved his coolness and equanimity. fortified by these, and armed with the boat-hook, which he had suddenly seized, he struck down the precocious chicks one after another, and put an end to their aspiring flights by laying them lifeless upon the sand. in the end it was neither eggs nor omelettes, but tender, delicate "squabs" the castaways had for their prandial repast. chapter fourteen. a grand tree-climber. the castaways having made a repast on chicks instead of eggs, as they had been expecting, were for the time satisfied, so far as concerned their appetites. but aware that these would ere long recommence their craving, they could not be contented to remain inactive. it would be necessary to procure some other kind of provisions, and, if possible, a permanent stock on which they could rely until ready to set out on their journey, with a surplus to carry them some way along it. although in borneo there are many kinds of strange birds, and some of them large ones, they are not to be found everywhere, and when seen, not so easily caught or shot. there are some large quadrupeds too, as the indian rhinoceros, and the sumatran tapir; and although the flesh of these great thick-skinned animals is neither tender nor delicate, yet men who can get no other soon find themselves in a position to relish it, despite its toughness and its coarse texture. but neither rhinoceros nor tapir was seen by our castaways; neither seemed to frequent that part of the coast, as no tracks of them were observed during their excursions. if they had fallen in with a rhinoceros, they would have had some difficulty in killing it; seeing that this enormous brute is as large as a small elephant, its body protected by a thick hide embossed with hard knob-like protuberances, like those upon shields, giving to the animal the appearance of being encased in a full suit of ancient armour. the sumatran tapir, too, is a creature that does not readily succumb to its assailant, being larger and stronger than its namesake of south america. there are two species of deer known in borneo; one of them, the "rusa," a fine large animal. captain redwood was in hopes he might meet with an individual of either species; and with this object in view, he continued to make short excursions into the woods, taking his rifle along with him, occasionally accompanied by murtagh, with the ship's musket. but they always returned empty-handed, and a good deal down-hearted, having seen nothing that could be converted into venison. saloo had again tried for eggs and shell-fish, but was unsuccessful in his search after both; evidently there were no more depositories of maleos' eggs, nor singapore oysters, nor, indeed, any kind of shell-fish, on that part of the shore. they did not again see any of the mound-making birds--not even those they had despoiled; for it is not the habit of the megapodes to return to their eggs, but to leave them to be hatched under the hot sand, and the chicks to scratch their way upward to the surface, thus taking care of themselves from the very moment of their birth, and, indeed, we may say, before it, since it can scarcely be said they are born before breaking through the shell; and this they have to do for themselves, else they would never see daylight. talk of precocious chicks! there are none anywhere to be compared with the megapodean pullets of the malayan archipelago, no birds half so "early" as they. for some days, after eating up the last chicken of the flock, our castaways could get nothing to live upon but durions; and although these formed a diet sufficiently agreeable to the palate, they were not very strengthening. besides, they were not so easily gathered; the few they had found on some trees, which saloo had conveniently climbed, being quickly exhausted. the large durion-tree under which they had first encamped was well furnished with fruit. but its tall stem, nearly a hundred feet, without a branch, and with a bark smooth as that of a sycamore, looked as if no mortal man could ascend it. captain redwood had fired several rounds of his chain-shot up into it, and brought down many of the grand spinous pericarps; but this cost an expenditure of ammunition; and, circumstanced as they were, they saw it would never do to waste it in such whimsical fashion. still, for want of food, the fruit must be obtained some way or other, and the question was how to "pluck" it. in their dilemma the malay once more came to their aid. fortunately for all, saloo was a native of sumatra, and had been brought up among its forests, much resembling those of borneo. he was skilled in the wood-craft common to both islands; and, perhaps, of all the crew of the castaway ship, not one could have survived whose services would have been of more value to captain redwood and his party than those of the brown-skinned pilot;--especially since it had been their fate to be cast upon the shores of borneo. his companions had already experienced the benefit to be derived from his knowledge of the country's productions, and were beginning to consult him in almost every difficulty that occurred. he appeared capable of accomplishing almost anything. for all this, they were no little surprised and somewhat incredulous when he declared his intention of climbing the great durion-tree. murtagh was very much inclined to deny that he could do it. "the nigger's makin' game of us, captin," he said. "it would be as much as a squirrel could do to speel up that tall trunk. why, it's as smooth as the side of a copper-bottomed ship, an' nothin' to lay howlt on. he's jokin'." "no jokee, mista multa. saloo that tlee climb soon. you help you see." "oh, be aisy now! i'll help you all i can, if that'll do any good. how do you mane to set about it?" to this saloo made no verbal rejoinder, but laying hold of a small axe, that had been brought away in the boat, he walked off toward a clump of bamboos growing near the spot where they had made their camp. the first thing he did was to cut down five or six of the largest of these canes, some of them being several inches in diameter, directing murtagh to drag them off, and deposit them close to the durion-tree. as soon as he had felled what he deemed a sufficient number, he returned to the spot where the irishman had deposited them, and commenced chopping them into pieces of about eighteen inches in length. in this the ship-carpenter, by reason of his calling, was able to give him efficient aid; and the ground was soon strewed with disjointed bamboos. each of the pieces was then split into two, and sharply pointed at one end, so as to resemble a peg designed for being driven into the ground. but it was not into the ground saloo intended driving them, as will be presently seen. while murtagh was engaged in splitting and sharpening the sections of bamboo, the malay went off once more into the woods, and soon came back again, bearing in his arms what looked like a quantity of rough packing-cord. the freshly-cut ends of it, however, with their greenish colour and running sap, told it to be some species of creeping-plant-- one of the parasites, or epiphytes, that abound everywhere in the forests of borneo, as in those of all tropical countries, and render the trade of the ropemaker altogether superfluous. throwing down his bundle of creepers, saloo now took up one of the pointed pegs, and, standing by the trunk of the durion, drove it into the soft sapwood, a little above the height of his own head. the axe, which was a light one, and had a flat hammer-shaped head, served him for a mallet. as soon as the first peg had been driven to the depth of several inches, he threw aside the axe, and laid hold of the stake with both hands. then drawing his feet from the ground, so that all his weight came upon the peg, he tried whether it would sustain him without yielding. it did, and he was satisfied. his next movement was another excursion into the forest, where he found some bamboo stems of a slenderer kind than those already cut, but quite as tall. having selected three or four of these, he chopped them down, and dragged them up to the durion. then taking one, he set it upright on its butt-end, parallel to the trunk of the tree, and at such a distance from it as to strike near the outer extremity of the peg already driven home, close to the end of which he had already cut a couple of notches. some of the vegetable twine was next prepared by him, and taking a piece of the proper length, he made the upright bamboo fast to the horizontal peg by a knowing knot, such as only a savage or sailor can tie. captain redwood and his ship-carpenter having now obtained an inkling of his design, stood by to render every assistance, while the young people as spectators were very much interested in the proceeding. as soon as the upright cane was securely lashed to the cross piece, and also made safe against shifting by having its lower end "stepped" or embedded in the ground, saloo prepared to ascend, taking with him several of the pegs that had been sharpened. murtagh "gave him a leg," and he stood upon the first "round" of the ladder. then reaching up, he drove in a second peg--not quite so far above the first as this was from the ground. with another piece of creeper he made it also fast to the perpendicular pole, and the second round was formed, upon which he had to climb without any helping hand, and with the agility of an ape. a third step was similarly established; then a fourth and fifth, and so on, till the pegs and cordage carried up with him gave out, when he came back to the ground to provide himself with a second supply. obtaining this, he once more ascended, and continued to carry aloft his singular "shrouds." the next thing to be exhausted was the upright piece, which, being only about thirty feet in length, and requiring a surplus to be left, of course came far short of reaching to the lowest limbs of the durion. another similar stem of bamboo had to be added on by splicing; but for this he did not need to descend, as murtagh, stretching to his arm's length, handed it up to him, so that he was enabled to lay hold of and draw it up of himself. giving the two pieces a good length of double for the splice, he bound them securely together, and then went on with the driving of his pegs, to complete the remaining rounds of the ladder. in a space of time that did not in all exceed twenty minutes, he had got up to within ten or twelve feet of the lower branches of the durion--to such a height as caused those looking at him from below to feel giddy as they gazed. it was, indeed, a strange and somewhat fearful spectacle-- that slight human form, sixty or seventy feet above their heads, at such a vast elevation so diminished in size as to appear like a child or a pigmy, and the more fearful to them who could not convince themselves of the security of the slender stair upon which he was standing. they were half expecting that, at any moment, one of the pegs would give way, and precipitate the poor fellow to the earth, a crushed and shapeless mass! it was just as when some courageous workman in a manufacturing town-- bricklayer or carpenter--ascends to the top of one of its tall factory chimneys, to repair some damage done by fire-crack or lightning, and the whole populace of the place rushes out of doors, to look up at the strange spectacle, and admire the daring individual, while trembling in fear for his fate. so stood the little party under the tall durion-tree, regarding the ascent of saloo. chapter fifteen. something sharp. the malay had ascended, as already said, to within ten or twelve feet from the lower limbs of the tree, and was still engaged driving in his pegs and binding on the upright bamboo to continue his ascent, when all at once he was seen to start and abruptly suspend operations. at the same time an exclamation escaped his lips, in a low tone, but seemingly in accents of alarm. they all looked up apprehensively, and also started away from the tree; for they expected to see him come tumbling down in their midst. but no; he was still standing firm upon the last made round of the ladder, and in an erect attitude, as if he had no fear of falling. with one hand he held the axe, the other gently grasping the upright bamboo that served him for a support. instead of looking down to them, to call out or claim their assistance, they saw that his eyes were turned upward and fixed, as if on some object directly over his head. it did not appear to be among the branches of the durion, but as if in the trunk of the tree; and in the interval of silence that succeeded his first quick exclamation, they could hear a hissing sound, such as might proceed from the throat of a goose when some stranger intrudes upon the domain of the farmyard. as it was carried down the smooth stem of the durion, which acted as a conductor, the spectators underneath guessed it was not a goose, but some creature of a less innocent kind. "a snake, be japers!" was the conjecture that dropped from the ship-carpenter's lips, while the same thought occurred simultaneously to the others; for they could think of no living thing, other than a serpent, capable of sending forth such a sibilant sound as that just heard. "what is it, saloo?" hailed captain redwood; "are you in any danger?" "no dangee, cappen; only little bit good luck, that all," was the cheering response that restored their confidence. "how good luck?" asked the captain, puzzled to think of what fortune could have turned up in their favour so high above their heads. "you see soon," rejoined the malay, taking a fresh peg from his girdle, and once more resuming his task at stair-making. while he was engaged in hammering, and between the resounding strokes, they at the bottom of the tree repeatedly heard the same hissing sound they had taken for the sibilations of a snake, and which they might still have believed to be this, but for a hoarse croaking voice, mingling with the sibilation, which reached their ears at intervals, evidently proceeding from the same throat. moreover, as they continued to gaze upward, watching saloo at his work, they caught sight of something in motion on the trunk, and about a foot above his face. it was something of a whitish colour and slender shape, pointed like one of the bamboo pegs he was busily driving at. now they saw it, and now they did not see it; for whatever it was, it was sunk inside the trunk of the durion-tree, alternately protruding and drawing back. it was also clear to them, that from this sharp-pointed thing, whether beast, bird, or reptile, came the hissing and hoarse croaking that puzzled them. "what is it?" again asked the captain, now no longer anxious or alarmed, but only curious to know what the strange creature could be. "buld, cappen--biggee buld." "oh, a bird, that's all; what sort of bird?" "honbill; ole hen hornbill. she on ha ness inside, hatchee egg; she built up in dat; ole cock he shuttee up with mud." "oh, a hornbill!" said the captain, repeating the name of the bird for the information of those around him; and now that they more narrowly scrutinised the spot where the white-pointed beak was still bobbing out and in, they could perceive that there was a patch or space of irregular roundish shape, slightly elevated above the bark, having a plastered appearance, and of the colour of dry mud. they had barely time to make this last observation, when saloo, having got another peg planted so as to enable him to ascend high enough, turned the edge of his axe against the trunk of the durion, and commenced chipping off the mud, that now fell in flakes to the bottom of the tree. it took him only a very short time to effect a breach into the barricaded nest--one big enough to admit his hand with the fingers at fall spread. his arm was at once thrust in up to the elbow; and as his digits closed fearlessly around the throat of the old hen hornbill, she was drawn forth from her place of imprisonment. for a time she was seen in saloo's hands, convulsively writhing and flopping her great wings, like a turkey gobbler with his head suddenly cut off. there was some screaming, hissing, and croaking, but to all these sounds saloo quickly put an end, by taking a fresh grasp of the throat of the great bird, choking the breath out of it until the wings ceased fluttering; and then he flung its body down at the feet of the spectators. saloo did not descend immediately, but once more thrust his hand into the nest, hoping, no doubt, to find an egg or eggs in it. instead of these, the contents proved to be a bird--and only one--a chick recently hatched, about the size of a squab-pigeon, and fat as a fed ortolan. unlike the progeny of the megapodes, hatched in the hot sand, the infant hornbill was without the semblance of a feather upon its skin, which was all over of a green, yellowish hue. there was not even so much as a show of down upon it. for a moment saloo held it in his hand, hissing as it was in his own tiny way. then chucking it down after its murdered mother, where it fell not only killed, but "squashed," he prepared to descend in a less hasty manner. he now saw no particular need for their dining on durions, at least on that particular day; and therefore discontinued his task upon the bamboo ladder, which could be completed on the morrow, or whenever the occasion called for it. chapter sixteen. an enemy in the air. though the old hen hornbill, after her long and seemingly forced period of incubation, might not prove such a tender morsel, they were nevertheless rejoiced at this accession to their now exhausted larder, and the pilot at once set about plucking her, while murtagh kindled a fresh fire. while they were thus engaged, henry, who had greatly admired the ingenuity displayed by saloo in the construction of his singular ladder, bethought him of ascending it. he was led to this exploit partly out of curiosity to try what such a climb would be like; but more from a desire to examine the odd nest so discovered--for to him, as to most boys of his age, a bird's nest was a peculiarly attractive object. he thought that saloo had not sufficiently examined the one first plundered, and that there might be another bird or an egg behind. he was not naturalist enough to know--what the ex-pilot's old sumatran experience had long ago taught him--that the hornbill only lays one egg, and brings forth but a single chick. whether or no, he was determined to ascend and satisfy himself. he had no fear of being able to climb the tree-ladder. it did not seem any more difficult than swarming up the shrouds of a ship, and not half so hard as going round the main-top without crawling through the "lubber's hole"--a feat he had often performed on his father's vessel. therefore, without asking leave, or saying a word to any one, he laid hold of the bamboo pegs and started up the tree. none of the others had taken any notice of him. captain redwood was engaged in wiping out his gun, with little helen attending upon him, while saloo was playing poulterer, and murtagh, a little way off in the woods, gathering faggots for the fire. henry kept on, hand over hand, and foot after foot, till he at length stood upon the topmost round of the unfinished ladder. being almost as tall as saloo himself, he easily got his arm into the cavity that contained the nest, and commenced groping all over it. he could find no other bird, nor yet an egg. only the dried-up ordure of the denizens that had lately occupied the prison cell, along with some bits of the shell out of which the young hornbill had been but recently hatched. after a moment or two spent in examining the curious cavity, and reflecting on the odd habit of a bird being thus plastered up and kept for weeks in close confinement--all, too, done by its own mate, who surely could not so act from any intention of cruelty--after in vain puzzling himself as to what could be the object of such a singular imprisonment, he determined upon returning to the ground, and seeking the explanation from saloo. he had returned upon the topmost step, and was about letting himself down to that next below, when not only were his ears assailed by sharp cries, but he suddenly saw his eyes in danger of being dug out of their sockets by the sharp beak of a bird, whose huge shadowy wings were flapping before his face! although somewhat surprised by the onslaught, so sudden and unexpected-- and at the same time no little alarmed--there was no mystery about the matter. for he could see at a glance that the bird so assailing him was a hornbill; and a moment's reflection told him it was the cock. afar off in the forest--no doubt in search of food--catering for his housekeeper and their new chick, of whose birth he was most probably aware, he could not have heard her cries of distress; else would he have rushed to the rescue, and appeared much sooner upon the scene. but at length he had arrived; and with one glance gathered in the ruin that had occurred during his absence. there was his carefully plastered wall pulled down, the interior of his domicile laid open, his darlings gone, no doubt dragged out, throttled and slaughtered, by the young robber still standing but a step from the door. the enraged parent did not pause to look downward, else he might have seen a still more heart-rending spectacle at the bottom of the tree. he did not stay for this; on the instant he went swoop at the head of the destroyer, with a scream that rang far over the forest, and echoed in a thousand reverberations through the branches of the trees. fortunately for henry, he had on his head a thick cloth cap, with its crown cotton-padded. but for this, which served as a helmet, the beak of the bird would have been into his skull, for at the first dab it struck right at his crown. at the second onslaught, which followed quick after, henry, being warned, was enabled to ward off the blow, parrying with one hand, while with the other supporting himself on his perch. for all this the danger was not at an end; as the bird, instead of being scared away, or showing any signs of an intention to retreat, only seemed to become more infuriated by the resistance, and continued its swooping and screaming more vigorously and determinedly than ever. the boy was well aware of the peril that impended; and so, too, were those below; who, of course, at the first screech of the hornbill, had looked up and seen what was passing above them. they would have called upon him to come down, and he would have done so without being summoned, if there had been a chance. but there was none: for he could not descend a single step without using both hands on the ladder; and to do this would leave his face and head without protection. either left unguarded for a single instant, and the beak of the bird, playing about like a pickaxe, would be struck into his skull, or buried deep in the sockets of his eyes. he knew this, and so also they who looked from below. he could do nothing but keep his place, and continue to fight off the furious assailant with his free arm--the hand getting torn at each contact, till the blood could be seen trickling from the tips of his fingers. it is difficult to say how long this curious contest might have continued, or how it would have terminated, had the combatants been left to themselves. in all probability it would have ended by the boy's having his skull cleft open or his eyes torn out; or, growing feeble, he would have lost his hold upon the ladder and fallen to the foot of the tree--of itself certain death. it in reality looked as if this would be the lamentable result, and very quickly. saloo had sprung to the tree, and was already ascending to the rescue. but for all that he might be too late; or even if successful in reaching the elevated point where henry struggled against danger, he might still be unable to effect his deliverance. the alarmed father seemed to fear this, as he stood gazing, with agony depicted on his face--agony at the thought of seeing his dear boy exposed to such a fearful peril, and feeling himself so helpless to rescue him. all at once a thought flashed into his mind, that at least gave him some relief through the necessity of action. his rifle, which fortunately after cleaning he had reloaded, stood resting against the trunk of the tree. he sprang toward and seized hold of it. in another second it was raised to his shoulder; its muzzle pointed almost vertically upward, and circling around to get bearing upon the body of the bird. it was a dangerous shot to take, like that of tell with the arrow and the apple. but it seemed yet more dangerous not to venture it; and with this reflection passing through his mind he watched the hornbill through several of its swoopings, and when at length in one of these it receded to some distance from henry's face, he took quick sight upon it, and pulled trigger. a splendid shot--a broken wing--a huge bird seen fluttering through the air to the earth--then flopping and screaming over the ground, till its cries were stilled and its strugglings terminated by a few blows from a boat-hook held in the hands of the ship-carpenter;--all this was the spectacle of only a few seconds! chapter seventeen. sitting by the spit. saloo had by this time climbed to the topmost rounds of the ladder; and was able to assist henry in descending, which he did without further difficulty or danger. no great harm had happened to him; he had received only a few scratches and skin-wounds, that would soon yield to careful treatment and the surgical skill which his father possessed, along with certain herbal remedies known to saloo. they were soon restored to their former state of equanimity, and thought nothing more of the little incident that had just flurried them, except to congratulate themselves on having so unexpectedly added to their stock of provisions the bodies of two great birds, each of respectable size; to say nothing of the fat featherless chick, which appeared as if it would make a very _bonne bouche_ for a gourmand. as we have said, saloo did not think any more of ascending the durion-tree, nor they of asking him to do so. its fruits might have served them for dessert, to come after the game upon which they were now going to dine. but they were not in condition to care for following the usual fashion of dining, and least of all did they desire a dinner of different courses, so long as they had one sufficiently substantial to satisfy the simple demands of hunger. the two hornbills promised, each of them, a fair _piece-de-resistance_, while the fat pult was plainly a titbit, to be taken either _hors d'oeuvres_, or as an _entree_. they were not slow in deciding what should be done with the stock so unexpectedly added to their larder. in a trice the cock bird was despoiled of his plumage; the hen having been well-nigh dismantled of hers already. the former was trussed and made ready for the spit, the latter being intended for the pot, on the supposition that boiling might be better for her toughness. murtagh had taken to finishing the plucking of the hen, while saloo set about divesting the old cock of his feathers. the chick needed no plucking, nor even to be singed. its skin was as free of covering as the shell of the egg lately containing it. it was tender enough to be cooked in any way. it could be boiled over the embers, and would make a nice meal for the two young people, and doubtless greatly benefit their strength. when the bodies of the old birds were unmasked of their feathery envelopment, it was seen that they were much smaller than supposed; and, moreover, that the hen was by many degrees larger in size and fatter than the cock. it was but natural, and was due to her sex, as well as to her long confinement in a dark cell of but limited dimensions, where she had nothing to do but to rest. but as the cock bird, after all, was quite as large as a cochin-china fowl, and, moreover, in good condition, there would be enough of him to supply a full repast, without touching either the hen or chick. so it was determined that both should be reserved till the following morning, when no doubt all hands would be again hungry enough for the toughest of fowls. this point settled, the old cock was staked upon a bamboo spit, and set over the fire, where he soon began to sputter, sending out a savoury odour that was charmingly appetising. the hen was at the same time chopped into small pieces, which were thrown into one of the great shells, along with some seasoning herbs saloo had discovered in the neighbouring woods; and as they could now give the stew plenty of time to simmer, it was expected that before next day the toughness would be taken out of the meat, and after all it might prove a palatable dish to people distressed as they had been, and not caring much for mere dainties. as they had nothing else to do but watch the spit, now and then turn it, and wait till the roast should be done, they fell into conversation, which naturally turned upon hornbills and their habits, saloo furnishing most of the information concerning these curious birds. captain redwood had not only seen them before, in the course of his voyages among the malayan archipelago, but he had read about their habits, and knew that they were found in various parts of the african continent. they are there called _korwe (tockus erythrorhynchus_), and dr livingstone gives an interesting account of them. he says,--"we passed the nest of a korwe, just ready for the female to enter; the orifice was plastered on both sides, but a space left of a heart shape, and exactly the size of the bird's body. the hole in the tree was in every case found to be prolonged some distance above the opening, and thither the korwe always fled to escape being caught." the first time that dr livingstone himself saw the bird, it was caught by a native, who informed him that when the female hornbill enters her nest, she submits to a positive confinement. the male plasters up the entrance, leaving only a narrow slit by which to feed his mate, and which exactly suits the form of his beak. the female makes a nest of her own feathers, lays her eggs, hatches them, and remains with the young till they are fully fledged. during all this time, which is stated to be two or three months, the male continues to feed her and her young family. strange to say, the prisoner generally becomes fat, and is esteemed a very dainty morsel by the natives, while the poor slave of a husband gets so lean that, on the sudden lowering of the temperature, which sometimes happens after a fall of rain, he is benumbed, falls down, and dies. it is somewhat unusual, as captain redwood remarked, for the prisoner to fatten, while the keeper pines! the toucan of south america also forms her nest in the cavity of a tree, and, like the hornbill, plasters up the aperture with mud. the hornbill's beak, added captain redwood, is slightly curved, sharp-pointed, and about two inches long. while the body of the rooster was sputtering away in the bright blaze, saloo entertained the party by telling them what _he_ knew about the habits of the hornbills; and this was a good deal, for he had often caught them in the forests of sumatra. it may be remarked here, that many of the natives of the malayan archipelago possess a considerable knowledge of natural history, at least of its practical part. the reason is, that the dutch, who own numerous settlements throughout these islands, have always been great taxidermists and skin-preservers, and to procure specimens for them and obtain the reward, has naturally originated a race of collectors among the native people. saloo himself had been one of these bird-hunters, in early life, before taking to the sea, which last, as a general thing, is the favourite element and profession of a malay. he told them that he knew of two kinds of hornbill in his native island of sumatra, but that he had seen the skins of several other species in the hands of the taxidermists, brought from various islands, as well as from the mainland of india, malacca, and cochin-china. they were all large birds, though some were smaller than the others; mostly black, with white markings about the throat and breast. he said that their nests are always built in the hollow of a tree, in the same way as the one he had robbed, and the entrance to them invariably plastered up with mud in a similar fashion, leaving a hole just big enough to allow the beak of the hen to be passed out, and opened a little for the reception of the food brought to her by her mate. it is the cock that does the "bricking up," saloo said, bringing the "mortar" from the banks of some neighbouring pool or stream and laying it on with his beak. he begins the task as soon as the hen takes her seat upon her solitary egg. the hen is kept in her prison not only during the full period of incubation, but long after; in fact, until the young chick becomes a full fledgling, and can fly out of itself. during all this time the imprisoned bird is entirely dependent on her mate for every morsel of food required, either by herself or for the sustenance of the nursling, and, of course, has to trust to his fidelity, in which he never fails. the hornbills, however, like the eagles, and many other rapacious birds, though not otherwise of a very amiable disposition, are true to the sacred ties of matrimony. so said saloo, though not in this exact phraseology. "but what if the ould cock shud get killed?" suggested murtagh. "supposin' any accident was to prevint him from returnin' to the nest? wud the hen have to stay there an' starve?" saloo could not answer this question. it was a theory he had never thought of, or a problem that had not come under his experience. possibly it might be so; but it was more likely that her imprisonment within the tree cave, being an act agreed to on her part, was more apparent than real, and that she could break through the mud barricade, and set herself free whenever she had a mind to do so. this was the more probable view of the case, and terminated the discussion on natural history; or rather, it was brought to a close by their perceiving that the bird upon the bamboo stake was done to a turn, and they were by this time too hungry to think of anything else than eating it. so off it came from the spit, and at it they went with a will, saloo acting as carver, and distributing the roast joints all around, taking care to give the tenderest bits of breast to the children, and to helen the liver wing. they were all very cheerful in commencing their supper, but their strain was changed to sadness even before they had finished it. chapter eighteen. sick after supper. it was near upon sundown when the roast fowl was taken from the spit, carved, and distributed among them. the fire over which they had cooked it was close to the trunk of the tree under whose shade they intended to pass the night. it was not the one they had chosen after being driven from the durion, but another, with far-spreading branches and green glossy leaves growing thickly upon them, which promised a better protection from the dews of the night. they needed this, as they had not yet thought of erecting any other roof. the only thing in the shape of shelter they had set up was the tarpaulin, spread awning fashion over four uprights, which held it at the four corners; but this was barely sufficient to furnish the two young people with a sleeping-place. after removing the roast fowl from the spit, they had not permitted their fire to die out. on the contrary, murtagh, in whose charge it was, threw on some fresh faggots. they intended keeping it up through the night, not to scare away wild beasts, for, as already said, they had no fear of these; but because the atmosphere toward midnight usually became damp and chilly, and they would need the fire to keep them warm. it was quite sunset by the time they had finished eating the roast hornbill, and as there is but little twilight under or near the equator, the darkness came down almost instantaneously. by the light of the blazing faggots they picked the bones of the bird, and picked them clean. but they had scarce dropped the drumsticks and other bones out of their fingers, when one and all fell violently sick. a sensation of vertigo had been growing upon them, which, as soon as the meal was over, became nausea, and shortly after ended in vomiting. it was natural they should feel alarmed. had only one been ill, they might have ascribed the illness to some other cause; but now, when all five were affected at the same time, and with symptoms exactly similar, they could have no other belief than that it was owing to what they had eaten, and that the flesh of the hornbill had caused their sickness-- perhaps poisoned them. could this be? was it possible for the flesh of a bird to be poisonous? was that of a hornbill so? these questions were quickly asked of one another, but more especially addressed to saloo. the malay did not believe it was. he had eaten hornbills before, and more than once; had seen others eat them; but had never known or heard of the dish being followed by symptoms similar to those now affecting and afflicting them. the bird itself might have eaten something of a poisonous nature, which, although it had not troubled its own stomach, acted as an emetic upon theirs. there was some probability in this conjecture; at all events the sufferers thought so for a time, since there seemed no other way of accounting for the illness which had so suddenly seized upon them. at first they were not so very greatly alarmed, for they could not realise the idea that they had been absolutely poisoned. a little suffering and it would be all over, when they would take good care not to eat roast hornbill again. no, nor even stewed or broiled; so that now the old hen and her young one were no longer looked upon as so much provision ahead. both would be thrown away, to form food for the first predatory creature that might chance to light upon them. as time passed, however, and the sufferers, instead of feeling relieved, only seemed to be growing worse--the vertigo and nausea continuing, while the vomiting was renewed in frequent and violent attacks--they at length became seriously alarmed, believing themselves poisoned to death. they knew not what to do. they had no medicine to act as an antidote; and if they had been in possession of all the drugs in the pharmacopoeia, they would not have known which to make use of. had it been the bite of a venomous snake or other reptile, the malay, acquainted with the usual native remedies, might have found some herbaceous balsam in the forest; though in the darkness there would have been a difficulty about this, since it was now midnight, and there was no moon in the sky--no light to look for anything. they could scarcely see one another, and each knew where his neighbours lay only by hearing their moans and other exclamations of distress. as the hours dragged on wearily, they became still more and more alarmed. they seriously believed that death was approaching. a terrible contemplation it was, after all they had passed through; the perils of shipwreck, famine, thirst; the danger of being drowned; one of them escaping from a hideous reptile; another from the coils of a serpent; a third from having his skull cracked in by a fallen fruit, and afterwards split open by the beak of an angry bird. now, after all these hairbreadth perils and escapes, to be poisoned by eating the flesh of this very bird--to die in such simple and apparently causeless fashion; though it may seem almost ridiculous, it was to them not a whit the less appalling. and appalled they were, as time passed, and they felt themselves growing worse instead of better. they were surely poisoned--surely going to die. chapter nineteen. an uneasy night. long with the agonising pain--for the sensations they experienced were exceedingly painful--there was confusion in their thoughts, and wandering in their speech. the feeling was somewhat to that of sea-sickness in its worst form; and they felt that reckless indifference to death so characteristic of the sufferer from this very common, but not the less painful, complaint. had the sea, seething and surging against the beach so near them, broken beyond its boundaries, and swept over the spot where they lay, not one of them, in all probability, would have stirred hand or foot to remove themselves out of its reach. drowning--death in any form--would at that moment have seemed preferable to the tortures they were enduring. they did not lie still. at times one or another would get up and stray from under the tree. but the nausea continued, accompanied by the horrid retching; their heads swam, their steps tottered, and staggering back, they would fling themselves down despairingly, hoping, almost praying, for death to put an end to their agonies. it was likely soon to do so. during all, captain redwood showed that he was thinking less of himself than his children. willingly would he have lain down and died, could that have secured their surviving him. but it was a fate that threatened all alike. on this account, he was wishing that either he or one of his comrades, murtagh or saloo, might outlive the young people long enough to give them the rites of sepulture. he could not bear the thought that the bodies of his two beautiful children were to be left above ground, on the desolate shore, their flesh to be torn from them by the teeth of ravenous beasts or the beaks of predatory birds--their bones to whiten and moulder under the sun and storms of the tropics. despite the pain he was himself enduring, he secretly communicated his wishes to murtagh and the malay, imploring them to obey what might be almost deemed a dying request. parting speeches were from time to time exchanged in the muttered tones of despair. prayers were said aloud, unitedly, and by all of them silently in their own hearts. after this, captain redwood lay resignedly, his children, one on each side of him, nestling within his arms, their heads pillowed upon his breast close together. they also held one another by the hand, joined in affectionate embrace across the breast of their father. not many words were spoken between them; only, now and then, some low murmurs, which betokened the terrible pain they felt, and the fortitude both showed in enduring it. now and then, too, their father spoke to them. at first he had essayed to cheer them with words of encouragement; but as time passed, these seemed to sound hollow in their ears as well as his own, and he changed them to speeches enjoining resignation, and words that told of the "better land". he reminded them that their mother was there, and they should all soon join her. they would go to her together; and how happy this would be after their toils and sufferings; after so many perils and fatigues, it would be but pleasure to find rest in heaven. in this way he tried to win their thoughts from dwelling on the terrors of death, every moment growing darker and seeming nearer. the fire burned down, smouldered, and went out. no one had thought of replenishing it with fuel. though there were faggots enough collected not far off, the toil of bringing them forward seemed too much for their wasted strength and deadened energies. fire could be of no service to them now. it had done them no good while ablaze; and since it had gone out, they cared not to renew it. if they were to die, their last moments could scarcely be more bitter in darkness than in light. still captain redwood wished for light. he wished for it, so that he might once more look upon the faces of his two sweet suffering pets, before the pallor of death should overspread them. he would perhaps have made an effort to rekindle the fire, or requested one of the others to do it; but just then, on turning his eyes to the east, he saw a greyish streak glimmering above the line of the sea-horizon. he knew it was the herald of coming day; and he knew, moreover, that, in the latitude they were in, the day itself would not linger long behind. "thank god!" was the exclamation that came from his lips, low muttered, but in fervent emphasis. "thank god, i shall see them once more! better their lives should not go out in the darkness." as he spoke the words, and as if to gratify him, the streak on the eastern sky seemed rapidly to grow broader and brighter, its colour of pale grey changing to golden yellow; and soon after, the upper limb of the glorious tropical sun showed itself over the smooth surface of the celebes sea. as his cheering rays touched the trees of the forest, then eyes were first turned upon one another, and then in different directions. those of captain redwood rested upon the faces of his children, now truly overspread with the wan pallor of what seemed to be rapidly approaching death. murtagh gazed wistfully out upon the ocean, as if wishing himself once more upon it, and no doubt thinking of that green isle far away beyond it; while saloo's glance was turned upward--not toward the heavens, but as if he was contemplating some object among the leaves of the tree overhead. all at once the expression upon his countenance took a change-- remarkable as it was sudden. from the look of sullen despair, which but the moment before might have been seen gleaming out of the sunken orbits of his eyes, his glance seemed to change to one of joy, almost with the quickness of the lightning's flash. simultaneous with the change, he sprang up from his reclining position, uttering as he did so an exclamation in the malayan tongue, which his companions guessed to be some formula of address to the deity, from its ending with the word "allah." "de gleat god be thank!" he continued, returning to his "pigeon english," so that the others might understand. "we all be save. buld no poison. we no die yet. come away, cappen," he continued, bending down, and seizing the children by the hands. then raising both on their feet, he quickly added, "come all away. unda de tlee death. out yonda we findee life. come away--way." without waiting for the consent either of them or their father, he led-- indeed, almost dragged--helen and henry from under the shadow of the tree and out toward the open sea-beach. though captain redwood did not clearly comprehend the object of saloo's sudden action, nor murtagh comprehend it at all, both rose to their feet, and followed with tottering steps. not until they had got out upon the open ground, and sat down upon the sand, with the fresh sea-breeze fanning their fevered brows, did saloo give an explanation of his apparently eccentric behaviour. he did so by pointing to the tree under which they had passed the night, and pronouncing only the one word--"upas." chapter twenty. the deadly upas. "upas!" a word sufficient to explain all that had passed. both captain redwood and his ship-carpenter understood its signification; for what man is there who has ever sailed through the islands of the india archipelago without having heard of the upas? indeed, who in any part of the world has not either heard or read of this poisonous tree, supposed to carry death to every living thing for a wide distance around it, not even sparing shrubs or plants--things of its own kind--but inflicting blight and destruction wherever its envenomed breath may be wafted on the breeze? captain redwood was a man of too much intelligence, and too well-informed, to have belief in this fabulous tale of the olden time. still he knew there was enough truth in it to account for all that had occurred--for the vertigo and vomiting, the horrible nausea and utter prostration of strength that had come upon them unconsciously. they had made their camp under one of these baneful trees--the true upas (_antiaris toxicaria_); they had kindled a fire beneath it, building it close to the trunk--in fact, against it; the smoke had ascended among its leaves; the heat had caused a sudden exudation of the sap; and the envenomed vapour floating about upon the air had freely found its way both into their mouths and nostrils. for hours had this empoisoned atmosphere been their only breath, nearly depriving them of that upon which their lives depended. if still suffering severely from the effects of having inhaled the noxious vapour, they were now no longer wretched. their spirits were even restored to a degree of cheerfulness, as is always the case with those who have just escaped from some calamity or danger. they now knew that in due time they would recover their health and strength. the glorious tropical sun that had arisen was shining benignantly in their faces, and brightening everything around, while the breeze, blowing fresh upon them from a serene sapphire-coloured sea, cooled their fevered blood. they felt already reviving. the sensations they experienced were those of one who, late suffering from sea-sickness, pent up in the state-room of a storm-tossed ship, with all its vile odours around him, has been suddenly transferred to _terra firma_, and laid upon some solid bank, grassy or moss-grown, with tall trees waving above, and the perfume of flowers floating upon the balmy air. for a long while they sat upon the sands in this pleasant dreamy state, gazing upon the white surf that curled over the coral reefs, gazing upon the blue water beyond, following the flight of large white-winged birds that now and then went plunging down into the sea, to rise up with a fish glistening in their beaks, half unconscious of the scene under their eyes and the strife continuing before them, but conscious, contented, and even joyous at knowing they still lived, and that the time had not yet come for them to die. they no longer blamed the hornbill for what had happened. the cause was in their own carelessness or imprudence; for captain redwood knew the upas-tree, and was well aware of its dangerous properties to those venturing into too close proximity. he had seen it in other islands; for it grows not only in java, with which its name is more familiarly identified, but in bali, celebes, and borneo. he had seen it elsewhere, and heard it called by different names, according to the different localities, as _tayim, hippo, upo, antijar_, and _upas_; all signifying the same thing--the "tree of poison." had he been more careful about the selection of their camping-place, and looked upon its smooth reddish or tan-coloured bark and closely-set leaves of glossy green, he would have recognised and shunned it. he did not do so; for who at such a time could have been thinking of such a catastrophe? under a tree whose shade seemed so inviting, who would have suspected that danger was lurking, much less that death dwelt among its leaves and branches? the first had actually arisen, and the last had been very near. but it was now far away, or at least no longer to be dreaded from the poison of the upas. the sickness caused by it would continue for a while, and it might be some time before their strength or energies would be fully restored. but of dying there was no danger, as the poison of the upas does not kill, when only inhaled as a vapour; unless the inhalation be a long time continued. its sap taken internally, by the chewing of its leaves, bark, or root, is certain death, and speedy death. it is one of the ingredients used by the bornean dyaks for tipping their poisoned spears, and the arrows of their _sumpitans_ or blow-guns. they use it in combination with the _bina_, another deadly poison, extracted from the juice of a parasitical plant found everywhere through the forests of borneo. it is singular that the upas-tree should belong to the same natural order, the artocarpaceae, as the bread-fruit; the tree of death thus being connected with the tree of life. in some of the indian islands it is called _popon-upas_; in java it is known as the _antijar_. its leaves are shaped like spear-heads; the fruit is a kind of drupe, clothed in fleshy scales. the juice, when prepared as a poison, is sometimes mixed with black pepper, and the juice of galanga-root, and of ginger. it is as thick as molasses, and will keep for a long time if sheltered from the action of the air. the upas does not grow as a gregarious tree, and is nowhere found in numbers. like the precious treasures of nature--gold, diamonds, and pearls--her poisons, too, happily for man, are sparsely distributed. even in the climate and soil congenial to it, the _antiaris toxicaria_ is rare; but wherever discovered is sure to be frequently visited, if in a district where there are hunters or warriors wishing to empoison and make more deadly their shafts. a upas-tree in a well-known neighbourhood is usually disfigured by seams and scars, where incisions have been made to extract its envenomed juice. that there were no such marks upon the one where they had made their camp, was evidence that the neighbourhood was uninhabited. so said saloo, and the others were but too glad to accept his interpretation of the sign. chapter twenty one. starting for the interior. reclining on the soft silvery sand, inhaling the fresh morning breeze blowing in from the celebes sea, every breath of it seeming to infuse fresh blood into their veins and renewed vigour into their limbs, the castaways felt their health and strength fast returning. saloo's prognosis was rapidly proving itself correct. he had said they would soon recover, and they now acknowledged the truth of his prediction. their cheerfulness came back along with their returning strength, and with this also their appetites. their dinner-supper of roast hornbill had done them little good; but although for a time scared by such diet, and determined to eschew it when better could be had, they were now only too glad to resort to it, and it was agreed upon that the old hen, stewed as intended, should supply the material of their breakfast. a fresh fire was kindled far away from the dangerous upas; the huge shell, with its contents, was hastily snatched from the deadly shade, and, supported by four large pebbles to serve as feet for the queer stew-pan, it was placed over the burning embers, and soon commenced to steam and squeak, spreading around an odorous incense, far pleasanter to the olfactories of the hungry party than either the fresh saline breeze, or the perfume of tropical flowers now and then wafted to them from the recesses of the forest. while waiting for the flesh of the old hen to get properly and tenderly stewed, they could not resist the temptation of making an assault upon the chick; and it, too, was hurriedly rescued from the tainted larder beneath the upas-tree, spitted upon a bamboo sapling, and broiled like a squab-pigeon over the incandescent brands. it gave them only a small morsel each, serving as a sort of prelude to the more substantial breakfast soon to follow, and for which they could now wait with greater composure. in due time saloo, who was wonderfully skilled in the tactics of the forest _cuisine_, pronounced the stew sufficiently done; when the stew-pan was lifted from the fire, and set in the soft sand for its contents to cool. soon gathering around it, each was helped to a share: one to a wing with liver or gizzard, another to a thigh-joint with a bit of the breast, a third to the stripped breast-bone, or the back one, with its thin covering of flesh, a fourth to a variety of stray giblets. there was still a savoury sauce remaining in the pan, due to the herb condiments which saloo had collected. this was served out in some tin pannikins, which the castaway crew had found time to fling into the boat before parting from the sinking ship. it gave them a soup, which, if they could only have had biscuits or bread with it, would have been quite as good as coffee for their breakfast. as soon as this was eaten, they took steps to change their place of encampment. twice unfortunate in the selection of a site, they were now more particular, and carefully scrutinised the next tree under whose shadow they intended to take up their abode. a spreading fig not far off invited them to repose beneath its umbrageous foliage; and removing their camp paraphernalia from the poison-breathing; upas, they once more erected the tarpaulin, and recommenced housekeeping under the protecting shelter of a tree celebrated in the hindu mythology as the "sacred banyan." "it was a goodly sight to see that venerable tree for o'er the lawn, irregularly spread. fifty straight columns propt its lofty head; and many a long depending shoot, seeking to strike its root, straight like a plummet grew towards the ground. some on the lower boughs which crost their way, fixing their bearded fibres, round and round, with many a ring and wild contortion wound; some to the passing wind at times, with sway of gentle motion swung; others of younger growth, unmoved, were hung like stone-drops from a cavern's fretted height." the banyan often measures thirty feet in girth; the one selected by captain redwood was probably not less than twenty-five feet. its peculiarity is that it throws out roots from all its branches, so that as fast as each branch, in growing downwards, touches the ground, it takes root, and in due time serves as a substantial prop to the horizontal bough, which, without some such support, would give way beneath its own weight. they intended it for only a temporary dwelling-place, until their strength should be sufficiently established to enable them to start on their contemplated overland journey, with a prospect of being able to continue it to its end. it seemed, at length, as if fortune, hitherto so adverse, had turned a smiling face toward them; and they were not much longer to be detained upon that wild and dangerous shore. for the same day on which they removed from the upas to the fig-tree, the latter furnished them with an article of food in sufficient quantity to stock their larder for nearly a week, and of a quality superior in strengthening powers to either roast or stewed hornbill, and quite equal to the eggs of the mound-making birds. it was not the fruit of the fig that had done this; but an animal they had discovered crawling along one of its branches. it was a reptile of that most hideous and horrid shape, the _saurian_; and only the hungriest man could ever have looked upon, with thoughts of eating it. but saloo felt no repugnance of this kind; he knew that the huge lizard creeping along the limb of the banyan-tree, over five feet long, and nearly as thick as the body of a man, would afford flesh not only eatable, but such as would have been craved for by apicius, had the roman epicure ever journeyed through the islands of the malayan archipelago, and found an opportunity of making trial of it. what they saw slowly traversing the branch above them was one of those huge lizards of the genus _hydrosaurus_, of which there are several species in indian climes--like the _iguanas_ of america--harmless creatures, despite their horrid appearance, and often furnishing to the hunter or forester a meal of chops and steaks both tender and delicious. with this knowledge of what it would afford them, saloo had no difficulty in persuading captain redwood to send a bullet through the skull of the _hydrosaurus_, and it soon lay lifeless upon the ground. the lizard was nigh six feet from snout to tail; and saloo, assisted by murtagh, soon slipped a piece of his vegetable rope around its jaws, and slung it up to a horizontal branch for the purpose of skinning it. thus suspended, with limbs and arms sticking out, it bore a very disagreeable resemblance to a human being just hanged. saloo did not care anything about this, but at once commenced peeling off its skin; and then he cut the body into quarters, and subdivided them into "collops," which were soon sputtering in the blaze of a bright fire. as the malay had promised, these proved tender, tasting like young pork steaks, with a slight flavour of chicken, and just a _soupcon_ of frog. delicate as they were, however, after three days' dieting upon them all felt stronger--almost strong enough, indeed, to commence their grand journey. just then another, and still more strengthening, kind of food was added to their larder. it was obtained by a mere accident, in the form of a huge wild boar of the bornean species, which, scouring the forest in search of fruits or roots, had strayed close to their camp under the fig-tree. he came too close for his own safety; a bullet from captain redwood's rifle having put an abrupt stop to his "rootings." butchered in proper scientific fashion, he not only afforded them food for the time in the shape of pork chops, roast ribs, and the like; but gave them a couple of hams, which, half-cooked and cured by smoking, could be carried as a sure supply upon the journey. and so provisioned, they at length determined on commencing it, taking with them such articles of the wreck-salvage as could be conveniently transferred, and might prove beneficial. bidding adieu to the pinnace, the dear old craft which had so safely carried them through the dangers of the deep, they embarked on a voyage of a very different kind, in the courses of which they were far less skilled, and of whose tracks and perils they were even more apprehensive. but they had no other alternative. to remain on the eastern coast of borneo would be to stay there for ever. they could not entertain the slightest hope of any ship appearing off shore to rescue them. a vessel so showing itself would be, in all probability, a prau filled with bloodthirsty pirates, who would either kill or make captives of them, and afterwards sell them into slavery: and a slavery from which no civilised power could redeem them, as no civilised man might ever see them in their chains. it was from knowing this terrible truth that captain redwood had resolved upon crossing the great island overland at that part where he supposed it to be narrowest,--the neck lying between its eastern coast and the old malayan town of bruni on the west, adjacent to the islet of labuan, where he knew an english settlement was situated. in pursuance of this determination, he struck camp, and moved forward into a forest of unknown paths and mysterious perils. chapter twenty two. across country. in undertaking the journey across borneo, captain redwood knew there would be many difficulties to encounter, as well as dangers. there was first the great distance, which could not be much less than two hundred and fifty miles, even if they should succeed in making it in a straight line--as the crow flies. but, no doubt, obstructions would present themselves along the route to cause many a detour. still this was an obstacle which time would overcome. at the rate of ten miles a day, it would be conquered in a month; and if two months should have to be spent, it would not be a very formidable hardship, considering that it was a journey overtaken to carry them through a savage wilderness, and restore them to civilisation--nay, almost to life. that it was to be made on foot did not dismay them, they had quite recovered from the effects of their sea-suffering, as also from the poisonous breath of the upas, and felt strong enough to undertake any great feat of pedestrianism. and, as they were under no limits as to time, they could adopt such a rate of speed as the nature of the paths would permit. on this score there was neither apprehension nor uneasiness; there might have been about provisions, as the cured hams of the wild boar could not possibly last longer than a week; and what were they to eat after these were consumed? saloo set their minds at rest on this matter, by telling them that the interior forests of borneo--which he did not know--if they at all resembled those of sumatra--which he did know--would be found full of fruit-bearing trees; and, besides, numerous chances would arise for killing or capturing birds and other small game, even if a deer or a second wild boar did not present himself. in order to be prepared for any such that might come in his way, as well as to save their ammunition, of which they had but a limited supply, saloo had spent the last few days of their sojourn upon the coast in the manufacture of a weapon well suited for such a purpose, even better than musket or rifle. it was the "sumpitan," or blow-gun. this the malay had made, along with a complete set of "sumpits," or arrows, and a quiver to contain them. the sumpitan itself--eight feet in length--he fashioned from a straight sapling of the beautiful _casuarina_ tree, which grows throughout the islands of the malayan archipelago; while the little arrows, only eight inches long, he obtained from the medium of the leaflets of the _nibong_ palms, many of which were found near the spot where they had encamped. the pith of the same palm served him for the swell of the arrow, which, being compressible like cork, fills up the tube of the sumpitan, and renders the shaft subject to propulsion from the quick puff of breath which the blow-gun marksman, from long practice, knows how to give it. saloo had been one of the best sumpitan shooters in all sumatra, and could send an arrow with true aim a distance of a hundred and fifty yards. but to make its effect deadly at this distance, something more than the mere pricking of the tiny "sumpit" was needed. this something was a strong vegetable poison which he also knew how to prepare; and the upas-tree, that had so nearly proved fatal to all of them, was now called into requisition to effect a friendly service. drawing upon its sap, and mixing it with that of another poisonous plant--the _bina_-- saloo gave the points of his sumpits a coating of the combined juices, so that they would carry death into the veins of any animal having the ill-fortune to be pierced by them. thus armed and equipped, he had little fear on the score of a scarcity of provisions during the journey. on the contrary, he declared himself confident of being able to keep the commissariat up to a point of supply sufficient for the whole party. it may be thought strange that they did not speculate on the chances of arriving at some town or settlement of the natives. indeed they did so, but only with the thought of avoiding them; for the minds of all--the malay not excepted--were filled with apprehensions respecting the dyak and other savage tribes, which report places in the interior of borneo, and to whom long accredited, though perhaps only imaginative, stories have given a character alike terrible and mysterious. they could think of them only as savages--wild men of the woods--some of them covered with hair, and whose chief delight and glory are the cutting off men's heads, and not unfrequently feasting on men's flesh! no wonder that, with these facts, or fancies, acting upon their imagination, our travellers set forth upon their journey determined to give a wide berth to everything that bore the shape of a human being. it was a strange commentary on man's superiority to the lower animals, and not very creditable to the former, that he himself was the thing they most feared to meet with in the wooded wilderness. and yet, humiliating as the reflection may appear, it depressed the minds of the castaways, as, looking their last upon the bright blue sea, they turned their faces toward the interior of the forest-covered land of borneo. for the first day they pursued a course leading along the bank of the stream at whose mouth they had been sojourning ever since their arrival on the island. they had more than one reason for keeping to the stream. it seemed to flow in a due easterly direction, and therefore to ascend it would lead them due west--the way they wanted to go. besides, there was a path along its banks, not made by man, but evidently by large animals; whose tracks, seen here and there in soft places, showed them to be tapirs, wild-boars, and the larger but more rare rhinoceros. they saw none of these animals during their day's journey, though many of the traces were fresh. generally nocturnal in their habits, the huge pachydermatous creatures that had made them were, during daylight, probably lying asleep in their lairs, amid the thick underwood of the adjacent jungles. the travellers might have brought the pinnace up the river--so far it was deep enough to be navigated by a row-boat; and they had at first thought of doing so. but for several reasons they had changed their minds, and abandoned their boat. it was too heavy to be easily propelled by oars, especially against the current of a stream which in many places was very rapid. besides, if there should be a settlement of savages on the bank, to approach in a boat would just be the way to expose themselves to being seen, without first seeing. but to captain redwood the chief objection was, that a mountain-range rose only a short distance off, and the stream appeared to issue from its steep sloping side; in which case it would soon assume the character of a headlong torrent utterly unfit for navigation. even had water travel been easier, it could not have been long continued--perhaps not beyond a single day; and it was not deemed worth while to bring the pinnace with them. so thought the captain, and the others agreeing, the boat was left where they had long since concealed her--under the banyan-tree. the captain's conjectures proved correct. the evening of the first day's march brought them to the base of the mountain-ridge, down whose rocky flank the stream poured with the strength and velocity of a torrent. no boat could have further ascended it. as the path leading along its edge, and hitherto comparatively level and smooth, now changed to a difficult ascent up a rough rock-strewn ravine, they encamped at the mountain-foot for the first night of their journey. next day was spent in ascending the mountain; following the ravine up to its head, where were found the sources of the stream. staying only for a short noon-tide rest, they kept upward, and reached the highest point of the ridge just as the sun was again sinking into the depths of the forest before them. at their camping-place on the second night no water was near; and they might have suffered from the want of it, had they not taken the precaution to provide against such a deficiency. their experience as castaways, especially the memory of their sufferings from thirst, had rendered them wary of being again subjected to so terrible a torture. each of the three men carried a "canteen" strung to his waist--the joint of a large bamboo that held at least half a gallon; while the boy and girl also had their cane canteens, proportioned to their size and strength. all had been filled with cool clear water before leaving the last source of the stream, a supply sufficient to serve during their transit of the dry mountain-ridge. the remainder of that night was spent upon its summit; but as this proved of considerable breadth, and was covered with a thick growth of jungle-trees, it was near sunset the next day before they arrived at the edge of its eastern declivity, and obtained a view of the country beyond. the sun was descending behind the crest of another mountain-ridge, apparently parallel with that upon which they were, and not less than twenty miles distant from it. between the two extended a valley, or rather a level plain, thickly covered with forest, except where a sheet of water gleamed in the setting sun like a disc of liquid gold. nor was the plain all level. here and there, above the wooded surface, rose isolated hills, of rounded mound-like shape, also clothed with timber, but with trees whose foliage, of lighter sheen, showed them to be of species different from those on the plain below. through a break among the branches of those now shadowing them on the mountain brow, the travellers for some time contemplated the country before them, and across which, upon the morrow, they would have to make their way. at this moment saloo muttered some words, which, coupled with the expression upon his countenance as he gave utterance to them, alarmed his companions. the words were,-- "it lookee like countly of _mias lombi_. cappen ledwad, if dat wild debbel lib in dem wood below, bettel we go all lound. we tly closs it, may be we get eat up. singapo tiga not so dang'lous as _mias_--he not common kind, but gleat _mias lombi_--what poltugee people callee `_led golilla_.'" "the _red gorilla_!" ejaculated captain redwood. "is it the _ourang-outang_ you mean?" "same ting, sahib cappen. some call him _oolang-ootang_, some say _led golilla_. one kind belly big--belly bad--he call _mias lombi_. he cally away women, childen; take 'em up into top ob de highest tallee tlee. nobody know what he do then. eat 'em up may be. what fol else he want 'em? ah! cappen ledwad, we dlead de oolang-dyak. he no half dang'lous like oolang-ootang led golilla." notwithstanding the _patois_ of his speech, what saloo said was well enough understood by his companions, for in the _led golilla_ or _oolang-ootang_ of his peculiar pronunciation, they recognised the long known and world-renowned ape of borneo, which, although safe enough when seen inside the cage of the showman, is a creature to be dreaded--at least the species spoken of--when encountered in its native haunts, the forests of sumatra and borneo. chapter twenty three. tough travelling. next morning they did not start so early, because the great plain before them was shrouded under a fog, and they waited for it to pass off. it was not dispelled until the sun had risen in the heavens behind them, for their backs were still to the east, their route lying due westward. during the night, and again in the morning, they had discussed the question of striking straight across the plain, or making a circuitous march around it. when the fog at length lifted, this point was definitely settled by what they saw before and on each side of them, that the great valley plain extended both to right and left beyond the limits of their vision. to go round it might add scores of miles and many days to their journey. they could not think of taking such a circuitous route, even with the fear of the wild men before them; a danger captain redwood believed to be greatly exaggerated by the malay, who in such matters was of a somewhat imaginative turn. throwing aside all thought of such an encounter, they struck down the mountain slope, determined on crossing the plain. it was sunset when they arrived at the mountain-foot, and another night was passed there. on the following morning they commenced the passage of the plain; which introduced them to a very different and much more difficult kind of travelling than any they had experienced since leaving the sea-coast. some parts of their journey, both in the ascent and descent, had been toilsome enough; but the slopes, as well as the summits, were comparatively clear of underwood. on the low level it was quite another affair. the huge forest-trees were loaded with parasitical creepers, which, stretching from trunk to trunk in all directions, formed here and there an impenetrable net or trellis-work. in such places the kris of saloo, and the ship's axe carried by murtagh, were called into requisition, and much time was expended in cutting a way through the tangled growth. another kind of obstacle was also occasionally met with, in the brakes of bamboo, where these gigantic canes, four or five inches in diameter, and rising to a height of over fifty feet, grew so close together that even a snake would have found difficulty in working its way through them. fortunately, their stems being hollow, they are easily brought down, and a single stroke from the axe, or even saloo's sharp kris, given slantingly, would send one of them crashing over, its leafy top bearing along with it the long ribbon-like leaves of many others. one of these cane brakes proved to be upwards of a mile in width, and its passage delayed them at least three hours. they might have attempted to get round it, but they did not know how far it extended. possibly ten or twenty miles--for the bamboo thickets often run in belts, their growth being due to the presence of some narrow water track, or the course of a stream. in the indian archipelago are several species of these tall canes, usually known by the general name of _bamboo_, though differing from each other in size and other respects. they furnish to the inhabitants of these islands the material for almost every article required for their domestic economy--as the various species of palms do to the natives of south america--more especially the denizens of the great amazon valley. not only are their houses constructed of bamboo, but the greater portion of their praus; while utensils of many kinds, cups, bottles, and water-casks of the best make, are obtained from its huge joints, cheaply and conveniently. a bare catalogue of bamboo tools and utensils would certainly occupy several pages. notwithstanding its valuable properties, our travellers hated the sight of it; and more than once the irishman, as he placed his axe upon the silicious culms, was heard to speak disrespectfully about it, "weeshin' that there wasn't a stalk of the cane in all burnayo." but another kind of obstruction vexed murtagh even more than the brakes of bamboo. this was the webs of huge spiders--ugly tarantula-looking animals--whose nets in places, extending from tree to tree, traversed the forest in every direction, resembling the seines of a fishing-village hung out to dry, or miles of musquito-curtain depending from the horizontal branches. through this strange festoonery they had to make their way, often for hundreds of yards; the soft silky substance clutching disagreeably around their throats and clinging to their clothes till each looked as though clad in an integument of ragged cotton, or the long loose wool of a merino sheep yet unwoven into cloth. and as they forced their way through it--at times requiring strength to extricate them from its tough retentive hold--they could see the hideous forms of the huge spiders who had spun and woven these strangely patterned webs scuttling off, and from their dark retreats in the crevices of the trees looking defiant and angry at the intruders upon their domain--perhaps never before trodden by man. yet another kind of obstruction our travellers had to encounter on their way across the great plain. there were tracts of moist ground, sometimes covered with tall forest-trees, at others opening out into a sedgy morass, with perhaps a small lake or water-patch in the centre. the first required them to make way through mud, or thick stagnant water covered with scum, often reaching above their knees. these places were especially disagreeable to cross; for under the gloomy shadow of the trees they would now and then catch a glimpse of huge newt-like lizards of the genus _hydrosaurus_--almost as large as crocodiles--slowly floundering out of the way, as if reluctant to leave, and half-determined to dispute the passage. moreover, while thus occupied, they lived in the obscurity of an eternal twilight, and could travel only by guess-work. they had no guide save the sun, which in these shadows is never visible. through the thick foliage overhead its disc could not be seen; nor aught that would enable them to determine its position in the sky, and along with it their direction upon the earth. it was, therefore, not only a relief to their feelings, but a positive necessity for their continuance in the right direction, that now and then a stretch of open swamp obstructed their track. true, it caused them to make a detour, and so wasted their time; but then it afforded them a glimpse of the sun's orb, and enabled them to pursue their journey in the right course. during the mid-day hours they were deprived of even this guidance: for the meridian sun gives no clue to the points of the compass. they did not much feel the disadvantage; as at noon-tide the hot tropical atmosphere had become almost insupportable, and the heat, added to their fatigue from incessant toiling through thicket and swamp, made it necessary for them to take several hours of rest. they resumed their journey in the evening, as the sun, declining toward the western horizon, pointed out to them the way they were to go. they aimed to reach the sheet of water seen by them from the brow of the mountain. they wished to strike it at its southern end, as this was right in the direction westward. it appeared to lie about midway between the two mountain-ranges; and, in such a case, would be a proper halting-place on their journey across the plain. on starting from the higher ground, they expected to reach it in a few hours, or at the latest by sunset of that same day. but it was twilight of the third day, when, with exhausted strength and wearied limbs, their clothing torn and mud-stained, they stood upon its nearest shore! they did not stand there long, but dropping down upon the earth, forgetful of everything--even the necessity of keeping watch--they surrendered themselves over to sleep. chapter twenty four. a red satyr. they slept until a late hour of the morning; when, rousing themselves with difficulty, they kindled a fire and cooked a breakfast of the boar's ham cured by them before leaving the coast. it was the second, and of course the last, already becoming rapidly reduced to a "knuckle;" for their journey was now entering upon the second week. they bethought them of making a halt on the bank of the lake; partly to recruit their strength after the long-continued fatigue, and partly, if possible, to replenish their larder. saloo got ready his blow-gun and poisoned arrows; captain redwood looked to his rifle; while the ship-carpenter, whose speciality was fishing, and who for this purpose had brought his hooks and lines along with him, determined on trying what species of the finny tribe frequented the inland lake, in hopes they might prove less shy at biting than their brethren of the sea-coast stream. again the three men started off, murtagh traversing in solitude the edge of the lake, while captain redwood, with his rifle--accompanied by saloo, carrying his sumpitan and quiver of poisoned arrows--struck direct into the woods. henry and helen remained where they had passed the night, under the shadow of a spreading tree; which, although of a species unknown to the travellers, had been cautiously scrutinised by them, and seemed to be neither a durion nor a upas. they were cautioned not to stir a step from the spot till the others should return. though in other respects a good, obedient boy, henry redwood was not abundantly gifted with prudence. he was a native-born new yorker, and as such, of course, precocious, courageous, daring, even to a fault--in short, having the heart of a man beating within the breast of a boy. so inspired, when a huge bird, standing even taller than himself on its great stilt-like legs--it was the adjutant stork of india (_ciconia argalia_)--dropped down upon the point of a little peninsula which projected into the lake, he could not resist the temptation of getting a shot at it. grasping the great ship's musket--part of the paraphernalia they had brought along with them, and which was almost as much as he could stagger under--he started to stalk the great crane, leaving little helen under the tree. some reeds growing along the edge of the lake offered a chance by which the game might be approached, and under cover of them he had crept almost within shot of it, when a cry fell upon his ear, thrilling him with a sudden dread. it was the voice of his sister helen, uttered in tones of alarm? turning suddenly, he wondered not that her cries were continued in the wildest terror, mingled with convulsive ejaculations. a man had drawn near her, and oh! such a man! never in all his experience, nor in his darkest and most distorted dreams, had he seen, or dreamt of, a human being so hideous, as that he now saw, half-standing, half-crouching, only a short distance from his sister's resting-place. it was a man who, if he had only been in an erect attitude, would have stood at least eight feet in height, and this would have been in an under-proportion to the size of his head, the massive breadth of his body across the breast and shoulders, and the length of his arms. but it was not his gigantic size which made him so terrible, or which electrified the heart of the boy, at a safe distance, as it had done that of the girl, nearer and in more danger. it was the _tout ensemble_ of this strange creature in human shape--a man apparently covered all over with red hair, thick and shaggy, as upon the skin of a wolf or bear; bright red over the body and limbs, and blacker upon the face, where it was thinnest--a creature, in short, such as neither boy nor girl had ever before seen, and such as was long believed to exist only in the imagination of the ancients, under the appellation of "satyr." chapter twenty five. silence restored. at first sight of the brute, notwithstanding its strangely monstrous appearance, henry had really mistaken it for a man; but a moment's reflection convinced him that he was looking upon an ape instead of a man, and one of such gigantic size as to make him certain it must be the animal spoken of by saloo under the various appellations of _mias rombi_, _ourang-outang_, and _red gorilla_. saloo's remarks concerning this ape, and his emphatic warnings, were not at all pleasant to be now recalled. though brave as a young lion, he looked upon the shaggy monster with fear and trembling. far less for himself than for his sister; who, being nearer to it, was, of course, in greater peril of an attack. this, indeed, seemed imminent, and his first thought was to rush to the spot and discharge his musket into the monster's face. he was restrained only by seeing that helen, moved by an instinct of self-preservation, had made an effort to save herself by gliding round the trunk of the tree, and seeking concealment on its opposite side. at the same time she had prudently ceased her cries; and as the animal did not show any intention of following her, but rather seemed inclined to keep toward the edge of the lake, the boy bethought him that his best course would be not to discharge his musket until the ape should make some hostile demonstration. saloo had told them that the brute is not always disposed to commence the attack upon man. if left alone, it will go its own way, except during certain seasons, when the females are fearful for their young offspring. then they will assail every intruder that comes near, whether man or animal. but when wounded or enraged they will not only act on the defensive, but attack their enemies in the most spiteful and implacable manner. remembering these things, and hoping the huge creature might take a peaceful departure from the place, henry, who had already held his musket at the level, lowered its muzzle, at the same time dropping upon his knees among some tall grass, which, in this attitude, tolerably well concealed him. he soon saw that he had acted wisely. the hairy monster seemed altogether to ignore the presence of his sister and himself; and as if neither were within a thousand miles of the spot, kept on its course toward the margin of the water. fortunately for henry, it went quite another way, which, widening diagonally, did not bring the creature at all near him. it was evidently directing its course toward some liliaceous plants with large succulent stems, which formed a patch or bed, standing in the water, but close to the brink of the lake. in all probability there was not enough fruit in the neighbourhood to satisfy the hirsute gentleman now passing before their eyes; or else he had a fancy to vary his diet by making a meal upon simple vegetables. he soon reached the patch of tall water-plants; waded in nearly knee-deep; and then with arms, each of which had the sweep of a mower's scythe, drew in their heads toward him, and with a mouth wide as that of a hippopotamus, cropped off the succulent shoots and flower-stems, and munched them like an ox in the act of chewing its cud. seeing the huge hairy creature thus peaceably disposed, and hoping it would for some time continue in this harmless disposition, henry rose from his kneeling attitude, and glided silently, but swiftly, toward the tree. joining his sister helen, he flung his arms around her as he rose erect, and kissed her to chase away the effects of the terrible fright she had sustained. chapter twenty six. in fear and trembling. the kiss which henry gave his little sister was not one of congratulation. he was not yet sure of her safety, or of his own. the hairy monster was still in sight--not more than a hundred yards off--and though apparently busy with his banquet on the tender shoots of the water-plants, might at any moment discontinue it, and spring upon them. what was the best thing to be done in order to escape him? run off into the forest, and try to find their father and saloo? they might go the wrong way, and by so doing make things worse. the great ape itself would soon be returning among the trees, and might meet them in the teeth; there would then be no chance of avoiding an encounter. to go after murtagh would be an equally doubtful proceeding; they were ignorant of the direction the ship-carpenter had taken. young as they were, a moment's reflection admonished them not to stir from the spot. but what, then? cry out, so that the absent ones might hear them? no; for this might also attract the attention of the ourang-outang, and bring it upon them. besides, helen had shrieked loudly on the first alarm. if any of the hunters had been within hearing, they would have needed no further signal to tell them that some danger threatened her. if not within hearing, it would be worse than idle for either of them to cry out again. they determined, therefore, to remain silent, and keep to their position, in the hope that either their father, the malay, or murtagh, might come to their speedy relief. but they were prudent enough not to expose themselves to any wandering glance of the red gorilla's. the moment henry had joined his sister he had hurried her behind the trunk of the tree, and they were now on the side facing toward the forest. there, by looking through the leaves of some orchideous creepers that wreathed the great stem, they could see the dreaded creature without being seen by it. hand in hand, still trembling, they stood silently and cautiously regarding the gorilla and its movements. under other and safer circumstances it would have been a curious and interesting spectacle: this gigantic, human-like ape, stretching forth its hairy arms, each full four feet in length--gathering in the heads of the tall water-plants, and munching them in great mouthfuls, then letting the stalks go and sweeping round to collect a fresh sheaf, at intervals wading a pace or two to reach some that were more tempting to its taste. for several minutes they remained looking at this rare sight, which would have absorbed the attention of the spectators could it have been witnessed in a menagerie. but they regarded it with fear and awe. their eyes and ears were at the same time more occupied in looking and listening for some sign that might veil them of the return of their protectors. time passed; none was seen, none heard. a long time passed, and no sound from the forest; no murmur of men's voices, or cry of scared bird, to proclaim that any one was approaching the spot. the brute was still browsing, but with less apparent voracity. he drew the shoots toward him with a gentler sweep of his arms, selecting only the most succulent. his appetite was on the wane; it was evident he would soon leave off eating and return to his roosting or resting-place. in the forest, of course, though they knew not where. it might be on the tree over their heads, or on one close at hand; or it might be afar off. in any case, they felt that a crisis was approaching. both trembled, as they thought how soon they might be face to face with the hideous creature--confronting it, or perhaps enfolded in its long hairy arms. and in such an embrace, how would it fare with them? what chance of escape from it? none! they would be crushed, helpless as flies in the grasp of a gigantic spider. if the creature should come that way, and resolve upon assailing them, one or other, or both of them, would surely be destroyed. if only one, henry had fully made up his mind who it should be. the brave boy had determined to sacrifice his own life, if need be, to save his sister. firmly grasping the great musket, he said:-- "sister nell, if it come this way and offer to attack us, you keep out of the scrape. leave everything to me. go a good way off when you see me preparing to fire. i shan't draw trigger till it is close up to the muzzle of the gun. then there'll be no fear of missing it. to miss would only make it all the madder. saloo said so. if the shot shouldn't kill it right off, don't mind me. the report may be heard, and bring father or some of the others to our assistance. dear sis, no matter what happens, keep out of the way, and wait till they come up. promise me you will do so!" "henry! i will not leave you. dear, dear brother, if you should be killed i would not care to live longer. henry! i will die with you!" "don't talk that way, sis. i'm not going to be killed; for i fancy that we can run faster than it can. it don't appear to make much speed--at least along the ground; and i think we might both escape it if we only knew which way it was going to take. at any rate, you do as i say, and leave the rest to me." while they were thus discussing the course to be pursued--henry urging his sister to retreat in the event of his being attacked, and helen tearfully protesting against leaving him--a movement on the part of the mias claimed all their attention. it was not a movement indicating any design to leave the spot where it had been browsing; but rather a start, as if something caused it a surprise. the start was quickly followed by a gesture, not of alarm, but one that plainly betokened anger. indeed, it spoke audibly of this, being accompanied by a fierce growl, and succeeded by a series of hoarse barkings, just like those of a bull-dog or angry mastiff, whose mouth, confined in a muzzle, hinders him from giving full vent to his anger. at the same time, instead of rising erect, as a human being under similar circumstances would have done, the frightful ape, that had been already in the most upright position possible to it, dropped down upon all fours, which still, however, from the great length of its arms, enabled it to preserve a semi-erect attitude. with its huge cheek callosities puffed out beyond their natural dimensions--(they far exceed a foot in breadth)--its crested hair thrown forward in a stiff coronal ruff; underneath a pair of eyes, gleaming like two coals of fire, and, further down, its mouth wide agape, displaying two rows of great glistening teeth, it stood--or rather crouched--as if awaiting for the onset of some well-known enemy; a dangerous enemy, but yet not so dangerous that it need be avoided. on the contrary, the attitude now assumed by the red gorilla, as also its voice and gestures, told them that it was affected by no fear, but breathed only fury and defiance. why should it fear? was there any living thing in the forests of borneo--biped, quadruped, or reptile possessed of sufficient powers to cope with the hairy colossus now before their eyes, which seemed to partake of the characters of all three, and twice the strength of any of them individually? saloo had said there was none. but it was not from the forests of borneo its enemy was to come. out of its waters was approaching the antagonist that had caused it to assume its attitude of angry defiance; and the spectators now saw this antagonist in the shape of an enormous lizard--a crocodile larger than they had ever seen before. chapter twenty seven. a spectacle rarely seen. when the huge reptile first unfolded itself to their view, it was already close to the spot where the ourang-outang, knee-deep in the water, stood awaiting it. they naturally expected to see the land animal effect a retreat from an antagonist even more formidable-looking than itself. and in reality it did give ground at first; but only for a few long scrambling strides, made as much on its arms as legs--just far enough to place itself high and dry upon the bank. there it came to a stop, and stood firmly facing the foe. they now perceived the truth of what saloo had been telling them: that there is no animal in all borneo, either in its forests or its rivers, of which the mias feels fear. certainly there is none more to be dreaded than the gavial crocodile; yet the great ape, judging by its present attitude, was in no sense afraid of it. had it been so, it would have retreated into the woods, where, by climbing a tree, it might easily have shunned the encounter. even if it had retired a little upon _terra firma_, the amphibious animal would not have thought of following it, and it could at once have avoided the conflict, if desirous of doing so. on the contrary, it seemed rather to court it; for not only did it take a firm stand on the approach of the saurian, but continued to emit its hoarse cough and bark, which, as we have said before, closely resembled the growlings of an angry mastiff with his jaws held half-shut by the straps of a muzzle. at the same time it struck the ground repeatedly with its fore-paws, tearing up grass and weeds, and flinging them spitefully toward the crocodile, and into its very teeth, as if provoking the latter to the attack. undismayed, the scaly reptile continued to advance. neither the strange noises nor the violent gesticulations of its four-handed enemy seemed to have any effect upon it. to all appearance, nothing could terrify the gigantic saurian. confident in its great size and strength--above all, in the thick impenetrable skin that covered its body like a coat of shale armour--conscious of being so defended, the crocodile also believed that there was no living thing in all the land of borneo, or in its waters either, that could withstand its terrible onslaught. it therefore advanced to the attack with no idea of danger to itself, but only the thought of seizing upon the half-crouching, half-upright form that had intruded upon its domain, and which possibly appeared to it only a weak human being--a poor dyak, like some of its former victims. in this respect it was woefully deceiving itself; and the slight retreat made by the mias toward the dry land no doubt further misled its assailant. the reptile paused for a moment, lest the retreat should be continued, at the same time sinking its body beneath the water as low as the depth would allow. remaining motionless for a few seconds, and seeing that its victim was not only not going any further, but maintained its defiant attitude, the gavial crawled silently and cautiously on till the reeds no longer concealed it. then suddenly rising on its strong fore-arms, it bounded forward--aiding the movement by a stroke of its immense tail--and launched the whole length of its body on the bank, its huge jaws flying agape as they came in contact with the shaggy skin of its intended prey. for an instant of time its snout was actually buried in the long red hair of the gorilla, and the spectators expected to see the latter grasped between its jaws and dragged into the lake. they were even congratulating themselves on the chance of thus getting rid of it, when a movement on the part of the mias warned them they were not to be so conveniently disembarrassed of its dangerous proximity. that movement was a leap partly to one side, and partly upward into the air. it sprang so high as completely to clear the head of its assailant, and so far horizontally, that when it came to the ground again, it was along the extended body of the crocodile, midway between its head and its tail. before the unwieldy reptile could turn to confront it, the ape made a second spring, this time alighting upon the gavial's back, just behind his shoulders. there straddling, and taking a firm hold with its thick short legs, it threw its long arms forward over the crocodile's shoulder-blades, as with the intent to throttle it. and now commenced a struggle between the two monstrous creatures--a conflict strange and terrible--such as could only be seen in the depths of a bornean or sumatran forest, in the midst of those wild solitudes where man rarely makes his way. and even in such scenes but rarely witnessed; and only by the lone dyak hunter straying along the banks of some solitary stream, or threading the mazes of the jungle-grown swamp or lagoon. on the part of the crocodile the strife consisted simply in a series of endeavours to dismount the hairy rider who clung like a saddle to its back. to effect this purpose, it made every effort in its power; turning about upon its belly as upon a pivot; snapping its jaws till they cracked like pistol shots; lashing the ground with its long vertebrated tail, till the grass and weeds were swept off as if cut with the blade of a scythe; twisting and wriggling in every possible direction. all to no purpose. the ape held on as firmly as a mexican to a restive mule, one of its fore-arms clutching the shoulder-blade of the reptile, while the other was constantly oscillating in the air, as if searching for something to seize upon. for what purpose it did this, the spectators could not at first tell, it was not long, however, before they discovered its intention. all at once the disengaged arm made a long clutch forward and grasped the upper jaw of the gavial. during the struggle this had been frequently wide agape, almost pointing vertically upward, as is customary with reptiles of the lizard kind, the singular conformation of the cervical vertebrae enabling them to open their jaws thus widely. one might have supposed that, in thus taking hold, the gorilla had got its hand into a terrible trap, and that in another instant its fingers would be caught between the quickly-closing teeth of the saurian, and snapped off like pipe-stems, or the tender shoots of a head of celery. the inexperienced and youthful spectators expected some such result; but not so the cunning old man-monkey, who knew what he was about; for, once he had gained a good hold upon the upper jaw, at its narrowest part, near the snout, he made up his mind that those bony counterparts, now asunder, should never come together again. to make quite sure of this, he bent himself to the last supreme effort. supporting his knees firmly against the shoulders of the saurian, and bending his thick muscular arms to the extent of their great strength, he was seen to give one grand wrench. there was a crashing sound, as of a tree torn from its roots, followed by a spasmodic struggle; then the hideous reptile lay extended along the earth, still writhing its body and flirting its tail. the red gorilla saw that it had accomplished its task; victory was achieved, the danger over, and the hated enemy lay helpless, almost nerveless, in its hairy embrace. at length, detaching itself from the scaly creature, whose struggles each moment grew feebler and feebler, it sprang to one side, squatted itself on its haunches, and with a hoarse laughter, that resembled the horrid yell of a maniac, triumphantly contemplated the ruin of its prostrate foe! chapter twenty eight. still trusting in god. the reader may suppose the strange conflict we have described to be a thing of the author's imagination. some will, no doubt, pronounce it a story of the sensational and fabulous kind--in short, a "sailor's yarn." so may it seem to those who give but little attention to the study of nature. to the naturalist, however, this chapter of animal life and habits will cause no astonishment; for he will know it to be a true one; and that the spectacle described, although perhaps not one coming every day under the eye of man, and especially civilised man, has nevertheless been witnessed by the inhabitants of the recesses of the bornean forest. ask any old bornean bee-hunter, and he will tell you just such a tale as the above; adding that the ourang-outang, or red gorilla, which he calls _mias_, is a match, and more than a match, for any animal it may encounter in forest or jungle; and that the only two creatures which dare attack it are the crocodile and the great _ular_ or _python_, the latter a serpent of the boa-constructor kind, with one of which our castaways had already formed acquaintance. but the bornean bee-hunter, usually a dyak, will also tell you that in these conflicts the red gorilla is the victor, though each of the two great reptile antagonists that attack it is often thirty feet in length, with a girth almost equalling its own. only fancy a snake ten yards long, and a lizard the same; either of which would reach from end to end of the largest room in which you may be seated, or across the street in which you may be walking! you will seldom find such specimens in our museums; for they are not often encountered by our naturalists or secured by our travellers. but take my word for it, there are such serpents and such lizards in existence, ay, and much larger ones. they may be found not only in the tropical isles of the orient, but in the western world, in the lagoons and forests of equatorial america. many of the "sailors' yarns" of past times, which we have been accustomed so flippantly to discredit, on account of their appearing rather tough, have under the light of recent scientific exploration been proved true. and although some of them may seem to be incorporated in this narrative, under the guise of mere romance, the reader need not on this account think himself misled, or treat them with sublime contempt. if it should ever be his fate or fortune to make a tour through the east indian archipelago, he will cease to be incredulous. henry redwood and his sister helen had no such tranquil reflections, as they stood under the shadow of the great tree, concealing themselves behind its trunk, and watching the terrible conflict between the two huge creatures, both in their eyes equally hideous. giving way to an instinct of justice, they would have taken sides with the party assailed and against the assailant. but, under the circumstances, their leanings were the very reverse; for in the triumphant conqueror they saw a continuance of their own danger; whereas, had the amphibious animal been victorious, this would have been at an end. the strife now terminated, they stood trembling and uncertain as ever. the crocodile, although crushed, and no longer dangerous for any offensive manoeuvre, was not killed. its body still writhed and wriggled upon the ground; though its movements were but the agonised efforts of mortal pain, excited convulsively and each moment becoming feebler. and the red gorilla stood near, squatted on its haunches; at intervals tossing its long hairy arms around its head, and giving utterance to that strange coughing laughter, as if it would never leave off exulting over the victory it had achieved. how long was this spectacle to last? it was sufficiently horrid for the spectators to desire its speedy termination. and yet they did not; they were in hopes it might continue till a voice coming from the forest, or the tread of a foot, would tell them that help was near. tremblingly but attentively they listened. they heard neither one nor the other--neither voice nor footstep. now and then came the note of a bird or the cry of some four-footed creature prowling through the glades; but not uttered in accents of alarm. the hunters must have wandered far in their search for game. they might not return in time. again henry bethought him of firing the musket to give them a signal. but even if heard, it might not have this effect. they knew that he was able to hold and handle the great gun, and might think some bird or animal had come near and tempted him to take a shot at it. on the other hand, the report would strike upon the ears of the mias, might distract it from the triumph in which it was indulging, and bring it to the spot where they were standing. then, with an empty gun in his hand, what defence could the youth make, either for himself or for his sister? to fire the gun would never do. better leave the trigger unpulled, and trust to providence for protection. and then, as the brave boy reflected on the many dangers through which they had passed, and how they had always been delivered by some fortunate interposition, he knew it must be the hand of providence, and was content to rely upon it again. he said so to his little sister, whispering consolation, as with one hand he drew her close to him, the other resting upon the musket. and helen whispered back a pious response, as she nestled upon the breast of her brother. a moment more, and the faith of both was submitted to a severe trial. the red gorilla, after gloating for a long time over the agonised contortions of its disabled enemy, seemed at length satisfied that it was disabled to death, and facing toward the forest, showed signs of an intention to take its departure from the spot. now came the crisis for henry and helen. which way would the animal take? they had not time to exchange question and answer--scarce time even to shape them in their thoughts--when they saw the red satyr turn to the tree behind which they were standing, and come directly toward them. chapter twenty nine. a captive carried aloft. "we are lost!" were the words that rushed from henry redwood's lips. they came involuntarily; for, as soon as said, he regretted them, seeing how much they added to the alarm of his sister. it was a crisis in which she needed rather to be inspired to confidence by words of encouragement. they were said, however, and he could not recall them. he had no time to speak of anything, or to think of what course they should now pursue. coming straight toward the tree with an awkward, shambling, but speedy gait withal, the monster would soon reach the spot where they stood. its movements showed it to be in a state of excitement--the natural consequence of its late conflict with the crocodile. if seen, they would come in for a share of its anger, already roused. if seen! they were almost sure of being seen. they were endeavouring to avoid it by keeping on the other side of the tree, and screening themselves among the parasitical plants. but the concealment was slight, and would not avail them if the animal should pass the trunk and look around after passing. and now it was making straight for the tree, apparently with the design of ascending it. at this crisis henry once more bethought him of running away and taking helen with him. he now regretted not having done so sooner. even to be lost in the forest would have been a less danger than that which now threatened them. a glance told him it would be too late. there was an open space beyond and all around the trunk behind which they had taken shelter. should they attempt to escape, the ape would be certain of seeing them before they could get under cover of the woods, and, as they supposed, might easily overtake them in their flight. another tree was near, connecting that under which they stood with the adjoining forest. but it was in a side direction, and they would be seen before reaching it. there was no alternative but to risk a chase, or stay where they were, and take the chances of not being seen by the horrid creature that was approaching. they chose the latter. silently they stood, hands clasped and close to the stem of the tree, on the side opposite to that on which the gorilla was advancing. they no longer saw it; for now they dared not look around the trunk, or even peep through the leaves of the orchids, lest their faces might betray them. after all, the ape might pass into the forest without observing them. if it did, the danger would be at an end; if not, the brave boy had summoned up all his energies to meet and grapple with it. he held the loaded musket in his hand, ready at a moment's notice to raise it to the level and fire into the face of the red-haired satyr. they waited in breathless silence, though each could hear the beating of the other's heart. it was torture to stand thus uncertain; and, as if to continue it, the animal was a long time in getting to the tree. had it stopped, or turned off some other way? henry was tempted to peep round the trunk and satisfy himself. he was about to do this, when a scratching on the other side fell upon their ears. it was the claws of the mias rasping against the bark. the next moment the sound seemed higher up, and they were made aware that the creature was ascending the tree. henry was already congratulating himself on this event. the ape might go up without seeing them; and as the tree was a very tall one, with a thick head of foliage and matted creepers, once among these, it might no longer think of looking down. then they could steal away unobserved, and, keeping at a safe distance, await the return of the hunters. at this moment, however, an incident arose that interfered with this desirable programme, in an instant changing the position of everything that promised so well into a sad and terrible catastrophe. it was murtagh who caused, though innocently, the lamentable diversion. the ship-carpenter, returning from his excursion, had just stumbled upon the crocodile where it lay upon the shore of the lake, which, though helpless to return to its proper element, was not yet dead. with jaw torn and dislocated, it was still twisting its body about in the last throes of the death-struggle. not able to account for the spectacle of ruin thus presented, it caused the irishman much surprise, not unmingled with alarm--the latter increasing as he looked towards the tree where henry and helen had been left, and saw they were no longer there. had he prudently held his peace, perhaps all might have been well; but, catching sight of the huge hairy monster ascending the trunk, the thought flashed across his mind that the young people had been already destroyed, perhaps devoured, by it; and, giving way to this terrible fancy, he uttered a dread cry of despair. it was the worst thing he could have done; for, despite the discouraging tone of his voice, it seemed joyful to those crouching in concealment; and, yielding to an instinct that they were now saved by the presence of a stanch protector, they rushed from their ambuscade, and in so doing discovered themselves to the ourang-outang. its eyes were upon them--dark, demon-like orbs, that seemed to scintillate sparks of fire. the gorilla had only gone up the trunk to a height of about twenty feet, when the cry of the alarmed ship-carpenter brought its ascent to a sudden stop; then, bringing its body half round, and looking below, it saw the children. as if connecting them with the enemy it had just conquered, its angry passions seemed to rekindle; and once more giving utterance to that strange barking cough, it glided down the tree, and made direct for the one who was nearest. as ill luck would have it, this chanced to be the little helen, altogether defenceless and unarmed. murtagh, still shouting, rushed to the rescue; while henry, with his musket raised to his shoulder, endeavoured to get between the ape and its intended victim, so that he could fire right into the face of the assailant, without endangering the life of his sister. he would have been in time had the gun proved true, which it did not. it was an old flint musket, and the priming had got damp during their journey through the moist tropical forest. as he pulled trigger, there was not even a flash in the pan; and although he instinctively grasped the gun by its barrel, and, using it as a club, commenced belabouring the hairy giant over the head, his blows were of no more avail than if directed against the trunk of the tree itself. once, twice, three times the butt of the gun descended upon the skull of the satyr, protected by its thick shock of coarse red hair; but before a fourth blow could be given, the ape threw out one of its immense arms, and carrying it round in a rapid sweep, caught the form of the girl in its embrace, and then, close hugging her against its hairy breast, commenced reascending the tree. shouts and shrieks were of no avail to detain the horrid abductor. nor yet the boy's strength, exerted to its utmost. his strength alone; for murtagh was not yet up. henry seized the gorilla's leg, and clung to it as long as ever he could. he was dragged several feet up the trunk; but a kick from the gorilla shook him off, and he fell, stunned and almost senseless, to the earth. chapter thirty. what will become of her? it would be impossible to paint the despair that wrung her brother's heart, as he stood with upturned face and eyes bent upon a scene in which he had no longer the power to take part. not much less intense was the agonised emotion of murtagh; for little helen was almost as dear to the irishman as if she had been his own daughter. neither could have any other thought than that the child was lost beyond hope of recovery. she would either be torn to pieces by the claws of the monster, or by its great yellow teeth, already displayed to their view, and flung in mangled fragments to the ground. they actually stood for some time in expectation of seeing this sad catastrophe; and it would be vain to attempt any description of their emotions. it was no relief when the two hunters came up, as they did at that instant, on their return from the chase. their approach for the last two or three hundred yards had been hastened into a run by the shrieks of helen and the shouts of henry and murtagh. their arrival only added two new figures to the tableau of distress, and two voices to its expression. the ape could still be seen through the foliage ascending to the top of the tree; but captain redwood felt that the rifle he held in his hands, though sure of aim and fatal in effect, was of no more use than if it had been a piece of wood. saloo had the same feeling in regard to his blow-gun. the rifle might send a deadly bullet through the skull of the gorilla, and the latter pierce its body with an arrow that would carry a quick-spreading poison through its veins. but to what purpose, even though they could be certain of killing it? its death would be also the death of the child. she was still living, and apparently unhurt; for they could see her moving, and hear her voice, as she was carried onward and upward in that horrible embrace. captain redwood dared not send a bullet nor saloo an arrow. slight as the chances were of saving the girl, either would have made them slighter. a successful shot of the rifle or puff of the blow-gun would be as fatal to the abducted as the abductor; and the former, with or without the latter, would be certain to fall to the foot of the tree. it was a hundred feet sheer from the point which the ape had attained to the ground. the child would not only be killed, but crushed to a shapeless mass. ah me! what a terrible scene for her father! what a spectacle for him to contemplate! and as he stood in unutterable agony, his companions gathered around, all helpless and irresolute as to how they should act, they saw the ape suddenly change his direction, and move outward from the trunk of the tree along one of its largest limbs. this trended off in a nearly horizontal direction, at its end interlocking with a limb of the neighbouring tree, which stretched out as if to shake hands with it. a distance of more than fifty feet lay between the two trunks, but their branches met in close embrace. the purpose of the ape was apparent. it designed passing from one to the other, and thence into the depths of the forest. the design was quickly followed by its execution. as the spectators rushed to the side by which the gorilla was retreating, they saw it lay hold of the interlocking twigs, draw the branch nearer, bridge the space between with its long straggling arm, and then bound from one to the other with the agility of a squirrel. and this with the use of only one arm, for by the other the child was still carried in the same close hug. its legs acted as arms, and for travelling through the tree-tops three were sufficient. on into the heart of the deep foliage of the second tree, and without a pause on into the next; along another pair of counterpart limbs, which, intertwining their leafy sprays and boughs, still further into the forest, all the time bearing its precious burden along with it. the agonised father ran below, rifle in hand. he might as well have been without one, for all the use he dared to make of it. and henry, too, followed with the ship's musket. true, it had missed fire, and the damp priming was still in the pan. damp or dry, it now mattered not. saloo's sumpitan was an equally ineffective weapon. murtagh with his fishing-hooks might as well have thought of capturing the monster with a bait. on it scrambled from tree to tree, and on ran the pursuers underneath, yet with no thought of being able to stay its course. they were carried forward by the mere mechanical instinct to keep it in sight, with perhaps some slight hope that in the end something might occur--some interruption might arise by which they would be enabled to effect a rescue of the child from its horrible captor. it was at best but a faint consolation. nor would they have cherished it, but for their trust in a higher power than their own. of themselves they knew they could not let or hinder the abductor in its flight. all felt their own helplessness. but it is just in that supreme moment, when man feels his utter weakness, that his vague trust in a superior being becomes a devout and perfect faith. captain redwood was not what is usually called a religious man, meaning thereby a strict adherent to the church, and a regular observer of its ordinances. for all this he was a firm believer in the existence of a providential and protecting power. his exclamations were many, and not very coherent; but their burden was ever a prayer to god for the preservation of his daughter. "helen, my child! helen! what will become of her? o father! o god, protect her!" chapter thirty one. the pursuit arrested. from branch to branch, and tree to tree, the red gorilla continued its swift advance; still bearing with it the little helen. from trunk to trunk, the pursuers crawled through the underwood beneath, feeling as helpless as ever. what was to be the end of this strangely singular pursuit they could not tell, for they had never before--and perhaps no man at any time had-- taken part in such a chase, or even heard of one so terrible. they could offer no conjecture as to what might be its termination; but moved forward mechanically, keeping the gorilla in sight. was helen yet living, or was she dead? no cry came from her lips, no word, no sound! had the life been crushed out of her body by the pressure of that strong muscular arm, twined round her like the limb of an oak? or was the silence due to temporary loss of feeling? she might well have swooned away in such a situation; and her father, struggling with faint hopes, would have been glad to think this was indeed the case. no signs could be gained from what they heard, and none from what they saw. they were now passing through the very depth of the forest--a tropical forest, with the trees meeting overhead, and not a speck of sky visible through the interwoven branches, loaded with their thick festoons of leaves and lianas. they were gliding through dense arcades, lit up with just sufficient sunshine to wear the sombre shadows of a dusky twilight. there were even places where the retreating form of the ape could not have been distinguishable in the obscurity, but for the white drapery of the child's dress, now torn into shreds, and flaunting like streamers behind it. these luckily served as a beacon to guide them on through the gloom. now and then the chase led them into less shady depths, where the sunlight fell more freely through the leafy screen above. at such points they could obtain a better view, both of the red abductor and its captive. but even then only a glimpse--the speed at which the gorilla was going, as well as the foliage that intervened, preventing any lengthened observation. nor were the pursuers at any time able to get sight of the child's face. it appeared to be turned toward the animal's breast, her head buried in its coarse shaggy hair, with which her own tresses were mingled in strange contrast. even her form could not be clearly distinguished. as far as they could decide by their occasional glimpses, they thought she was still alive. the brute did not seem to treat her with any malevolent violence. only in a rude uncouth way; which, however, might suffice to cause the death of one so young and frail. to depict the feelings of her father, under such circumstances, would be a task the most eloquent pen could not successfully attempt. agony like his can never be described. language possesses not the power. there are thoughts which lie too deep for words; passions whose expression defies the genius of the artist or the poet. perhaps he was hindered from realising the full measure of his bereavement during the first moments of the pursuit. the excitement of the chase, and the incidents attending it--the hope still remaining that some chance would arise in their favour--the certainty, soon ascertained, that they could keep up with the ape, which, despite its agility in the trees, cannot outstrip a man pursuing it along the ground,--all these circumstances had hitherto withheld him from giving way to utter despair. but the time had come when even these slight supports were to fail. it was when they arrived upon the brink of a lagoon, and a water-surface gleamed before their eyes; reflected by a daylight that struggled dimly down through the tops of the tall trees. the trees rose out of the water, their trunks wide apart, but their branches intermingling. the path of our pursuers was interrupted--they saw it at once--but that of the pursued seemed continuous as before. they were arrested suddenly on the brink of the lagoon, apparently with no chance of proceeding farther. they saw the red gorilla still climbing among the trees, with the white drapery streaming behind it. soon they saw it not--only heard the crackle of twigs, and the swishing recoil of the branches, as its huge body swung from tree to tree. the monster was now out of sight, along with its victim--a victim, in very truth, whether living or dead! but for the support of murtagh and saloo, captain redwood would have fallen to the earth. in their arms he sobbed and gasped,-- "helen! my child, helen! what will become of her? o father! o god, protect her!" chapter thirty two. listening in despair. for some seconds captain redwood was powerless in a frenzy of despair. henry was equally overcome by grief truly agonising. it was to both father and son a moment of the most unutterable anguish. helen, the dear daughter and sister, carried out of their sight, apparently beyond reach of pursuit. and in the arms of a hideous creature which was neither wholly man nor wholly beast, but combined the worst attributes of each. perhaps she was already dead within the loathsome embrace--her tender body soon to be torn to pieces, or tossed from the top of some tall tree; to be crushed and mangled on the earth, or thrown with a plunge into the cold dark waters of that dismal lagoon, never more to be seen or heard of. these were horrid thoughts and hideous images which rushed rapidly through their minds as they stood in the sombre shadow, picturing to themselves her too probable fate. it was no longer a question about her life. they knew, or believed, her to be dead. they only thought of what was to become of her body; what chance there might be of recovering and giving it the sacred rights of sepulture. even this slight consolation occupied the mind of the distracted father. the malay, well acquainted with the habits of the great man-ape, could give no answer. he only knew that the child's body would not be eaten up by it; since the red gorilla is never known to feed upon flesh--fruit and vegetables being its only diet. the whole thing was perplexing him, as an occurrence altogether unusual. he had known of people being killed and torn to pieces by the animal in its anger; but never of one being carried up into the trees. usually these animals will not volunteer an attack upon man, and are only violent when assailed. then, indeed, are they terrible in their strength as in their ferocity. the one now encountered must have been infuriated by its fight with the crocodile; and coming straight from the encounter, had in some way connected the children with its conquered enemy. murtagh's shout might have freshly incensed it; or, what to saloo seemed more probable than all, the seizure of the child might be a wild freak suddenly striking the brain of the enraged satyr. he had heard of such eccentricities on the part of the ourang-outang, and there is a belief among the dyak hunters that the mias sometimes goes _mad_, just as men do. this reasoning did not take place on the edge of the lagoon, nor any discussion of such questions. they were thoughts that had been expressed during the pursuit, at no time hurried. the captain and his companions had easily kept pace with the pursued, while passing through the dry forest; and time enough was allowed them to think and talk of many things. now that they could no longer follow, scarce a word was exchanged between them. their emotions were too sad for utterance, otherwise than by exclamations which spoke only of despair. it was well they were silent, for it gave saloo the opportunity of listening. ever since the ape had passed from their sight, his ear had been keenly anxious to catch every sound, as he still entertained a hope of being able to trace its passage through the trees. thoroughly conversant with the animal's habits, he knew that it must have an abiding-place--a nest. this might be near at hand. the proximity of the lagoon almost convinced him that it was so. the mias makes a temporary roost for his repose anywhere it may be wandering--constructing it in a few moments, by breaking off the branches and laying them crosswise on a forked limb; but saloo was aware that, for its permanent residence, it builds a much more elaborate nest, and this, too, always over water or marshy ground, where its human enemy cannot conveniently follow it. moreover, it chooses for the site of its dwelling a low tree or bush with umbrageous boughs, and never retires among the taller trees of the forest. this it does to avoid exposure to the chill winds, and the inconvenience of being shaken to and fro during storms or typhoons. with all this knowledge in his memory, the malay had conceived a hope that the monster's nest might not be far off, and they would still be able to follow and find it--not to rescue the living child, but recover her dead body. keenly and attentively he listened to every sound that came back through the water-forest--cautioning the others to be silent. a caution scarce needed, for they too stood listening, still as death, with hushed voices, and hearts only heard in their dull sad beatings. but for a short time were they thus occupied; altogether not more than five minutes. they still detected the crackling of branches which indicated the passage of the ape through the tree-tops. all at once these sounds suddenly ceased, or rather were they drowned out by sounds louder and of a very different intonation. it was a chorus of cries, in which barking, grunting, growling, coughing, cachinnation and the squalling of children seemed all to have a share. there were evidently more than one individual contributing to this strange _fracas_ of the forest; and the noises continued to come apparently from the same place. "allah be thank!" exclaimed saloo, in a subdued tone. "he home at lass. him family makee welcome. maybe chile be live yet. maybe mias no killee after all. trust we in allah, what you inglees people callee god. who know he yet help us!" these last words came like a renewal of life to the despairing father. he started on hearing them; fresh hope had sprung up in his breast, at the thought that his beloved child might yet be alive, and that a chance of rescuing her might still be possible. "in thy mercy, o god, grant it may be so!" were the words that fell from his lips: murtagh, with equal fervour, saying "amen!" chapter thirty three. striking out. inspired to renewed energy, captain redwood rushed to the edge of the lagoon, with the view of ascertaining its depth, and seeing whether it might possibly be waded. he soon discovered that it could not. in less than ten paces from the edge he was up to the arm-pits, and from thence it seemed to deepen still more abruptly. another step forward, and the water rose over his shoulders, the bottom still sloping downwards. the lagoon was evidently impassable. he drew back despairingly, though not to return to the shore. he stood facing the centre of the lagoon, whence still came the strange noises: though scarce so loud or varied as before, they did not appear to be any more distant. whatever creatures were making them, it was evident they were stationary, either in the trees or upon the ground. they did not sound as if they came from on high; but this might be a deception, caused by the influence of the water. one of the voices bore a singular resemblance to that of a child. it could not be helen's; it more resembled the squalling of an infant. saloo knew what it was. in the plaintive tones he recognised the scream of a young ourang-outang. it was a proof his conjecture was true, and that the mias had reached its home. all the more anxious was captain redwood to reach the spot whence the sounds proceeded. something like a presentiment had entered his mind that there was still a hope, and that his child lived and might be rescued. even if torn, injured, disfigured for life, she might survive. any sort of life, so long as she could be recovered; and if she could not be restored, at least she might breathe her last breath in his arms. even that would be easier to bear than the thought that she had gone to rest in the grasp of the hirsute gorilla, with its hideous offspring grinning and gibbering around her. the lagoon could not be waded on foot; but a good swimmer might cross it. the captain was an experienced and accomplished swimmer. the voices came from no great distance--certainly not above half a mile. on one occasion he had accomplished a league in a rough sea! there could be no difficulty in doing as much on the smooth, tranquil water of that tree-shaded lake. he had opened his arms and prepared to strike out, when a thought stayed him. saloo, who had waded to his side, also arrested him by laying a hand on his shoulder. "you try swimmee, cappen, no good without weapon; we both go togedder-- muss take gun, sumpitan, kliss, else no chance killee mias." it was the thought that had occurred to captain redwood himself. "yes, you are right, saloo. i must take my rifle, but how am i to keep it dry?--there's not time to make a raft." "no raff need, cappen; givee me you gun--saloo swim single-hand well as two; he cally the gun." captain redwood knew it to be true that saloo, as he said, could swim with one hand as well as he himself with both. he was a malay, to whom swimming in the water is almost as natural as walking upon the land. his old pilot could scarcely have been drowned if he had been flung into the sea twenty miles from shore. he at once yielded to saloo's counsel; and both hastily returned to the edge of the lagoon to make preparations. these did not occupy long. the captain threw off some of his clothes, stowed his powder-flask and some bullets in the crown of his hat, which he fastened firmly on his head. he retained a knife--intended in case of necessity--to be carried between his teeth, giving his gun to saloo. the malay, having less undressing to do, had already completed the arrangements. on the top of his turban, safely secured by a knotting of his long black hair, he had fastened his bamboo quiver of poisoned arrows; while his kris--with which a malay under no circumstances thinks of parting--lay along his thigh, kept in position by the waist-strap used in suspending his _sarong_. with his sumpitan and the captain's gun in his left hand, he was ready to take to the water. not another moment was lost; the voices of the ourangs seemed to be calling them; and plunging through the shallow, they were soon out in deep water, and striking steadily but rapidly, silently but surely, towards the centre of the lagoon. henry and murtagh remained on the shore looking after them. the ship-carpenter was but an indifferent swimmer, and the youth was not strong enough to have swam half a mile. it was doubtful if either could have reached the spot where the apes seemed to have made their rendezvous. and if so, they would have been too exhausted to have rendered any service in case of a sudden conflict. the brave irishman, devoted to his old skipper, and henry, anxious to share his father's fate, would have made the attempt; but captain redwood restrained them, directing both to await his return. they stood close to the water's edge, following the swimmers with their eyes, and with prayers for their success, scarcely uttered in words, but fervently felt; murtagh, according to the custom of his country and creed, sealing the petition by making the sign of the cross. chapter thirty four. swimming in shadow. silently and swiftly the two swimmers continued their course through the shadowy aisles of the forest. twilight, almost darkness, was above and around them; for the trees meeting overhead caused an obscurity sombre as night itself. no ray of sunlight ever danced upon the surface of that dismal lagoon. they would have lost their way, had not the noises guided them. should these be discontinued, their exertions might be all in vain. they thought of this as they proceeded, and reflected also on the course to be adopted when they reached the rendezvous of the gorillas. supposing there could be no footing found, how were they to use either gun or sumpitan? the question passed between them in a whisper as they swam side by side. neither knew how to answer it. saloo only expressed a hope that they might get upon the limb of a tree near enough to send a bullet or arrow into the body of the mias, and terminate his career. there seemed no other chance, and they swam on, keeping it before their minds. about the direction, they had no difficulty whatever. although the surface of the water was of inky blackness, from the shadowing trees above, and the huge trunks standing out of it now and then forced them into an occasional deviation, they advanced without any great difficulty. they swam around the tree trunks, and, guided by the voices of the gorillas, easily regained their course. the noises were no longer sharp screams or hoarse coughs, but a kind of jabbering jargon, as if the apes were engaged in a family confabulation. the swimmers at length arrived so near, that they no longer felt any fear about finding the way to the place where the reunion of the _quadrumana_ was being held; and which could not be more than a hundred yards distant. silently gliding through the water, the eyes of both peered intently forward, in an endeavour to pierce the obscurity, and, if possible, discover some low limb of a tree, or projecting buttress, on which they might find a foothold. they had good hope of success, for they had seen many such since starting from the shore. had rest been necessary, they might have obtained it more than once by grasping a branch above, or clinging to one of the great trunks, whose gnarled and knotted sides would have afforded sufficient support. but they were both strong swimmers, and needed no rest. there was none for the bereaved father--could be none--till he should reach the termination of their strange enterprise, and know what was to be its result. as they swam onward, now proceeding with increased caution, their eyes scanning the dark surface before them, both all of a sudden and simultaneously came to a stop. it was just as if something underneath the water had laid hold of them by the legs, checking them at the same instant of time. and something _had_ impeded their farther progress, but not from behind. in front was the obstruction, which proved to be a bank of earth, that, though under the water, rose within a few inches of its surface. the breast of each swimmer had struck against it, the shock raising them into a half-erect attitude, from which they had no need to return to the horizontal. on the contrary, they now rose upon their feet, which they felt to be resting on a firm hard bottom. standing in pleased surprise, they could better survey the prospect before them; and after a minute spent in gazing through the gloom, they saw that dry land was close to the spot where they had been so abruptly arrested. it appeared only a low-lying islet, scarce rising above the level of the lagoon, and of limited extent--only a few rods in superficial area. it was thickly covered with trees; but, unlike those standing in the water, which were tall and with single stems, those upon the islet were supported by many trunks, proclaiming them to be some species of the indian fig or _banyan_. one near the centre, from its greater width and more numerous supporting pillars, seemed the patriarch of the tribe; and to this their eyes were especially directed. for out of its leafy shadows came the strange sounds which had hitherto guided them. among its branches, without any doubt, the red gorilla had his home; and there he would be found in the bosom of his family. grasping his gun, and whispering to saloo to follow him, captain redwood started towards the tree so clearly indicated as the goal of their expedition. chapter thirty five. the family at home. soon after the intended assailants stood among the rooted branches of the banyan. the gloom underneath its umbrageous branches was deepened by what appeared to be an immense scaffolding constructed near the top of the tree, and extending far out along the horizontal limbs. saloo at once recognised the permanent nest or roosting-place of a _mias rombi_--such as he had often seen in the forests of sumatra, where the same, or a closely allied species, has its home. the tree was not a tall one, but low and widespreading; while the broad platform-like nest, formed by interwoven branches, upon which lay a thick layer of grass and leaves, was not more than twenty feet above the surface of the earth. the obscurity which prevailed around favoured their stealthy approach; and like a pair of spectres gliding through the upright pillars, captain redwood and his old pilot at length found a position favourable for a survey of the platform erected by the gorilla. the father's heart was filled with strange indescribable emotions, as with eye keenly bent he stood upon a projecting branch, that brought his head on a level with this curious structure. there he saw a scene which stirred his soul to its deepest depths. his daughter, appearing snow-white amid the gloom, was lying upon the scaffold, her golden hair dishevelled, her dress torn into ribbons-- portions of it detached and scattered about. to all appearance she was dead; for, scanning her with the earnest anxious glance of a keen solicitude, he could not detect any movement either in body or limbs; and it was too dark for him to tell whether her eyes were open or closed. but he had now very little hope. he was indeed too certain they were closed in the sleep of death. around her were assembled three human-like forms, monstrous withal, and all alike covered with a coating of red hair, thick, long, and shaggy. they were of different sizes, and in the largest one he recognised the abductor of his child. the second in size, whose form proclaimed it to be a female, was evidently the wife of the huge man-ape; while the little creature, about eighteen inches in height--though a perfect miniature likeness of its parents--was the infant whose squalling had contributed more than anything else to guide them through the shades of the lagoon. the old male, perhaps suffering fatigue from its fight with the crocodile, as well as from the chase he had sustained, crouched upon the scaffold, seemingly asleep. the other two were still in motion, the mother at intervals seizing her hairy offspring, and grotesquely caressing it; then letting it go free to dance fantastically around the recumbent form of the unconscious captive child. this it did, amusing itself by now and then tearing off a strip of the girl's dress, either with its claws or teeth. it was a spectacle wild, weird, altogether indescribable; and by captain redwood not to be looked upon a moment longer than was necessary to embrace its details. having satisfied himself, he raised his rifle to fire upon the family party, intending first to aim at the father, whose death he most desired, and who living would no doubt prove by far the most dangerous antagonist. in another instant his bullet would have sped towards the breast of the sleeping giant, but for saloo, who, grasping his arm, restrained him. "tay, cappen," said the malay in a whisper; "leave me kill em. sumpit bettel dun bullet. de gun makee noise--wake old mias up, an' maybe no killee em. de upas poison bettel. it go silent--quick. see how saloo slay dem all tlee!" there was something in saloo's suggestions which caused captain redwood to ground his rifle and reflect. his reflections quickly ended in his giving place to his old pilot, and leaving the latter to work out the problem in his own way. stepping up to the branch assigned to him, which commanded a view of the spectacle so torturing to his master, the malay took a brief glance at the scene--only a very brief one. it enabled him to select the first victim for his envenomed shaft, the same which captain redwood had destined to receive the leaden missile from his gun. bringing to his mouth the sumpitan, in whose tube he had already placed one of his poisoned arrows, and compressing the trumpet-shaped embouchure against his lips, he gave a puff that sent the shaft on its deadly way with such velocity, that even in clear daylight its exit could only have been detected like a spark from a flint. in the obscurity that shrouded the gorilla's roost, nothing at all was seen, and nothing heard; for the sumpit is as silent on its message as the wing of an owl when beating through the twilight. true, there was something heard, though it was not the sound of the arrow. only a growl from the great red gorilla, that had felt something sting him, and on feeling it threw up his paw to scratch the place, no doubt fancying it to be but the bite of a mosquito or hornet. the piece of stick broken off by his fingers may have seemed to him rather strange, but not enough so to arouse him from his dreamy indifference. not even when another and another sting of the same unusual kind caused him to renew his scratching--for by this time he was beginning to succumb to the narcotic influence that would soon induce the sleep of death. it did thus end: for after a time, and almost without a struggle, the red-haired monster lay stretched upon the platform which had long been his resting-place, his huge limbs supple and tremulous with the last throes of life. and beside him, in the same condition, was soon after seen his wife, who, of weaker conformation, had more quickly yielded to the soporific effect of the upas poison, from which, when it has once pervaded the blood, there is no chance of recovery. saloo did not deem the infant mias worthy a single arrow, and after its parents had been disposed of, he sprang upon the scaffold, followed by captain redwood, who, the moment after, was kneeling by his child, and with ear closely pressed to her bosom, listened to learn if her heart was still beating. _it was_! chapter thirty six. an improvised palanquin. "she lives! thank god, she lives!" these were the words that fell upon the ears of henry and murtagh, when saloo, swimming back to the shore, related to them what had transpired. and more too. she had recovered from her swoon, a long-protracted syncope, which had fortunately kept her in a state of unconsciousness almost from the moment of her capture to that of her rescue. with the exception of some scratches upon her delicate skin, and a slight pain caused by the compression to which she had been subjected in that hideous hug, no harm had befallen her--at least no injury that promised to be of a permanent nature. such was the report and prognosis of saloo, who had swam back to the shore to procure the ship-carpenter's axe, and his aid in the construction of a raft. this was to carry helen from the islet--from a spot which had so nearly proved fatal to her. a bamboo grove grew close at hand, and with saloo's knowledge and the ship-carpenter's skill, a large life-preserver was soon set afloat on the water of the lagoon. it was at once paddled to the islet, and shortly after came back again bearing with it a precious freight--a beautiful young girl rescued by an affectionate father, and restored to an equally affectionate brother. long before the raft had grounded against the shore, henry, plunging into the shallow water, had gone to meet it, and mounting upon the buoyant bamboos, had flung his arms around the form of his little sister. how tender that embrace, how fond and affectionate, how different from the harsh hostile hug of the monster, whose long hairy arms had late so cruelly encircled her delicate form! as the child was still weak--her strength prostrated more by her first alarm when seized, than by aught that had happened afterwards--captain redwood would have deemed it prudent to make some stay upon the shore of the lagoon. but the place seemed so dismal, while the air was evidently damp and unhealthy, to say naught of the unpleasant thoughts the scene suggested, he felt desirous to escape from it as soon as possible. in this matter the malay again came to his assistance, by saying they could soon provide a litter on which the child might be transported with as much ease to herself as if she were travelling in the softest sedan-chair that ever carried noble lady of java or japan. "construct it then," was the reply of captain redwood, who was altogether occupied in caressing his restored child. saloo needed no further directions: he only requested the assistance of murtagh, along with what remained to him of his tools; and these being as freely as joyfully furnished, a score of fresh bamboos soon lay prostrate on the ground, out of which the palanquin was to be built up. lopped into proper lengths, and pruned of their great leaf-blades, they were soon welded into the shape of a stretcher, with a pair of long handles projecting from each end. the palanquin was not yet complete, and by rights should have had a roof over it to shelter its occupant from rain or sun; but as there was no appearance of rain, and certainly no danger of being scorched by the sun in a forest where its glowing orb was never seen nor its rays permitted to penetrate, a roof was not thought necessary, and saloo's task was simplified by leaving it a mere stretcher. he took pains, however, that it should be both soft and elastic. the latter quality he obtained by a careful choice of the bamboos that were to serve as shafts; the former requisite he secured by thickly bedding it with the lopped-off leaves, and adding an upper stratum of cotton, obtained from a species of bombyx growing close at hand, and soft as the down of the eider-duck. reclining upon this easy couch, borne upon its long shafts of elastic bamboo, saloo at one end and murtagh at the other, helen was transported like a queen through the forest she had lately traversed as a captive in a manner so strange and perilous. before the sun had set, they once more looked upon its cheering light, its last declining rays falling upon her pale face as she was set down upon the shore of the lake, beside that same tree from which she had taken her involuntary departure. chapter thirty seven. the journey continued. the captain's daughter, with the natural vigour of youth, soon recovered from the slight injuries she had sustained in her singular journey through the maze of boughs. the previous perils of shipwreck, and the various hairbreadth escapes through which she had more recently passed, made her last danger all the lighter to bear; for by these her child's spirit had become steeled to endurance, and her courage was equal to that of a full-grown woman. otherwise the fearful situation in which she had been placed, if leaving life, might have deprived her of reason. as it happened, no serious misfortune had befallen, and with helen's strength and spirits both fully restored, her companions were able on the third day to resume their overland journey. and, still more, they started with a fresh supply of provisions--enough to last them for many long days. captain redwood and saloo in their hunting excursion had been very successful. the captain had not been called upon to fire a single shot from his rifle, so that his slender store of ammunition was still good for future eventualities. saloo's silent sumpits had done all the work of the chase, which resulted in the death of a deer, another wild pig, and several large birds, suitable for the pot or spit. the hunters had been returning from their last expedition heavily loaded with game, when the cries of helen, henry, and murtagh, had caused them to drop their booty and hasten to the rescue. now that all was over, and they were once more reminded of it, saloo and murtagh went in search of the abandoned game, soon found it, gathered it again, and transported it to their camping-place by the side of the lake. here, during the time they stayed to await the recovery of helen's health, the pork and venison were cut up and cured in such a manner as to ensure its keeping for a long time--long enough indeed to suffice them throughout the whole duration of their contemplated journey; that is, should no unexpected obstacle arise to obstruct or detain them. the fowls that had fallen to saloo's arrows were sufficient to serve them for a few days, and with the fine supply of lard obtained from the carcass of the pig, they could be cooked in the most sumptuous manner. in the best of spirits they again set forth; and it seemed now as if fate had at last grown weary of torturing them, and daily, almost hourly, involving one or other of them in danger of death. from the edge of the lake, where their journey had been so strangely interrupted, they found an easy path across the remaining portion of the great plain. several times they came upon the traces of red gorillas, and once they caught sight of a member of the horrid tribe speeding along the branches above their heads. but they were not so much afraid of them after all; for saloo admitted that he did not deem the _mias pappan_ so dangerous; and he had ascertained that it was this species of ourang-outang they had encountered. he confessed himself puzzled at the behaviour of the one that had caused them so much fear and trouble. it was another species, the _mias rombi_, of which he stood in dread; and he could only account for the _mias pappan_ having acted as it had done, by supposing the animal to have taken some eccentric notion into its head--perhaps caused, as we have already hinted, by its conflict with the crocodile. dangerous these gigantic _quadrumana_ are, nevertheless;--their superhuman strength enabling them to make terrible havoc wherever and whenever their fury becomes aroused. but without provocation this rarely occurs, and a man or woman who passes by them without making a noise, is not likely to be molested. besides the large species, to which belonged the ape that had attacked them, the travellers saw another kind while passing across the plain. this was the _mias kassio_, much smaller in size, and more gentle in its nature. but they saw nothing of those, tallest of all, and the most dreaded by saloo--the _mias rombis_--although the old bee-hunter still maintained his belief that they exist in the forests of borneo as well as in the wilds of sumatra. the plain over which they were making their way, here and there intersected with lagoons and tracts of tree-covered swamp, was the very locality in which these great apes delight to dwell; their habit being to make their huge platforms, or sleeping-places, upon bushes that grow out of boggy marsh or water--thus rendering them difficult of access to man, the only enemy they have need to dread. chapter thirty eight. the friendly flag. the travellers had taken their departure from the lake-shore at an early hour of the morning; and before sunset they had traversed the remaining portion of the plain, and ascended a considerable distance up the sloping side of the mountains beyond. another day's journey, during which they accomplished a very long and tiresome march, brought them to the summit of the ridge, the great dividing chain which strikes longitudinally across the whole island of borneo, so far as the geographers yet know it. they could see far to the northward, dimly outlined against the sky, the immense mountain of kini-balu--which rises to a height of nearly , feet; but they derived their principal gratification from the fact that, in the country stretching westward, appeared nothing likely to prevent them from reaching the destined goal of their journey, the old malay capital town of bruni--or rather the isle of labuan, which lies along the coast a little to the north of it, where captain redwood knew that a flag floated, which, if not that of his own country, would be equally as certain to give him protection. from the position of kini-balu, whose square summit they could distinguish from all others, he could see the point to steer for as well, or even better, than if he had brought his ship's compass with him, and they would no longer be travelling in any uncertainty as to their course. from where they were it could be distinguished to a pointy without any variation; and after a good night's rest upon the mountain-ridge, they commenced descending its western slope. for a time they lost sight of the sun's orb, that, rising behind their backs, was hidden by the mountain mass, and casting a purple shadow over the forest-clad country before them. soon, however, the bright orb, soaring into the sky, sent its beams before them, and they continued their journey under the cheering light. had it not been for fear of their fellow-beings, they would have advanced on without much further apprehension; for one and all were now rejoicing in a plentitude of restored health, and their spirits were consequently fresh and cheerful. but they still had some dread of danger from man--from those terrible enemies, the dyaks, of whom bornean travellers have told such ghastly tales. it seemed, however, as if our adventurers were not destined to discover whether these tales were true or false, or in any way to realise them. the evil star that had hung over their heads while on the eastern side of the island, must have stayed there; and now on the west nothing of ill appeared likely to befall them. for all this they did not trust to destiny, but took every precaution to shun an encounter with the savages, travelling only at such times as they were certain the "coast was clear;" and lying in concealment whenever they saw a sign of danger. saloo, who could glide through the trees with the stealth and silence of a snake, always led the advance; and thus they progressed from hill to hill, and across the intervening valleys, still taking care that their faces should be turned westward. at length, after many days of this cautious progress, they ascended a steep ridge, which, rising directly across their route, made it necessary for them to climb it. it caused them several hours of toil; but they were well rewarded for the effort. on reaching its summit, and casting their glances beyond, they saw below, and at a little to the left, the strange old wooden-walled town of bruni; while to the right, across a narrow arm of the sea, lay the island of labuan, and on its conspicuous buildings waved the glorious old banner of britannia. captain redwood hailed it with almost as much joy as if it had been the flag of his native land. he was not then in the mood to dwell on any distinction between them; but, flinging himself on his knees, with henry on one side, and helen upon the other--murtagh and the malay a few paces in the rear--he offered up a prayer of devout and earnest gratitude for their great deliverance to him who is ever powerful to save, their father and their god. {transcriber's note: british, archaic and inconsistent spellings have been left as in the original, as have capitalizations. a few obvious typographical errors have been changed. margin notes, except when they refer to either the whole paragraph or the beginning of the paragraph, are indicated where they occur in the text with {mn} and inserted in full at the beginning of the paragraph to which they refer. material in square or round brackets are as in the original; transcriber's notes are in curly brackets. several maps and illustrations are mentioned in the text, but none appear in the original book, nor does the index. pagination of the edition, which this edition places in the margins, have been left interlinear to more nearly indicate their original placement.} the travels of captaine john smith in two volumes volume i glasgow printed at the university press by robert maclehose & company ltd. for james maclehose and sons, publishers to the university of glasgow macmillan and co. ltd. london the macmillan co. new york the macmillan co. of canada toronto simpkin, hamilton and co. london macmillan and bowes cambridge douglas and foulis edinburgh mcmvii the generall historie of virginia, new england & the summer isles together with the true travels, adventures and observations, and a sea grammar by captaine john smith sometimes governour in those countryes and admirall of new england volume i glasgow james maclehose and sons publishers to the university new york: the macmillan company mcmvii the table page publishers' note, xvii the epistle dedicatorie to the duchesse of richmond and lenox, xxii a preface of foure poynts, xxv panegyrick verses, xxvii the contents of the generall history, divided into six books: the first booke. a.d. the first voyage to the new world, by madock prince of wales. the next by hanno prince of carthage, and how it was offred k. hen. . by chr. cullumbus, that undertooke it for the spanyards. . how john cabot was imployed by king hen. the . and found the continent before cullumbus. also sir martin frobisher, and sir humphrey gilbert ranged towards the north. and how captaine amidas was sent to discover the coast of florida by sir walter raleigh and his associates. and the country wingandacoa was called virginia by queene elizabeth. sir richard greenvill sent thither with . he left for a plantation. the discovery of the rivers chawonok and moratoc. the trechery of their king, who with eight more were slaine, and they all returned to england againe the same yeare with sir francis drake. the observations of master heriot. of their commodities, victuall, fruits, beasts, fishes, and foules. their religion, and beliefe of god, of the creation of the world, and man; the immortalitie of the soule; the subtiltie of their priests; the peoples simplicitie, and desire of salvation; and other accidents. sir rich. greenvill sent to supply them. not finding them, left fiftie. their successe. master white sent to relieve them, found they were all slaine, yet left . more, and departed. returning the second time, he could not heare of them; his observations and accidents. a discovery by captaine gosnoll of elizabeths isles; his observations, relations, and returne. the voyage of captaine pring to the same coast. the discovery of captaine waymouth; his observations, relations, and returne. a map of the old virginia, with the figures of the salvages. the second booke. of virginia now planted, discovered by captaine smith. the latitude, temperature, and capes; a description of chisapeack bay, and seaven navigable rivers that fall fall into it, with their severall inhabitants, and diversitie of language. of things growing naturally, as woods, fruits, gummes, berries, herbs, roots; also of beasts, birds, and fishes; how they divide the yeare, prepare their ground, plant their corne, and use it, and other victuall. what commodities may be had by industry. the description of the people, their numbers, constitutions, dispositions, attyre, buildings, lodgings and gardens, their usage of children, striking of fire, making their bowes and arrowes, knives, swords, targets, and boats: how they spinne, make fish-hooks, and ginnes, and their order of hunting. consultations and order in warres. their musicke, entertainment, trade, physicke, chirurgery and charmes. their religion, god, burials ordinary and extraordinary, temples, priests, ornaments, solemnities, conjurations, altars, sacrifices, black boyes, and resurrection. the manner of their government, their emperor; his attendants, watch, treasury, wives, successors & authority: tenure of their lands, and manner of punishment, with some words of their language englished. and a mappe of the countrey of virginia now planted. the third booke. of the accidents and proceedings of the english. their orders of government, accidents in going, first landing and government setled. the salvages assault the fort, the ships returne, their names were left, occasion of sicknes, plenty unexpected, the building of james towne, the beginning of trade, two projects to abandon the country. their first attempts upon the salvages. captaine smith taken prisoner; their order of triumph, and how he should have beene executed, was preserved, saved james towne from being surprised, how they conjured him. powhatan entertained him, would have slaine him; how pocahontas his daughter saved him, and sent him to james towne. the third plot to abandon the countrey suppressed. their first supply and accidents. the salvages opinion of our god. captaine smith revisits powhatan; james towne burnt; a conceited gold mine; a needlesse charge; captaine newports returne for england. james towne rebuilt, with a church and store-house; the salvages plot to murther all the english; their insolencies suppressed. different opinions among the councell. their names landed in this supply. the discovery of the bay of chisapeack. their fight and conference with the kuskarawaoks; ambuscadoes prevented in the river patawomek; a mine like antimony. how to deale with the salvages. smith neare killed with a stingray. with many other accidents in the discovery. a needlesse misery at james towne redressed. the second voyage to discover the bay. their incounter with the massawomekes and tockwhoghs; the sasquesahanoughs offer subjection to the english. the exceeding love of the salvage mosco. their fight with the rapahanocks; their fight with the manahokes. the king of hassaninga's brother taken prisoner; his relation of those mountainers; peace concluded with all those nations. the discovery of the river payankatank their fight with the nandsamunds, & chisapeacks; their returne to james town. the presidency surrendred to cap. smith. the second supply by captaine newport, many presents sent from england to powhatan, his scorne, consultations; factions suppressed; cap. smith visiteth powhatan; pocahontas entertaines him with a maske; the coronation of powhatan, and conditions. the discovery of the monacans; a punishment for swearing; the chickahamanians forced to contribution; the abuses of the mariners; master scriveners voyage to werowocomoco. captaine smiths relation to england of the estate of the colony: the names of them arrived in this supply. nandsamund forced to contribution. the first marriage in virginia. apamatuck discovered. captaine smiths journey to pamaunkee. the discovery of the chawwonocks. smiths discourse to powhatan; his reply and flattery; and his discourse of peace and warre. powhatans plot to murther smith, discovered by his daughter pocahontas. their escape at pamaunkee. the dutchmen deceive captaine winne, and arme the salvages; sixteene english beset by seven hundred salvages, smith takes their king opechankanough prisoner; the salvages excuse & reconcilement. master scrivener and others drowned; master wiffins desperate journey to pamaunkee; powhatan constraines his men again to be trecherous; he is forced to fraught their ship; smith poysoned; the dutch mens trechery. the dutch-mens plot to murther smith. he taketh the king of paspahegh prisoner, and others; they become all subject to the english. a salvage smoothered, yet recovered; three or foure salvages slaine in drying stolne powder. great extremity occasioned by ratts; bread made of dryed sturgeon; the punishment for loyterers; the discovery of the mangoags. captaine argals first arrivall; the inconveniences in a plantation. the government altered; the arrivall of the third supply; mutinies; nandsamund planted; breach of peace with the salvages; powhatans chiefe seat bought for copper; mutinies. captaine smith blowne up with gun-powder; a bloudy intent; the causes why he left the country and his commission; his returne for england; the ends of the dutch-men. certaine verses of seaven gentlemen. the fourth booke. with their proceedings after the alteration of the government. how the mutiners proceeded; the salvages revolt; the planting point comfort. them at nandsamund, and the fals, defeated by the salvages. captaine ratliff, with thirtie slaine by powhatan. the fruits of improvidence. the arrivall of sir thomas gates. james towne abandoned. the arrivall of the lord la warre; their actions, and both their returnes. the government left to captaine percie; & his proceedings. the arrivall of sir thomas dale, and his actions. the second arrivall of sir thomas gates; the building henerico; and the bermudas; how captaine argall tooke pocahontas prisoner, dales voyage to pamaunkee. the marriage of pocahontas to master rolfe. articles of peace with the salvages. the government left to sir thomas dale. captaine argals voyage to port royall. master hamers to powhatan; and their accidents. the manner of the lottery. a spanish shippe in virginia. dale with pocahontas comes for england. capt. yerley left deputy governour; his warres and peace with the chickahamanians, and proceedings. a relation to queene anne of the quality & condition of pocahontas; how the queen entertained her; capt. argall sent governour; the death of powhatan; ten english slaine; argals accidents and proceedings. the lord de la warre sent againe governour; his death. a relation of their present estates. haile-stones . inches about. sir george yerley sent governor; waraskoyack planted. a parliament in virginia; foure corporations appointed; the adventures of cap. ward; the number of ships and men sent this yeare; gifts given; patents granted. a desperate sea fight by captaine chester with two spanish men of warre; the names of the adventurers. notes and observations. a relation of their estates by master stockam. the arrivall of sir francis wyat with nine ships. master gockings plantation; and their accidents; the number of ships and men sent this yeare; gifts given, patents granted. master pories journeyes to pawtuxunt, and other places, with his accidents. capt. each sent to build forts and barks. the cause and manner of the massacre; the numbers slaine; the providence of cap. nuse; cap. chroshaw his voyage to patowomek. capt. smiths offer to the company to suppresse the salvages. their answer; the manner of the sallery; chroshaw stayes at patawomek; the escape of waters and his wife. cap. hamar goes to patawomek; chroshaws plot for all their preservations. capt. madison sent to patawomek. cap. powell kils three salvages. sir george yerleys journey to acomack. the misery of captaine nuse. the kindness of the king of patawomek; a vile policy of a salvage; madisons mischiefe unto the patawomeks. it was not well don to make opechankanough drinke healths. . surpriseth nandsamund and pamaunkee. the opinion of cap. smith how to subject the salvages. the arrivall of cap. butler in virginia, and other accidents. the losse of cap. spilman and . men. a particular of such necessaries as are fit for private persons or families. a briefe relation by cap. smith to his majesties commissioners, for the reformation of virginia. the questions the right worthie commissioners demanded, and his answers; how the king hath pleased to take it into his consideration. at this present two ships are going; more a preparing; new commissions sent. a proclamation, no tobacco be used in england, but what shall come from virginia, or the somer isles; quere the proclamation. the fift booke. a mappe of the somer isles and fortresses. the description of the isles, the fruits, fishes, soyle, ayre, beasts, birds, with the relation of the shipwrack of henry may. the shipwrack of sir tho. gates, and sir george somers; their accidents, deliverance and arrivall in virginia. somers returne to the isles; his death, and epitaph, the accidents hapned; three men lived there alone two yeares. master more sent to make a plantation. a peece of amber greece found of . pound weight; much dissension; mores industrie in fortifying and waighing ordnance out of the wracks. their first supply; a strange increase of potatoes. the attempt of spanish ships; a great mortality; a strange being of ravens; a new supply, with their accidents, and moores returne. the rent of the six governours; a wonderfull accident of milliard, not much lesse then a miracle. the government of ca. tuckar; assises; the strange adventure of men in a boat; plants from the west indies; the endevours of cap. powell; assises. the country neer devoured with ratts; their strange confusion. the divisions of the isles into tribes, and tribes into shares, by mr. norwood; the names of the adventurers, and their shares. the first magazin; two exployts of desperate fugitives. the returne of cap. tuckar. cap. kendall left deputy-governor, and their accidents. the government of cap. butler; a platforme burnt, and much hurt by a hericano. the refortifying the kings castle. the arrivall of two dutch frigots. the rebuilding the mount, and a tombe for sir george somers. the reformation of their lawes and officers. their assises. a parliament. their acts; their opinion of the magazin. the building three bridges. the generall assises; a strange deliverance of a spanish wracke. a strange sodomy; many ordnances got from wracks. their estates present. master barnard sent to be governour; his arrivall, death, and funerall, with the proceedings of mr. harrison his successor, & cap. woodhouse their governor. illustrations page facsimile of the engraved title page of "the generall historie," , xx portrait of frances, duchess of richmond and lenox, xxviii portrait of pocahontas, a description of part of the adventures of captain smith in virginia, with map of ould virginia, map of the summer isles, map of virginia, publishers' note john smith "was borne in willoughby in lincolneshire, and a scholler in the two free-schooles of alford and louth." his father, george smith, "anciently descended from the ancient smiths of crudley in lancashire," was a farmer-tenant of lord willoughby, to whom he bequeathed as a token of his "dewtifull good will the best of my two yeares old colts." john, the eldest son, was baptised in the parish church of willoughby, on the th january, . "his parents dying when he was about thirteene yeeres of age, left him a competent meanes, which hee not being capable to manage, little regarded; his minde being even then set upon brave adventures, sould his satchell, bookes, and all he had intending secretly to get to sea, but that his fathers death stayed him." about the age of fifteen he was bound apprentice to "master thomas sendell of linne the greatest merchant of all those parts; but because hee would not presently send him to sea, he never saw his master in eight yeeres after." at length he succeeded in attending peregrine bertie, second son of lord willoughby, to france, but in a few weeks he was sent back to england "his service being needlesse." unwelcome at home, his friends "liberally gave him (but out of his owne estate) ten shillings to be rid of him." with this he made his way to paris and made friends with "one master david hume, who making some use of his purse, gave him letters to his friends in scotland to preferre him to king james." smith, however, having spent nearly all his money in rouen, went to havre where "he first began to learne the life of a souldier." he next served two or three years in the low countries. thence proceeding to scotland (being shipwrecked on the holy island on the way) he delivered his letters, but "after much kinde usage amongst those honest scots," finding he had "neither money nor means to make him a courtier" he returned to willoughby. here he retired to the woods, built himself a "pavillion of boughs" and lived chiefly on venison, "his exercise a good horse, with his lance and ring," his books macchiavelli's "art of war" and marcus aurelius. tiring of this life after a short time he returned to the low countries and began the adventurous career of which he gives such an enthralling description in his "true travels, adventures and observations." in he returned to england, and the next year prepared to join an expedition to guiana but the scheme was frustrated by the death of the intended leader, charles lee. on th december he sailed from blackwall with the colonists for virginia. for the next three years he was busily employed, as his "generall historie of virginia" witnesses, in founding the colony; in september he narrowly escaped death by the accidental explosion of a bag of gun-powder, and left for england to recruit his health. he did not return to virginia, but for the next few {transcriber's note: two pages (xix and xx) are missing from the original at this point.} most learned treasurer of antiquitie. the question as to the truth of the adventures recorded in this book has given rise to heated and prolonged controversy. smith was a prolific writer of tracts and pamphlets on the colonisation of virginia and new england, but the substance of them is contained in "the generall historie" and "the true travels." in accordance with the scheme of this series, the edition here presented is an exact reprint of the original editions except that the letters i, j, u and v have been altered to conform to modern usage, and obvious printers' errors, both of spelling and punctuation, have been corrected. references to the pages of the original editions are given in the margin, and a full index has been added. glasgow, february, . to the illustrious and most noble princesse, the lady francis, duchesse of richmond and lenox. may it please your grace, this history, as for the raritie and varietie of the subject, so much more for the judicious eyes it is like to undergoe, and most of all for that great name, whereof it dareth implore protection, might and ought to have beene clad in better robes then my rude military hand can cut out in paper ornaments. but because, of the most things therein, i am no compiler by hearsay, but have beene a reall actor; i take my selfe to have a propertie in them: and therefore have beene bold to challenge them to come under the reach of my owne rough pen. that, which hath beene indured and passed through with hardship and danger, is thereby sweetned to the actor, when he becometh the relator. i have deeply hazarded my selfe in doing and suffering, and why should i sticke to hazard my reputation in recording? he that acteth two parts is the more borne withall if he come short, or fayle in one of them. where shall we looke to finde a julius caesar, whose achievments shine as cleare in his owne commentaries, as they did in the field? i confesse, my hand, though able to weild a weapon among the barbarous, yet well may tremble in handling a pen among so many judicious: especially when i am so bold as to call so piercing, and so glorious an eye, as your grace, to view these poore ragged lines. yet my comfort is, that heretofore honorable and vertuous ladies, and comparable but amongst themselves, have offred me rescue and protection in my greatest dangers: even in forraine parts, i have felt reliefe from that sex. the beauteous lady tragabigzanda, when i was a slave to the turkes, did all she could to secure me. when i overcame the bashaw of nalbrits in tartaria, the charitable lady callamata supplyed my necessities. in the utmost of many extremities, that blessed pokahontas, the great kings daughter of virginia, oft saved my life. when i escaped the crueltie of pirats and most furious stormes, a long time alone in a small boat at sea, and driven ashore in france, the good lady madam chanoyes, bountifully assisted me. and so verily these my adventures have tasted the same influence from your gratious hand, which hath given birth to the publication of this narration. if therefore your grace shall daigne to cast your eye on this poore booke, view i pray you rather your owne bountie (without which it had dyed in the wombe) then my imperfections, which have no helpe but the shrine of your glorious name to be sheltered from censorious condemnation. vouchsafe some glimpse of your honorable aspect, to accept these my labours; to protect them under the shadow of your excellent name: which will inable them to be presented to the kings royall majestie, the most admired prince charles, and the queene of bohemia: your sweet recommendations will make it the worthier of their good countenances. and as all my endevours are their due tribute: so this page shall record to posteritie, that my service shall be to pray to god, that you may still continue the renowned of your sexe, the most honored of men, and the highly blessed of god. your graces faithfull and devoted servant, john smith. a preface of foure poynts. i. this plaine history humbly sheweth the truth: that our most royall king james hath place and opportunitie to inlarge his ancient dominions without wronging any; (which is a condition most agreeable to his most just and pious resolutions:) and the prince his highness may see where to plant new colonies. the gaining provinces addeth to the kings crown: but the reducing heathen people to civilitie and true religion, bringeth honour to the king of heaven. if his princely wisedome and powerfull hand, renowned through the world for admirable government, please but to set these new estates into order; their composure will be singular: the counsell of divers is confused; the generall stocke is consumed; nothing but the touch of the kings sacred hand can erect a monarchy. ii. most noble lords and worthy gentlemen, it is your honors that have imployed great paines and large expence in laying the foundation of this state, wherein much hath beene buried under ground, yet some thing hath sprung up, and given you a taste of your adventures. let no difficulties alter your noble intentions. the action is an honour to your country: and the issue may well reimburse you your summes expended. our practices have hitherto beene but assayes, and are still to be amended. let your bountie supply the necessities of weake beginnings, and your excellent judgements rectifie the proceedings; the returne cannot choose in the end but bring you good commodities, and good contentments, by your advancing shipping and fishing so usefull unto our nation. iii. yee valiant and generous spirits, personall possessors of these new-found territories, banish from among you cowardise, covetousnes, jealousies, and idlenes, enemies to the raising your honours and fortunes; vertue, industry, and amitie, will make you good and great, and your merits live to ensuing ages. you that in contempt of necessities, hazard your lives and estates, imploying your studies and labours in these faire endevours, live and prosper as i desire my soule should prosper. iiii. for my selfe let emulation and envie cease, i ever intended my actions should be upright: now my care hath beene that my relations should give every man they concerne, their due. but had i not discovered and lived in the most of those parts. i could not possibly have collected the substantiall truth from such a number of variable relations, that would have made a volume at least of a thousand sheets. though the beginning may seeme harsh in regard of the antiquities, brevitie, and names; a pleasanter discourse ensues. the stile of a souldier is not eloquent, but honest and justifiable; so i desire all my friends and well-wishers to excuse and accept it, and if any be so noble as to respect it, he that brought new england to light, though long since brought in obscuritie, he is againe to be found a true servant to all good designes. so i ever rest yours to command, john smith. _panegyrick verses._ a gentleman desirous to be unknowne, yet a great benefactor to virginia, his love to the author, the company, and history. stay, reade, behold, skill, courage, knowledge, arts; wonder of nature: mirror of our clime. mars, vulcan, neptune strive to have their parts, rare ornaments, rich honours of our time. from far fetcht indies, and virginia's soyle, here smith is come to shew his art and skill: he was the smith that hammered famins foyle, and on powhatan's emperour had his will. though first columbus, indies true christofer; cabots, brave florida, much admirer; meta incognita, rare martin forbisher; gilberts brave humphery, neptunes devourer; captaine amadis, raleighs discoverer; sir richard grenvill, zealands brave coaster: drake, doomes, drowne, death, spaines scorner; gosnolds relates, pring prime observer. though these be gone, and left behinde a name, yet smith is here to anvile out a peece to after ages, and eternall fame, that we may have the golden jasons fleece. he vulcan like did forge a true plantation, and chain'd their kings, to his immortall glory; restoring peace and plentie to the nation, regaining honour to this worthy story. by him the infidels had due correction, he blew the bellowes still of peace and plentie: he made the indians bow unto subjection, and planters ne're return'd to albion empty. the colonies pin'd, starv'd, staring, bones so feeble, by his brave projects, proved strong againe: the souldiers' lowance he did seeke to treble, and made the salvage in uncouth place remaine. he left the countrey in prosperous happie state, and plenty stood with peace at each mans doore: regarding not the salvage love nor hate: themselves grew well, the indians wondrous poore. this there he did and now is home return'd, to shew us all that never thither goe: that in his heart, he deepely oft hath mourn'd, because the action goeth on so slow. wise, rich, grave, prize brave, benefactors, replant, want, continue still good actors. finde, and bring kinde, eyes be to blind; by gods great might, give indians light. bloud, money, to doe spend that good, that may give indians heav'nly food. no lesse, god you still and shall blesse; both you and yours the lands possesse. s. m. see here behold as in a glasse, all that is, or is and was. t. t. . samuel purchas of his friend captaine john smith, and his virginia. lo here smiths forge, where forgery's roague-branded, true pegasus is shoo'd, fetters are forged for silke-sotts, milk-sops, base sloth, farre hence landed, (soile-chang'd, {fn- } soule-soil'd still) englands dregs, discharged, to plant (supplant!) virginia, home-disgorged: where vertues praise frames good men stories armour 'gainst time, achilles-like, with best arts charged; pallas, all-arm'd, all-learn'd, can teach sword-grammer, can pens of pikes; armes t' arts; to scholar, souldier, hammer: can pilgrim make a maker; all so well hath taught smith scoure my rustic out-worne muse, and so conjur'd her in virginian cell, that things unlearned long by want of use, shee fresh areeds me read, without abuse by fabling. arthurs great acts little made by greater lies she saith; scales faith excuse {fn- } t' island, groonland, estotiland to wade after lie-legends; malgo, brandon, are wares braide. the fryer of linne {fn- } frights her with his black art; nor brittish bards can tell where madoc {fn- } planted. cabots, thorns, elyots truth have wonne her heart, eldest discov'rers of new worlds cont'nent (granted so had just fates.) colon and vespuce panted; this got the name, {fn- } last, least of three; the other new worlds isles found first: cabot is most chanted in three-mens-song; did more new world discover then both, then any; an hundred degrees coasted over. haile sir sebastian, englands northern pole, virginia's finder; virgin eliza nam'd it, gave 't raleigh. (rut, prat, hore, i not enrole) amadas rites to english right first fram'd it. lane planted, return'd, nor had english tam'd it: greenviles and whites men all slaine; new plantation james founds, sloth confounds, feare, pride, faction sham'd it: smiths forge mends all, makes chaines for savage nation, and feeds the rest; the rest reade in his bookes relation. * * * * * {fn- } _caelumnon animum mutant._ {fn- } _these are said a thousand years agoe to have been in the north parts of america._ {fn- } _he is said to discover the pole ._ {fn- } _madoc ap owen planted some remote western parts. ._ {fn- } _america named of americus vesputius which discovered less than colon or sir sebastian cabot, and the continent later. colon first found the isles . the continent . above a year after cabot had done it. he was set forth by henry . and after by hen. . knighted, and made grand pilot of england by ed. under whom he procured the sending of sir hugh willoughby, & discovery of greenland and russia: having by himself discovered on america from north lat. to neere south._ thomas macarnesse to his worthy friend and countryman, captaine john smith. who loves to live at home, yet looke abroad, and know both passen and unpassen road, the prime plantation of an unknowne shore, the men, the manners, fruitfulnesse, and store: read but this little booke, and then confesse, the lesse thou lik'st and lov'st, thou liv'st the lesse. he writ it with great labour, for thy good, twice over, now in paper, 'fore in blood; it cost him deare, both paines, without an ayme of private profit, for thy publicke gaine. that thou mightst read and know and safely see, what he by practice, thou by theoree. commend him for his loyall loving heart, or else come mend him, and take thou his part. to his friend captaine john smith, and his worke. i know not how desert more great can rise, then out of danger t'ane for good mens good; or who doth better winne th' olympian prize, than he whose countryes honor stirres his bloud; private respects have private expectation, publicke designes, should publish reputation. this gentleman whose volumne heere is stoard with strange discoverie of gods strangest creatures, gives us full view, how he hath sayl'd, and oar'd, and marcht, full many myles, whose rough defeatures, hath beene as bold, as puissant, up to binde their barbarous strength's, to follow him dog-linde. but wit, nor valour, now adayes payes scores for estimation; all goes now by wealth, or friends; tush! thrust the beggar out of dores that is not purse-lyn'd; those which live by stealth shall have their haunts; no matter what's the guest in many places; monies well come best. but those who well discerne, esteeme not so: nor i of thee brave smith, that hast beat out thy iron thus; though i but little know to what t' hast seene; yet i in this am stout: my thoughts, maps to my minde some accidents, that makes mee see thy greater presidents. jo: done. to my worthy friend captaine john smith. how great a part of knowledge had wee lost, both of virginia and the summer isles, had not thy carefull diligence and cost inform'd us thus, with thy industrious stile! like caesar now thou writ'st what thou hast done, these acts, this booke will live while ther's a sunne. edw: worseley. to his much respected friend captaine john smith. envie avant. for smith, whose anvill was experience, could take his heat, knew how and when to strike, wrought well this peece; till after-negligence mistaking temper, cold, or scorch'd; or like unskilfull workmen, that can never fyle nor pollish it, that takes in forge such toyle: heere noble smith, thou shewest the temper true, which other tampring-tempres never knew. ro: norton. to his loving friend captaine john smith. where actions speake the praises of a man, there, pennes that use to flatter silent be, or if they speake, it is to scorne or scanne; for such with vertue seldome doe agree. when i looke backe on all thy labours past, thy travels, perils, losses oft sustaind by sea and land; and (which is worst and last) neglect or small reward, so dearely gaind, i doe admire thy still undanted spirit; unwearied yet to worke thy countries good. this be thy praise then, due unto thy merit; for it th' hast venter'd life; and lost thy blood. . . . . . . truth, travayle, and neglect, pure, painefull, most unkinde, . . . . . . doth prove, consume, dismay, the soule, the corps, the minde. edw: ingham. to my deare friend by true vertue ennobled captaine john smith. more then enough i cannot thee commend: whose both abilities and love doe tend so to advance the good of that estate, by english charge, and planters propagate through heapes of painfull hazards; in the first of which, that colony thy care hath nurst. and often that effected but with ten that after thee, and now, three hundred men have faild in, 'mong the salvages; who shake at bruit of thee, as spaine at name of drake. which well appeares; considering the while thou governedst, nor force of theirs, ne guile lessend a man of thine; but since (i rue) in brittish blood they deeply did imbrue their heathen hands. and (truth to say) we see, our selves wee lost, untimely leaving thee. nor yet perceive i any got betweene thee and thy merit; which hath better beene in prayse; or profit much; if counted just; free from the weales abuse, or wronged trust. some few particulars perhaps have sped; but wherein hath the publicke prospered? or is there more of those vast countries knowne, then by thy labours and relations showne first, best? and shall we love thee now the lesse? farre be it! fit condignely to expresse thankes, by new charge, or recompence; by whom, such past good hath, such future good may come. david wiffin. noble captaine smith, my worthy friend. not like the age wherein thou liv'st, to lie buried in basenesse, sloth, or ribaldrie (for most doe thus) hast thou thy selfe applide; but, in faire actions, merits height descride: which (like foure theaters to set thee forth) the worlds foure quarters testifie thy worth. the last whereof (america) best showes thy paines, and prayse; and what to thee shee owes, (although thy sommer shone on th' elder three, in as great deeds as great varietie) for opening to her selfe her selfe, in two {fn} of her lame members; now ours, to our view. thereby endearing us to thy desart, that doubly dost them to our hands impart; there by thy worke, heere by thy workes; by each maist thou fames lasting wreath (for guerdon) reach. and so become, in after times t' ensue, a president for others, so to do. william grent. * * * * * {fn} _virginia now inhabited, and new-england._ to his worthily affected friend, captaine john smith. amongst so many that by learned skill, have given just praise to thee, and to thy booke, deare friend receive this pledge of my good will, whereon, if thou with acceptation looke, and thinke it worthie, ranke amongst the rest: use thy discretion, i have done my best. {word in greek} the first volume containing the first five bookes of the generall historie of virginia, new england and the summer isles how ancient authors [i. .] report, the new-world, now called america, was discovered: and part thereof, first planted by the english, called virginia, with the accidents and proceedings of the same. the first booke. for the stories of arthur, malgo, and brandon, that say a thousand yeares agoe they were in the north of america; or the fryer of linn that by his blacke art went to the north pole in the yeare . in that i know them not, let this suffice. a.d. . the chronicles of wales report, that madock, sonne to owen quineth, prince of wales seeing his two brethren at debate who should inherit, prepared certaine ships, with men and munition, and left his country to seeke adventures by sea: leaving ireland north he sayled west till he came to a land unknowne. returning home and relating what pleasant and fruitfull countries he had seene without inhabitants, and for what barren ground his brethren and kindred did murther one another, he provided a number of ships, and got with him such men and women as were desirous to live in quietnesse, that arrived with him in this new land in the yeare : left many of his people there and returned for more. but where this place was no history can show. a.d. . the spaniards say hanno a prince of carthage was the first: and the next christopher cullumbus, a genoesiar, whom they sent to discover those unknowne parts, . a.d. . but we finde by records, cullumbus offered his service in the yeare . to king henry the seaventh; and by accident undertooke it for the spanyards. in the interim king henry gave a commission to john cabot, and his three sonnes, sebastian, lewis, and sautius. john and sebastian well provided, setting sayle, ranged a great part of this unknowne world, in the yeare . for though cullumbus had found certaine iles, it was . ere he saw the continent, which was a yeare after cabot. now americus came a long time after, though the whole continent to this day is called america after his name, yet sebastian cabot discovered much more then them all, for he sayled to about forty degrees southward of the lyne, and to sixty-seaven towards the north: for which king henry the eight knighted him and made him grand pilate of england. being very aged king edward the sixt gave him a pention of . s. d. yearely. by his directions sir hugh willowby was sent to finde out the country of russia, but the next yeare he was found frozen to death in his ship, and all his company. a.d. . mr. martin frobisher was sent in the yeare . by our most gracious queene elizabeth, to search for the northwest passage, and meta incognita: for which he was knighted, honored, and well rewarded. a.d. . sir humphrey gilbert a worthy knight attempted a plantation in some of those parts: and obtained letters pattents to his desire: but with this proviso, he should [ . .] maintaine possession in some of those vast countries within the tearme of sixe yeares. yet when he was provided with a navy able to incounter a kings power, even here at home they fell in divisions, and so into confusion, that they gave over the designe ere it was begun, notwithstanding all this losse, his undanted spirit began againe, but his fleet fell with new-foundland, and he perished in his returne, as at large you may read in the third volume of the english voyages, written by mr. hackluit. upon all those relations and inducements, sir walter raleigh, a noble gentleman, and then in great esteeme, undertooke to send to discover to the southward. and though his occasions and other imployments were such he could not goe himselfe, yet he procured her majesties letters pattents, and perswaded many worthy knights and gentlemen to adventure with him to finde a place fit for a plantation. their proceedings followeth. a.d. . the most famous, renowned, and ever worthy of all memory, for her courage, learning, judgement, and vertue, queene elizabeth, granted her letters patents to sir walter raleigh for the discovering and planting new lands & countries, not actually possessed by any christians. this patenty got to be his assistants sir richard grenvell the valiant, mr. william sanderson a great friend to all such noble and worthy actions, and divers other gentlemen and marchants, who with all speede provided two small barkes well furnished with all necessaries, under the command of captaine philip amidas and captaine barlow. the . of aprill they set sayle from the thames, the tenth of may passed the canaries, and the tenth of june the west indies: which unneedfull southerly course, (but then no better was knowne) occasioned them in that season much sicknesse. _their arrival._ _abundance of grapes_ {mn} the second of july they fell with the coast of florida in shoule water, where they felt a most dilicate sweete smell, though they saw no land, which ere long they espied, thinking it the continent: an hundred and twenty myles they sayled not finding any harbor. the first that appeared, with much difficulty they entred, and anchored, and after thankes to god they went to view the next land adjoyning to take possession of it for the queenes most excellent majestie: which done, they found their first landing place very sandy and low, {mn} but so full of grapes that the very surge of the sea sometimes over-flowed them: of which they found such plenty in all places, both on the sand, the greene soyle and hils, as in the plaines as well on every little shrub, as also climbing towards the tops of high cedars, that they did thinke in the world were not the like abundance. _the ile of wokokon._ _in lybanus are not many._ {mn- } _conference with a salvage._ {mn- } we passed by the sea-side towards the tops of the next hills being not high: from whence we might see the sea on both sides, and found it an ile of twentie myles in length, and six in breadth, the vallyes replenished with goodly tall cedars, discharging our muskets, such a flocke of cranes, the most white, arose by us, with such a cry as if an army of men had shouted altogether. this he hath many goodly woods, and deere, conies, and foule in incredible abundance, and using the authors owne phrase, the woods are not such as you finde in bohemia, moscovia, or hercinia, barren and fruitlesse, but the highest and reddest cedars of the world, {mn- } bettering them of the assores, indies, or libanus: pynes, cypres, saxefras, the lentisk that beareth mastick, and many other of excellent smell and qualitie. till the third day we saw not any of the people, then in a little boat three of them appeared, one of them went on shore, to whom wee rowed, and he attended us without any signe of feare; {mn- } after he had spoke much though we understood not a word, of his owne accord he came boldly aboord us, we gave him a shirt, a hat, wine and meate, which he liked well, and after he had well viewed the barkes and us, he went away in his owne boat, and within a quarter of a myle of us in halfe an houre, had loaden his boat with fish, with which he came againe to the poynt of land, and there devided it in two parts, poynting one part to the ship, the other to the pinnace, and so departed. a.d. . [i. ] _the arrival of the kings brother._ the next day came divers boats, and in one of them the kings brother, with forty or fifty men, proper people, and in their behaviour very civill; his name was granganameo, the king is called wingina, the country wingandacoa. leaving his boats a little from our ships, he came with his trayne to the poynt: where spreading a matte he sat downe. though we came to him well armed, he made signes to us to sit downe without any shew of feare, stroking his head and brest, and also ours, to expresse his love. after he had made a long speech unto us, we presented him with divers toyes, which he kindly accepted. he was greatly regarded by his people, for none of them did sit, nor speake a word, but foure, on whom we bestowed presents also, but he tooke all from them, making signes all things did belong to him. the king himselfe in a conflict with a king his next neighbour and mortall enemy, was shot in two places through the body, and the thigh, yet recovered: whereby he lay at his chiefe towne six dayes journey from thence. _trade with the salvages._ a day or two after shewing them what we had, granganameo taking most liking to a pewter dish, made a hole in it, hung it about his necke for a brest-plate: for which he gave us twenty deere skins, worth twenty crownes; and for a copper kettell, fiftie skins, worth fiftie crownes. much other trucke we had, and after two dayes he came aboord, and did eate and drinke with us very merrily. not long after he brought his wife and children, they were but of meane stature, but well favoured and very bashfull; she had a long coat of leather, and about her privities a peece of the same, about her forehead a band of white corrall, and so had her husband, in her eares were bracelets of pearle, hanging downe to her middle, of the bignesse of great pease; the rest of the women had pendants of copper, and the noblemen five or sixe in an eare; his apparrell as his wives, onely the women weare their haire long on both sides, and the men but on one; they are of colour yellow, but their hayre is blacke, yet we saw children that had very fayre chesnut coloured hayre. _note_ {mn} after that these women had beene here with us, there came downe from all parts great store of people, with leather, corrall, and divers kinde of dyes, but when granganameo was present, none durst trade but himselfe, and them that wore red copper on their heads, as he did. when ever he came, he would signifie by so many fires he came with so many boats, that we might know his strength. their boats are but one great tree, which is but burnt in the forme of a trough with gins and fire, till it be as they would have it. for an armour he would have ingaged us a bagge of pearle, but we refused, as not regarding it, that wee might the better learn where it grew. he was very just of his promise, for oft we trusted him, and he would come within his day to keepe his word. he sent us commonly every day a brace of bucks, conies, hares, and fish, sometimes mellons, walnuts, cucumbers, pease, and divers rootes. {mn} this the author sayth, their corne groweth three times in five moneths; in may they sow, in july reape; in june they sow, in august reape; in july sow, in august reape. we put some of our pease in the ground, which in ten dayes were . ynches high. _the ile roanoak._ {mn- } _the great courtesie of a woman._ {mn- } the soyle is most plentifull, sweete, wholesome, and fruitfull of all other, there are about . severall sorts of sweete smelling tymber trees: the most parts of the underwood, bayes and such like: such okes as we, but far greater and better. after this acquaintance, my selfe with seaven more went twenty myle into the river occam, that runneth toward the cittie skicoack, {mn- } and the evening following we came to an ile called roanoak, from the harbour where we entred . leagues; at the north end was . houses, builded with cedar, fortified round with sharpe trees, and the entrance like a turnpik. when we came towards it, {mn- } the wife of granganameo came running out to meete us, (her husband was absent) commanding her people to draw our boat ashore for beating on the billowes, other she appoynted to carry us on their backes aland, others to bring our ores into the [i. .] house for stealing. when we came into the other roome, (for there was five in the house) she caused us to sit downe by a great fire; after tooke off our clothes and washed them, of some our stockings, and some our feete in warme water, and she her selfe tooke much paines to see all things well ordered, and to provide us victuall. _a banquet._ _skicoak a great towne._ {mn} after we had thus dryed our selves, she brought us into an inner roome, where she set on the bord standing a long the house somewhat like frumentie, sodden venison, and rosted fish; in like manner mellons raw, boyled rootes and fruites of divers kindes. there drinke is commonly water boyled with ginger, sometimes with saxefras, and wholsome herbes, but whilest the grape lasteth they drinke wine. more love she could not expresse to entertaine us; they care but onely to defend themselves from the short winter, and feede on what they finde naturall in sommer. in this feasting house was their idoll of whom they tould us uncredible things. when we were at meate two or three of her men came amongst us with their bowes and arrowes, which caused us to take our armes in hand. she perceiving our distrust, caused their bowes and arrowes to be broken, and they beaten out of the gate: but the evening approaching we returned to our boate, where at she much grieving brought our supper halfe boyled, pots and all, but when she saw us, but put our boat a little off from the shoar and lye at anchor, perceiving our jelousie, she sent divers men & . women to sit al night on the shoare side against us, and sent us five mats to cover us from the raine, doing all she could to perswade us to her house. though there was no cause of doubt, we would not adventure: for on our safety depended the voyage: but a more kinde loving people cannot be. beyond this ile is the maine land and the great river occam, on which standeth a towne called pomeiock, {mn} and six dayes higher, their city skicoak: those people never saw it, but say there fathers affirme it to be above two houres journey about. into this river falleth an other called cipo, where is found many mustells wherein are pearles: likewise another river called nomapona, on the one side whereof standeth a great towne called chawanock, the lord of the country is not subject to wingandacoa. beyond him an other king they cal menatonon. these . are in league each with other. towards the south, . dayes journey is sequotan, the southermost part of wingandacoa. _pamovik._ _how the country was called virginia._ {mn} adjoyning to secotan beginneth the country pomovik, belonging to the king called piamacum, in the country nusiok upon the great river neus. these have mortall warres with wingina, king of wingandacoa. betwixt piamacum and the lord of secotan, a peace was concluded: notwithstanding there is a mortall malice in the secotans, because this piamacum invited divers men, and . women to a feast, and when they were altogether merry before their idoll, which is but a meere illusion of the devill, they sudainly slew all the men of secotan, and kept the women for their use. beyond roanoak are many isles full of fruits and other naturall increases, with many townes a long the side of the continent. those iles lye . myles in length, and betweene them and the mayne, a great long sea, in some places, . . or . myles broad, in other more, somewhere lesse. and in this sea are . iles of divers bignesses, but to get into it, you have but . passages and they very dangerous. though this you see for most part be but the relations of salvages, because it is the first, i thought it not a misse to remember them as they are written by them that returned & arived in england about the middest of september the same yeare. this discovery was so welcome into england that it pleased her majestie to call this country of wingandacoa, virginia, by which name now you are to understand how it was planted, disolved, reuned, and enlarged. the performers of this voyage were these following. philip amadas. } arthur barlow. } captaines william grenvill. benjamin wood. } john wood. simon ferdinando. } of the james browewich. nicholas peryman. } companie. henry greene. john hewes. } [i. ] sir richard grenvills voyage to virginia, for sir walter raleigh. . _sir richard grenvills, voyage ._ the . of aprill he departed from plimouth with . sayle: the chiefe men with him in command, were master ralph layne, master thomas candish, master john arundel, master stukley, master bremige, master vincent, master heryot and master john clarke. the . day we fell with the canaries, and the . of may with dominico in the west indies: we landed at portorico, after with much a doe at izabella on the north of hispaniola, passing by many iles. upon the . we fell with the mayne of florida, and were put in great danger upon cape fear. the . we anchored at wocokon, where the admiral had like to beene cast away, presently we sent to wingina to roanoak, and master arundel went to the mayne, with manteo a salvage, and that day to crooton. the . the generall victualled for . dayes, with a selected company went to the maine, and discovered the townes of pomeiok, aquascogoc, secotan, and the great lake called paquipe. at aquascogoc the indians stole a silver cup, wherefore we burnt the towne and spoyled their corne, so returned to our fleete at tocokon. whence we wayed for hatorask, where we rested, and granganameo, king wingina's brother with manteo came abord our admirall, the admirall went for weapomeiok, & master john arundel for england. our generall in his way home tooke a rich loaden ship of . tunns, with which he arived at plimouth the . of september, . these were left under the command of master ralph layne to inhabite the country, but they returned within a yeare. philip amidas admirall. master acton. master thomas heryot. master stafford. master thomas luddington. master snelling. master marvyn. master antony russe. cap. vaghan. master allen. master kendall. master michael pollison. master gardiner. master thomas bockner. master predeox. master james mason. master rogers. master david salter. master harvy. master james skinner. with divers others to the number of . a.d. - . _their first plantation._ touching the most remarkeable things of the country and our proceeding from the . of august . till the . of june . we made roanoack our habitation. the utmost of our discovery southward was secotan as we esteemed . leagues from roanoack. the passage from thence was thought a broad sound within the maine, being without kenning of land, yet full of flats and shoules that our pinnasse could not passe, & we had but one boat with . ores, that would carry but . men with their provisions for . dayes: so that because the winter approached we left those discoveries till a stronger supply. to the northward our farthest was to a towne of the chesapeacks, from roanoack . myles. the passage is very shallow and dangerous by reason of the breadth of the sound and the little succour for a storme, but this teritory being . myle from the shoare, for pleasantnest of seate, for temperature of climate, fertility of soyle and comoditie of the sea, besides beares, good woods, saxefras, walnuts &c. is not to be excelled by any other whatsoever. there be sundry other kings they call weroances as the mangoacks, trypaniks, and opposians, which came to visit us. _chawonoack._ [i. ] to the northwest our farthest was chawonock from roanoack . myles our passage lyeth through a broad sound, but all fresh water, and the channell navigable for a ship, but out of it full of shoules. _chawonock._ {mn- } . _men._ {mn- } the townes by the way by the water, are passaquenock the womens towne, chepanoc, weapomeiok; from muscamunge wee enter the river and jurisdiction of chawonock, there it beginneth to straiten, and at chawonock it is as thames at lambeth: betwixt them as we passed is goodly high land on the left hand, and there is a towne called ohanock, where is a great corne field, {mn- } it is subject to chawonock, which is the greatest province upon the river, {mn- } and the towne it selfe can put seven hundred men into the field, besides the forces of the rest. the king is lame, but hath more understanding then all the rest. _menatonon his relations of the ile of pearle, and a rich mine, & the sea by it._ {mn} the river of moratoc is more famous then all the rest, and openeth into the sound of weapomeiok, and where there is but a very small currant in chawonock, it hath so strong a currant from the southwest, as we doubted how to row against it. strange things they report of the head of this river, and of moratoc it selfe, a principall towne on it, & is thirtie or fortie dayes journey to the head. this lame king is called menatonon. {mn} when i had him prisoner two dayes, he told mee that . dayes journey in a canow up the river chawonock, then landing & going foure dayes journey northeast, there is a king whose country lyeth on the sea, but his best place of strength is an iland in a bay invironed with deepe water, where he taketh that abundance of pearle, that not onely his skins, and his nobles, but also his beds and houses are garnished therewith. this king was at chawonock two yeares agoe to trade with blacke pearle, his worst sort whereof i had a rope, but they were naught; but that king he sayth hath store of white, and had trafficke with white men, for whom he reserved them; he promised me guides to him, but advised me to goe strong, for he was unwilling strangers should come in his country, for his country is populous and valiant men. if a supply had come in aprill, i resolved to have sent a small barke to the northward to have found it, whilest i with small boates and . men would have gone to the head of the river chawonock, with sufficient guides by land, inskonsing my selfe every two dayes, where i would leave garrisons for my retreat till i came to this bay. very neare unto it is the river of moratoc, directly from the west, the head of it springeth out of a mayne rocke, which standeth so neare the sea, that in stormes the sea beats over it into this fresh spring, that of it selfe at the surse is a violent streame. i intended with two wherries and fortie persons to have menatonons sonne for guide, to try this presently, till i could meete with some of the moratocks, or mangoaks, but hoping of getting more victuall from the salvages, we as narrowly escaped starving in that discovery as ever men did. _pemissapan his trechery._ _the discovery of the river moratoc._ {mn- } _a noble resolution._ {mn- } for pemissapan who had changed his name of wingina upon the death of his brother granganameo, had given both the chawonests, and mangoaks word of my purpose: also he told me the chawonocks had assembled two or three thousand to assault me at roanok, urging me daily to goe against them, and them against us; {mn- } a great assembly i found at my comming thether, which suddaine approach did so dismay them, that we had the better of them: & this confederacy against us was procured by pemissapan himselfe our chiefe friend we trusted; he sent word also to the moratoks and the mangoaks, i came to invade them, that they all fled up into the high country, so that where i assured my selfe both of succour and provision, i found all abandoned. but being thus farre on my journey . myles from home, and but victuals for two dayes, besides the casualties of crosse winds, stormes, and the salvages trechery, though we intended no hurt to any: i gave my company to understand we were onely drawne forth upon these vaine hopes by the salvages to bring us to confusion: {mn- } a councell we held, to goe forward or returne, but they all were absolutely resolved but three, that whilst there was but one pynt of corne for a man, they would not leave the search of that river; for they had two mastive dogs, which boyled with saxefras leaves [i. .] (if the worst fell out) upon them and the pottage they would live two dayes, which would bring them to the sound, where they should finde fish for two dayes more to passe it to roanock, which two dayes they had rather fast then goe backe a foote, till they had seene the mangoaks either as friends or foes. _the strange mine of chaunis temoatan._ though i did forsee the danger and misery, yet the desire i had to see the mangoaks was, for that there is a province called chaunis temoatan, frequented by them and well knowne to all those countries, where is a mine of copper they call wassador; they say they take it out of a river that falleth swiftly from high rocks in shallow water, in great bowles, covered with leather, leaving a part open to receive the mettall, which by the change of the colour of the water where the spout falleth, they suddainly chop downe, and have the bowie full, which they cast into the fire, it presently melteth, and doth yeeld in five parts at the first melting two parts mettall for three of ore. the mangoaks have such plenty of it, they beautifie their houses with great plates thereof: this the salvages report; and young skiko the king of chawonnocks sonne my prisoner, that had beene prisoner among the mangoaks, but never at chaunis temoatan, for he sayd that was twentie dayes journey overland from the mangoaks. _the great current of the river moratoc._ {mn} menatonon also confirmed all this, and promised me guides to this mettall country; by land to the mangoaks is but one dayes journey, but seaven by water, which made me so willing to have met them for some assay of this metall: but when we came there we found no creature, onely we might see where had beene their fires. after our two dayes journey, and our victuals spent, in the evening we heard some call as we thought manteo, who was with me in the boat; this made us glad, he made them a friendly answer, which they answered with a song we thought for welcome, but he told us they came to fight. presently they did let flie their arrowes about the boat, but did no hurt, the other boat scouring the shore we landed: but they all were fled, and how to finde them wee knew not. so the next morning we returned to the mouth of the river, {mn} that cost us foure dayes rowing up, and here our dogs pottage stood us in good stead, for we had nothing els: the next day we fasted being windbound, and could not passe the sound, but the day following we came to chippanum, where the people were fled, but their wires afforded us fish: thus being neare spent, the next day god brought us to roanocke. i conclude a good mine, or the south sea will make this country quickly inhabited, and so for pleasure and profit comparable with any in the world: otherwise there will be nothing worth the fetching. provided there be found a better harbour then yet there is, which must be northward if there be any. master vaughan, no lesse hoped of the goodnesse of the mine, then master heriot that the river moratocks head, either riseth by the bay of mexico, or very neare the south sea, or some part that openeth neare the same, which cannot with that facilitie be done as from the bay of pearles, by insconsing foure dayes journey to the chawonoks, mangoaks, and moratocks, &c. the conspiracy of pemissapan; the discovery of it; and our returne for england with sir francis drake. _the conspiricy of pemissapan._ {mn- } _the death of a most rare salvage._ {mn- } ensenore a salvage, father to pemissapan, the best friend we had after the death of granganimeo, when i was in those discoveries, could not prevaile any thing with the king from destroying us, that all this time god had preserved, by his good counsell to the king to be friendly unto us. {mn- } pemissapan thinking as the brute was in this last journey we were slaine and starved, began to blaspheme our god that would suffer it, and not defend us, so that old ensenore, had no more credit for us: for he began by all the devises he could to invade us. but in the beginning of this brute, when [i. .] they saw us all returne, the report false, and had manteo, and three salvages more with us, how little we esteemed all the people we met, and feared neither hunger, killing, or any thing, and had brought their greatest kings sonne prisoner with us to roanock: it a little asswaged all his devises, and brought ensenore in respect againe, that our god was good, and wee their friends, and our foes should perish, for we could doe them more hurt being dead, then living, and that being an hundred myles from them, shot, and strucke them sicke to death, and that when we die it is but for a time, then we returne againe. but that which wrought the most feare among them was the handy-worke of almightie god. for certaine dayes after my returne, menatonon sent messengers to me with pearle, and okisco king of weopomeoke, to yeeld himselfe servant to the queene of england. okisco with twenty-foure of his principall men came to pemissapan to acknowledge this dutie and subjection, and would performe it. all which so changed the heart of pemissapan, that upon the advise of ensenore, when we were ready to famish they came and made us wires, and planted their fields they intended to abandon (we not having one corne till the next harvest to sustaine us). {mn- } this being done our old friend ensenore dyed the twenty of aprill, then all our enemies wrought with pemissapan to put in practise his devises, which he easily imbraced, though they had planted corne by us, and at dasamonpeack two leagues from us. yet they got okisco our tributary to get seven or eight hundred (and the mandoages with the chisapeans should doe the like) to meete (as their custome is) to solemnize the funerall of ensenore. halfe of whom should lye hid, to cut off the straglers, seeking crabs and provision: the rest come out of the mayne upon the signall by fire. twenty of the principall of pemissapans men had charge in the night to beset my house, put fire in the reeds that covered it, which might cause me run out so naked and amazed, they might without danger knocke out my braines. the same order for mr. heriots, and the rest: for all should have beene fired at an instant. in the meane time they should sell us nothing, and in the night spoyle our wires, to make necessitie disperse us. for if we were but ten together, a hundred of them would not meddle with us. so our famine increased, i was forced to send captaine stafford to croatan, with twentie to feed himselfe, and see if he could espie any sayle passe the coast; mr. predeox with ten to hatarask upon the same occasion: and other small parties to the mayne to live upon rootes and oysters. _a slaughter of two salvages._ {mn- } _pemissipan slaine and . others._ {mn- } pemissapan sequestring himselfe, i should not importune him for victuall, and to draw his troupes, found not the chawonests so forward as he expected, being a people more faithfull and powerfull, and desired our friendships, and was offended with him for raising such tales, and all his projects were revealed to me by skico my prisoner; who finding himselfe as well used by me, as pemissapan tould me all. these troubles caused me send to pemissapan, to put suspition in his head, i was to goe presently to croatan to meete a fleete came to me, though i knew no such matter: and that he would lend me men to fish and hunt. he sent me word he would come himselfe to roanock; but delaying time eight dayes that all his men were there to be assembled, not liking so much company, i resolved the next day to goe visit him, but first to give them in the ile a canvisado, and at an instant to seaze on all their canows about the ile. but the towne tooke the alarum before i ment it. {mn- } for when i sent to take the canows, he met one going from the shore, overthrew her and cut off two salvages heads; whereupon the cry arose, being by their spyes perceived: for they kept as good watch over us, as we of them. upon this they to their bowes, and we to our armes: three or foure of them at the first were slaine, the rest fled into the woods. the next morning i went to dassamonpeack, and sent pemissapan word i was going to croatan, and tooke him in my way to complaine osocon would have stole my prisoner skico. hereupon he did abide my comming, & being among eight of the principallest, i gave the watchword to my men, and immediately they had that they purposed for us. {mn- } himselfe being shot through with a pistoll fell downe as dead, but presently start up and ran away from them all, till an irish boy shot him over the buttocks, where they tooke him and cut off his head. _a most generous courtesie of sir francis drake._ {mn} seaven dayes after captaine stafforton sent to me he descryed twentie-three sayle. the next day came to me himselfe (of whom i must say this, from the first to the last, he neither spared labour, or perill by land or sea, fayre weather, or foule, to performe any serious service committed to him.) {mn} he brought me a letter from sir francis drake, whose generous mind offered to supply all my defects, of shipping, boats, munition, victuall, clothes, and men to further this action: and upon good consultation and deliberation, he appointed me a ship of . tuns, with an hundred men, and foure moneths victuals, two pinnaces, foure small boats, with two sufficient masters, with sufficient gangs. all this being made ready for me, suddenly arose such a storme for foure dayes, that had like to have driven the whole fleete on shore: many of them were forced to the sea, whereof my ship so lately given me was one, with all my provision and company appoynted. notwithstanding, the storme ceasing, the generall appointed me a ship of . tuns, with all provisions as before, to carry me into england the next august, or when i had performed such discoveries as i thought fit. yet they durst not undertake to bring her into, the harbour, but she must ride in the road, leaving the care of the rest to my selfe, advising me to consider with my company what was fittest, and with my best speed returne him answer. _virginia abandoned._ {mn} hereupon calling my company together, who were all as privy of the generals offer as my selfe; their whole request was, (in regard of all those former miseries, and no hope of the returne of sir richard grenvill,) and with a generall consent, they desired me to urge him, we might all goe with him for england in his fleete; for whose reliefe in that storme he had sustained more perill of wrack, then in all his honorable actions against his enemies. {mn} so with prayses to god we set sayle in june . and arrived in portsmouth the . of july the same yeare: leaving this remembrance to posteritie. to reason lend me thine attentive eares, exempt thy selfe from mind-distracting cares: least that's here thus projected for thy good; by thee rejected be, ere understood. written by mr. ralph layne, governour. the observations of mr. thomas heriot in this voyage. for merchandize and victualls. _commodities_ what before is writ, is also confirmed by that learned mathematician mr. thomas heriot, with them in the country, whose particular relation of all the beasts, birds, fishes, foules, fruites, and rootes, and how they may be usefull; because i have writ it before for the most part in the discourse of captaine amidas, and captaine layne, except silk grasse, worme silke, flax like hempe, allum, wapeith, or terra sigillata, tar, rosen, & turpentine, civet-cats, iron ore, copper that held silver, coprose and pearle: let those briefes suffice, because i would not trouble you with one thing twice. _dyes._ for dyes, showmack, the herbe wasebur, little rootes called chapacor, and the barke of a tree called by the inhabitants tangomockonominge, which are for divers sorts of reds. _a strange salt._ what more then is related is an herbe in dutch called melden, described like an orange, growing foure foote [i. .] high; the seede will make good broth, and the stalke burnt to ashes makes a kinde of salt: other salt they know not, and we used of it for pot-herbs. of their tobacco we found plenty, which they esteeme their chiefe physicke. _rootes._ ground nuts, tiswaw we call china roots; they grow in clusters, and bring forth a bryer stalke, but the leafe is far unlike, which will climbe up to the top of the highest tree: the use knowne is to cut it in small peeces, then stampe & straine it with water, and boyled makes a gelly good to eate. cassavia growes in marishes, which the indians oft use for bread and broth. habascon is like a parsnip, naught of it selfe, except compounded: and their leekes like those in england. _fruits thats strange._ sequenummener, a kinde of berry like capers, and three kinde of berries like acornes, called sagatamenor, osamenor, and pummuckoner. _beasts extraordinary._ saquenuckot and maquowoc, two kinde of beasts, greater then conies, and very good meate; in some places such plenty of gray conies, like hayres, that all the people make them mantels of their skins. i have the names of . severall sorts that are dispersed in the country: of which . kindes we have discovered and good to eate; but the salvages sometimes kill a lyon and eate him. _fish._ there is plentie of sturgeon in february, march, aprill, and may; all herings in abundance; some such as ours, but the most part of . . or . ynches long, and more. trouts, porpisses, rayes, mullets, old-wives, plaice, tortoises both by sea and land: crabs, oysters, mussels, scalops, periwinckles, crevises, secanank: we have the pictures of . sorts more, but their names we know not. _foules._ turkyes, stockdoves, partridges, cranes, hernes, swans, geese, parrots, faulcons, merlins. i have the names in their language of . severall sorts. their woods are such as ours in england for the most part, except rakeock, a great sweet tree, whereof they make their canowes: and ascopo, a kinde of tree like lowrell, and saxefras. their natures and manners. their clothing, townes, houses, warres, arts, tooles, handy crafts, and educations, are much like them in that part of virginia we now inhabite: which at large you may reade in the description thereof. but the relation of their religion is strange, as this author reporteth. _their religion._ _how the world was made._ {mn} some religion they have, which although it be farre from the truth, yet being as it is there is hope it may be the easier reformed. they beleeve there are many gods which they call mantoac, but of different sorts and degrees. also that there is one chiefe god that hath beene from all eternitie, who as they say when he purposed first to make the world, {mn} made first other gods of a principall order, to be as instruments to be used in the creation and government to follow: and after the sunne, moone, and starres, as pettie gods; and the instruments of the other order more principall. first (they say) were made waters, out of which by the gods were made all diversitie of creatures that are visible or invisible. _how man was made._ for mankinde they say a woman was made first, which by the working of one of the gods conceived and brought forth children; and so they had their beginning, but how many yeares or ages since they know not; having no records but onely tradition from father to sonne. _how they use their gods._ they thinke that all the gods are of humane shape, and therefore represent them by images in the formes of men; which they call kewasowok: one alone is called kewasa; them they place in their temples, where they worship, pray, sing, and make many offerings. the common sort thinke them also gods. _wheter they goe after death._ they beleeve the immortalitie of the soule, when life departing from the body, according to the good or bad workes it hath done, it is carried up to the tabernacles of the gods, to perpetuall happinesse, or to popogusso, a great pit: which they thinke to be at the furthest parts of the world, where the sunne sets, and there burne continually. _two men risen from the dead._ {mn} to confirme this they told me of two men that had beene lately dead, and [i. .] revived againe; the one hapned but few yeares before our comming into the country; of a bad man, which being dead and buried, the next day the earth over him being seene to move, was taken up, who told them his soule was very neare entering into popogusso, had not one of the gods saved him and gave him leave to returne againe, to teach his friends what they should doe to avoyd such torment. {mn} the other hapned the same yeare we were there, but sixtie myles from us, which they told me for news, that one being dead, buried, & taken up as the first, shewed, that although his body had layne dead in the grave, yet his soule lived, and had travailed far in a long broad way, on both sides whereof grew more sweet, fayre, and delicate trees and fruits, then ever he had seene before; at length he came to most brave and fayre houses, neare which he met his father, that was dead long agoe, who gave him charge to goe backe, to shew his friends what good there was to doe, to injoy the pleasures of that place; which when hee had done hee should come againe. _the subtiltie of their priests._ what subtiltie so ever be in the weroances, and priests; this opinion worketh so much in the common sort, that they have great respect to their governours: and as great care to avoyde torment after death, and to enjoy blisse. yet they have divers sorts of punishments according to the offence, according to the greatnesse of the fact. and this is the sum of their religion, which i learned by having speciall familiaritie with their priests, wherein they were not so sure grounded, nor gave such credit, but through conversing with us, they were brought into great doubts of their owne, and no small admiration of ours: of which many desired to learne more then we had meanes for want of utterance in their language to expresse. _their simplicitie._ most things they saw with us as mathematicall instruments, sea-compasses; the vertue of the loadstone, perspective glasses, burning glasses: clocks to goe of themselves; bookes, writing, guns, and such like; so far exceeded their capacities, that they thought they were rather the workes of gods then men; or at least the gods had taught us how to make them, which loved us so much better then them; & caused many of them give credit to what we spake concerning our god. in all places where i came, i did my best to make his immortall glory knowne. and i told them, although the bible i shewed them, contained all; yet of it selfe, it was not of any such vertue as i thought they did conceive. notwithstanding many would be glad to touch it, to kisse, and imbrace it, to hold it to their breasts, and heads, and stroke all their body over with it. _their desire of salvation._ the king wingina where we dwelt, would oft be with us at prayer. twice he was exceeding sicke and like to dye. and doubting of any helpe from his priests, thinking he was in such danger for offending us and our god, sent for some of us to pray, and be a meanes to our god, he might live with him after death. and so did many other in the like case. one other strange accident (leaving others) will i mention before i end, which mooved the whole country that either knew or heard of us, to have us in wonderfull admiration. _a wonderful accident._ there was no towne where they had practised any villany against us (we leaving it unpunished, because we sought by all possible meanes to winne them by gentlenes) but within a few dayes after our departure, they began to dye; in some townes twenty, in some forty, in some sixty, and in one an hundred and twenty, which was very many in respect of their numbers. and this hapned in no place (we could learn) where we had bin, but where they had used some practise to betray us. and this disease was so strange, they neither knew what it was, nor how to cure it; nor had they knowne the like time out of minde; a thing specially observed by us, as also by themselves, in so much that some of them who were our friends especially wingina, had observed such effects in foure or five townes, that they were perswaded it was the worke of god through our meanes: and that we by him might kill and slay whom we would, without [i. .] weapons, and not come neare them. and thereupon, when they had any understanding, that any of their enemies abused us in our journeyes, they would intreat us, we would be a meanes to our god, that they, as the others that had dealt ill with us, might dye in like sort: although we shewed them their requests were ungodly; and that our god would not subject himselfe to any such requests of men, but all things as he pleased came to passe: and that we to shew our selves his true servants, ought rather to pray for the contrary: yet because the effect fell out so suddenly after, according to their desires, they thought it came to passe by our meanes, and would come give us thankes in their manner, that though we satisfied them not in words, yet in deeds we had fulfilled their desires. _their strange opinions._ this marveilous accident in all the country wrought so strange opinions of us, that they could not tell whether to thinke us gods or men. and the rather that all the space of their sicknesse, there was no man of ours knowne to die, or much sicke. they noted also we had no women, nor cared for any of theirs: some therefore thought we were not borne of women, and therefore not mortall, but that we were men of an old generation many yeares past, & risen againe from immortalitie. some would prophesie there were more of our generation yet to come, to kill theirs and take their places. those that were to come after us they imagined to be in the ayre, yet invisible and without bodies: and that they by our intreaties, for love of us, did make the people die as they did, by shooting invisible bullets into them. to confirme this, their physicians to excuse their ignorance in curing the disease, would make the simple people beleeve, that the strings of bloud they sucked out of the sicke bodies, were the strings wherein the invisible bullets were tyed, and cast. some thought we shot them our selves from the place where we dwelt, and killed the people that had offended us, as we listed, how farre distant soever. and others said it was the speciall worke of god for our sakes, as we had cause in some sort to thinke no lesse, whatsoever some doe, or may imagine to the contrary; especially some astrologers by the eclipse of the sunne we saw that yeare before our voyage, and by a comet which began to appeare but a few dayes before the sicknesse began: but to exclude them from being the speciall causes of so speciall an accident, there are farther reasons then i thinke fit to present or alledge. these their opinions i have set downe, that you may see there is hope to imbrace the truth, and honor, obey, feare and love us, by good dealing and government: though some of our company towards the latter end, before we came away with sir francis drake shewed themselves too furious, in slaying some of the people in some townes, upon causes that on our part might have bin borne with more mildnesse; notwithstanding they justly had deserved it. the best neverthelesse in this, as in all actions besides, is to be indevoured and hoped; and of the worst that may happen, notice to be taken with consideration; and as much as may be eschewed; the better to allure them hereafter to civilitie and christianize. _palling._ thus you may see. how nature her selfe delights her selfe in sundry instruments. that sundry things be done to decke the earth with ornaments; nor suffers she her servants all should runne one race, but wills the walke of every one frame in a divers pace; that divers waves and divers workes, the world might better grace. written by thomas heriot, one of the voyage. how sir richard grenvill went to relieve them. a.d. . in the yeare of our lord . sir walter raleigh and his associates prepared a ship of a hundred tun, fraughted plentifully of all things necessary: but before [i. .] they set sayle from england it was easter. and arriving at hatorask, they after some time spent in seeking the collony up in the country, and not finding them, returned with all the provision againe to england. _sir richard grenvill left fiftie men._ {mn} about . or . dayes after, sir richard grenvill accompanied with three ships well appoynted, arrived there. who not finding the aforesaid ship according to his expectation, nor hearing any newes of the collony there seated, and left by him as is said . travailing up and downe to seeke them, but when he could heare no newes of them, and found their habitation abandoned, unwilling to lose the possession of the country, {mn} after good deliberation he landed fiftie men in the ile of roanoak, plentifully furnished with all manner of provision for two yeares: and so returned for england. where many began strangely to discant of those crosse beginnings, and him; which caused me remember an old saying of euripides. who broacheth ought thats new, to fooles untaught, himselfe shall judged be unwise, and good for naught. three ships more sent to relieve them by mr. white. a.d. . _master white his voyages._ we went the old course by the west indies, and simon ferdinando our continuall pilot mistaking virginia for cape fear, we sayled not much to have beene cast away, upon the conceit of our all-knowing ferdinando, had it not beene prevented by the vigilancy of captaine stafford. we came to hatorask the . of july, and with fortie of our best men, intending at roanoack to find the men left by sir richard grenvill. but we found nothing but the bones of a man, and where the plantation had beene, the houses unhurt, but overgrowne with weeds, and the fort defaced, which much perplexed us. _one of the council slaine._ {mn} by the history it seemes simon ferdinando did what he could to bring this voyage to confusion; but yet they all arrived at hatorask. they repayred the old houses at roanock, {mn} and master george how, one of the councell, stragling abroad, was slaine by the salvages. not long after master stafford with . men went to croatan with manteo, whose friends dwelled there: of whom we thought to have some newes of our men. they at first made shew to fight, but when they heard manteo, they threw away their armes, and were friends, and desired there might be a token given to be knowne by, least we might hurt them by misprision, as the yeare before one had bin by master layne, that was ever their friend, and there present yet lame. _how the fiftie men were slaine._ the next day we had conference with them concerning the people of secotan, aquascogoc, and pomeiok, willing them of croatan to see if they would accept friendship, and renew our old acquaintance: which they willingly imbraced, and promised to bring their king and governours to roanoak, to confirme it. we also understood that master howe was slaine by the men of wingina, of dassamonpeack: and by them of roanoack, {mn} that the fiftie men left by sir richard grenvill, were suddainly set upon by three hundred of secotan, aquascogoc, and dassamonpeack. first they intruded themselves among of them by friendship, one they slew, the rest retyring to their houses, they set them on fire, that our men with what came next to hand were forced to make their passage among them; where one of them was shot in the mouth, and presently dyed, and a salvage slaine by him. on both sides more were hurt; but our men retyring to the water side, got their boat, & ere they had rowed a quarter of a myle towards hatorask, they tooke up foure of their fellowes, gathering crabs and oysters: at last they landed on a little ile by hatorask, where they remained a while, but after departed they knew not whether. so taking our leaves of the croatans, we came to our fleet at hatorask. the governour having long expected the king and governours of pomeiok, secotan, aquascogoc, and dassamonpeack, and the . dayes expired, and no newes of them, being also informed by those of croatan, that they of dassamonpeack slew master how, and were at the driving our men from roanoack he thought no longer to deferre the revenge. wherefore about midnight, with captaine stafford, and twentie-foure men, whereof manteo was one, for our guide, (that behaved himselfe towards us as a most faithfull english man) he set forward. _an ill misprision._ _a child borne in virginia._ {mn} the next day by breake of day we landed, and got beyond their houses, where seeing them sit by the fire we assaulted them. the miserable soules amazed fled into the reeds, where one was shot through, and we thought to have beene fully revenged, but we were deceived, for they were our friends come from croatan to gather their corne, because they understood our enemies were fled after the death of master how, and left all behinde them for the birds. but they had like to have payd too deare for it, had we not chanced upon a weroances wife, with a childe at her backe, and a salvage that knew captaine stafford, that ran to him calling him by his name. being thus disappointed of our purpose, we gathered the fruit we found ripe, left the rest unspoyled, and tooke menatonon his wife with her childe, and the rest with us to roanoak. though this mistake grieved manteo, yet he imputed it to their own folly, because they had not kept promise to come to the governor at the day appointed. the . of august our salvage manteo was christened, and called lord of dassamonpeack, in reward of his faithfulnesse. {mn} and the th, ellinor the governours daughter, and wife to ananias dare, was delivered of a daughter in roanoak; which being the first christian there borne, was called virginia. _a controversie who to send for factor to england._ {mn} our ships being ready to depart, such a storme arose, as the admirall was forced to cut her cables: and it was six dayes ere she could recover the shore, that made us doubt she had beene lost, because the most of her best men were on shore. {mn} at this time controversies did grow betwixt our governour and the assistants, about choosing one of them . to goe as factor for them all to england; for all refused save one, whom all men thought most insufficient: the conclusion was by a generall consent, they would have the governour goe himselfe, for that they thought none would so truly procure there supplyes as he. which though he did what he could to excuse it, yet their importunitie would not cease till he under-tooke it, and had it under all their hands how unwilling he was, but that necessity and reason did doubly constraine him. at their setting sayle for england, waighing anchor, twelve of the men in the flyboat were throwne from the capstern, by the breaking of a barre, and most of them so hurt, that some never recovered it. the second time they had the like fortune, being but . they cut the cable and kept company with their admirall to flowres and corvos; the admirall stayed there looking for purchase: but the flyboats men grew so weake they were driven to smerwick in the west of ireland. the governour went for england; and simon ferdinando with much adoe at last arrived at portsmouth. . the names of those were landed in this plantation were, john white, governour. john samson. roger bayley. thomas smith. ananias dare. dionis harvie. simon ferdinando. roger prat. christopher couper. george how. thomas stevens. antony cage. with divers others to the number of about . [i. .] the fift voyage to virginia; undertaken by mr. john white. a.d. . _master white his return to virginia._ _captaine spicer and seaven others drowned._ {mn- } _they finde where they had buryed their provisions._ {mn- } the . of march three ships went from plimouth, and passed betwixt barbary and mogadoro to dominico in the west indies. after we had done some exployts in those parts, the third of august wee fell with the low sandy iles westward of wokokon. but by reason of ill weather it was the . ere we could anchor there; and on the . we came to croatan, where is a great breach in degrees and a halfe, in the northeast poynt of the ile. the . we came to hatorask in . degrees & a terse, at . fadom, leagues from shore: where we might perceive a smoake at the place where i left the colony, . the next morning captaine cooke, captaine spicer, & their companies, with two boats left our ships, and discharged some ordnance to give them notice of our comming, but when we came there, we found no man, nor signe of any that had beene there lately: and so returned to our boats. the next morning we prepared againe for roanoack. captaine spicer had then sent his boat ashore for water, so it was ten of the clocke ere we put from the ships, which rode two myles from the shore. the admirals boat, being a myle before the other, as she passed the bar, a sea broke into the boat and filled her halfe full of water: but by gods good will, and the carefull stearage of captaine cook, though our provisions were much wet we safe escaped, the wind blew hard at northeast, which caused so great a current and a breach upon the barre; captaine spicer passed halfe over, but by the indiscreet steering of ralph skinner, their boat was overset, the men that could catch hold hung about her, the next sea cast her on ground, where some let goe their hold to wade to shore, but the sea beat them downe. {mn- } the boat thus tossed up and downe captaine spicer and skinner hung there till they were drowned; but . that could swim a little, kept themselves in deeper water, were saved by the meanes of captaine cook, that presently upon the oversetting of their boat, shipped himselfe to save what he could. thus of eleven, seven of the chiefest were drowned. this so discomfited all the saylers, we had much to do to get them any more to seeke further for the planters, but by their captaines forwardnes at last they fitted themselves againe for hatorask in boats, with persons. it was late ere we arrived, but seeing a fire through the woods, we sounded a trumpet, but no answer could we heare. the next morning we went to it, but could see nothing but the grasse, and some rotten trees burning. we went up and downe the ile, and at last found three faire romane letters carved. c.r.o. which presently we knew to signifie the place where i should find them, according to a secret note betweene them & me: which was to write the name of the place they would be in, upon some tree, dore, or post: and if they had beene in any distresse, to signifie it by making a crosse over it. for at my departure they intended to goe fiftie myles into the mayne. but we found no signe of distresse; then we went to a place where they were left in sundry houses, but we found them all taken downe, and the place strongly inclosed with a high palizado, very fortlike; and in one of the chiefe posts carved in fayre capitall letters croatan, without any signe of distresse, and many barres of iron, two pigs of lead, foure fowlers, iron shot, and such like heavie things throwne here and there, overgrowne with grasse and weeds. we went by the shore to seeke for their boats but could find none, nor any of the ordnance i left them. {mn- } at last some of the sailers found divers chists had beene hidden and digged up againe, and much of the goods spoyled, and scattered up and downe, which when i saw, i knew three of them to be my owne; but bookes, pictures, and all things els were spoyled. though it much grieved me, yet it did much comfort me that i did know they were at croatan; so we returned to our ships, but had like to have bin cast away by a great storme that continued all that night. _the end of the plantation._ {mn} [i. .] the next morning we weighed anchor for croatan: having the anchor a-pike, the cable broke, by the meanes whereof we lost another: letting fall the third, the ship yet went so fast a drift, we fayled not much there to have split. but god bringing us into deeper water; considering we had but one anchor, and our provision neare spent, we resolved to goe forthwith to s. johns ile, hispaniola, or trinidado, to refresh our selves and seeke for purchase that winter, and the next spring come againe to seeke our country-men. but our vice admirall would not, but went directly for england, and we our course for trinidado. but within two dayes after, the wind changing, we were constrained for the westerne iles to refresh our selves, where we met with many of the queenes ships our owne consort, and divers others, the . of september . and thus we left seeking this our colony, that was never any of them found, nor seene to this day . {mn} and this was the conclusion of this plantation, after so much time, labour, and charge consumed. whereby we see; not all at once, nor all alike, nor ever hath it beene, that god doth offer and confer his blessings upon men. written by master john white. captain bartholomew gosnoll a.d. . a briefe relation of the description of elizabeths ile, and some others towards the north part of virginia; and what els they discovered in the yeare . by captaine bartholomew gosnoll, and captaine bartholomew gilbert; and divers other gentlemen their associates. . _yeares it lay dead._ all hopes of virginia thus abandoned, it lay dead and obscured from . till this yeare . that captaine gosnoll, with . and himselfe in a small barke, set sayle from dartmouth upon the . of march. though the wind favoured us not at the first, but force us as far southward as the asores, which was not much out of our way; we ran directly west from thence, whereby we made our journey shorter then heretofore by . leagues: the weaknesse of our ship, the badnes of our saylers, and our ignorance of the coast, caused us carry but a low sayle, that made our passage longer then we expected. _their first landing._ {mn} on fryday the . of may we made land, it was somewhat low, where appeared certaine hummocks or hills in it: the shore white sand, but very rockie, yet overgrowne with fayre trees. comming to an anchor, indians in a baske shallop, with mast and sayle came boldly aboord us. it seemed by their signes & such things as they had, some biskiners had fished there: being about the latitude of . but the harbour being naught, & doubting the weather, we went not ashore, but waighed, and stood to the southward into the sea. {mn} the next morning we found our selves imbayed with a mightie headland: within a league of the shore we anchored, and captaine gosnoll, my selfe, & three others went to it in our boat, being a white sand & a bold coast. though the weather was hot, we marched to the highest hils we could see, where we perceived this headland part of the mayn, neare invironed with ilands. as we were returning to our ship, a good proper, lusty young man came to us, with whom we had but small conference, and so we left him. here in . or . houres we tooke more cod then we knew what to doe with, which made us perswade our selves, there might be found a good fishing in march, aprill, and may. _martha's vineyard._ [i. ] at length we came among these fayre iles, some a league, . . . or . from the mayne, by one of them we anchored. we found it foure myles in compasse, without house or inhabitant. in it is a lake neare a myle in circuit; the rest overgrowne with trees, which so well as the bushes, were so overgrowne with vines, we could scarce passe them. and by the blossomes we might perceive there would be plenty of strawberries, respises, gousberries, and divers other fruits: besides, deere and other beasts we saw, and cranes, hernes, with divers other sorts of fowle; which made us call it martha's vineyard. _elizabeths island._ the rest of the iles are replenished with such like; very rocky, and much tinctured stone like minerall. though we met many indians, yet we could not see their habitations: they gave us fish, tobacco, and such things as they had. but the next isle we arrived at was but two leagues from the maine, & . myle about, invironed so with creekes and coves, it seemed like many isles linked together by small passages like bridges. in it is many places of plaine grasse, and such other fruits, and berries as before were mentioned. in mid-may we did sow wheat, barley, gates, & pease, which in . dayes sprung up . inches. the soyle is fat and lusty: the crust thereof gray, a foot or lesse in depth. it is full of high timbred okes, their leaves thrise so broad as ours: cedar straight and tall, beech, holly, walnut, hazell, cherry trees like ours, but the stalke beareth the blossom or fruit thereof like a cluster of grapes, forty or fiftie in a bunch. there is a tree of orange colour, whose barke in the filing is as smooth as velvet. there is a lake of fresh water three myles in compasse, in the midst an isle containing an acre or thereabout, overgrowne with wood: here are many tortoises, and abundance of all sorts of foules, whose young ones we tooke and eate at our pleasure. grounds nuts as big as egges, as good as potatoes, and . on a string, not two ynches under ground. all sorts of shell-fish, as schalops, mussels, cockles, crabs, lobsters, welks, oysters, exceeding good and very great; but not to cloy you with particulars, what god and nature hath bestowed on those places, i refer you to the authors owne writing at large. we called this isle elizabeths isle, from whence we went right over to the mayne, where we stood a while as ravished at the beautie and dilicacy of the sweetnesse, besides divers cleare lakes, whereof we saw no end, & meadows very large and full of greene grasse, &c. _a copper mine._ {mn- } _their return._ {mn- } here we espyed . salvages, at first they expressed some feare, but by our courteous usage of them, they followed us to the necke of land, which we thought had beene severed from the mayne, but we found it otherwise. here we imagined was a river, but because the day was farre spent, we left to discover it till better leasure. but of good harbours, there is no doubt, considering the land is all rocky and broken lands. the next day we determined to fortifie our selves in the isle in the lake. three weekes we spent in building us there a house. but the second day after our comming from the mayne, . canows with neare . salvages came towards us. being unwilling they should see our building, we went to, & exchanged with them knives, hatchets, beades, bels, and such trifles, for some bevers, lyzards, martins, foxes, wilde catte skinnes, and such like. {mn- } we saw them have much red copper, whereof they make chaines, collars, and drinking cups, which they so little esteemed they would give us for small toyes, & signified unto us they had it out of the earth in the mayne: three dayes they stayed with us, but every night retyred two or three myle from us: after with many signes of love and friendship they departed, seaven of them staying behind, that did helpe us to dig and carry saxafras, and doe any thing they could, being of a comely proportion and the best condition of any salvages we had yet incountred. they have no beards but counterfeits, as they did thinke ours also was: for which they would have changed with some of our men that had great beards. some of the baser sort would steale; but the better sort, we found very civill and just. we saw but three of their women, and they were but of meane stature, [i. .] attyred in skins like the men, but fat and well favoured. the wholesomenesse and temperature of this climate, doth not onely argue the people to be answerable to this description, but also of a perfect constitution of body, active, strong, healthfull, and very witty, as the sundry toyes by them so cunningly wrought may well testifie. for our selves, we found our selves rather increase in health and strength then otherwise; for all our toyle, bad dyet and lodging; yet not one of us was touched with any sicknesse. {mn- } twelve intended here a while to have stayed, but upon better consideration, how meanely we were provided, we left this island (with as many true sorrowfull eyes as were before desirous to see it) the . of june, and arrived at exmouth, the of july. but yet mans minde doth such it selfe explay, as gods great will doth frame it every way. and, such thoughts men have, on earth that doe but live, as men may crave, but god doth onely give. written by john brierton one of the voyage. captain martin pring a.d. . a voyage of captaine martin pring, with two barks from bristow, for the north part of virginia. . by the inducements and perswasions of mr. richard hackluite, mr. john whitson being maior, with his brethren the aldermen, & most of the merchants of the citie of bristow, raised a stocke of l. to furnish out two barkes, the one of . tuns, with . men and boyes, the other . tuns, with . men and boyes, having martin pring an understanding gentleman, and a sufficient mariner for captaine, and robert salterne his assistant, who had bin with captaine gosnoll there the yeare before for pilot. though they were much crossed by contrary windes upon the coast of england, and the death of that ever most memorable, miracle of the world, our most deare soveraigne lady and queene elizabeth: yet at last they passed by the westerne isles, and about the . of june, fell upon the north part of virginia, about the degrees of fortie three. where they found plentie of most sorts of fish, and saw a high country full of great woods of sundry sorts. as they ranged the coast at a place they named whitson bay, they were kindly used by the natives, that came to them, in troupes, of tens, twenties, & thirties, and sometimes more. but because in this voyage for most part they followed the course of captaine gosnoll, and have made no relation but to the same effect he writ before, we will thus conclude; lay hands unto this worke with all thy wit, but pray that god would speed and perfit it. robert salterne. a.d. . a relation of a discovery towards the northward of virginia, by captaine george waymouth . imployed thether by the right honorable thomas arundell, baron of warder, in the raigne of our most royall king james. _dangerous shoules._ {mn- } _cod and whales._ {mn- } _their first landing._ {mn- } upon tuesday the fift of march we set sayle from ratcliffe, but by contrary winds we were forced into dartmouth till the last of this moneth, then with . as good sea men, & all necessary provisions as could [i. .] possibly be gotten, we put to sea; and the of aprill fell with flowres and corvos. we intended as we were directed towards the southward of . {mn- } but the winds so crossed us wee fell more northwards about . and . minuits, we sounded at . fathom, & by that we had run leagues we had but . yet saw no land; from the mayne top we descryed a whitish sandy clift, west north-west some . leagues from us, but ere we had run two leagues further we found many shoules and breaches, sometimes in . fadom and the next throw . or . being thus imbayed among those shoules, we were constrained to put back againe, which we did with no small danger, though both the winde and weather were as fayre as we could desire. thus we parted from the land, which we had not before so much desired, and at the first sight rejoyced, as now we all joyfully praysed god that he had delivered us from so eminent danger. {mn- } here we found excellent cod, and saw many whales as we had done . or . daies before. being thus constrained to put to sea, the want of wood & water caused us take the best advantage of the winde, to fall with the shore wheresoever: but we found our sea-cards most directly false. the . of may we made the land againe, but it blew so hard, we durst not approach it. the next day it appeared to us a mayne high land, but we found it an island of . myles in compasse: {mn- } within a league of it we came to an anchor, and went on shore for wood & water, of which we found sufficient. the water gushing forth downe the rocky clifts, in many places, which are all overgrown with firre, birch, beech, & oke, as the verge is with gousberries, strawberries, wild pease, and rose bushes, and much foule of divers sorts that breed among the rockes: here as in all places els where we came, we found cod enough. _pentecost harbour._ {mn- } _the captains diligence._ {mn- } from hence we might discerne the mayne land and very high mountaines, the next day because we rode too open to the sea, we waighed, and came to the isles adjoyning to the mayn: among which we found an excellent rode, defended from all windes, for ships of any burthen, in . . . . or . fadom upon a clay oze. {mn- } this was upon a whitsonday, wherefore we called it pentecost harbour. here i cannot omit for foolish feare of imputation of flattery, the painfull industry of our captaine, who as at sea he was alwayes most carefull & vigilant, so at land he refused no paines: {mn- } but his labour was ever as much or rather more then any mans; which not onely incouraged others with better content, but also effected much with great expedition. we digged a garden the . of may, where among our garden-seeds we sowed pease and barley, which in . dayes grew up . ynches, although this was but the crust of the ground, and much inferiour to the mould we after found in the mayne. _trade with the salvages._ {mn} after we had taken order for all our necessary businesses, we marched through two of these isles. the biggest was . or . myles in compasse; we found here all sorts of ordinary trees, besides, vines, currants, spruce, yew, angelica, and divers gummes: in so much many of our company wished themselves setled here. upon the . our captaine with . went to discover the mayne: we in the ship espyed . canowes that came towards the ship. which after they had well viewed, one of them came aboord with . men, and by our good usage of them not long after the rest, two dayes we had their companies, in all respects they are but like them at elizabeths isles, therefore this may suffice for their description. in this time our captain had discovered a fayre river, trending into the mayne myles, and returned backe to bring in the ship. {mn} the salvages also kept their words and brought us . bever, otter, and sable skins, for the value of . shillings in knives, glasses, combes, and such toyes, and thus we used them so kindly as we could, because we intended to inhabit in their country, they lying aboord with us and we ashore with them; but it was but as changing man for man as hostages, and in this manner many times we had their companies. _their trechery._ {mn- } _five salvages surprised._ {mn- } at last they desired our captaine to goe with them to the mayne to trade with their bashabes, which is their chiefe lord, which we did, our boat well manned with [i. .] . yet would they row faster with . ores in their canowes then we with . but when we saw our old acquaintance, would not stay aboord us as before for hostage, but did what they could to draw us into a narrow cirke, {mn- } we exchanged one owen griffin with them for a yong fellow of theirs, that he might see if he could discover any trechery, as he did, for he found there assembled . salvages with bowes & arrows, but not any thing at all to trade as they pretended. these things considered, we conceited them to be but as all salvages ever had beene, kinde till they found opportunitie to do mischiefe. {mn- } wherefore we determined to take some of them, before they should suspect we had discovered their plot, lest they should absent themselves from us, so the first that ever after came into the ship were three which we kept, and two we tooke on shore with much adoe, with two canowes, their bowes and arrowes. _a description of the river._ {mn} some time we spent in sounding all the isles, channels, and inlets thereabouts, and we found . severall waies a ship might be brought into this bay. in the interim there came . canowes more boldly aboord us, signifying we should bring our ship to the place where he dwelt to trade. we excused our selves why we could not, but used them kindly, yet got them away with all the speed we could, that they should not be perceived by them in the houle, then we went up the river . myles, of which i had rather not write, then by my relation detract from it, {mn} it is in breadth a myle, neare . myles; and a channell of . . . . or . fadom, & on both sides every halfe myle gallant coves, to containe in many of them sayle, where they may lye on oze without cable or anchor, onely mored with a hauser, and it floweth . foot, that you may make, docke, or carine ships with much facilitie: besides the land is most rich, trending all along on both sides in an equall plaine, neither rocky nor mountainous, but verged with a greene border of grasse, doth make tender to the beholder her pleasant fertilitie, if by cleansing away the woods she were converted into meadow. the woods are great, and tall, such as are spoken of in the islands, and well watered with many fresh springs. our men that had seene oranoque so famous in the worlds eares, reogrande, loyer, & slion, report, though they be great & goodly rivers, yet are not comparable to it. leaving our ship we went higher, till we were . myles higher then the salt water flowed; we marched towards the mountains we had seene, but the weather was so hot, & our labour so great, as our captaine was contented to returne: after we had erected a crosse we left this faire land and river, in which the higher we went the better we liked it, and returned to our ship. by the way we met a canow that much desired one of our men to go up to their basshabes, but we knew their intents, and so turned them off; and though we had both time and provision to have discovered much more, and might have found peradventure good trade, yet because our company was but small, we would not hazzard so hopefull a businesse as this was, either for our private, or particular ends, being more regardfull of a publicke good, and promulgating gods holy church by planting christianity, which was the intent of our adventurers so well as ours; returning by the isles in the entry of the sound we called them st. georges isles, & because on sunday we set out of england, on sunday also the . of june we departed hence. when we had run . leagues we had . fadom, then . then . after . or . watches more we were in . fadoms, where we tooke so much cod as we did know what to doe with, and the . of july came to dartmouth, and all our men as well god be thanked as when they went forth. thus may you see; god hath not all his gifts bestowed on all or any one, words sweetest, and wits sharpest, courage, strength of bone; all rarities of minde and parts doe all concurre in none. written by james rosier one of the voyage. the second booke. [ii. .] the sixt voyage. . to another part of virginia, where now are planted our english colonies, whom god increase and preserve: discovered and described by captaine john smith, sometimes governour of the countrey. a.d. . _the latitude._ {mn} by these former relations you may see what inconveniences still crossed those good intents, and how great a matter it was all this time to finde but a harbour, although there be so many. but this virginia is a country in america {mn} betweene the degrees of . and . of the north latitude. the bounds thereof on the east side are the great ocean: on the south lyeth florida: on the north nova francia: as for the west thereof, the limits are unknowne. of all this country we purpose not to speake, but onely of that part which was planted by the english men in the yeare of our lord, . and this is under the degrees . . and . the temperature of this country doth agree well with english constitutions, being once seasoned to the country. which appeared by this, that though by many occasions our people fell sicke; yet did they recover by very small meanes, and continued in health, though there were other great causes, not onely to have made them sicke, but even to end their dayes, &c. _the temperature._ the sommer is hot as in spaine; the winter cold as in france or england. the heat of sommer is in june, july, and august, but commonly the coole breeses asswage the vehemency of the heat. the chiefe of winter is halfe december, january, february, and halfe march. the colde is extreame sharpe, but here the proverbe is true, that no extreame long continueth. in the yeare . was an extraordinary frost in most of europe, and this frost was found as extreame in virginia. but the next yeare for . or . dayes of ill weather, other . dayes would be as sommer. _the windes._ the windes here are variable, but the like thunder and lightning to purifie the ayre, i have seldome either seene or heard in europe. from the southwest came the greatest gusts with thunder and heat. the north-west winde is commonly coole and bringeth faire weather with it. from the north is the greatest cold, and from the east and southeast as from the barmudas, fogs and raines. some times there are great droughts, other times much raine, yet great necessitie of neither, by reason we see not but that all the raritie of needfull fruits in europe, may be there in great plentie, by the industry of men, as appeareth by those we there planted. _the entrances._ _cape henry._ {mn} there is but one entrance by sea into this country, and that is at the mouth of a very goodly bay, . or . myles broad. {mn} the cape on the south is called cape henry, in honour of our most noble prince. the land white hilly sands like unto the downes, and all along the shores great plentie of pines and firres. _cape charles._ _the countrey._ {mn} the north cape is called cape charles, in honour of the worthy duke of yorke. the isles before it, smith's isles, by the name of the discoverer. within is a country that may have the prerogative over the most pleasant places knowne, for large and pleasant navigable rivers, heaven & earth never agreed better to frame a place for man's habitation; were it fully manured and inhabited by industrious people. {mn} here are mountaines, hils, plaines, valleyes, rivers, and brookes, all running most pleasantly into a faire bay, compassed but for the mouth, with fruitfull and delightsome land. in the bay and rivers are many isles both great & small, some woody, some plaine, most of them low and not inhabited. this bay lyeth north and south, in which the water floweth neare . myles, and hath a channell for myles, of depth betwixt and fadome, holding in breadth for the most part or myles. from the head of the bay to the northwest, the land is mountanous, and so in a manner from thence by a southwest line; so that the more southward, the farther off from the bay are those mountaines. from which fall certaine brookes which after come to five principall navigable rivers. these run from the northwest into the south east, and so into the west side of the bay, where the fall of every river is within or myles one of another. _the mountaines._ _the soyle._ {mn} the mountaines are of divers natures: for at the head of the bay the rockes are of a composition like mill stones. some of marble, &c. and many peeces like christall we found, as throwne downe by water from those mountaines. for in winter they are covered with much snow, and when it dissolveth the waters fall with such violence, that it causeth great inundations in some narrow valleyes, which is scarce perceived being once in the rivers. these waters wash from the rocks such glistering tinctures, that the ground in some places seemeth as guilded, where both the rocks and the earth are so splendent to behold, that better judgements then ours might have beene perswaded, they contained more then probabilities. the vesture of the earth in most places doth manifestly prove the nature of the soyle to be lusty and very rich. {mn} the colour of the earth we found in diverse places, resembleth bole armoniac, terra sigillata, and lemnia, fullers earth, marie, and divers other such appearances. but generally for the most part it is a blacke sandy mould, in some places a fat slimy clay, in other places a very barren gravell. but the best ground is knowne by the vesture it beareth, as by the greatnesse of trees, or abundance of weeds, &c. _the valleyes._ _plaines._ {mn} the country is not mountanous, nor yet low, but such pleasant plaine hils, and fertile valleyes, one prettily crossing another, & watered so conveniently with fresh brookes and springs, no lesse commodious, then delightsome. {mn} by the rivers are many plaine marishes, containing some some . some acres, some more, some lesse. other plaines there are few, but onely where the salvages inhabit: but all overgrowne with trees & weeds, being a plaine wildernesse as god first made it. _the river powhatan._ {mn- } _the branches._ {mn- } _james towne._ {mn- } on the west side of the bay, we sayd were . faire and delightfull navigable rivers. the first of those, and the next to the mouth of the bay hath his course from the west northwest. {mn- } it is called powhatan, according to the name of a principall country that lyeth upon it. the mouth of this river is neare three myles in breadth, yet doe the shoules force the channell so neare the land, that a sacre will overshoot it at point blanke. it is navigable myles, the shouldes and soundings are here needlesse to be expressed. it falleth from rockes farre west in a country inhabited by a nation they call monacans. but where it commeth into our discovery it is powhatan. in the farthest place that was diligently observed, are falles, rockes, shoules, &c. which makes it past navigation any higher. thence in the running downeward, the river is enriched with many goodly brookes, which are maintained by an infinit number of small rundles and pleasant springs, that disperse themselves for best service, as do the veines of a mans body. {mn- } from the south there fals into it: first, the pleasant river of apamatuck. next more to the east are two small rivers of quiyoughcohanocke. a little farther is a bay wherein falleth or prettie brookes & creekes that halfe intrench the inhabitants of warraskoyac, then the river of nandsamund, and lastly the brooke of chisapeack. from the north side is the river of chickahamania, the backe river of james towne; another by the cedar isle, where we lived ten weekes upon oysters, then a convenient harbour for fisher boats at kecoughtan, that so turneth it selfe into bayes and creekes, it makes that [ii. ] place very pleasant to inhabit; their cornefields being girded therein in a manner as peninsulaes. the most of these rivers are inhabited by severall nations, or rather families, of the name of the rivers. they have also over those some governour, as their king, which they call werowances. {mn- } in a peninsula on the north side of this river are the english planted in a place by them called james towne, in honour of the kings most excellent majestie. _the severall inhabitants._ the first and next the rivers mouth are the kecoughtans, who besides their women & children, have not past . fighting men. the paspaheghes (on whose land is seated james towne, some myles from the bay) have not past . the river called chickahamania neare . the weanocks . the arrowhatocks . the place called powhatan, some . on the south side this river the appamatucks have sixtie fighting men. the quiyougcohanocks . the nandsamunds . the chesapeacks . of this last place the bay beareth the name. in all these places is a severall commander, which they call werowance, except the chickahamanians, who are governed by the priests and their assistants, or their elders called caw-cawwassoughes. in sommer no place affordeth more plentie of sturgeon, nor in winter more abundance of foule, especially in the time of frost. i tooke once . sturgeons at a draught, at another . from the later end of may till the end of june are taken few, but yong sturgeons of two foot, or a yard long. from thence till the midst of september, them of two or three yards long and few others. and in or , houres with one net were ordinarily taken or : often more, seldome lesse. in the small rivers all the yeare there is good plentie of small fish, so that with hookes those that would take paines had sufficient. _r. pamaunkee._ _the inhabitants._ {mn} foureteene myles northward from the river powhatan, is the river pamaunkee, which is navigable or myles, but with catches and small barkes or myles farther. at the ordinary flowing of the salt water, it divideth it selfe into two gallant branches. {mn} on the south side inhabit the people of youghtanund, who have about men for warres. on the north branch mattapament, who have men. where this river is divided the country is called pamaunkee, and nourisheth neare able men. about . myles lower on the north side of this river is werawocomoco, where their great king inhabited when i was delivered him prisoner; yet there are not past able men. ten or twelve myles lower, on the south side of this river, is chiskiack, which hath some or men. these, as also apamatuck, irrohatock, and powhatan, are their great kings chiefe alliance, and inhabitants. the rest his conquests. _payankatank, r._ before we come to the third river that falleth from the mountaines, there is another river (some myles navigable) that commeth from the inland, called payankatanke, the inhabitants are about or serviceable men. _topahanock, r._ _the inhabitants._ {mn} the third navigable river is called toppahanock. (this is navigable some myles) {mn} at the top of it inhabit the people called mannahoacks amongst the mountaines, but they are above the place we described. upon this river on the north side are the people cuttatawomen, with fighting men. higher are the moraughtacunds, with . beyond them rapahanock with . far above is another cuttatawomen with . on the south is the pleasant seat of nantaughtacund having men. the river also as the two former, is replenished with fish and foule. _patawomeck, r._ _the inhabitants._ {mn} the fourth river is called patawomeke, or myles in breadth. it is navigable myles, and fed as the rest with many sweet rivers and springs, which fall from the bordering hils. these hils many of them are planted, and yeeld no lesse plentie and varietie of fruit, then the river exceedeth with abundance of fish. {mn} it is inhabited on both sides. first on the south side at the very entrance is wighcocomoco & hath some men, beyond them sekacawone with . the onawmanient with . and the patawomekes more then . here doth the river divide it selfe into or convenient branches. the greatest of the least is called quiyough, trending north-west, but the river it selfe turneth northeast, and is still a navigable streame. on the westerne side of this bought is tauxenent with men. on the north of this river is secowocomoco with . somewhat further potapaco with . in the east part is pamacaeack with . [ii. .] after moyowance with . and lastly, nacotchtanke with . the river above this place maketh his passage downe a low pleasant valley overshaddowed in many places with high rocky mountaines; from whence distill innumerable sweet and pleasant springs. _pawtuxunt, r._ the fift river is called pawtuxunt, of a lesse proportion then the rest; but the channell is fadome deepe in some places. here are infinit skuls of divers kindes of fish more then elswhere. upon this river dwell the people called acquintanacksuak, pawtuxunt, and mattapanient. two hundred men was the greatest strength that could be there perceived. but they inhabit together, and not so dispersed as the rest. these of all other we found most civill to give intertainement. _bolus, r. the head of the bay._ _sasquesahanock._ {mn} thirtie leagues northward is a river not inhabited, yet navigable; for the red clay resembling bole armoniack we called it bolus. at the end of the bay where it is or myles in breadth, it divides it selfe into . branches, the best commeth northwest from among the mountaines, but though canows may goe a dayes journey or two up it, we could not get two myles up it with our boat for rockes. {mn} upon it is seated the sasquesahanocks, neare it north and by west runneth a creeke a myle and a halfe: at the head whereof the ebbe left us on shore, where we found many trees cut with hatchets. the next tyde keeping the shore to seeke for some salvages; (for within thirtie leagues sayling, we saw not any, being a barren country,) we went up another small river like a creeke or myle. from thence returning we met canowes of the massowomeks, with whom we had conference by signes, for we understood one another scarce a word: the next day we discovered the small river & people of tockwhogh trending eastward. _the description of sasquesahanough._ {mn} having lost our grapnell among the rocks of sasquesahanocks, we were then neare myles from home, and our barge about two tuns, and had in it but men to performe this discovery, wherein we lay above weekes upon those great waters in those unknowne countries, having nothing but a little meale, oatemeale and water to feed us, and scarce halfe sufficient of that for halfe that time, but what provision we got among the salvages, and such rootes and fish as we caught by accident, and gods direction; nor had we a mariner nor any had skill to trim the sayles but two saylers and my selfe, the rest being gentlemen, or them were as ignorant in such toyle and labour. yet necessitie in a short time by good words and examples made them doe that that caused them ever after to feare no colours. what i did with this small meanes i leave to the reader to judge, and the mappe i made of the country, which is but a small matter in regard of the magnitude thereof. but to proceed, of those sasquesahanocks came to us with skins, bowes, arrows, targets, beads, swords, and tobacco pipes for presents. {mn} such great and well proportioned men are seldome seene, for they seemed like giants to the english, yea and to the neighbours, yet seemed of an honest and simple disposition, with much adoe restrained from adoring us as gods. those are the strangest people of all those countries, both in language & attire; for their language it may well beseeme their proportions, sounding from them, as a voyce in a vault. their attire is the skinnes of beares, and woolves, some have cassacks made of beares heads & skinnes, that a mans head goes through the skinnes neck, and the eares of the beare fastned to his shoulders, the nose and teeth hanging downe his breast, another beares face split behind him, and at the end of the nose hung a pawe, the halfe sleeves comming to the elbowes were the neckes of beares, and the armes through the mouth with pawes hanging at their noses. one had the head of a woolfe hanging in a chaine for a jewell, his tobacco pipe three quarters of a yard long, prettily carved with a bird, a deere, or some such devise at the great end, sufficient to beat out ones braines: with bowes, arrowes, and clubs, sutable to their greatnesse. these are scarse knowne to powhatan. they can make neare able men, and are pallisadoed in their townes to defend them from the massawomekes their mortall enemies. five of their chiefe werowances came aboord us, and crossed the bay in their barge. the picture of the greatest of them is signified in the mappe. the calfe of whose leg was three quarters of a yard about, and [ii. ] all the rest of his limbes so answerable to that proportion, that he seemed the goodliest man we ever beheld. his hayre, the one side was long, the other shore close with a ridge over his crowne like a cocks combe. his arrowes were five quarters long, headed with the splinters of a white christall-like stone, in forme of a heart, an inch broad, and an inch and a halfe or more long. these he wore in a woolves skinne at his backe for his quiver, his bow in the one hand and his clubbe in the other, as is described. _tockwogh, r._ _rapahanock, r._ {mn- } _kuskarawaock, r._ {mn- } _wighcocomoco, r._ {mn- } _accomack, r._ {mn- } on the east side the bay, is the river tockwhogh, and upon it a people that can make men, seated some seaven myles within the river: where they have a fort very well pallisadoed and mantelled with barkes of trees. next them is ozinies with sixty men. {mn- } more to the south of that east side of the bay, the river rapahanock, neere unto which is the {mn- } river kuskarawaock, upon which is seated a people with men. after that, is the river {mn- } tants wighcocomoco, & on it a people with men. the people of those rivers are of little stature, of another language from the rest, & very rude. but they on the {mn- } river acohanock with men, & they of accomack men doth equalize any of the territories of powhatan, and speake his language, who over all those doth rule as king. _chawonock._ _the severall languages._ {mn} southward we went to some parts of chawonock and the mangoags to search for them left by mr. white. {mn} amongst those people are thus many severall nations of sundry languages, that environ powhatans territories. the chawonockes, the mangoags, the monacans, the mannahokes, the masawomekes, the powhatans, the sasquesahanocks, the atquanachukes, the tockwoghes, and the kuscarawaokes. all those not any one understandeth another but by interpreters. their severall habitations are more plainly described by this annexed mappe, which will present to the eye, the way of the mountaines, and current of the rivers, with their severall turnings, bayes, shoules, isles, inlets, and creekes, the breadth of the waters, the distances of places, and such like. in which mappe observe this, that as far as you see the little crosses on rivers, mountaines, or other places have beene discovered; the rest was had by information of the savages, and are set downe according to their instructions. thus have i walkt a wayless way, with uncouth pace, which yet no christian man did ever trace: but yet i know this not affects the minde, which eares doth heare, as that which eyes doe finde. of such things which are naturally in virginia, and how they use them. _why there is little grasse._ _woods with their fruits._ {mn- } _elme._ {mn- } _walnuts._ {mn- } _supposed cypres._ {mn- } _mulberries._ {mn- } virginia doth afford many excellent vegetables, and living creatures, yet grasse there is little or none, but what groweth in low marishes: for all the countrey is overgrowne with trees, whose droppings continually turneth their grasse to weeds, by reason of the rancknes of the ground, which would soone be amended by good husbandry. {mn- } the wood that is most common is oke and walnut, many of their okes are so tall & straight, that they will beare two foote and a halfe square of good timber for yards long; of this wood there is two or three severall kinds. the acornes of one kinde, whose barke is more white then the other, & somewhat sweetish, which being boyled, at last affords a sweet oyle, that they keepe in gourds to annoint their heads and joynts. the fruit they eate made in bread or otherwise. {mn- } there is also some elme, some blacke walnut tree, and some ash: of ash and elme they make sope ashes. if the trees be very great, the ashes will be good, and melt to hard lumps, but if they be small, it will be but powder, and not so good as the other. {mn- } of walnuts there is or kindes; there is {mn- } a kinde of wood we called cypres, because both the wood, the fruit, and leafe did most resemble it, of those trees there are some neare three fadome about at the foot, very straight, and , , or foot without [ii. .] a branch. {mn- } by the dwelling of the salvages are some great mulberry trees, and in some parts of the countrey, they are found growing naturally in prettie groves. there was an assay made to make silke, and surely the wormes prospered excellent well, till the master workeman fell sicke. during which time they were eaten with rats. _chesnuts._ in some parts were found some chesnuts, whose wild fruit equalize the best in france, spaine, germany, or italy. plums there are of three sorts. the red and white are like our hedge plums, but the other which they call putchamins, grow as high as a palmeta: the fruit is like a medler; it is first greene, then yellow, and red when it is ripe; if it be not ripe, it will draw a mans mouth awry, with much torment, but when it is ripe, it is as delicious as an apricot. _cherries._ _vines._ {mn- } _chechinquamins._ {mn- } _rawcomens._ {mn- } _how they use their fruits._ {mn- } _walnut milke._ {mn- } _gummes._ {mn- } _cedars._ {mn- } _saxafras trees._ {mn- } they have cherries, and those are much like a damson, but for their tastes and colour we called them cherries. we saw some few crabs, but very small and bitter. {mn- } of vines great abundance in many parts that climbe the toppes of the highest trees in some places, but these beare but few grapes. except by the rivers & savage habitations, where they are not overshadowed from the sunne, they are covered with fruit, though never pruined nor manured. of those hedge grapes we made neere twentie gallons of wine, which was like our french brittish wine, but certainely they would prove good were they well manured. there is another sort of grape neere as great as a cherry, this they call messamins, they be fatte, and the juyce thicke. neither doth the taste so well please when they are made in wine. they have a small fruit growing on little trees, husked like a chesnut, but the fruit most like a very small acorne. {mn- } this they call chechinquamins, which they esteeme a great daintie. they have a berry much like our gooseberry, in greatnesse, colour, and tast; {mn- } those they call rawcomens, and doe eat them raw or boyled. of these naturall fruits they live a great part of the yeare, which they use in this manner; {mn- } the walnuts, chesnuts, acornes, and chechinquamins are dryed to keepe. when they need walnuts they breake them betweene two stones, yet some part of the shels will cleave to the fruit. then doe they dry them againe upon a mat over a hurdle. after they put it into a morter of wood, and beat it very small: {mn- } that done they mix it with water, that the shels may sinke to the bottome. this water will be coloured as milke, which they call pawcohiccora, and keepe it for their use. the fruit like medlers they call putchamins, they cast upon hurdles on a mat, and preserve them as pruines. of their chesnuts and chechinquamins boyled, they make both broath and bread for their chiefe men, or at their greatest feasts. besides those fruit trees, there is a {mn- } white popular, and another tree like unto it, that yeeldeth a very cleare and an odoriferous gumme like turpentine, which some called balsom. there are also {mn- } cedars and {mn- } saxafras trees. they also yeeld gummes in a small proportion of themselves. wee tryed conclusions to extract it out of the wood, but nature afforded more then our arts. _berries._ _matoun._ {mn} in the watry valleyes groweth a berry which they call ocoughtanamnis very much like unto capers. these they dry in sommer. when they eat them they boile them neare halfe a day; for otherwise they differ not much from poyson. {mn} mattoum groweth as our bents. the seed is not much unlike to rie, though much smaller. this they use for a daintie bread buttered with deare suet. _strawberries._ _hearbes._ {mn} during sommer there are either strawberries, which ripen in aprill, or mulberries which ripen in may and june. raspises, hurts; or a fruit that the inhabitants call maracocks, which is a pleasant wholsome fruit much like a lemond. {mn} many herbes in the spring are commonly dispersed throughout the woods, good for brothes and sallets, as violets, purslain, sorrell, &c. besides many we used whose names we know not. _rootes._ the chiefe root they have for food is called tockawhoughe. it groweth like a flagge in marishes. in one day a salvage will gather sufficient for a weeke. these roots are much of the greatnesse and taste of potatoes. they use to cover a great many of them with oke leaves and ferne, and then cover all with earth in the manner of a colepit; over it, on each side, they continue a great fire houres before they dare eat it. raw it is no [ii. .] better then poyson, and being rosted, except it be tender and the heat abated, or sliced and dryed in the sunne, mixed with sorrell and meale or such like, it will prickle and torment the throat extreamely, and yet in sommer they use this ordinarily for bread. _wighsacan a roote._ _pocones a small roote._ {mn- } _musquaspen a roote._ {mn- } they have another roote which they call wighsacan: as th'other feedeth the body, so this cureth their hurts and diseases. it is a small root which they bruise and apply to the wound. {mn- } pocones is a small root that groweth in the mountaines, which being dryed and beate in powder turneth red. and this they use for swellings, aches, annointing their joynts, painting their heads and garments. they account it very precious, and of much worth. {mn- } musquaspen is a roote of the bignesse of a finger, and as red as bloud. in drying, it will wither almost to nothing. this they use to paint their mattes, targets, and such like. _pellitory. sasafrage._ there is also pellitory of spaine, sasafrage, and divers other simples, which the apothecaries gathered, and commended to be good, and medicinable. _onyons._ in the low marishes grow plots of onyons, containing an acre of ground or more in many places; but they are small, not past the bignesse of the toppe of ones thumbe. _their chiefe beasts are deere._ _aroughcun._ {mn- } _squirrels._ {mn- } of beasts the chiefe are deere, nothing differing from ours. in the deserts towards the heads of the rivers, there are many, but amongst the rivers few. {mn- } there is a beast they call aroughcun, much like a badger, but useth to live on trees as squirrels doe. {mn- } their squirrels some are neare as great as our smallest sort of wilde rabbets, some blackish or blacke and white, but the most are gray. _assapanick, a squirrel flying._ _oppasum._ {mn- } _mussacus._ {mn- } a small beast they have they call assapanick, but we call them flying squirrels, because spreading their legs, and so stretching the largenesse of their skins, that they have beene seene to fly or yards. {mn- } an opassom hath a head like a swine, and a taile like a rat, and is of the bignesse of a cat. under her belly shee hath a bagge, wherein she lodgeth, carrieth, and suckleth her young. {mn- } a mussascus is a beast of the forme and nature of our water rats, but many of them smell exceeding strongly of muske. their hares no bigger then our conies, and few of them to be found. _beares._ _the beaver._ {mn- } _otters._ {mn- } _utchunquoyes._ {mn- } _foxes._ {mn- } _dogges._ {mn- } _martins._ {mn- } _polecats._ {mn- } _weesels, and minkes._ {mn- } their beares are very little in comparison of those of muscovia and tartaria. {mn- } the beaver is as big as an ordinary water dog, but his legs exceeding short. his forefeete like a dogs, his hinder feet like a swans. his taile somewhat like the forme of a racket, bare without haire, which to eat the salvages esteeme a great delicate. {mn- } they have many otters, which as the beavers they take with snares, and esteeme the skins great ornaments, and of all those beasts they use to feed when they catch them. {mn- } an utchunquoyes is like a wilde cat. {mn- } their foxes are like our silver haired conies, of a small proportion, and not smelling like those in england. {mn- } their dogges of that country are like their woolves; and cannot barke but howle, and the woolves not much bigger then our english foxes. {mn- } martins, {mn- } polecats, {mn- } weesels, and minkes we know they have, because we have seene many of their skinnes, though very seldome any of them alive. but one thing is strange, that we could never perceive their vermine destroy our hennes, egges, nor chickens, nor doe any hurt, nor their flyes nor serpents any way pernicious, where in the south parts of america they are alwayes dangerous, and often deadly. _birds._ of birds the eagle is the greatest devourer. hawkes there be of divers sorts, as our falconers called them: sparrow-hawkes, lanarets, goshawkes, falcons and osperayes, but they all prey most upon fish. their partridges are little bigger then our quailes. wilde turkies are as bigge as our tame. there are woosels or blackbirds with red shoulders, thrushes and divers sorts of small birds, some red, some blew, scarce so bigge as a wrenne, but few in sommer. in winter there are great plentie of swans, cranes, gray and white with blacke wings, herons, geese, brants, ducke, wigeon, dotterell, oxeies, parrats, and pigeons. of all those sorts great abundance, and some other strange kinds, to us unknowne by name. but in sommer not any, or a very few to be seene. _fish._ of fish we were best acquainted with sturgeon, grampus, porpus, seales, stingraies, whose tailes are very [ii. .] dangerous. bretts, mullets, white salmonds, trowts, soles, plaice, herrings, conyfish, rockfish, eeles, lampreys, catfish, shades, pearch of three sorts, crabs, shrimps, crevises, oysters, cocles, and muscles. but the most strange fish is a small one, so like the picture of st. george his dragon, as possible can be, except his legs and wings, and the toadefish, which will swell till it be like to burst, when it commeth into the ayre. _the rockes._ concerning the entrailes of the earth, little can be said for certaintie. there wanted good refiners; for those that tooke upon them to have skill this way, tooke up the washings from the mountaines, and some moskered shining stones and spangles which the waters brought downe, flattering themselves in their owne vaine conceits to have beene supposed what they were not, by the meanes of that ore, if it proved as their arts and judgements expected. onely this is certaine, that many regions lying in the same latitude, afford mines very rich of divers natures. the crust also of these rockes would easily perswade a man to beleeve there are other mines then yron and steele, if there were but meanes and men of experience that knew the mine from spar. of their planted fruits in virginia, and how they use them. _how they divide the year._ they divide the yeare into five seasons. their winter some call popanow, the spring cattapeuk, the sommer cohattayough, the earing of their corne nepinough, the harvest and fall of leafe taquitock. from september untill the midst of november are the chiefe feasts & sacrifice. then have they plentie of fruits as well planted as naturall, as corne, greene and ripe, fish, fowle, and wilde beasts exceeding fat. _how they prepare the ground._ the greatest labour they take, is in planting their corne, for the country naturally is overgrowne with wood. to prepare the ground they bruise the barke of the trees neare the root, then doe they scortch the roots with fire that they grow no more. the next yeare with a crooked peece of wood they beat up the weeds by the rootes, and in that mould they plant their corne. their manner is this. they make a hole in the earth with a sticke, and into it they put foure graines of wheate and two of beanes. these holes they make foure foote one from another; their women and children do continually keepe it with weeding, and when it is growne middle high, they hill it about like a hop-yard. _how they plant._ in aprill they begin to plant, but their chiefe plantation is in may, and so they continue till the midst of june. what they plant in aprill they reape in august, for may in september, for june in october; every stalke of their corne commonly beareth two eares, some three, seldome any foure, many but one, and some none. every eare ordinarily hath betwixt and graines. the stalke being greene hath a sweet juice in it, somewhat like a sugar cane, which is the cause that when they gather their corne greene, they sucke the stalkes: for as we gather greene pease, so doe they their corne being greene, which excelleth their old. they plant also pease they call assentamens, which are the same they call in italy, fagioli. their beanes are the same the turkes call garnanses, but these they much esteeme for dainties. _how they use their corne._ _how they use their fish and flesh._ {mn} their corne they rost in the eare greene, and bruising it in a morter of wood with a polt, lap it in rowles in the leaves of their corne, and so boyle it for a daintie. they also reserve that corne late planted that will not ripe, by roasting it in hot ashes, the heat thereof drying it. in winter they esteeme it being boyled with beanes for a rare dish, they call pausarowmena. their old wheat they first steepe a night in hot water, in the morning pounding it in a morter. they use a small basket for their temmes, then pound againe the great, and so separating by dashing their hand in the basket, receive the flower in a platter made of wood, scraped to that forme with burning and shels. tempering this flower [ii. ] with water, they make it either in cakes, covering them with ashes till they be baked, and then washing them in faire water, they drie presently with their owne heat: or else boyle them in water, eating the broth with the bread which they call ponap. the groutes and peeces of the cornes remaining, by fanning in a platter or in the wind away the branne, they boyle or houres with water, which is an ordinary food they call ustatahamen. but some more thriftie then cleanly, doe burne the core of the eare to powder, which they call pungnough, mingling that in their meale, but it never tasted well in bread, nor broth. {mn} their fish & flesh they boyle either very tenderly, or boyle it so long on hurdles over the fire, or else after the spanish fashion, putting it on a spit, they turne first the one side, then the other, till it be as drie as their jerkin beefe in the west indies, that they may keepe it a moneth or more without putrifying. the broth of fish or flesh they eat as commonly as the meat. _planted fruits._ in may also amongst their corne they plant pumpeons, and a fruit like unto a muske mellon, but lesse and worse, which they call macocks. these increase exceedingly, and ripen in the beginning of july, and continue untill september. they plant also maracocks a wild fruit like a lemmon, which also increase infinitely. they begin to ripe in september, and continue till the end of october. when all their fruits be gathered, little els they plant, and this is done by their women and children; neither doth this long suffice them, for neare three parts of the yeare, they onely observe times and seasons, and live of what the country naturally affordeth from hand to mouth, &c. the commodities in virginia, or that may be had by industrie. _a proofe cattell will live well._ {mn} the mildnesse of the ayre, the fertilitie of the soyle, and situation of the rivers are so propitious to the nature and use of man, as no place is more convenient for pleasure, profit, and mans sustenance, under that latitude or climat. {mn} here will live any beasts, as horses, goats, sheepe, asses, hens, &c. as appeared by them that were carried thether. the waters, isles, and shoales, are full of safe harbours for ships of warre or marchandize, for boats of all sorts, for transportation or fishing, &c. the bay and rivers have much marchantable fish, and places fit for salt coats, building of ships, making of iron, &c. _the commodities._ muscovia and polonia doe yearely receive many thousands, for pitch, tarre, sope-ashes, rosen, flax, cordage, sturgeon, masts, yards, wainscot, firres, glasse, and such like; also swethland for iron and copper. france in like manner, for wine, canvas, and salt. spaine as much for iron, steele, figges, reasons, and sackes. italy with silkes and velvets consumes our chiefe commodities. holland maintaines it selfe by fishing and trading at our owne doores. all these temporize with other for necessities, but all as uncertaine as peace or warres. besides the charge, travell, and danger in transporting them, by seas, lands, stormes, and pyrats. then how much hath virginia the prerogative of all those flourishing kingdomes, for the benefit of our land, when as within one hundred myles all those are to be had, either ready provided by nature, or else to be prepared, were there but industrious men to labour. onely of copper we may doubt is wanting, but there is good probabilitie that both copper and better minerals are there to be had for their labour. other countries have it. so then here is a place, a nurse for souldiers, a practise for mariners, a trade for marchants, a reward for the good, and that which is most of all, a businesse (most acceptable to god) to bring such poore infidels to the knowledge of god and his holy gospell. of the naturall inhabitants of virginia. _the numbers._ _seaven hundred men were the most were seene together when they thought to have surprised captaine smith._ {mn- } _a description of the people._ {mn- } _the barbers._ {mn- } _the constitution._ {mn- } _the disposition._ {mn- } _the possessions._ {mn- } _their attire._ {mn- } _their ornaments._ {mn- } the land is not populous, for the men be few; their far greater number is of women and children. within myles of james towne, there are about some people, but of able men fit for their warres scarce [ii. ] . to nourish so many together they have yet no meanes, because they make so small a benefit of their land, be it never so fertile. {mn- } six or seaven hundred have beene the most hath beene seene together, when they gathered themselves to have surprised mee at pamaunkee, having but fifteene to withstand the worst or their fury. as small as the proportion of ground that hath yet beene discovered, is in comparison of that yet unknowne: {mn- } the people differ very much in stature, especially in language, as before is expressed. some being very great as the sasquesahananocks; others very little, as the wighcocomocoes: but generally tall and straight, of a comely proportion, and of a colour browne when they are of any age, but they are borne white. their hayre is generally blacke, but few have any beards. the men weare halfe their beards shaven, the other halfe long; {mn- } for barbers they use their women, who with two shels will grate away the hayre, of any fashion they please. the women are cut in many fashions, agreeable to their yeares, but ever some part remaineth long. {mn- } they are very strong, of an able body and full of agilitie, able to endure to lie in the woods under a tree by the fire, in the worst of winter, or in the weedes and grasse, in ambuscado in the sommer. {mn- } they are inconstant in every thing, but what feare constraineth them to keepe. craftie, timerous, quicke of apprehension, and very ingenuous. some are of disposition fearefull, some bold, most cautelous, all savage. generally covetous of copper, beads, and such like trash. they are soone moved to anger, and so malicious, that they seldome forget an injury: they seldome steale one from another, least their conjurers should reveale it, and so they be pursued and punished. that they are thus feared is certaine, but that any can reveale their offences by conjuration i am doubtfull. their women are carefull not to be suspected of dishonestie without the leave of their husbands. {mn- } each houshold knoweth their owne lands, and gardens, and most live of their owne labours. {mn- } for their apparell, they are sometime covered with the skinnes of wilde beasts, which in winter are dressed with the hayre, but in sommer without. the better sort use large mantels of deare skins, not much differing in fashion from the irish mantels. some imbrodered with white beads, some with copper, other painted after their manner. but the common sort have scarce to cover their nakednesse, but with grasse, the leaves of trees, or such like. we have seene some use mantels made of turky feathers, so prettily wrought & woven with threads that nothing could be discerned but the feathers. that was exceeding warme and very handsome. but the women are alwayes covered about their middles with a skin, and very shame-fast to be seene bare. {mn- } they adorne themselves most with their copper beads and paintings. their women, some have ornaments, their legs, hands, breasts and face cunningly imbrodered with divers workes, as beasts, serpents, artificially wrought into their flesh with blacke spots. in each eare commonly they have great holes, whereat they hang chaines, bracelets, or copper. some of their men weare in those holes, a small greene and yellow coloured snake, neare halfe a yard in length, which crawling and lapping her selfe about his necke oftentimes familiarly would kisse his lips. others weare a dead rat tyed by the taile. some on their heads weare the wing of a bird, or some large feather with a rattell. those rattels are somewhat like the chape of a rapier, but lesse, which they take from the taile of a snake. many have the whole skinne of a hawke or some strange foule, stuffed with the wings abroad. others a broad peece of copper, and some the hand of their enemy dryed. their heads and shoulders are painted red with the roote pocone brayed to powder, mixed with oyle, this they hold in sommer to preserve them from the heate, and in winter from the cold. many other formes of paintings they use, but he is the most gallant that is the most monstrous to behold. _their buildings._ their buildings and habitations are for the most part by the rivers, or not farre distant from some fresh spring. their houses are built like our arbors, of small young springs bowed and tyed, and so close covered with mats, or the barkes of trees very handsomely, that notwithstanding either winde, raine, or weather, they are as warme as stooves, but very smoaky, yet at the toppe of the house there is a hole made for the smoake to goe into right over the fire. _their lodgings._ _their gardens._ {mn} against the fire they lie on little hurdles of reeds [ii. .] covered with a mat, borne from the ground a foote and more by a hurdle of wood. on these round about the house they lie heads and points one by th'other against the fire, some covered with mats, some with skins, and some starke naked lie on the ground, from to in a house. {mn} their houses are in the midst of their fields or gardens, which are small plots of ground. some acres, some . some . some . some more, some lesse. in some places from to of those houses together, or but a little separated by groves of trees. neare their habitations is little small wood or old trees on the ground by reason of their burning of them for fire. so that a man may gallop a horse amongst these woods any way, but where the creekes or rivers shall hinder. _how they use their children._ men, women, and children have their severall names according to the severall humor of their parents. their women (they say) are easily delivered of childe, yet doe they love children very dearely. to make them hardie, in the coldest mornings they them wash in the rivers, and by painting and oyntments so tanne their skinnes, that after a yeare or two, no weather will hurt them. _the industrie of their women._ the men bestow their times in fishing, hunting, warres, and such man-like exercises, scorning to be seene in any woman-like exercise, which is the cause that the women be very painefull, and the men often idle. the women and children doe the rest of the worke. they make mats, baskets, pots, morters, pound their corne, make their bread, prepare their victuals, plant their corne, gather their corne, beare all kind of burdens, and such like. _how they strike fire._ _the order of dyet._ {mn} their fire they kindle presently by chafing a dry pointed sticke in a hole of a little square peece of wood, that firing it selfe, will so fire mosse, leaves, or any such like dry thing, that will quickly burne. {mn} in march and aprill they live much upon their fishing wires; and feed on fish, turkies, and squirrels. in may and june they plant their fields, and live most of acornes, walnuts, and fish. but to amend their dyet, some disperse themselves in small companies, and live upon fish, beasts, crabs, oysters, land tortoises, strawberries, mulberries, and such like. in june, july, and august, they feed upon the rootes of tocknough berries, fish, and greene wheat. it is strange to see how their bodies alter with their dyet, even as the deere & wilde beasts they seeme fat and leane, strong and weake. powhatan their great king, and some others that are provident, rost their fish and flesh upon hurdles as before is expressed, and keepe it till scarce times. _how they make their bowes and arrowes._ _their knives._ {mn} for fishing, hunting, and warres they use much their bow and arrowes. they bring their bowes to the forme of ours by the scraping of a shell. their arrowes are made some of straight young sprigs, which they head with bone, some or ynches long. these they use to shoot at squirrels on trees. another sort of arrowes they use made of reeds. these are peeced with wood, headed with splinters of christall, or some sharpe stone, the spurres of a turkey, or the bill of some bird. {mn} for his knife he hath the splinter of a reed to cut his feathers in forme. with this knife also, he will joynt a deere, or any beast, shape his shooes, buskins, mantels, &c. to make the noch of his arrow he hath the tooth of a beaver, set in a sticke, wherewith he grateth it by degrees. his arrow head he quickly maketh with a little bone, which he ever weareth at his bracert, of any splint of a stone, or glasse in the forme of a heart, and these they glew to the end of their arrowes. with the sinewes of deere, and the tops of deeres hornes boyled to a jelly, they make a glew that will not dissolve in cold water. _their targets and swords._ for their warres also they use targets that are round and made of the barkes of trees, and a sword of wood and at their backes, but oftentimes they use for swords the horne of a deere put through a peece of wood in forme of a pickaxe. some a long stone sharpned at both ends, used in the same manner. this they were wont to use also for hatchets, but now by trucking they have plentie of the same forme of yron. and those are their chiefe instruments and armes. _their boats_ _how they spin._ {mn- } _their fish hookes._ {mn- } their fishing is much in boats. these they make of one tree by burning and scratching away the coales with stones and shels, till they have made it in forme of a [ii. .] trough. some of them are an elne deepe, and fortie or fiftie foote in length, and some will beare men, but the most ordinary are smaller, and will beare , , or . according to their bignesse. in stead of oares, they use paddles and stickes, with which they will row faster then our barges. {mn- } betwixt their hands and thighes, their women use to spin the barkes of trees, deere sinewes, or a kind of grasse they call pemmenaw, of these they make a thread very even and readily. this thread serveth for many uses. as about their housing, apparell, as also they make nets for fishing, for the quantitie as formally braded as ours. they make also with it lines for angles. {mn- } their hookes are either a bone grated as they noch their arrowes in the forme of a crooked pinne or fish-hooke, or of the splinter of a bone tyed to the clift of a little sticke, and with the end of the line, they tie on the bait. they use also long arrowes tyed in a line, wherewith they shoote at fish in the rivers. but they of accawmack use staves like unto javelins headed with bone. with these they dart fish swimming in the water. they have also many artificiall wires, in which they get abundance of fish. _how they hunt._ in their hunting and fishing they take extreame paines; yet it being their ordinary exercise from their infancy, they esteeme it a pleasure and are very proud to be expert therein. and by their continuall ranging, and travell, they know all the advantages and places most frequented with deere, beasts, fish, foule, roots, and berries. at their huntings they leave their habitations, and reduce themselves into companies, as the tartars doe, and goe to the most desert places with their families, where they spend their time in hunting and fowling up towards the mountaines, by the heads of their rivers, where there is plentie of game. for betwixt the rivers the grounds are so narrowe, that little commeth here which they devoure not. it is a marvell they can so directly passe these deserts, some or dayes journey without habitation. their hunting houses are like unto arbours covered with mats. these their women beare after them, with corne, acornes, morters, and all bag and baggage they use. when they come to the place of exercise, every man doth his best to shew his dexteritie, for by their excelling in those qualities, they get their wives. fortie yards will they shoot levell, or very neare the marke, and is their best at random. at their huntings in the deserts they are commonly two or three hundred together. having found the deere, they environ them with many fires, & betwixt the fires they place themselves. and some take their stands in the midsts. the deere being thus feared by the fires, and their voyces, they chase them so long within that circle, that many times they kill , , , or at a hunting. they use also to drive them into some narrow poynt of land, when they find that advantage; and so force them into the river, where with their boats they have ambuscadoes to kill them. when they have shot a deere by land, they follow him like blond-hounds by the bloud, and straine, and oftentimes so take them. hares, partridges, turkies, or egges, fat or leane, young or old, they devoure all they can catch in their power. in one of these huntings they found me in the discovery of the head of the river of chickahamania, where they slew my men, and tooke me prisoner in a bogmire, where i saw those exercises, and gathered these observations. _one salvage hunting alone._ one salvage hunting alone, useth the skinne of a deere slit on the one side, and so put on his arme, through the neck, so that his hand comes to the head which is stuffed, and the hornes, head, eyes, eares, and every part as artificially counterfeited as they, can devise. thus shrowding his body in the skinne by stalking, he approacheth the deere, creeping on the ground from one tree to another. if the deere chance to find fault, or stand at gaze, he turneth the head with his hand to his best advantage to seeme like a deere, also gazing and licking himselfe. so watching his best advantage to approach, having shot him, he chaseth him by his bloud and straine till he get him. _their consultations._ _their enemies._ {mn- } _massawomekes._ {mn- } _their offer of subjection._ {mn- } when they intend any warres, the werowances usually have the advice of their priests and conjurers, and their allies, and ancient friends, but chiefely the priests determine their resolution. every werowance, or some [ii. .] lustie fellow, they appoint captaine over every nation. they seldome make warre for lands or goods, but for women and children, and principally for revenge. {mn- } they have many enemies, namely, all their westernly countries beyond the mountaines, and the heads of the rivers. upon the head of the powhatans are the monacans, whose chiefe habitation is at rasauweak, unto whom the mowhemenchughes, the massinnacacks, the monahassanughs, the monasickapanoughs, and other nations pay tributes. upon the head of the river of toppahanock is a people called mannahoacks. to these are contributers the tauxanias, the shackaconias, the ontponeas, the tegninateos, the whonkenteaes, the stegarakes, the hassianungaes, and divers others, all confederates with the monacans, though many different in language, and be very barbarous, living for the most part of wild beasts and fruits. beyond the mountaines from whence is the head of the river patawomeke, the salvages report inhabit their most mortall enemies, {mn- } the massawomekes, upon a great salt water, which by all likelihood is either some part of cannada, some great lake, or some inlet of some sea that falleth into the south sea. these massawomekes are a great nation and very populous. for the heads of all those rivers, especially the pattawomekes, the pautuxuntes, the sasquesahanocks, the tockwoughes are continually tormented by them: of whose crueltie, they generally complained, and very importunate they were with me, and my company to free them from these tormentors. {mn- } to this purpose they offered food, conduct, assistance, and continuall subjection. which i concluded to effect. but the councell then present emulating my successe, would not thinke it fit to spare me fortie men to be hazzarded in those unknowne regions, having passed (as before was spoken of) but with , and so was lost that opportunitie. seaven boats full of these massawomekes wee encountred at the head of the bay; whose targets, baskets, swords, tobacco pipes, platters, bowes, and arrowes, and every thing shewed, they much exceeded them of our parts, and their dexteritie in their small boats, made of the barkes of trees, sowed with barke and well luted with gumme, argueth that they are seated upon some great water. against all these enemies the powhatans are constrained sometimes to fight. their chiefe attempts are by stratagems, trecheries, or surprisals. yet the werowances women and children they put not to death, but keepe them captives. they have a method in warre, and for our pleasures they shewed it us, and it was in this manner performed at mattapanient. _their manner of battell._ having painted and disguised themselves in the fiercest manner they could devise, they divided themselves into two companies, neare a hundred in a company. the one company called monacans, the other powhatans. either army had their captaine. these as enemies tooke their stands a musket shot one from another; ranked themselves a breast, and each ranke from another or yards, not in fyle, but in the opening betwixt their fyles. so the reare could shoot as conveniently as the front. having thus pitched the fields: from either part went a messenger with these conditions, that whosoever were vanquished, such as escape upon their submission in two dayes after should live, but their wives and children should be prize for the conquerours. the messengers were no sooner returned, but they approached in their orders; on each flanke a serjeant, and in the reare an officer for lieutenant, all duly keeping their orders, yet leaping and singing after their accustomed tune, which they onely use in warres. upon the first flight of arrowes they gave such horrible shouts and screeches, as so many infernall hell-hounds could not have made them more terrible. when they had spent their arrowes, they joyned together prettily, charging and retyring, every ranke seconding other. as they got advantage they catched their enemies by the hayre of the head, and downe he came that was taken. his enemy with his wooden sword seemed to beat out his braines, and still they crept to the reare, to maintaine the skirmish. the monacans decreasing, the powhatans charged them in the forme of a halfe moone; they unwilling to be inclosed, fled all in a troope to their ambuscadoes, on whom they led them very cunningly. the monacans disperse themselves [ii. .] among the fresh men, whereupon the powhatans retired, with all speed to their seconds; which the monacans seeing, tooke that advantage to retire againe to their owne battell, and so each returned to their owne quarter. all their actions, voyces, and gestures, both in charging and retiring were so strained to the height of their qualitie and nature, that the strangenesse thereof made it seeme very delightfull. _their musicke._ _their entertainment._ {mn} for their musicke they use a thicke cane, on which they pipe as on a recorder. for their warres they have a great deepe platter of wood. they cover the mouth thereof with a skin, at each corner they tie a walnut, which meeting on the backside neere the bottome, with a small rope they twitch them together till it be so tought and stiffe, that they may beat upon it as upon a drumme. but their chiefe instruments are rattles made of small gourds, or pumpeons shels. of these they have base, tenor, countertenor, meane, and treble. these mingled with their voyces sometimes twenty or thirtie together, make such a terrible noise as would rather affright, then delight any man. {mn} if any great commander arrive at the habitation of werowance, they spread a mat as the turkes doe a carpet for him to sit upon. upon another right opposite they sit themselves. then doe all with a tunable voice of shouting bid him welcome. after this doe two or more of their chiefest men make an oration, testifying their love. which they doe with such vehemency, and so great passions, that they sweat till they drop, and are so out of breath they can scarce speake. so that a man would take them to be exceeding angry, or stark mad. such victuall as they have, they spend freely, and at night where his lodging is appointed, they set a woman fresh painted red with pocones and oyle, to be his bed-fellow. _their trade._ their manner of trading is for copper, beads, and such like, for which they give such commodities as they have, as skins, foule, fish, flesh, and their country corne. but their victualls are their chiefest riches. _their physicke._ _their chirurgery._ {mn- } _their charms to cure._ {mn- } every spring they make themselves sicke with drinking the juyce of a roote they call wighsacan, and water; whereof they powre so great a quantitie, that it purgeth them in a very violent manner; so that in three or foure dayes after, they scarce recover their former health. sometimes they are troubled with dropsies, swellings, aches, and such like diseases; {mn- } for cure whereof they build a stove in the forme of a dove-house with mats, so close that a few coales therein covered with a pot, will make the patient sweat extreamely. for swellings also they use small peeces of touchwood, in the forme of cloves, which pricking on the griefe they burne close to the flesh, and from thence draw the corruption with their mouth. with this roote wighsacan they ordinarily heale greene wounds. but to scarrifie a swelling, or make incision, their best instruments are some splinted stone. old ulcers, or putrified hurts are seldome seene cured amongst them. {mn- } they have many professed phisicians, who with their charmes and rattles, with an infernall rout of words and actions, will seeme to sucke their inward griefe from their navels, or their grieved places; but of our chirurgians they were so conceited, that they beleeved any plaister would heale any hurt. but 'tis not alwayes in phisicians skill, to heale the patient that is sicke and ill: for sometimes sicknesse on the patients part, proves stronger farre then all phisicians art. of their religion. _their god._ {mn- } _how they bury their kings._ {mn- } there is yet in virginia no place discovered to be so savage, in which they have not a religion, deere, and bow, and arrowes. all things that are able to doe them hurt beyond their prevention, they adore with their kinde of divine worship; as the fire, water, lightning, thunder, our ordnance, peeces, horses, &c. {mn- } but their chiefe god they worship is the devill. him they call [ii. .] okee, and serve him more of feare then love. they say they have conference with him, and fashion themselves as neare to his shape as they can imagine. in their temples they have his image evill favouredly carved, and then painted and adorned with chaines of copper, and beads, and covered with a skin, in such manner as the deformitie may well suit with such a god. {mn- } by him is commonly the sepulcher of their kings. their bodies are first bowelled, then dried upon hurdles till they be very dry, and so about the most of their joynts and necke they hang bracelets, or chaines of copper, pearle, and such like, as they use to weare, their inwards they stuffe with copper beads, hatchets, and such trash. then lappe they them very carefully in white skins, and so rowle them in mats for their winding sheets. and in the tombe which is an arch made of mats, they lay them orderly. what remaineth of this kinde of wealth their kings have, they set at their feet in baskets. these temples and bodies are kept by their priests. _their ordinary burials._ for their ordinary burials, they dig a deepe hole in the earth with sharpe stakes, and the corpse being lapped in skins and mats with their jewels, they lay them upon stickes in the ground, and so cover them with earth. the buriall ended, the women being painted all their faces with blacke cole and oyle, doe sit twenty-foure houres in the houses mourning and lamenting by turnes, with such yelling and howling, as may expresse their great passions. _their temples._ in every territory of a werowance is a temple and a priest, two or three or more. their principall temple or place of superstition is at uttamussack at pamaunkee, neare unto which is a house, temple, or place of powhatans. upon the top of certaine red sandy hils in the woods, there are three great houses filled with images of their kings, and devils, and tombes of their predecessors. those houses are neare sixtie foot in length built arbour-wise, after their building. this place they count so holy as that but the priests & kings dare come into them; nor the salvages dare not goe up the river in boats by it, but they solemnly cast some peece of copper, white beads, or pocones into the river, for feare their okee should be offended and revenged of them. thus, feare was the first their gods begot: till feare began, their gods were not. _their ornaments for their priests._ in this place commonly are resident seaven priests. the chiefe differed from the rest in his ornaments, but inferior priests could hardly be knowne from the common people, but that they had not so many holes in their eares to hang their jewels at. the ornaments of the chiefe priest were certaine attires for his head made thus. they tooke a dosen, or , or more snakes skins and stuffed them with mosse, and of weesels and other vermines skins a good many. all these they tie by their tailes, so as all their tailes meete in the toppe of their head like a great tassell. round about this tassell is as it were a crowne of feathers, the skins hang round about his head, necke, and shoulders, and in a manner cover his face. the faces of all their priests are painted as ugly as they can devise, in their hands they had every one his rattle, some base, some smaller. their devotion was most in songs, which the chiefe priest beginneth and the rest followed him, sometimes he maketh invocations with broken sentences by starts and strange passions, and at every pause, the rest give a short groane. thus seeke they in deepe foolishnesse, to climbe the height of happinesse. _the times of solemnities._ it could not be perceived that they keepe any day as more holy then other; but onely in some great distresse of want, feare of enemies, times of triumph and gathering together their fruits, the whole country of men, women, and children come together to solemnities. the manner of their devotion is, sometimes to make a great fire, in the house or fields, and all to sing and dance about it [ii. .] with rattles and shouts together, foure or five houres. sometimes they set a man in the midst, and about him they dance and sing, he all the while clapping his hands, as if he would keepe time, and after their songs and dauncings ended they goe to their feasts. through god begetting feare, mans blinded minde did reare a hell-god to the ghosts; a heaven-god to the hoasts; yea god unto the seas: feare did create all these. _their conjurations._ they have also divers conjurations, one they made when i was their prisoner; of which hereafter you shall reade at large. _their altars._ _sacrifices to the water._ {mn} they have also certaine altar stones they call pawcorances, but these stand from their temples, some by their houses, others in the woods and wildernesses, where they have had any extraordinary accident, or incounter. and as you travell, at those stones they will tell you the cause why they were there erected, which from age to age they instruct their children, as their best records of antiquities. upon these they offer bloud, deere suet, and tobacco. this they doe when they returne from the warres, from hunting, and upon many other occasions. they have also another superstition that they use in stormes, when the waters are rough in the rivers and sea coasts. {mn} their conjurers runne to the water sides, or passing in their boats, after many hellish outcryes and invocations, they cast tobacco, copper, pocones, or such trash into the water, to pacifie that god whom they thinke to be very angry in those stormes. before their dinners and suppers the better sort will take the first bit, and cast it in the fire, which is all the grace they are knowne to use. _their solemn sacrifices of children, which they call black-boyes._ _those black-boyes are made so mad with a kind of drinke, that they will doe any mischiefe, at the command of their keepers._ {mn} in some part of the country they have yearely a sacrifice of children. such a one was at quiyoughcohanock some ten myles from james towne, and thus performed. fifteene of the properest young boyes, betweene ten and fifteene yeares of age they painted white. having brought them forth, the people spent the forenoone in dancing and singing about them with rattles. in the afternoone they put those children to the roote of a tree. by them all the men stood in a guard, every one having a bastinado in his hand, made of reeds bound together. this made a lane betweene them all along, through which there were appointed five young men to fetch these children: so every one of the five went through the guard to fetch a childe each after other by turnes, the guard fiercely beating them with their bastinadoes, and they patiently enduring and receiving all, defending the children with their naked bodies from the unmercifull blowes, that pay them soundly, though the children escape. all this while the women weepe and cry out very passionately, providing mats, skins, mosse, and dry wood, as things fitting their childrens funerals. after the children were thus passed the guard, the guard tore down the trees, branches & boughs, with such violence that they rent the body, and made wreaths for their heads, or bedecked their hayre with the leaves. what els was done with the children, was not seene, but they were all cast on a heape, in a valley as dead, where they made a great feast for all the company. {mn} the werowance being demanded the meaning of this sacrifice, answered that the children were not all dead, but that the okee or divell did sucke the bloud from their left breast, who chanced to be his by lot, till they were dead, but the rest were kept in the wildernesse by the young men till nine moneths were expired, during which time they must not converse with any, and of these were made their priests and conjurers. this sacrifice they held to be so necessary, that if they should omit it, their okee or devill, and all their other quiyoughcosughes, which are their other gods, would let them have no deere, turkies, corne, nor fish, and yet besides, he would make a great slaughter amongst them. _their resurrection._ {mn} they thinke that their werowances and priests which they also esteeme quiyoughcosughes, {mn} when they are dead, goe beyond the mountaines towards the setting of the sunne; and ever remaine there in forme of their okee, [ii. .] with their heads painted with oyle and pocones, finely trimmed with feathers, and shall have beads, hatchets, copper, and tobacco, doing nothing but dance and sing, with all their predecessors. but the common people they suppose shall not live after death, but rot in their graves like dead dogs. to divert them from this blind idolatry, we did our best endevours, chiefly with the werowance of quiyoughcohanock, whose devotion, apprehension, and good disposition, much exceeded any in those countries, with whom although we could not as yet prevaile, to forsake his false gods, yet this he did beleeve that our god as much exceeded theirs, as our gunnes did their bowes & arrowes, and many times did send to me to james towne, intreating me to pray to my god for raine, for their gods would not send them any. and in this lamentable ignorance doe these poore soules sacrifice themselves to the devill, not knowing their creator; and we had not language sufficient, so plainly to expresse it as make them understand it; which god grant they may. for, religion 'tis that doth distinguish us, from their bruit humor, well we may it know; that can with understanding argue thus, our god is truth, but they cannot doe so. of the manner of the virginians government. _a description of powhatan._ {mn- } _his attendance and watch._ {mn- } although the country people be very barbarous, yet have they amongst them such government, as that their magistrates for good commanding, and their people for due subjection, and obeying, excell many places that would be counted very civill. the forme of their common-wealth is a monarchiall government, one as emperour ruleth over many kings or governours. their chiefe ruler is called powhatan, and taketh his name of his principall place of dwelling called powhatan. but his proper name is wahunsonacock. some countries he hath which have beene his ancestors, and came unto him by inheritance, as the country called powhatan, arrohateck, appamatuck, pamaunkee, youghtanund, and mattapanient. all the rest of his territories expressed in the mappe, they report have beene his severall conquests. in all his ancient inheritances, he hath houses built after their manner like arbours, some . some . yards long, and at every house provision for his entertainement according to the time. at werowcomoco on the northside of the river pamaunkee, was his residence, when i was delivered him prisoner, some myles from james towne, where for the most part, he was resident, but at last he tooke so little pleasure in our neare neighbourhood, that he retired himselfe to orapakes, in the desert betwixt chickahamania and youghtanund. {mn- } he is of personage a tall well proportioned man, with a sower looke, his head somwhat gray, his beard so thinne, that it seemeth none at all, his age neare sixtie; of a very able and hardy body to endure any labour. {mn- } about his person ordinarily attendeth a guard of or of the tallest men his countrey doth afford. every night and watch upon the foure quarters of his house are foure sentinels, each from other a flight shoot, and at every halfe houre one from the corps du guard doth hollow, shaking his lips with his finger betweene them; unto whom every sentinell doth answer round from his stand: if any faile, they presently send forth an officer that beateth him extreamely. _his treasury._ a myle from orapakes in a thicket of wood, he hath a house in which he keepeth his kinde of treasure, as skinnes, copper, pearle, and beads, which he storeth up aqainst the time of his death and buriall. here also is his store of red paint for oyntment, bowes and arrowes, targets and clubs. this house is fiftie or sixtie yards in length, frequented onely by priests. at the foure corners [ii. .] of this house stand foure images as sentinels, one of a dragon, another a beare, the third like a leopard, and the fourth like a giantlike man, all made evill favouredly, according to their best workemanship. _his wives._ _his successors._ {mn} he hath as many women as he will, whereof when he lieth on his bed, one sitteth at his head, and another at his feet, but when he sitteth, one sitteth on his right hand and another on his left. as he is weary of his women, he bestoweth them on those that best deserve them at his hands. when he dineth or suppeth, one of his women before and after meat, bringeth him water in a wooden platter to wash his hands. another waiteth with a bunch of feathers to wipe them in stead of a towell, and the feathers when he hath wiped are dryed againe. {mn} his kingdomes descend not to his sonnes nor children, but first to his brethren, whereof he hath . namely, opitchapan, opechancanough, and catataugh, and after their decease to his sisters. first to the eldest sister, then to the rest, and after them to the heires male or female of the eldest sister, but never to the heires of the males. _their authoritie._ {mn- } _the tenor of their lands._ {mn- } _his manner of punishments._ {mn- } he nor any of his people understand any letters, whereby to write or reade, onely the lawes whereby he ruleth is custome. {mn- } yet when he listeth his will is a law and must be obeyed: not onely as a king, but as halfe a god they esteeme him. his inferiour kings whom they call werowances, are tyed to rule by customes, and have power of life and death at their command in that nature. but this word werowance, which we call and construe for a king, is a common word, whereby they call all commanders: for they have but few words in their language, and but few occasions to use any officers more then one commander, which commonly they call werowance, or caucorouse, which is captaine. {mn- } they all know their severall lands, and habitations, and limits, to fish, foule, or hunt in, but they hold all of their great their lands. werrowance powhatan, unto whom they pay tribute of skinnes, beads, copper, pearle, deere, turkies, wild beasts, and corne. what he commandeth they dare not disobey in the least thing. it is strange to see with what great feare and adoration, all these people doe obey this powhatan. for at his feet they present whatsoever he commandeth, and at the least frowne of his brow, their greatest spirits will tremble with feare: and no marvell, for he is very terrible & tyrannous in punishing such as offend him. {mn- } for example, he caused certaine malefactors to be bound hand and foot, then having of many fires gathered great store of burning coales, they rake these coales round in the forme of a cockpit, and in the midst they cast the offenders to broyle to death. sometimes he causeth the heads of them that offend him, to be laid upon the altar or sacrificing stone, and one with clubbes beats out their braines. when he would punish any notorious enemy or malefactor, he causeth him to be tyed to a tree, and with mussell shels or reeds, the executioner cutteth off his joynts one after another, ever casting what they cut of into the fire; then doth he proceed with shels and reeds to case the skinne from his head and face; then doe they rip his belly and so burne him with the tree and all. thus themselves reported they executed george cassen. their ordinary correction is to beate them with cudgels. we have seene a man kneeling on his knees, and at powhatans command, two men have beate him on the bare skin, till he hath fallen senselesse in a sound, and yet never cry nor complained. and he made a woman for playing the whore, sit upon a great stone, on her bare breech twenty-foure houres, onely with corne and water, every three dayes, till nine dayes were past, yet he loved her exceedingly: notwithstanding there are common whores by profession. in the yeare , he surprised the people of payankatank his neare neighbours and subjects. the occasion was to us unknowne, but the manner was thus. first he sent divers of his men as to lodge amongst them that night, then the ambuscadoes environed all their houses, and at the houre appointed, they all fell to the spoyle, twenty-foure men they slew, the long haire of the one side of their heads, with the skinne cased off with shels or reeds, they brought away. they surprised also the women, and the children, and the werowance. all these they presented to powhatan. the werowance, women and children became his prisoners, and doe him service. [ii. .] the lockes of haire with their skinnes he hanged on a line betwixt two trees. and thus he made ostentation of his triumph at werowocomoco, where he intended to have done as much to mee and my company. and this is as much as my memory can call to minde worthy of note; which i have purposely collected, to satisfie my friends of the true worth and qualitie of virginia. yet some bad natures will not sticke to slander the countrey, that will slovenly spit at all things, especially in company where they can finde none to contradict them. who though they were scarce ever ten myles from james towne, or at the most but at the falles; yet holding it a great disgrace that amongst so much action, their actions were nothing, exclaime of all things, though they never adventured to know any thing; nor ever did any thing but devoure the fruits of other mens labours. being for most part of such tender educations, and small experience in martiall accidents, because they found not english cities, nor such faire houses, nor at their owne wishes any of their accustomed dainties, with feather beds and downe pillowes, tavernes and alehouses in every breathing place, neither such plentie of gold and silver and dissolute libertie, as they expected, had little or no care of any thing, but to pamper their bellies, to fly away with our pinnaces, or procure their meanes to returne for england. for the country was to them a misery, a ruine, a death, a hell, and their reports here, and their actions there according. some other there were that had yearely stipends to passe to and againe for transportation: who to keepe the mysterie of the businesse in themselves, though they had neither time nor meanes to know much of themselves; yet all mens actions or relations they so formally tuned to the temporizing times simplicitie, as they could make their ignorances seeme much more, then all the true actors could by their experience. and those with their great words deluded the world with such strange promises, as abused the businesse much worse then the rest. for the businesse being builded upon the foundation of their fained experience, the planters, the money and meanes have still miscarried: yet they ever returning, and the planters so farre absent, who could contradict their excuses? which, still to maintaine their vaine glory and estimation, from time to time have used such diligence as made them passe for truths, though nothing more false. and that the adventurers might be thus abused, let no man wonder; for the wisest living is soonest abused by him that hath a faire tongue and a dissembling heart. there were many in virginia meerely projecting, verball, and idle contemplators, and those so devoted to pure idlenesse, that though they had lived two or three yeares in virginia, lordly, necessitie it selfe could not compell them to passe the peninsula, or pallisadoes of james towne, and those witty spirits, what would they not affirme in the behalfe of our transporters, to get victuall from their ships, or obtaine their good words in england, to get their passes. thus from the clamors, and the ignorance of false informers, are sprung those disasters that sprung in virginia: and our ingenious verbalists were no lesse plague to us in virginia, then the locusts to the egyptians. for the labour of twentie or thirtie of the best onely preserved in christianitie by their industry the idle livers of neare two hundred of the rest: who living neere ten moneths of such naturall meanes, as the country naturally of it selfe afforded, notwithstanding all this, and the worst fury of the salvages, the extremitie of sicknesse, mutinies, faction, ignorances, and want of victuall; in all that time i lost but seaven or eight men, yet subjected the salvages to our desired obedience, and received contribution from thirtie five of their kings, to protect and assist them against any that should assault them, in which order they continued true and faithfull, and as subjects to his majestie, so long after as i did governe there, untill i left the countrey: since, how they have revolted, the countrie lost, and againe replanted, and the businesses hath succeded from time to time, i referre you to the relations of them returned from virginia, that have beene more diligent in such observations. john smith writ this with his owne hand. [ii. .] because many doe desire to know the manner of their language, i have inserted these few words. ka katorawinos yowo, what call you this. nemarough, a man. grenepo, a woman. marowanchesso, a boy. yehawkans, houses. matchcores, skins, or garments. mockasins, shooes. tussan, beds. pokatawer, fire. attawp, a bow. attonce, arrowes. monacookes, swords. aumouhhowgh, a target. pawcussacks, gunnes. tomahacks, axes. tockahacks, pickaxes. pamesacks, knives. accowprets, sheares. pawpecones, pipes. mattassin, copper. ussawassin, iron, brass, silver, or any white mettall. musses, woods. attasskuss, leaves, weeds, or grasse. chepsin, land. shacquohocan, a stone. wepenter, a cookold. suckahanna, water. noughmass, fish. copotone, sturgeon. weghshaughes, flesh. sawwehone, bloud. netoppew, friends. marrapough, enemies. maskapow, the worst of the enemies. mawchick chammay, the best of friends. casacunnakack, peya quagh acquintan uttasantasough, in how many daies will there come hither any more english ships. their numbers. necut, . ningh, . nuff, . yowgh, . paranske, . comotinch, . toppawoss, . nusswash, , kekatawgh, . kaskeke, . they count no more but by tennes as followeth. case, how many. ninghsapooeksku, . nussapooeksku, . yowghapooeksku, . parankestassapooeksku, . comatinchtassapooeksku, . nussswashtassapooeksku, . kekataughtassapooeksku, . necuttoughtysinough, . necuttweunquaough, . rawcosowghs, dayes. keskowghes, sunnes. toppquough, nights. nepawweshowghs, moones. pawpaxsoughes, yeares. pummahumps, starres. osies, heavens. okees, gods. quiyoughcosoughs, pettie gods, and their affinities. righcomoughes, deaths. kekughes, lives. mowchick woyawgh tawgh noeragh kaqueremecher, i am very hungry? what shall i eate? tawnor nehiegh powhatan, where dwels powhatan. mache, nehiegh yourowgh, orapaks, now he dwels a great way hence at orapaks. vittapitchewayne anpechitchs nehawper werowacomoco, you lie, he staid ever at werowacomoco. kator nehiegh mattagh neer uttapitchewayne, truely he is there i doe not lie. spaughtynere keragh werowance mawmarinough kekaten wawgh peyaquaugh, run you then to the king mawmarynough and bid him come hither. utteke, e peya weyack wighwhip, get you gone, & come againe quickly. kekaten pokahontas patiaquagh niugh tanks manotyens neer mowchick rawrenock audowgh, bid pokahontas bring hither two little baskets, and i will give her white beads to make her a chaine. finis. the third booke. [iii. .] the proceedings and accidents of the english colony in virginia, extracted from the authors following, by william simons, doctour of divinitie. chapter i. a.d. . _sir thomas smith, treasurer._ it might well be thought, a countrie so faire (as virginia is) and a people so tractable, would long ere this have beene quietly possessed, to the satisfaction of the adventurers, & the eternizing of the memory of those that effected it. but because all the world doe see a defailement; this following treatise shall give satisfaction to all indifferent readers, how the businesse hath bin carried: where no doubt they will easily understand and answer to their question, how it came to passe there was no better speed and successe in those proceedings. _the first mover of the action._ _orders for government._ {mn} captaine bartholomew gosnoll, one of the first movers of this plantation, having many yeares solicited many of his friends, but found small assistants; at last prevailed with some gentlemen, as captaine john smith, mr. edward-maria wingfield, mr. robert hunt, and divers others, who depended a yeare upon his projects, but nothing could be effected, till by their great charge and industrie, it came to be apprehended by certaine of the nobilitie, gentry, and marchants, so that his majestie by his letters patents, gave commission for establishing councels, to direct here; and to governe, and to execute there. to effect this, was spent another yeare, and by that, three ships were provided, one of tuns, another of . and a pinnace of . the transportation of the company was committed to captaine christopher newport, a marriner well practised for the westerne parts of america. {mn} but their orders for government were put in a box, not to be opened, nor the governours knowne untill they arrived in virginia. on the of december, . we set sayle from blackwall, but by unprosperous winds, were kept six weekes in the sight of england; all which time, mr. hunt our preacher, was so weake and sicke, that few expected his recovery. yet although he were but twentie myles from his habitation (the time we were in the downes) and notwithstanding the stormy weather, nor the scandalous imputations (of some few, little better then atheists, of the greatest ranke amongst us) suggested against him, all this could never force from him so much as a seeming desire to leave the busines, but preferred the service of god, in so good a voyage, before any affection to contest with his godlesse foes, whose disasterous [iii. .] designes (could they have prevailed) had even then overthrowne the businesse, so many discontents did then arise, had he not with the water of patience, and his godly exhortations (but chiefly by his true devoted examples) quenched those flames of envie, and dissention. a.d. . _monica an unfrequented isle full of birds._ {mn- } _their first landing._ {mn- } _matters of government._ {mn- } we watered at the canaries, we traded with the salvages at dominica; three weekes we spent in refreshing our selves amongst these west-india isles; in gwardalupa we found a bath so hot, as in it we boyled porck as well as over the fire. {mn- } and at a little isle called monica, we tooke from the bushes with our hands, neare two hogs-heads full of birds in three or foure houres. in mevis, mona, and the virgin isles, we spent some time, where, with a lothsome beast like a crocodil, called a gwayn, tortoises, pellicans, parrots, and fishes, we daily feasted. gone from thence in search of virginia, the company was not a little discomforted, seeing the marriners had dayes passed their reckoning and found no land, so that captaine ratliffe (captaine of the pinnace) rather desired to beare up the helme to returne for england, then make further search. but god the guider of all good actions, forcing them by an extreame storme to hull all night, did drive them by his providence to their desired port, beyond all their expectations, for never any of them had seene that coast. {mn- } the first land they made they called cape henry; where thirtie of them recreating themselves on shore, were assaulted by five salvages, who hurt two of the english very dangerously. that night was the box opened, and the orders read, in which bartholomew gosnoll, john smith, edward wingfield, christopher newport, john ratliffe, john martin, and george kendall, were named to be the councell, and to choose a president amongst them for a yeare, who with the councell should governe. {mn- } matters of moment were to be examined by a jury, but determined by the major part of the councell, in which the president had two voyces. untill the of may they sought a place to plant in, then the councell was sworne, mr. wingfield was chosen president, and an oration made, why captaine smith was not admitted of the councell as the rest. _the discovery of the falles & powhatan._ {mn- } _the fort assaulted by salvages._ {mn- } now falleth every man to worke, the councell contrive the fort, the rest cut downe trees to make place to pitch their tents; some provide clapbord to relade the ships, some make gardens, some nets, &c. the salvages often visited us kindly. the presidents overweening jealousie would admit no exercise at armes, or fortification, but the boughs of trees cast together in the forme of a halfe moone by the extraordinary paines and diligence of captaine kendall, newport, smith, and twentie others, were sent to discover the head of the river: {mn- } by divers small habitations they passed, in six dayes they arrived at a towne called powhatan, consisting of some twelve houses, pleasantly seated on a hill; before it three fertile isles, about it many of their cornefields, the place is very pleasant, and strong by nature, of this place the prince is called powhatan, and his people powhatans, to this place the river is navigable: but higher within a myle, by reason of the rockes and isles, there is not passage for a small boat, this they call the falles, the people in all parts kindly intreated them, till being returned within twentie myles of james towne, they gave just cause of jealousie, but had god not blessed the discoverers otherwise then those at the fort, there had then beene an end of that plantation; {mn- } for at the fort, where they arrived the next day, they found men hurt, and a boy slaine by the salvages, and had it not chanced a crosse barre shot from the ships strooke down a bough from a tree amongst them, that caused them to retire, our men had all beene slaine, being securely all at worke, and their armes in dry fats. captain smith reinstated _captain newports return for england._ {mn} hereupon the president was contented the fort should be pallisadoed, the ordnance mounted, his men armed and exercised, for many were the assaults, and ambuscadoes of the salvages; & our men by their disorderly stragling were often hurt, when the salvages by the nimblenesse of their heeles well escaped. what toyle we had, with so small a power to guard our workemen adayes, watch all night, resist our enemies, and effect our businesse, to relade the ships, cut downe trees, and prepare the ground to plant our corne, &c, i referre to the readers consideration. six weekes being spent in this manner, captaine newport (who was hired onely for our [iii. .] transportation) was to return with the ships. now captaine smith who all this time from their departure from the canaries was restrained as a prisoner upon the scandalous suggestions of some of the chiefe (envying his repute) who fained he intended to usurpe the government, murther the councell, and make himselfe king, that his confederats were dispersed in all the three ships, and that divers of his confederats that revealed it, would affirme it, for this he was committed as a prisoner: thirteene weekes he remained thus suspected, and by that time the ships should returne they pretended out of their commisserations, to referre him to the councell in england to receive a check, rather then by particulating his designes make him so odious to the world, as to touch his life, or utterly overthrow his reputation. but he so much scorned their charitie, and publikely defied the uttermost of their crueltie, he wisely prevented their policies, though he could not suppresse their envies, yet so well he demeaned himselfe in this businesse, as all the company did see his innocency, and his adversaries malice, and those suborned to accuse him, accused his accusers of subornation; many untruthes were alledged against him; but being so apparently disproved, begat a generall hatred in the hearts of the company against such unjust commanders, that the president was adjudged to give him l. so that all he had was seized upon, in part of satisfaction, which smith presently returned to the store for the generall use of the colony. many were the mischiefes that daily sprung from their ignorant (yet ambitious) spirits; but the good doctrine and exhortation of our preacher mr. hunt reconciled them, and caused captaine smith to be admitted of the councell; the next day all received the communion, the day following the salvages voluntarily desired peace, {mn} and captaine newport returned for england with newes; leaving in virginia . the of june . by this observe; good men did ne'r their countries ruine bring. but when evill men shall injuries beginne; not caring to corrupt and violate the judgements-seats for their owne lucr's sakes then looke that country cannot long have peace, though for the present it have rest and ease. the first colonists a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ the names of them that were the first planters, were these following. councel. mr. edward maria captaine john smith. wingfield. captaine john ratliffe. captaine bartholomew captaine john martin. gosnoll. captaine george kendall. gent. mr. robert hunt preacher. john penington. mr. george percie. jeremy alicock. anthony gosnoll. george walker. george flower. thomas studley. cap. gabriell archer. richard crofts. robert fenton. nicholas houlgrave. robert ford. thomas webbe. [iii. .] william bruster. john waller. edward harrington. john short. dru pickhouse. william tankard. thomas jacob. william smethes. john brookes. francis snarsbrough. ellis kingston. richard simons. thomas sands. edward brookes. benjamin beast. richard dixon. jehu robinson. john martin. thomas mouton. roger cooke. eustace clovill. anthony gosnold. stephen halthrop. tho: wotton, chirurg. kellam throgmorton. john stevenson. edward morish. thomas gore. nathaniell powell. henry adling. edward browne. francis midwinter. robert behethland. richard frith. carpenters. william laxon. thomas emry. edward pising. robert small. labourers. john laydon. old edward. william cassen. henry tavin. george cassen. george goulding. thomas cassen. john dods. william rodes. william johnson. william white. william unger. jam: read, blacksmith. edward brinto, mason. jonas profit, sailer. william love, taylor. tho: cowper, barber. nic: scot, drum. will: garret, bricklayer. wil: wilkinson, chirurg. samuell collier, boy. james brumfield, boy. nat. pecock, boy. richard mutton, boy. with divers others to the number of . chap. ii. what happened till the first supply. _the occasion of sickness._ _the sailors abuses._ {mn- } _a bad president._ {mn- } _plentie unexpected._ {mn- } being thus left to our fortunes, it fortuned that within ten dayes scarce ten amongst us could either goe, or well stand, such extreame weaknes and sicknes oppressed us. and thereat none need marvaile, if they consider the cause and reason, which was this; whilest the ships stayed, our allowance was somewhat bettered, by a daily proportion of bisket, {mn- } which the sailers would pilfer to sell, give, or exchange with us, for money, saxefras, furres, or love. but when they departed, there remained neither taverne, beere house, nor place of reliefe, but the common kettell. had we beene as free from all sinnes as gluttony, and drunkennesse, we might have beene canonized for saints; but our president would never have beene admitted, for ingrossing to his private, oatmeale, sacke, oyle, aquavitae, beefe, egges, or what not, but the kettell; that indeed he allowed equally to be distributed, and that was halfe a pint of wheat, and as much barley boyled with water for a man a day, and this having fryed some . weekes in the ships hold, contained as many wormes as graines; so that we might truely call it rather so much bran then corne, our drinke was water, our lodgings castles in the ayre: with this lodging and dyet, our extreame toile in bearing and planting pallisadoes, so strained and bruised us, and our continuall labour in the extremitie of the heat had so weakned us, as were cause sufficient to have made us as miserable in our native countrey, or any other place in the world. from may, to september, those that escaped, lived upon sturgeon, and sea-crabs, fiftie in this time we buried, {mn- } the rest seeing the presidents projects to escape these miseries in our pinnace by flight (who all this time had neither felt want nor sicknes) so moved our dead spirits, as we deposed him; and established ratcliffe in his place, (gosnoll being dead) kendall deposed, smith newly recovered, martin and ratcliffe was by his care preserved and relieved, and the most of the souldiers recovered, with the skilfull diligence of mr. thomas wotton our chirurgian generall. but now was all our provision spent, the sturgeon gone, all helps abandoned, each houre expecting the fury of the salvages; {mn- } when god the patron of all good indevours, in that desperate extremitie so changed the hearts of the salvages, that they brought such plenty of their fruits, and provision, as no man wanted. and now where some affirmed it was ill done of the councell to send forth men so badly provided, this incontradictable reason will shew them plainely they are too ill advised to nourish such ill conceits; first, the fault [iii. .] of our going was our owne, what could be thought fitting or necessary we had, but what we should find, or want, or where we should be, we were all ignorant, and supposing to make our passage in two moneths, with victuall to live, and the advantage of the spring to worke; we were at sea five moneths, where we both spent our victuall and lost the opportunitie of the time, and season to plant, by the unskilfull presumption of our ignorant transporters, that understood not at all, what they undertooke. such actions have ever since the worlds beginning beene subject to such accidents, and every thing of worth is found full of difficulties, but nothing so difficult as to establish a common wealth so farre remote from men and meanes, and where mens mindes are so untoward as neither doe well themselves, nor suffer others. but to proceed. _the building of james towne._ {mn- } _the beginning of trade abroad._ {mn- } the new president and martin, being little beloved, of weake judgement in dangers, and lesse industrie in peace, committed the managing of all things abroad to captaine smith: {mn- } who by his owne example, good words, and faire promises, set some to mow, others to binde thatch, some to build houses, others to thatch them, himselfe alwayes bearing the greatest taske for his owne share, so that in short time, he provided most of them lodgings, neglecting any for himselfe. this done, seeing the salvages superfluitie beginne to decrease (with some of his workemen) shipped himselfe in the shallop to search the country for trade. the want of the language, knowledge to mannage his boat without sailes, the want of a sufficient power, (knowing the multitude of the salvages) apparell for his men, and other necessaries, were infinite impediments, yet no discouragement. {mn- } being but six or seaven in company he went downe the river to kecoughtan, where at first they scorned him, as a tarnished man, and would in derision offer him a handfull of corne, a peece of bread, for their swords and muskets, and such like proportions also for their apparell. but seeing by trade and courtesie there was nothing to be had, he made bold to try such conclusions as necessitie inforced, though contrary to his commission: let fly his muskets, ran his boat on shore, whereat they all fled into the woods. so marching towards their houses, they might see great heapes of corne: much adoe he had to restraine his hungry souldiers from present taking of it, expecting as it hapned that the salvages would assault them, as not long after they did with a most hydeous noyse. sixtie or seaventie of them, some blacke, some red, some white, some party-coloured, came in a square order, singing and dauncing out of the woods, with their okee (which was an idoll made of skinnes, stuffed with mosse, all painted and hung with chaines and copper) borne before them: and in this manner being well armed, with clubs, targets, bowes and arrowes, they charged the english, that so kindly received them with their muskets loaden with pistoll shot, that downe fell their god, and divers lay sprauling on the ground; the rest fled againe to the woods, and ere long sent one of their quiyoughkasoucks to offer peace, and redeeme their okee. smith told them, if onely six of them would come unarmed and loade his boat, he would not only be their friend, but restore them their okee, and give them beads, copper, and hatchets besides: which on both sides was to their contents performed: and then they brought him venison, turkies, wild foule, bread, and what they had, singing and dauncing in signe of friendship till they departed. in his returne he discovered the towne and country of warraskoyack. thus god unboundlesse by his power, made them thus kind, would us devour. _amoris, a salvage his best friend slaine for loving us. the discovery of chickahamine._ _another project to abandon the country._ {mn- } _john robinson and thomas emry slaine._ {mn- } smith perceiving (notwithstanding their late miserie) not any regarded but from hand to mouth (the company being well recovered) caused the pinnace to be provided with things fitting to get provision for the yeare following; but in the interim he made . or . journies and discovered the people of chickahamania: yet what he carefully provided the rest carelessly spent. wingfield and kendall living in disgrace, seeing all things at randome in the [iii. .] absence of smith, the companies dislike of their presidents weaknes, and their small love to martins never mending sicknes, strengthened themselves with the sailers, and other confederates to regaine their former credit and authority, or at least such meanes abord the pinnace, (being fitted to saile as smith had appointed for trade) to alter her course and to goe for england. smith unexpectedly returning had the plot discovered to him, much trouble he had to prevent it, till with store of sakre and musket shot he forced them stay or sinke in the river, which action cost the life of captaine kendall. these brawles are so disgustfull, as some will say they were better forgotten, yet all men of good judgement will conclude, it were better their basenes should be manifest to the world, then the busines beare the scorne and shame of their excused disorders. the president and captaine archer not long after intended also to have abandoned the country, which project also was curbed, and suppressed by smith. {mn- } the spaniard never more greedily desired gold then he victuall, nor his souldiers more to abandon the country, then he to keepe it. but finding plentie of corne in the river of chickahamania where hundreds of salvages in divers places stood with baskets expecting his comming. and now the winter approaching, the rivers became so covered with swans, geese, duckes, and cranes, that we daily feasted with good bread, virginia pease, pumpions, and putchamins, fish, fowle, and diverse sorts of wild beasts as far as we could eate them: so that none of our tuftaffaty humorists desired to goe for england. but our comaedies never endured long without a tragedie; some idle exceptions being muttered against captaine smith, for not discovering the head of chickahamania river, and taxed by the councell, to be too slow in so worthy an attempt. the next voyage hee proceeded so farre that with much labour by cutting of trees in sunder he made his passage, but when his barge could passe no farther, he left her in a broad bay out of danger of shot, commanding none should goe a shore till his returne: himselfe with two english and two salvages went up higher in a canowe, but hee was not long absent, but his men went a shore, whose want of government, gave both occasion and opportunity to the salvages to surprise one george cassen, whom they slew, and much failed not to have cut of the boat and all the rest. {mn- } smith little dreaming of that accident, being got to the marshes at the rivers head, twentie myles in the desert, had his two men slaine (as is supposed) sleeping by the canowe, whilst himselfe by fowling sought them victuall, who finding he was beset with . salvages, two of them hee slew, still defending himselfe with the ayd of a salvage his guid, whom he bound to his arme with his garters, and used him as a buckler, yet he was shot in his thigh a little, and had many arrowes that stucke in his cloathes but no great hurt, till at last they tooke him prisoner. when this newes came to james towne, much was their sorrow for his losse, fewe expecting what ensued. sixe or seven weekes those barbarians kept him prisoner, many strange triumphes and conjurations they made of him, yet hee so demeaned himselfe amongst them, as he not onely diverted them from surprising the fort, but procured his owne libertie, and got himselfe and his company such estimation amongst them, that those salvages admired him more then their owne quiyouckosucks. the manner how they used and delivered him is as followeth. _captaine smith taken prisoner._ the salvages having drawne from george cassen whether captaine smith was gone, prosecuting that opportunity they followed him with . bowmen, conducted by the king of pamaunkee, who in divisions searching the turnings of the river, found robinson and emry by the fire side; those they shot full of arrowes and slew. then finding the captaine, as is said, that used the salvage that was his guide as his shield (three of them being slaine and divers other so gauld) all the rest would not come neere him. thinking thus to have returned to his boat, regarding them, as he marched, more then his way, slipped up to the middle in an oasie creeke & his salvage with him, yet durst they not come to him till, being neere dead with cold, he threw away his armes. then according to their composition they drew him forth and led him to the fire, where his men were slaine. [iii. .] diligently they chafed his benummed limbs. he demanding for their captaine, they shewed him opechankanough, king of pamaunkee, to whom he gave a round ivory double compass dyall. much they marvailed at the playing of the fly and needle, which they could see so plainely, and yet not touch it, because of the glasse that covered them. but when he demonstrated by that globe-like jewell, the roundnesse of the earth, and skies, the spheare of the sunne, moone, and starres, and how the sunne did chase the night round about the world continually; the greatnesse of the land and sea, the diversitie of nations, varietie of complexions, and how we were to them antipodes, and many other such like matters, they all stood as amazed with admiration. notwithstanding, within an houre after they tyed him to a tree, and as many as could stand about him prepared to shoot him, but the king holding up the compass in his hand, they all laid downe their bowes and arrowes, and in a triumphant manner led him to orapaks, where he was after their manner kindly feasted, and well used. _the order they observed in their triumph._ their order in conducting him was thus; drawing themselves all in fyle, the king in the middest had all their peeces and swords borne before him. captaine smith was led after him by three great salvages, holding him fast by each arme: and on each side six went in fyle with their arrowes nocked. but arriving at the towne (which was but onely thirtie or fortie hunting houses made of mats, which they remove as they please, as we our tents) all the women and children staring to behold him, the souldiers first all in fyle performed the forme of a bissom so well as could be, and on each flanke, officers as serjeants to see them keepe their orders. a good time they continued this exercise, and then cast themselves in a ring, dauncing in such severall postures, and singing and yelling out such hellish notes and screeches; being strangely painted, every one his quiver of arrowes, and at his backe a club; on his arme a fox or an otters skinne, or some such matter for his vambrace; their heads and shoulders painted red, with oyle and pocones mingled together, which scarlet-like colour made an exceeding handsome shew; his bow in his hand, and the skinne of a bird with her wings abroad dryed, tyed on his head, a peece of copper, a white shell, a long feather, with a small rattle growing at the tayles of their snaks tyed to it, or some such like toy. all this while smith and the king stood in the middest guarded, as before is said, and after three dances they all departed. smith they conducted to a long house, where thirtie or fortie tall fellowes did guard him, and ere long more bread and venison was brought him then would have served twentie men, i thinke his stomacke at that time was not very good; what he left they put in baskets and tyed over his head. about midnight they set the meate againe before him, all this time not one of them would eate a bit with him, till the next morning they brought him as much more, and then did they eate all the old, & reserved the new as they had done the other, which made him thinke they would fat him to eat him. yet in this desperate estate to defend him from the cold, one maocassater brought him his gowne, in requitall of some beads and toyes smith had given him at his first arrivall in virginia. _how he should have been slaine at orapacks._ two dayes after a man would have slaine him (but that the guard prevented it) for the death of his sonne, to whom they conducted him to recover the poore man then breathing his last. smith told them that at james towne he had a water would doe it, if they would let him fetch it, but they would not permit that; but made all the preparations they could to assault james towne, craving his advice, and for recompence he should have life, libertie, land, and women. in part of a table booke he writ his minde to them at the fort, what was intended, how they should follow that direction to affright the messengers, and without fayle send him such things as he writ for. and an inventory with them. the difficultie and danger, he told the salvages, of the mines, great-gunnes, and other engins exceedingly affrighted them, yet according to his request they went to james towne, in as bitter weather as could be of frost and snow, and within three dayes returned with an answer. _how he saved james towne from being surprised._ _how they did conjure him at pamuankee._ {mn} but when they came to james towne, seeing men sally out as he had told them they would, they fled; yet in the night they came againe to the same place where he had told them they should receive an answer, and such things [iii. ] as he had promised them, which they found accordingly, and with which they returned with no small expedition, to the wonder of them all that heard it, that he could either divine, or the paper could speake: then they led him to the youthtanunds, the mattapanients, the payankatanks, the nantaughtacunds, and onawmanients upon the rivers of raphanock, and patawomek, over all those rivers, and backe againe by divers other severall nations, to the kings habitation at pamaunkee, {mn} where they entertained him with most strange and fearefulle conjurations. as if neare led to hell, amongst the devils to dwell. not long after, early in a morning a great fire was made in a long house, and a mat spread on the one side, as on the other; on the one they caused him to sit, and all the guard went out of the house, and presently came skipping in a great grim fellow, all painted over with coale, mingled with oyle; and many snakes and wesels skins stuffed with mosse, and all their tayles tyed together, so as they met on the crowne of his head in a tassell; and round about the tassell was as a coronet of feathers, the skins hanging round about his head, backe, and shoulders, and in a manner covered his face; with a hellish voyce and a rattle in his hand. with most strange gestures and passions he began his invocation, and environed the fire with a circle of meale; which done, three more such like devils came rushing in with the like antique tricks, painted halfe blacke, halfe red: but all their eyes were painted white, and some red stroakes like mutchato's, along their cheekes: round about him those fiends daunced a pretty while, and then came in three more as ugly as the rest; with red eyes, and white stroakes over their blacke faces, at last they all sat downe right against him; three of them on the one hand of the chiefe priest, and three on the other. then all with their rattles began a song, which ended, the chiefe priest layd downe five wheat cornes: then strayning his armes and hands with such violence that he sweat, and his veynes swelled, he began a short oration: at the conclusion they all gave a short groane; and then layd down three graines more. after that, began their song againe, and then another oration, ever laying downe so many cornes as before, till they had twice incirculed the fire; that done, they tooke a bunch of little stickes prepared for that purpose, continuing still their devotion, and at the end of every song and oration, they layd downe a sticke betwixt the divisions of corne. till night, neither he nor they did either eate or drinke, and then they feasted merrily, with the best provisions they could make. three dayes they used this ceremony; the meaning whereof they told him was to know if he intended them well or no. the circle of meale signified their country, the circles of corne the bounds of the sea, and the stickes his country. they imagined the world to be flat and round, like a trencher, and they in the middest. after this they brought him a bagge of gunpowder, which they carefully preserved till the next spring, to plant as they did their corne; because they would be acquainted with the nature of that seede. opitchapam the kings brother invited him to his house, where, with as many platters of bread, foule, and wild beasts; as did environ him, he bid him wellcome; but not any of them would eate a bit with him, but put up all the remainder in baskets. at his returne to opechancanoughs, all the kings women, and their children, flocked about him for their parts, as a due by custome, to be merry with such fragments. but his waking mind in hydeous dreames did oft see wondrous shapes, of bodies strange, and huge in growth, and of stupendious makes. _how powhatan entertained him._ _how pocahontas saved his life_ {mn} at last they brought him to meronocomo, where was powhatan their emperor. here more then two hundred of those grim courtiers stood wondering at him, as he had beene a monster; till powhatan and his trayne had put themselves in their greatest braveries. before a fire upon a seat like a bedsted, he sat covered with a great robe, made of rarowcun skinnes, and all the tayles hanging by. on either hand did sit a young wench of or yeares, and along on each side the house, two rowes of [iii. ] men, and behind them as many women, with all their heads and shoulders painted red; many of their heads bedecked with the white downe of birds; but every one with something: and a great chayne of white beads about their necks. at his entrance before the king, all the people gave a great shout. the queene of appamatuck was appointed to bring him water to wash his hands, and another brought him a bunch of feathers, in stead of a towell to dry them; having feasted him after their best barbarous manner they could, a long consultation was held, but the conclusion was, two great stones were brought before powhatan: then as many as could layd hands on him, dragged him to them, and thereon laid his head, and being ready with their clubs, to beate out his braines, {mn} pocahontas the kings dearest daughter, when no intreaty could prevaile, got his head in her armes, and laid her owne upon his to save him from death: whereat the emperour was contented he should live to make him hatchets, and her bells, beads, and copper; for they thought him as well of all occupations as themselves. for the king himselfe will make his owne robes, shooes, bowes, arrowes, pots; plant, hunt, or doe any thing so well as the rest. they say he bore a pleasant shew, but sure his heart was sad. for who can pleasant be, and rest, that lives in feare and dread: and having life suspected, doth it still suspected lead. _how powhatan sent him to james towne._ {mn- } _the third project to abandon the countrey._ {mn- } two dayes after, powhatan having disguised himselfe in the most fearefull manner he could, caused capt. smith to be brought forth to a great house in the woods, and there upon a mat by the fire to be left alone. {mn- } not long after from behinde a mat that divided the house, was made the most dolefullest noyse he ever heard; then powhatan more like a devill then a man with some two hundred more as blacke as himselfe, came unto him and told him now they were friends, and presently he should goe to james towne, to send him two great gunnes, and a grynd-stone, for which he would give him the country of capahowosick, and for ever esteeme him as his sonne nantaquoud. so to james towne with guides powhatan sent him. that night they quarterd in the woods, he still expecting (as he had done all this long time of his imprisonment) every houre to be put to one death or other: for all their feasting. but almightie god (by his divine providence) had mollified the hearts of those sterne barbarians with compassion. the next morning betimes they came to the fort, where smith having used the salvages with what kindnesse he could, he shewed rawhunt, powhatans trusty servant two demi-culverings & a millstone to carry powhatan: they found them some-what too heavie; but when they did see him discharge them, being loaded with stones, among the boughs of a great tree loaded with isickles, the yce and branches came so tumbling downe, that the poore salvages ran away halfe dead with feare. but at last we regained some conference with them, and gave them such toyes; and sent to powhatan, his women, and children such presents, as gave them in generall full content. {mn- } now in james towne they were all in combustion, the strongest preparing once more to run away with the pinnace; which with the hazzard of his life, with sakre falcon and musket shot, smith forced now the third time to stay or sinke. some no better then they should be, had plotted with the president, the next day to have put him to death by the leviticall law, for the lives of robinson and emry, pretending the fault was his that had led them to their ends: but he quickly tooke such order with such lawyers, that he layd them by the heeles till he sent some of them prisoners for england. now ever once in foure or five dayes, pocahontas with her attendants, brought him so much provision, that saved many of their lives, that els for all this had starved with hunger. thus from numbe death our good god sent reliefe, the sweete asswager of all other griefe. _a true proofe of gods love to the action._ his relation of the plenty he had seene, especially at werawocomoco, [iii. .] and of the state and bountie of powhatan, (which till that time was unknowne) so revived their dead spirits (especially the love of pocahontas) as all mens feare was abandoned. thus you may see what difficulties still crossed any good indevour: and the good successe of the businesse being thus oft brought to the very period of destruction; yet you see by what strange means god hath still delivered it. as for the insufficiency of them admitted in commission, that error could not be prevented by the electors; there being no other choise, and all strangers to each others education, qualities, or disposition. and if any deeme it a shame to our nation to have any mention made of those inormities, let them peruse the histories of the spanyards discoveries and plantations, where they may see how many mutinies, disorders, and dissentions have accompanied them, and crossed their attempts: which being knowne to be particular mens offences; doth take away the generall scorne and contempt, which malice, presumption, covetousnesse, or ignorance might produce; to the scandall and reproach of those, whose actions and valiant resolutions deserve a more worthy respect. _of two evils the lesse was chosen._ {mn} now whether it had beene better for captaine smith, to have concluded with any of those severall projects, to have abandoned the countrey, with some ten or twelve of them, who were called the better sort, and have left mr. hunt our preacher, master anthony gosnoll, a most honest, worthy, and industrious gentleman, master thomas wotton, and some others of his countrymen to the fury of the salvages, famine, and all manner of mischiefes, and inconveniences, (for they were but fortie in all to keepe possession of this large country;) or {mn} starve himselfe with them for company, for want of lodging: or but adventuring abroad to make them provision, or by his opposition to preserve the action, and save all their lives; i leave to the censure of all honest men to consider. but we men imagine in our jolitie, that 'tis all one, or good or bad to be. but then anone wee alter this againe, if happily wee feele the sence of paine; for then we're turn'd into a mourning vaine. written by thomas studley, the first cape merchant in virginia, robert fenton, edward harrington, and j. s. chap. iii. the arrivall of the first supply, with their proceedings, and the ships returne. a. d. _the phoenix from cape henry forced to the west indies._ {mn} all this time our care was not so much to abandon the countrey; but the treasurer and councell in england, were as diligent & carefull to supply us. two good ships they sent us, with neare a hundred men, well furnished with all things could be imagined necessary, both for them and us; the one commanded by captaine newport: the other by captaine francis nelson, an honest man, and an expert marriner. {mn} but such was the lewardnesse of his ship (that though he was within the sight of cape henry) by stormy contrary winds was he forced so farre to sea, that the west indies was the next land, for the repaire of his masts, and reliefe of wood and water. but newport got in and arrived at james towne, not long after the redemption of captaine smith. to whom the salvages, as is sayd, every other day repaired, with such provisions that sufficiently did serve them from hand to mouth: part alwayes they brought him as presents from their kings, or pocahontas; the rest he as their market clarke set the price himselfe, how they should sell: so he had inchanted these poore [iii. .] soules being their prisoner; and now newport, whom he called his father arriving, neare as directly as he foretold, they esteemed him as an oracle, and had them at that submission he might command them what he listed. that god that created all things they knew he adored for his god: they would also in their discourses tearme the god of captaine smith. _their opinion of our god._ thus the almightie was the bringer on, the guide, path, terme, all which was god alone. _smiths revisting powhatan_ {mn} but the president and councell so much envied his estimation among the salvages, (though we all in generall equally participated with him of the good thereof,) that they wrought it into the salvages understandings (by their great bounty in giving foure times more for their commodities then smith appointed) that their greatnesse and authoritie as much exceeded his, as their bountie and liberalitie. now the arrivall of this first supply so overjoyed us, that wee could not devise too much to please the marriners. we gave them libertie to trucke or trade at their pleasures. but in a short time it followed, that could not be had for a pound of copper, which before was sould us for an ounce: thus ambition and sufferance cut the throat of our trade, but confirmed their opinion of the greatnesse of capt. newport, (wherewith smith had possessed powhatan) especially by the great presents newport often sent him, before he could prepare the pinnace to goe and visit him: so that this great savage desired also to see him. a great coyle there was to set him forward. {mn} when he went he was accompanied with captaine smith, & mr. scrivener, a very wise understanding gentleman, newly arrived and admitted of the councell, with thirtie or fortie chosen men for their guard. arriving at werowocomoco, newports conceit of this great savage bred many doubts and suspitions of trecheries, which smith to make appeare was needlesse, with twentie men well appointed, undertooke to encounter the worst that could happen: knowing all is but one, and selfe-same hand, that thus both one while scourgeth, and that helpeth us. gent. nathaniell powell, richard wyffin. robert behethland. john taverner. michell phittiplace. william dyer. william phittiplace. thomas coe. anthony gosnoll. thomas hope. anas todkill. _powhatan his entertainment._ {mn- } _the exchange of a christian for a salvage._ {mn- } these, with nine others (whose names i have forgotten) comming a-shore, landed amongst a many of creekes, over which they were to passe such poore bridges, onely made of a few cratches, thrust in the ose, and three or foure poles laid on them, and at the end of them the like, tyed together onely with barkes of trees, that it made them much suspect those bridges were but traps. which caused smith to make diverse salvages goe over first, keeping some of the chiefe as hostage till halfe his men were passed, to make a guard for himselfe and the rest. but finding all things well, by two or three hundred salvages they were kindly conducted to their towne. {mn- } where powhatan strained himselfe to the utmost of his greatnesse to entertaine them, with great shouts of joy, orations of protestations; and with the most plenty of victualls he could provide to feast them. sitting upon his bed of mats, his pillow of leather imbrodered (after their rude manner with pearle and white beads) his attyre a faire robe of skinnes as large as an irish mantell: at his head and feete a handsome young woman: on each side his house sat twentie of his concubines, their heads and shoulders painted red, with a great chaine of white beads about each of their neckes. before those sat his chiefest men in like order in his arbour-like house, and more then fortie platters of fine bread stood as a guard in two fyles on each side the doore. foure or five hundred people made a guard behinde them for our passage; and proclamation was made, none upon paine of death to presume to doe us any wrong or discourtesie. with many pretty discourses to renew their old acquaintance, [iii. ] this great king and our captaine spent the time, till the ebbe left our barge aground. then renewing their feasts with feates, dauncing and singing, and such like mirth, we quartered that night with powhatan. the next day newport came a shore and received as much content as those people could give him: {mn- } a boy named thomas salvage was then given unto powhatan, whom newport called his sonne; for whom powhatan gave him namontack his trustie servant, and one of a shrewd, subtill capacitie. three or foure dayes more we spent in feasting, dauncing, and trading, wherein powhatan carried himselfe so proudly, yet discreetly (in his salvage manner) as made us all admire his naturall gifts, considering his education. as scorning to trade as his subjects did; he bespake newport in this manner. _powhatans speech._ _differences of opinion._ {mn- } _james towne burnt._ {mn- } _a ship idely loytering . weekes._ {mn- } _the effect of mere verbalists._ {mn- } _a needlesse charge._ {mn- } _a return to england._ {mn- } captaine newport it is not agreeable to my greatnesse, in this pedling manner to trade for trifles; and i esteeme you also a great werowance. therefore lay me downe all your commodities together; what i like i will take, and in recompence give you what i thinke fitting their value. captaine smith being our interpreter, regarding newport as his father, knowing best the disposition of powhatan, tould us his intent was but onely to cheate us; yet captaine newport thinking to out brave this salvage in ostentation of greatnesse, and so to bewitch him with his bountie, as to have what he listed, it so hapned, that powhatan having his desire, valued his corne at such a rate, that i thinke it better cheape in spaine: for we had not foure bushells for that we expected to have twentie hogsheads. {mn- } this bred some unkindnesse betweene our two captaines; newport seeking to please the unsatiable desire of the salvage, smith to cause the salvage to please him; but smothering his distast to avoyd the salvages suspition, glanced in the eyes of powhatan many trifles, who fixed his humor upon a few blew beades. a long time he importunately desired them, but smith seemed so much the more to affect them, as being composed of a most rare substance of the coulour of the skyes, and not to be worne but by the greatest kings in the world. this made him halfe madde to be the owner of such strange jewells: so that ere we departed, for a pound or two of blew beades, he brought over my king for . or . bushells of corne; yet parted good friends. the like entertainment we found of opechankanough king of pamaunkee, whom also he in like manner fitted (at the like rates) with blew beads, which grew by this meanes, of that estimation, that none durst weare any of them but their great kings, their wives and children. and so we returned all well to james towne, {mn- } where this new supply being lodged with the rest, accidentally fired their quarters and so the towne, which being but thatched with reeds, the fire was so fierce as it burnt their pallisado's, (though eight or ten yards distant) with their armes, bedding, apparell, and much private provision. good master hunt our preacher lost all his library and all he had but the cloathes on his backe: yet none never heard him repine at his losse. this happned in the winter in that extreame frost, . {mn- } now though we had victuall sufficient i meane onely of oatmeale, meale and corne, yet the ship staying . weekes when shee might as wel have beene gone in . dayes, spent a great part of that, and neare all the rest that was sent to be landed. when they departed what there discretion could spare us, to make a little poore meale or two, we called feastes, to relish our mouthes: of each somwhat they left us, yet i must confesse, those that had either money, spare clothes credit to give billes of paiment, gold rings, furrs, or any such commodities, were ever welcome to this removing taverne, such was our patience to obay such vile commanders, and buy our owne provisions at times the value, suffering them feast (we bearing the charge) yet must not repine, but fast, least we should incurre the censure of factious and seditious persons: and then leakage, ship-rats, and other casuallties occasioned them losse, but the vessels and remnants (for totals) we were glad to receave with all our hearts to make up the account, highly commending their providence for preserving that, least they should discourage any more to come to us. now for all this plenty our ordynary was but meale and water, so that this great charge little releeved our wants, whereby with the extremitie of the bitter cold frost and those [iii. .] defects, more then halfe of us dyed; i cannot deny but both smith and skrivener did their best to amend what was amisse, but with the president went the major part, that there hornes were to short. {mn- } but the worst was our guilded refiners with their golden promises made all men their slaves in hope of recompences; there was no talke, no hope, no worke, but dig gold, wash gold, refine gold, loade gold, such a bruit of gold, that one mad fellow desired to be buried in the sands least they should by there art make gold of his bones: little neede there was and lesse reason, the ship should stay, there wages run on, our victualls consume . weekes, that the mariners might say, they did helpe to build such a golden church that we can say the raine washed neere to nothing in . dayes. {mn- } were it that captaine smith would not applaude all those golden inventions, because they admitted him not to the sight of their trialls nor golden consultations, i know not; but i have heard him oft question with captaine martin & tell him, except he could shew him a more substantiall triall, he was not inamoured with their durty skill, breathing out these and many other passions, never any thing did more torment him, then to see all necessary busines neglected, to fraught such a drunken ship with so much guilded durt. till then we never accounted, captaine newport a refiner, {mn- } who being ready to set saile for england, & we not having any use of parliaments, plaies, petitions, admiralls, recorders, interpreters, chronologers, courts of plea, nor justices of peace, sent master wingfield and captaine archer home with him, that had ingrossed all those titles, to seeke some better place of imployment. oh cursed gold those, hunger-starved movers, to what misfortunes lead'st thou all those lovers! for all the china wealth, nor indies can suffice the minde of an av'ritious man. chap. iiii. the arrivall of the phoenix; her returne; and other accidents. _the rebuilding james towne._ {mn- } _sixtie appointed to discover the monacans._ {mn- } the authoritie now consisting in captaine martin, and the still sickly president, the sale of the stores commodities maintained his estate, as an inheritable revenew. {mn- } the spring approaching, and the ship departing, mr. scrivener and captaine smith devided betwixt them the rebuilding james towne; the repairing our pallizadoes; the cutting downe trees; preparing our fields; planting our corne, and to rebuild our church, and recover our store house. all men thus busie at their severall labours, master nelson arrived with his lost phoenix; lost (i say) for that we all deemed him lost. landing safely all his men, (so well he had mannaged his ill hap,) causing the indian isles to feede his company, that his victuall to that we had gotten, as is said before, was neare after our allowance sufficient for halfe a yeare. he had not any thing but he freely imparted it, which honest dealing (being a marriner) caused us admire him: we would not have wished more then he did for us. now to relade this ship with some good tydings, the president (not holding it stood with the dignitie of his place to leave the fort) gave order to captaine smith to discover and search the commodities of the monacans countrey beyond the falls. {mn- } sixtie able men was allotted them, the which within six dayes, smith had so well trained to their armes and orders, that they little feared with whom they should incounter: yet so unseasonable was the time, and so opposit was captaine martin to any thing, but onely to fraught this ship also with his phantasticall gold, as captaine smith rather desired to relade her with cedar, (which was a present dispatch) then either with durt, or the hopes and reports of an uncertaine discovery, which he would performe when they had lesse charge and more leisure. but, the god of heav'n, he eas'ly can [iii. .] immortalize a mortall man, with glory and with fame. the same god, ev'n as eas'ly may afflict a mortall man, i say, with sorrow and with shame. whilst the conclusion was a resolving, this hapned. _an ill example to sell swords to salvages._ _the presidents weaknesse._ {mn- } _smiths attempt to suppresse the salvages insolences._ {mn- } _powhatans excuse._ {mn- } powhatan (to expresse his love to newport) when he departed, presented him with twentie turkies, conditionally to returne him twentie swords, which immediately was sent him; now after his departure he presented captaine smith with the like luggage, but not finding his humor obeyed in not sending such weapons as he desired, he caused his people with twentie devices to obtaine them. at last by ambuscadoes at our very ports they would take them perforce, surprise us at worke, or any way; which was so long permitted, they became so insolent there was no rule; the command from england was so strait not to offend them, {mn- } as our authoritie-bearers (keeping their houses) would rather be any thing then peace-breakers. this charitable humor prevailed, till well it chanced they medled with captaine smith, {mn- } who without farther deliberation gave them such an incounter, as some he so hunted up and downe the isle, some he so terrified with whipping, beating, and imprisonment, as for revenge they surprised two of our forraging disorderly souldiers, and having assembled their forces, boldly threatned at our ports to force smith to redeliver seven salvages, which for their villanies he detained prisoners, or we were all but dead men. but to try their furies he sallied out amongst them, and in lesse then an houre, he so hampred their insolencies, they brought them his two men, desiring peace without any further composition for their prisoners. those he examined, and caused them all beleeve, by severall vollies of shot one of their companions was shot to death, because they would not confesse their intents and plotters of those villanies. and thus they all agreed in one point, they were directed onely by powhatan to obtaine him our weapons, to cut our owne throats, with the manner where, how, and when, which we plainly found most true and apparant: {mn- } yet he sent his messengers, and his dearest daughter pocahontas with presents to excuse him of the injuries done by some rash untoward captaines his subjects, desiring their liberties for this time, with the assurance of his love for ever. after smith had given the prisoners what correction he thought fit, used them well a day or two after, & then delivered them pocahontas, for whose sake onely he fayned to have saved their lives, and gave them libertie. the patient councell that nothing would move to warre with the salvages, would gladly have wrangled with captaine smith for his crueltie, yet none was slaine to any mans knowledge, but it brought them in such feare and obedience, as his very name would sufficiently affright them; where before, wee had sometime peace and warre twice in a day, and very seldome a weeke, but we had some trecherous villany or other. _a ship fraught with cedar._ the fraught of this ship being concluded to be cedar, by the diligence of the master, and captaine smith, she was quickly reladed: master scrivener was neither idle nor slow to follow all things at the fort; the ship being ready to set sayle, captaine martin being alwayes very sickly, and unserviceable, and desirous to injoy the credit of his supposed art of finding the golden mine, was most willingly admitted to returne for england. for he hath not fill'd his lapp, that still doth hold it oap. from the writings of thomas studley, and anas todkill. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ their names that were landed in this supply. [iii. .] mathew scrivener appointed to be one of the councell. gent. michaell phittiplace. doctor russell. william phittiplace. jeffrey abbot. ralph morton. edward gurgana. richard wyffing. richard worley. john taverner. timothy leeds. william cantrell. richard killingbeck. robert barnes. william spence. richard fetherstone. richard prodger. george hill. richard pots. george pretty. richard mullinax. nathaniell causy. william bayley. peter pory. francis perkins. robert cutler. john harper. michaell sicklemore. george forest. william bentley. john nichols. thomas coe. william grivell. labourers. raymond goodison. nicholas ven. william simons. francis perkins. john spearman. richard gradon. richard bristow. rawland nelstrop. william perce. richard savage. james watkins. thomas savage. john bouth. richard milmer. christopher rods. william may. richard burket. vere. james burre. michaell. bishop wiles. taylers. thomas hope. william yong. william ward. william beckwith. john powell. larence towtales. apothecaries. thomas field. john harford. danl: stallings, jeweller. richard belfield, will: dawson, a refiner. a goldsmith. abram ransack, a refiner. post ginnat, a chirurg. wil: johnson, a goldsmith. john lewes, a cooper. peter keffer, a gunsmith. robert cotton, a tobacco rob: alberton, a perfumer. pipe-maker. richard dole, a blacksmith. and divers others to the number of . discovery of the chesapeake a.d. . chapter v. the accidents that hapned in the discovery of the bay of chisapeack. the prodigalitie of the presidents state went so deepe into our small store, that smith and scrivener tyed him and his parasites to the rules of proportion. but now smith being to depart, the presidents authoritie so overswayed the discretion of mr. scrivener, that our store, our time, our strength and labours were idely consumed to fulfill his phantasies. the second of june . smith left the fort to performe his discovery with this company. walter russell, doctor of physicke. gentlemen. ralfe murton. richard fetherston. thomas momford. james burne. william cantrill. michell sicklemore. souldiers. jonas profit. james watkins. anas todkill. john powell. robert small. james read. richard keale. _a strange mortalitie of salvages._ {mn- } _russels isles._ {mn- } _wighcocomoco._ {mn- } _an extreame want of fresh water._ {mn- } these being in an open barge neare three tuns burthen, leaving the phoenix at cape henry, they crossed the bay to the easterne shore, and fell with the isles called smiths isles, after our captaines name. the first people we saw were two grim and stout salvages upon cape charles, with long poles like javelings, headed with bone, they [iii. .] boldly demanded what we were, and what we would; but after many circumstances they seemed very kinde, and directed us to accomack, the habitation of their werowance, where we were kindly intreated. this king was the comliest, proper, civill salvage we incountred. his country is a pleasant fertile clay soyle, some small creekes; good harbours for small barks, but not for ships. {mn- } he told us of a strange accident lately happened him, and it was, two children being dead; some extreame passions, or dreaming visions, phantasies, or affection moved their parents againe to revisit their dead carkases, whose benummed bodies reflected to the eyes of the beholders such delightfull countenances, as though they had regained their vitall spirits. this as, a miracle drew many to behold them, all which being a great part of his people, not long after dyed, and but few escaped. they spake the language of powhatan, wherein they made such descriptions of the bay, isles, and rivers, that often did us exceeding pleasure. passing along the coast, searching every inlet, and bay, fit for harbours and habitations. seeing many isles in the midst of the bay we bore up for them, but ere we could obtaine them, such an extreame gust of wind, rayne, thunder, and lightening happened, that with great danger we escaped the unmercifull raging of that ocean-like water. {mn- } the highest land on the mayne, yet it was but low, we called keales hill, and these uninhabited isles, russels isles. {mn- } the next day searching them for fresh water, we could find none, the defect whereof forced us to follow the next easterne channell, which brought us to the river of wighcocomoco. the people at first with great fury seemed to assault us, yet at last with songs and daunces and much mirth became very tractable, but searching their habitations for water, we could fill but three barricoes, & that such puddle, that never till then we ever knew the want of good water. {mn- } we digged and searched in many places, but before two daies were expired, we would have refused two barricoes of gold for one of that puddle water of wighcocomoco. being past these isles which are many in number, but all naught for habitation, falling with a high land upon the mayne, we found a great pond of fresh water, but so exceeding hot wee supposed it some bath; that place we called poynt ployer, in honor of that most honourable house of mousay in britaine, that in an extreame extremitie once relieved our captaine. from wighcocomoco to this place, all the coast is low broken isles of mira's, growne a myle or two in breadth, and ten or twelve in length, good to cut for hay in summer, and to catch fish and foule in winter: but the land beyond them is all covered over with wood, as is the rest of the country. _their barge neare sunke in a gust._ {mn- } _cuskarawaock._ {mn- } _the first notice of the massawomeks._ {mn- } _bolus river._ {mn- } being thus refreshed in crossing over from the maine to other isles, we discovered the winde and waters so much increased with thunder, lightning, and raine, {mn- } that our mast and sayle blew overbord and such mighty waves overracked us in that small barge that with great labour we kept her from sinking by freeing out the water. two dayes we were inforced to inhabite these uninhabited isles which for the extremitie of gusts, thunder, raine, stormes, and ill wether we called limbo. repairing our saile with our shirts, {mn- } we set sayle for the maine and fell with a pretty convenient river on the east called cuskarawaok, the people ran as amazed in troups from place to place, and divers got into the tops of trees, they were not sparing of their arrowes, nor the greatest passion they could expresse of their anger. long they shot, we still ryding at an anchor without there reatch making all the signes of friendship we could. the next day they came unarmed, with every one a basket, dancing in a ring, to draw us on shore: but seeing there was nothing in them but villany, we discharged a volly of muskets charged with pistoll shot, whereat they all lay tumbling on the grownd, creeping some one way, some another into a great cluster of reedes hard by; where there companies lay in ambuscado. towards the evening we wayed, & approaching the shoare, discharging five or six shot among the reedes, we landed where there lay a many of baskets and much bloud, but saw not a salvage. a smoake appearing on the other side the river, we rowed thither, where we found two or three little houses, in each a fire, there we left some peeces of copper, beads, bells, and looking glasses, and then went into the bay, but when it was darke we came backe againe. early, [iii. .] in the morning foure salvages came to us in their canow whom we used with such courtesie, not knowing what we were, nor had done, having beene in the bay a fishing, bade us stay and ere long they would returne, which they did and some twentie more with them; with whom after a little conference, two or three thousand men women & children came clustring about us, every one presenting us with something, which a little bead would so well requite, that we became such friends they would contend who should fetch us water, stay with us for hostage, conduct our men any whither, and give us the best content. here doth inhabite the people of sarapinagh, nause, arseek, and nantaquak the best marchants of all other salvages. {mn- } they much extolled a great nation called massawomekes, in search of whom we returned by limbo: this river but onely at the entrance is very narrow, and the people of small stature as them of wightcocomoco, the land but low, yet it may prove very commodious, because it is but a ridge of land betwixt the bay and the maine ocean. finding this easterne shore, shallow broken isles, and for most part without fresh water, we passed by the straites of limbo for the westerne shore: so broad is the bay here, we could scarce perceive the great high clifts on the other side: by them we anchored that night and called them riccards cliftes. . leagues we sayled more northwards not finding any inhabitants, leaving all the easterne shore, lowe islandes, but overgrowne with wood, as all the coast beyond them so farre as wee could see: the westerne shore by which we sayled we found all along well watered, but very mountanous and barren, the vallies very fertill, but extreame thicke of small wood so well as trees, and much frequented with wolves, beares, deere and other wild beasts. {mn- } we passed many shallow creekes, but the first we found navigable for a ship, we called bolus, for that the clay in many places under the clifts by the high water marke, did grow up in red and white knots as gum out of trees; and in some places so participated together as though they were all of one nature, excepting the coulour, the rest of the earth on both sides being hard sandy gravell, which made us thinke it bole-armoniack and terra sigillata. when we first set sayle some of our gallants doubted nothing but that our captaine would make too much hast home, but having lien in this small barge not above . or . dayes, oft tyred at the oares, our bread spoyled with wet so much that it was rotten (yet so good were their stomacks that they could disgest it) they did with continuall complaints so importune him now to returne, as caused him bespeake them in this manner. _smith's speech to his souldiers._ _the discovery of patawomek._ {mn} gentlemen if you would remember the memorable history of sir ralph layne, how his company importuned him to proceed in the discovery of moratico, alleadging they had yet a dog, that being boyled with saxafras leaves, would richly feede them in their returnes; then what a shame would it be for you (that have bin so suspitious of my tendernesse) to force me returne, with so much provision as we have, and scarce able to say where we have beene, nor yet heard of that we were sent to seeke? you cannot say but i have shared with you in the worst which is past; and for what is to come, of lodging, dyet, or whatsoever, i am contented you allot the worst part to my selfe. as for your feares that i will lose my selfe in these unknowne large waters, or be swallowed up in some stormie gust; abandon these childish feares, for worse then is past is not likely to happen: and there is as much danger to returne as to proceede. regaine therefore your old spirits for returne i will not (if god please) till i have seene the massawomeks, found patawomek, or the head of this water you conceit to be endlesse. {mn} two or . dayes we expected winde & wether, whose adverse extremities added such discouragement, that three or foure fell sicke, whose pittifull complaints caused us to returne, leaving the bay some nine miles broad, at nine and ten fadome water. _ambuscadoes of salvages._ {mn} the . of june we fell with the river patowomek: feare being gone, and our men recovered, we were all content to take some paines, to know the name of that seven mile broad river: for thirtie myles sayle, we could see no inhabitants: {mn} then we were conducted by two salvages up a little bayed creeke, towards onawmanient, where all the woods were layd with ambuscado's to the number of three or foure thousand salvages, so strangely paynted, grimed and disguised, shouting, yelling and crying as so many spirits from hell could not have shewed more terrible. many bravado's they made, but to appease their fury, our captaine prepared with as seeming a willingnesse (as they) to incounter them. but the grazing of our bullets upon the water (many being shot on purpose they might see them) with the ecco of the woods so amazed them, as downe went their bowes and arrowes; (and exchanging hostage) james watkins was sent six myles up the woods to their kings habitation. we were kindly used of those salvages, of whom we understood, they were commanded to betray us, by the direction of powhatan, and he so directed from the discontents at james towne, because our captaine did cause them stay in their country against their wills. _a trecherous project._ _a myne like antimony._ {mn- } _an aboundant plenty of fish._ {mn- } the like incounters we found at patowomek cecocawonee and divers other places: but at moyaones, nacotchtant and toags the people did their best to content us. having gone so high as we could with the bote, we met divers salvages in canowes, well loaden with the flesh of beares, deere and other beasts, whereof we had part, here we found mighty rocks, growing in some places above the grownd as high as the shrubby trees, and divers other solid quarries of divers tinctures: and divers places where the waters had falne from the high mountaines they had left a tinctured spangled skurfe, that made many bare places seeme as guilded. digging the grownde above in the highest cliffs of rocks, we saw it was a claie sand so mingled with yeallow spangles as if it had beene halfe pin-dust. in our returne inquiring still for this matchqueon, the king of patawomeke gave us guides to conduct us up a little river called quiyough, up which we rowed so high as we could. leaving the bote, with six shot, and divers salvages, he marched seven or eight myle before they came to the mine: leading his hostages in a small chaine they were to have for their paines, being proud so richly to be adorned. {mn- } the mine is a great rocky mountaine like antimony; wherein they digged a great hole with shells & hatchets: and hard by it, runneth a fayre brooke of christal-like water, where they wash away the drosse and keepe the remainder, which they put in little baggs and sell it all over the country to paint there bodyes, faces, or idols; which makes them looke like blackmores dusted over with silver. with so much as we could carry we returned to our bote, kindly requiting this kinde king and all his kinde people. the cause of this discovery was to search this mine, of which newport did assure us that those small baggs (we had given him) in england he had tryed to hold halfe silver; but all we got proved of no value: also to search what furrs, the best whereof is at cuscarawaoke, where is made so much rawranoke or white beads that occasion as much dissention among the salvages, as gold and silver amongst christians; and what other mineralls, rivers, rocks, nations, woods, fishings, fruites, victuall, and what other commodities the land afforded: and whether the bay were endlesse or how farre it extended: of mines we were all ignorant, but a few bevers, otters, beares, martins and minkes we found, {mn- } and in divers places that aboundance of fish, lying so thicke with their heads above the water, as for want of nets (our barge driving amongst them) we attempted to catch them with a frying pan: but we found it a bad instrument to catch fish with: neither better fish, more plenty, nor more variety for smal fish, had any of us ever seene in any place so swimming in the water, but they are not to be caught with frying pans: some small codd also we did see swim close by the shore by smiths iles, and some as high as riccards clifts. and some we have found dead upon the shore. _how to deale with the salvages._ _captaine smith neare killed with a stingray._ {mn} to express all our quarrels, trecheries and encounters amongst those salvages i should be too tedious: but in breefe, at all times we so incountred them, and curbed their insolencies, that they concluded with presents to purchase peace; yet we lost not a man: at our first meeting our captaine ever observed this order to demand their bowes and arrowes, swordes, mantells and furrs, with some childe or two for hostage, whereby we could quickly perceive, when they intended any villany. having finished this discovery (though our victuall was neere spent) he intended to see his imprisonment-acquaintances [iii. .] upon the river of rapahanock, by many called toppahanock, but our bote by reason of the ebbe, chansing to grownd upon a many shoules lying in the entrances, we spyed many fishes lurking in the reedes: our captaine sporting himselfe by nayling them to the grownd with his sword, set us all a fishing in that manner: thus we tooke more in one houre then we could eate in a day. {mn} but it chansed our captaine taking a fish from his sword (not knowing her condition) being much of the fashion of a thornback, but a long tayle like a ryding rodde, whereon the middest is a most poysoned sting, of two or three inches long, bearded like a saw on each side, which she strucke into the wrest of his arme neere an inch and a halfe: no bloud nor wound was seene, but a little blew spot, but the torment was instantly so extreame, that in foure houres had so swolen his hand, arme and shoulder, we all with much sorrow concluded his funerall, and prepared his grave in an island by, as himselfe directed: yet it pleased god by a precious oyle docter russell at the first applyed to it when he sounded it with probe (ere night) his tormenting paine was so well asswaged that he eate of the fish to his supper, which gave no lesse joy and content to us then ease to himselfe, for which we called the island stingray isle after the name of the fish. _the salvages affrightened with their owne suspition._ {mn- } _needlesse misery at james towne._ {mn- } having neither chirurgian, nor chirurgery, but that preservative oyle we presently set sayles for james towne, passing the mouthes of the rivers of payankatank, & pamaunkee, the next day we safely arrived at kecougtan. {mn- } the simple salvages seeing our captaine hurt, and an other bloudy by breaking his shinne, our numbers of bowes, arrowes, swords, mantles, and furrs, would needes imagine we had beene at warres (the truth of these accidents would not satisfie them) but impatiently importuned us to know with whom. finding their aptnesse to beleeve we fayled not (as a great secret) to tell them any thing that might affright them, what spoyle we had got and made of the massawomeks. this rumor went faster up the river then our barge, that arrived at waraskoyack the of july; where trimming her with painted streamers, and such devises as we could, we made them at james towne jealous of a spanish frigot, where we all god be thanked safely arrived the of july. {mn- } there we found the last supply were all sicke, the rest some lame, some bruised, all unable to doe any thing but complaine of the pride and unreasonable needlesse crueltie of the silly president, that had riotously consumed the store: and to fulfill his follies about building him an unnecessary building for his pleasure in the woods, had brought them all to that misery; that had we not arrived, they had as strangely tormented him with revenge: but the good newes of our discovery, and the good hope we had by the salvages relation, that our bay had stretched into the south sea, or somewhat neare it, appeased their fury; but conditionally that ratliffe should be deposed, and that captaine smith would take upon him the government, as by course it did belong. their request being effected, he substituted mr. scrivener his deare friend in the presidency, equally distributing those private provisions the other had ingrossed, appointing more honest officers to assist master scrivener (who then lay exceeding sicke of a callenture) and in regard of the weaknesse of the company, and heate of the yeare, they being unable to worke, he left them to live at ease, to recover their healths, but imbarked himselfe to finish his discovery. written by walter russell, anas todkill, and thomas momford. chap. vi. the government surrendred to master scrivener. what happened the second voyage in discovering the bay. the of july, captaine smith set forward to finish the discovery with twelve men: their names were gentlemen. [iii. .] nathaniell powell. michell sicklemore. thomas momford. james bourne. richard fetherston. anthony bagnall, chir. souldiers. jonas profit. richard keale. anas todkill. james watkins. edward pising. william ward. _the salvages admire fireworks._ {mn- } _an incounter with massawomeks at the head of the bay._ {mn- } the wind being contrary caused our stay two or three dayes at kecoughtan: the king feasted us with much mirth, his people were perswaded we went purposely to be revenged of the massawomeks. {mn- } in the evening we fired a few rackets, which flying in the ayre so terrified the poore salvages, they supposed nothing unpossible we attempted; and desired to assist us. the first night we anchored at stingray isle. the next day crossed patawomeks river, and hasted to the river bolus. we went not much further before we might see the bay to divide in two heads, and arriving there we found it divided in foure, all which we searched so farre as we could sayle them. {mn- } two of them we found inhabited, but in crossing the bay, we incountred or canowes full of massawomeks, we seeing them prepare to assault us, left our oares and made way with our sayle to incounter them, yet were we but five with our captaine that could stand, for within dayes after we left kecoughtan, the rest (being all of the last supply) were sicke almost to death, untill they were seasoned to the country. having shut them under our tarpawling, we put their hats upon stickes by the barges side, and betwixt two hats a man with two peeces, to make us seeme many, and so we thinke the indians supposed those hats to be men, for they fled with all possible speed to the shore, and there stayed, staring at the sayling of our barge till we anchored right against them. long it was ere we could draw them to come unto us. at last they sent two of their company unarmed in a canow, the rest all followed to second them if neede required. these two being but each presented with a bell, brought aboord all their fellowes, presenting our captaine with venison, beares flesh, fish, bowes, arrowes, clubs, targets, and beares-skinnes. we understood them nothing at all, but by signes, whereby they signified unto us they had beene at warres with the tockwoghes, the which they confirmed by showing us their greene wounds, but the night parting us, we imagined they appointed the next morning to meete, but after that we never saw them. _an incounter with the tockwoghs._ entring the river of tockwogh, the salvages all armed, in a fleete of boats, after their barbarous manner, round invironed us; so it chanced one of them could speake the language of powhatan, who perswaded the rest to a friendly parley. but when they saw us furnished with the massawomeks weapons, and we faining the invention of kecoughtan, to have taken them perforce; they conducted us to their pallizadoed towne, mantelled with the barkes of trees, with scaffolds like mounts, brested about with brests very formally. their men, women, and children with daunces, songs, fruits, furres, and what they had, kindly welcommed us, spreading mats for us to sit on, stretching their best abilities to expresse their loves. _hatchets from the sasquesahanocks._ many hatchets, knives, peeces of iron, and brasse, we saw amongst them, which they reported to have from the sasquesahanocks, a mightie people and mortall enemies with the massawomeks. the sasquesahanocks inhabit upon the chiefe spring of these foure branches of the bayes head, two dayes journey higher then our barge could passe for rocks, yet we prevailed with the interpreter to take with him another interpreter, to perswade the sasquesahanocks to come visit us, for their language are different. three or foure dayes we expected their returne, then sixtie of those gyant-like people came downe, with presents of venison, tobacco-pipes three foot in length, baskets, targets, bowes and arrowes. five of their chiefe werowances came boldly aboord us to crosse the bay for tockwhogh, leaving their men and canowes; the wind being so high they durst not passe. _the sasquesahanocks offer to the english._ {mn} our order was daily to have prayer, with a psalme, at which solemnitie the poore salvages much wondred, our prayers being done, a while they were busied with a consultation till they had contrived their businesse. [iii. .] {mn} then they began in a most passionate manner to hold up their hands to the sunne, with a most fearefull song, then embracing our captaine, they began to adore him in like manner: though he rebuked them, yet they proceeded till their song was finished: which done with a most strange furious action, and a hellish voyce, began an oration of their loves; that ended, with a great painted beares skin they covered him: then one ready with a great chayne of white beads, weighing at least six or seaven pound, hung it about his necke, the others had mantels, made of divers sorts of skinnes sowed together; all these with many other toyes they layd at his feete, stroking their ceremonious hands about his necke for his creation to be their governour and protector, promising their aydes, victualls, or what they had to be his, if he would stay with them, to defend and revenge them of the massawomeks. but we left them at tockwhogh, sorrowing for our departure, yet we promised the next yeare againe to visit them. many descriptions and discourses they made us, of atquanachuck, massawomek, & other people, signifying they inhabit upon a great water beyond the mountaines, which we understood to be some great lake, or the river of canada: and from the french to have their hatchets and commodities by trade. these know no more of the territories of powhatan, then his name, and he as little of them, but the atquanachuks are on the ocean sea. the highest mountaine we saw northward wee called perigrines mount, and a rocky river, where the massawomeks went up, willowbyes river, in honor of the towne our captaine was borne in, and that honorable house the lord willowby, his most honored good friend. the sasquesahanocks river we called smiths falles; the next poynt to tockwhogh, pisings poynt; the next it poynt bourne. powells isles and smals poynt is by the river bolus; and the little bay at the head profits poole; watkins, reads, and momfords poynts are on each side limbo; ward, cantrell, and sicklemore, betwixt patawomek and pamaunkee, after the names of the discoverers. in all those places and the furthest we came up the rivers, we cut in trees so many crosses as we would, and in many places made holes in trees, wherein we writ notes, and in some places crosses of brasse, to signifie to any, english-men had beene there. _pawtuxunt, r._ thus having sought all the inlets and rivers worth noting, we returned to discover the river of pawtuxunt; these people we found very tractable, and more civill then any, we promised them, as also the patawomeks to revenge them of the massawomeks, but our purposes were crossed. _rapahanock, r._ _the exceeding love of the salvage mosco._ {mn- } _our fight with the rapahanocks._ {mn- } in the discovery of this river some call rapahanock, we were kindly entertained by the people of moraughtacund; here we incountered our old friend mosco, a lusty salvage of wighcocomoco upon the river of patawomek, we supposed him some french mans sonne, because he had a thicke blacke bush beard, and the salvages seldome have any at all, of which he was not a little proud, to see so many of his countrymen. {mn- } wood and water he would fetch us, guide us any whether, cause divers of his countrymen helpe us towe against winde or tyde from place to place till we came to patawomek: there he rested till we returned from the head of the river, and occasioned our conduct to the mine we supposed antimony. and in the place he fayled not to doe us all the good he could, perswading us in any case not to goe to the rapahanocks, for they would kill us for being friends with the moraughtacunds that but lately had stolne three of the kings women. this we did thinke was but that his friends might onely have our trade: so we crossed the river to the rapahanocks. {mn- } there some or standing on the shore, directed us a little creeke where was good landing, and commodities for us in three or foure canowes we saw lie there: but according to our custome, we demanded to exchange a man in signe of love, which after they had a little consulted, foure or five came up to the middles, to fetch our man, and leave us one of them, shewing we need not feare them, for they had neither clubs, bowes, nor arrowes. notwithstanding, anas todkill, being sent on shore to see if he could discover any ambuscadoes, or what they had, desired to goe over the playne to fetch some wood, but they were unwilling, except we would come into the creeke, where the boat might come close ashore. todkill by degrees [iii. .] having got some two stones throwes up the playne, perceived two or three hundred men (as he thought) behind the trees, so that offering to returne to the boat, the salvages assayed to carry him away perforce, that he called to us we were betrayed, and by that he had spoke the word, our hostage was over-boord, but watkins his keeper slew him in the water. immediatly we let fly amongst them, so that they fled, & todkill escaped, yet they shot so fast that he fell flat on the ground ere he could recover the boat. here the massawomek targets stood us in good stead, for upon mosco's words, we had set them about the forepart of our boat like a forecastle, from whence we securely beat the salvages from off the plaine without any hurt: yet they shot more then a thousand arrowes, and then fled into the woods. arming our selves with these light targets (which are made of little small sticks woven betwixt strings of their hempe and silke grasse, as is our cloth, but so firmely that no arrow can possibly pierce them:) we rescued todkill, who was all bloudy by some of them who were shot by us that held him, but as god pleased he had no hurt; and following them up to the woods, we found some slaine, and in divers places much bloud. it seems all their arrowes were spent, for we heard no more of them. their canows we tooke; the arrowes we found we broke, save them we kept for mosco, to whom we gave the canowes for his kindnesse, that entertained us in the best triumphing manner, and warlike order in armes of conquest he could procure of the moraughtacunds. _the salvages disguised like bushes fight._ {mn} the rest of the day we spent in accomodating our boat, in stead of thoules wee made stickes like bedstaves, to which we fastened so many of our massawomek targets, that invironed her as wast clothes. the next morning we went up the river, and our friend mosco followed us along the shore, and at last desired to goe with us in our boat. but as we passed by pisacack, matchopeak, and mecuppom, three townes situated upon high white clay clifts; the other side all a low playne marish, and the river there but narrow. {mn} thirtie or fortie of the rapahanocks, had so accommodated themselves with branches, as we tooke them for little bushes growing among the sedge, still seeing their arrowes strike the targets, and dropped in the river: whereat mosco fell flat in the boat on his face, crying the rapahanocks, which presently we espied to be the bushes, which at our first volley fell downe in the sedge: when wee were neare halfe a myle from them, they shewed themselves dauncing and singing very merrily. the kings of pissassack, nandtaughtacund, and cuttatawomen, used us kindly, and all their people neglected not any thing to mosco to bring us to them. betwixt secobeck and massawteck is a small isle or two, which causeth the river to be broader then ordinary; there it pleased god to take one of our company called mr. fetherstone, that all the time he had beene in this country, had behaved himselfe, honestly, valiantly, and industriously, where in a little bay, we called fetherstones bay wee buryed him with a volley of shot: the rest notwithstanding their ill dyet, and bad lodging, crowded in so small a barge, in so many dangers never resting, but alwayes tossed to and againe, had all well recovered their healths. the next day wee sayled so high as our boat would float, there setting up crosses, and graving our names in the trees. our sentinell saw an arrow fall by him, though we had ranged up and downe more then an houre in digging in the earth, looking of stones, herbs, and springs, not seeing where a salvage could well hide himself. _our fight with the mannahocks._ _a salvage shot and taken prisoner._ {mn- } _his relation of their countries._ {mn- } _they cannot travell but where the woods are burnt._ [fn] _how we concluded peace with the foure kings of monahoke._ {mn- } upon the alarum by that we had recovered our armes, there was about an hundred nimble indians skipping from tree to tree, letting fly their arrows so fast as they could: the trees here served us for baricadoes as well as they. but mosco did us more service then we expected, for having shot away his quiver of arrowes, he ran to the boat for more. the arrowes of mosco at the first made them pause upon the matter, thinking by his bruit and skipping, there were many salvages. about halfe an houre this continued, then they all vanished as suddainly as they approached. mosco vanished as suddenly as they approached. mosco followed them so farre as he could see us, till they were out of sight. {mn- } as we returned there lay a salvage as dead, shot in the knee, but taking him up we found he [iii. ] had life, which mosco seeing, never was dog more furious against a beare, then mosco was to have beat out his braines, so we had him to our boat, where our chirurgian who went with us to cure our captaines hurt of the stingray, so dressed this salvage that within an houre after he looked somewhat chearefully, and did eate and speake. in the meane time we contented mosco in helping him to gather up their arrowes, which were an armefull, whereof he gloried not a little. then we desired mosco to know what he was, and what countries were beyond the mountaines; the poore salvage mildly answered, he and all with him were of hasinninga, where there are three kings more, like unto them, namely the king of stegora, the king of tauxuntania, and the king of shakahonea, that were come to mohaskahod, which is onely a hunting towne, and the bounds betwixt the kingdome of the mannahocks, and the nandtaughtacunds, but hard by where we were. we demanded why they came in that manner to betray us, that came to them in peace, and to seeke their loves; he answered, they heard we were a people come from under the world, to take their world from them. {mn- } we asked him how many worlds he did know, he replyed, he knew no more but his relation of that which was under the skie that covered him, which were the powhatans, with the monacans, and the massawomeks, that were higher up in the mountaines. then we asked him what was beyond the mountaines, he answered the sunne: but of any thing els he knew nothing; because the woods were not burnt. [fn] these and many such questions wee demanded, concerning the massawomeks, the monacans, their owne country, and where were the kings of stegora, tauxsintania, and the rest. the monacans he sayd were their neighbours and friends, and did dwell as they in the hilly countries by small rivers, living upon rootes and fruits, but chiefly by hunting. the massawomeks did dwell upon a great water, and had many boats, & so many men that they made warre with all the world. for their kings, they were gone every one a severall way with their men on hunting: but those with him came thither a fishing till they saw us, notwithstanding they would be altogether at night at mahaskahod. for his relation we gave him many toyes, with perswasions to goe with us, and he as earnestly desired us to stay the comming of those kings that for his good usage should be friends with us, for he was brother to hasinninga. but mosco advised us presently to be gone, for they were all naught, yet we told him we would not till it was night. all things we made ready to entertain what came, & mosco was as diligent in trimming his arrowes. the night being come we all imbarked, for the river was so narrow, had it beene light the land on the one side was so high, they might have done us exceeding much mischiefe. all this while the k. of hasinninga was seeking the rest, and had consultation a good time what to doe. but by their espies seeing we were gone, it was not long before we heard their arrowes dropping on every side the boat; we caused our salvages to call unto them, but such a yelling & hallowing they made that they heard nothing, but now and then a peece, ayming so neare as we could where we heard the most voyces. more then myles they followed us in this manner; then the day appearing, we found our selves in a broad bay, out of danger of their shot, where wee came to an anchor, and fell to breakfast. not so much as speaking to them till the sunne was risen; being well refreshed, we untyed our targets that covered us as a deck, and all shewed our selves with those shields on our armes, and swords in our hands, and also our prisoner amoroleck; a long discourse there was betwixt his countrimen and him, how good wee were, how well wee used him, how wee had a patawomek with us, loved us as his life, that would have slain him had we not preserved him, and that he should have his libertie would they be but friends; and to doe us any hurt it was impossible. {mn- } upon this they all hung their bowes and quivers upon the trees, and one came swimming aboord us with a bow tyed on his head, and another with a quiver of arrowes, which they delivered our captaine as a present, the captaine having used them so kindly as he could, told them the other three kings should doe the like, and then the great king of our world should be their friend, whose men we were. it was no sooner demanded but performed, so upon a low moorish poynt [iii. .] of land we went to the shore, where those foure kings came and received amoroleck: nothing they had but bowes, arrowes, tobacco-bags, and pipes: what we desired, none refused to give us, wondering at every thing we had, and heard we had done: our pistols they tooke for pipes, which they much desired, but we did content them with other commodities, and so we left foure or five hundred of our merry mannahocks, singing, dauncing, and making merry, and set sayle for moraughtacund. _how we became friends with the rapahanocks._ {mn- } _the discovery of payankatank._ {mn- } in our returnes we visited all our friends, that rejoyced much at our victory against the mannahocks, who many times had warres also with them, but now they were friends, and desired we would be friends with the rapahanocks, {mn- } as we were with the mannahocks. our captaine told them, they had twise assaulted him that came onely in love to doe them good, and therefore he would now burne all their houses, destroy their corne, and for ever hold them his enemies, till they made him satisfaction; they desired to know what that should be: he told them they should present him the kings bow and arrowes, and not offer to come armed where he was; that they should be friends with the moraughtacunds his friends, and give him their kings sonne in pledge to performe it, and then all king james his men should be their friends. upon this they presently sent to the rapahanocks to meete him at the place where they first fought, where would be the kings of nantautacund and pissassac: which according to their promise were there so soone as we; where rapahanock presented his bow and arrowes, and confirmed all we desired, except his sonne, having no more but him he could not live without him, but in stead of his sonne he would give him the three women moraughtacund had stolen. this was accepted: and so in three or foure canowes, so many as could went with us to moraughtacund, where mosco made them such relations, and gave to his friends so many bowes and arrowes, that they no lesse loved him then admired us. the women were brought our captaine, to each he gave a chayne of beads: and then causing moraughtacund, mosco, and rapahanock stand before him, bid rapahanock take her he loved best, and moraughtacund chuse next, & to mosco he gave the third. upon this away went their canowes over the water, to fetch their venison, and all the provision they could, and they that wanted boats swam over the river: the darke commanded us then to rest. the next day there was of men, women, and children, as we conjectured, six or seaven hundred, dauncing, & singing, and not a bow nor arrow seene amongst them. mosco changed his name uttasantasough, which we interpret stranger, for so they call us. all promising ever to be our friends, and to plant corne purposely for us; and we to provide hatchets, beads, and copper for them, we departed, giving them a volley of shot, and they us as loud shouts and cryes as their strengths could utter. {mn- } that night we anchored in the river of payankatank, and discovered it so high as it was navigable, but the people were most a hunting, save a few old men, women, and children, that were tending their corne, of which they promised us part when we would fetch it, as had done all the nations where ever we had yet beene. in a fayre calme, rowing towards poynt comfort, we anchored in gosnolls bay, but such a suddaine gust surprised us in the night with thunder and rayne, that we never thought more to have seene james towne. yet running before the wind, we sometimes saw the land by the flashes of fire from heaven, by which light onely we kept from the splitting shore, untill it pleased god in that blacke darknesse to preserve us by that light to finde poynt comfort: there refreshing our selves, because we had onely but heard of the chisapeacks & nandsamunds, we thought it as fit to know all our neighbours neare home, as so many nations abroad. _a notable trechery of the nandsamunds._ _the fight with the chisapeacks and nandsamunds._ {mn- } _how they became friends._ {mn- } _the proceeding at james towne._ {mn- } so setting sayle for the southerne shore, we sayled up a narrow river up the country of chisapeack; it hath a good channell, but many shoules about the entrance. by that we had sayled six or seaven myles, we saw two or three little garden plots with their houses, the shore over-growne with the greatest pyne and firre trees wee ever saw in the country. but not seeing nor hearing any people, and the river very narrow, we returned to the great river, to see if we could finde any of them. coasting the shore towards nandsamund, which is most oyster-bankes; [iii. ] at the mouth of that river, we espied six or seaven salvages making their wires, who presently fled: ashore we went, and where they wrought we threw divers toyes, and so departed. farre we were not gone ere they came againe, and began to sing, and daunce, and recall us: and thus we began our first acquaintance. at last one of them desired us to goe to his house up that river, into our boat voluntarily he came, the rest ran after us by the shore with all shew of love that could be. seaven or eight myles we sayled up this narrow river: at last on the westerne shore we saw large cornefields, in the midst a little isle, and in it was abundance of corne; the people he told us were all a hunting, but in the isle was his house, to which he invited us with much kindnesse: to him, his wife, and children, we gave such things as they seemed much contented them. the others being come, desired us also to goe but a little higher to see their houses: here our host left us, the rest rowed by us in a canow, till we were so far past the isle the river became very narrow. here we desired some of them to come abord us, wherat pausing a little, they told us they would but fetch their bows and arrowes and goe all with us, but being a-shore and thus armed, they perswaded us to goe forward, but we could neither perswade them into their canow, nor into our boat. this gave us cause to provide for the worst. farre we went not ere seaven or eight canowes full of men armed appeared following us, staying to see the conclusion. {mn- } presently from each side the river came arrowes so fast as two or three hundred could shoot them, whereat we returned to get the open. they in the canowes let fly also as fast, but amongst them we bestowed so many shot, the most of them leaped overboord and swam ashore, but two or three escaped by rowing, being against their playnes: our muskets they found shot further then their bowes, for wee made not twentie shot ere they all retyred behind the next trees. being thus got out of their trap, we seised on all their canowes, and moored them in the midst of the open. more then an hundred arrowes stucke in our targets, and about the boat, yet none hurt, onely anthony bagnall was shot in his hat, and another in his sleeve. but seeing their multitudes, and suspecting as it was, that both the nandsamunds, and the chisapeacks were together, we thought it best to ryde by their canowes a while, to bethinke if it were better to burne all in the isle, or draw them to composition, till we were provided to take all they had, which was sufficient to feed all our colony: but to burne the isle at night it was concluded. {mn- } in the interim we began to cut in peeces their canowes, and they presently to lay downe their bowes, making signes of peace: peace we told them we would accept, would they bring us their kings bowes and arrowes, with a chayne of pearle; and when we came againe give us foure hundred baskets full of corne, otherwise we would breake all their boats, and burne their houses, and corne, and all they had. to performe all this they alledged onely the want of a canow; so we put one a drift & bad them swim to fetch her: and till they performed their promise, wee would but onely breake their canowes. they cryed to us to doe no more, all should be as we would: which presently they performed, away went their bowes and arrowes, and tagge and ragge came with their baskets: so much as we could carry we tooke, and so departing good friends, we returned to james towne, where we safely arrived the . of september, . {mn- } there we found mr. scrivener, and divers others well recovered: many dead; some sicke: the late president prisoner for mutiny: by the honest diligence of master scrivener, the harvest gathered, but the provision in the store much spoyled with rayne. thus was that summer (when little wanted) consumed and spent, and nothing done (such was the government of captaine ratliffe) but onely this discovery; wherein to expresse all the dangers, accidents, and incounters this small number passed in that small barge, by the scale of proportion, about three thousand myles, with such watery dyet in those great waters and barbarous countries (till then to any christian utterly unknowne) i rather referre their merit to the censure of the courteous and experienced reader, then i would be tedious or partiall being a partie. but to this place to come who will adventure, [iii. .] with judgements guide and reason how to enter: finds in this worlds broad sea, with winde and tyde, ther's safer sayle then any where besides. but 'cause to wanton novices it is a province full of fearefulnesse i wiss; into the great vast deepe to venter out: those shallow rivers let them coast about. and by a small boat learne their first, and marke, how they may come to make a greater barke. written by anthony bagnall, nathanaell powell, and anas todkill. a.d. . chapter vii. the presidency surrendred to captaine smith: the arrivall and returne of the second supply. and what happened. _powhatans scorne when his courtesie was most deserved._ {mn- } _no better way to overthrow the business then by our instructors._ {mn- } _a consultation, where all the councell was against the president._ {mn- } _capt. smith goeth with . to powhatan, when newport feared with ._ {mn- } the tenth of september, by the election of the councell, and request of the company, captaine smith received the letters patents: which till then by no meanes he would accept, though he was often importuned thereunto. now the building of ratliffes pallace stayed as a thing needlesse; the church was repaired; the store-house recovered; buildings prepared for the supplyes we expected; the fort reduced to a five-square forme; the order of the watch renewed; the squadrons (each setting of the watch) trained; the whole company every saturday exercised, in the plaine by the west bulwarke, prepared for that purpose, we called smithfield: where sometimes more then an hundred salvages would stand in an amazement to behold, how a fyle would batter a tree, where he would make them a marke to shoot at; the boats trimmed for trade, which being sent out with lieutenant percy, in their journey incountred the second supply, that brought them backe to discover the country of monacan. how or why captaine newport obtained such a private commission, as not to returne without a lumpe of gold, a certaintie of the south sea, or one of the lost company sent out by sir walter raleigh, i know not; nor why he brought such a five peeced barge, not to beare us to that south sea, till we had borne her over the mountaines, which how farre they extend is yet unknowne. {mn- } as for the coronation of powhatan, and his presents of bason and ewer, bed, bedstead, clothes, and such costly novelties, they had beene much better well spared then so ill spent, for wee had his favour much better onely for a playne peece of copper, till this stately kinde of soliciting, made him so much overvalue himselfe, that he respected us as much as nothing at all. as for the hyring of the poles and dutch-men, to make pitch, tar, glasse, milles, and sope ashes, when the country is replenished with people, and necessaries, would have done well, but to send them and seaventie more without victualls to worke, was not so well advised nor considered of, as it should have beene. yet this could not have hurt us had they beene . though then we were that wanted for our selves. for we had the salvages in that decorum (their harvest being newly gathered,) that we feared not to get victuals for . {mn- } now was there no way to make us miserable, but to neglect that time to make provision whilst it was to be had, the which was done by the direction from england to performe this strange discovery, but a more strange coronation to loose that time, spend that victualls we had, tyre and starve our men, having no meanes to carry victuals, munition, the hurt or sicke, but on their owne backes. how or by whom they were invented i know not: but captaine newport we onely accounted the author, who to effect these projects, had so guilded mens hopes with great promises, that both company and councell concluded his resolution for the most part: god doth know they little [iii. .] knew what they did, nor understood their owne estates to conclude his conclusions, against all the inconveniences the foreseeing president alledged. {mn- } of this supply there was added to the councell, one captaine richard waldo, and captaine wynne, two auncient souldiers, and valiant gentlemen, but yet ignorant of the busines, (being but newly arrived.) ratliffe was also permitted to have his voyce, & mr. scrivener, desirous to see strange countries: so that although smith was president, yet the major part of the councell had the authoritie and ruled it as they listed. as for clearing smiths objections, how pitch and tarre, wainscot, clapbord, glasse, and sope ashes, could be provided, to relade the ship, or provision got to live withall, when none was in the country, and that we had, spent, before the ship departed to effect these projects. the answer was, captaine newport undertooke to fraught the pinnace of twentie tunnes with corne in going and returning in his discovery, and to refraught her againe from werowocomoco of powhatan. also promising a great proportion of victualls from the ship; inferring that smiths propositions were onely devices to hinder his journey, to effect it himselfe; and that the crueltie he had used to the salvages, might well be the occasion to hinder these designes, and seeke revenge on him. for which taxation all workes were left, and chosen men were appointed for newports guard in this discovery. but captaine smith to make cleare all those seeming suspitions, that the salvages were not so desperate as was pretended by captaine newport, and how willing (since by their authoritie they would have it so) he was to assist them what he could, because the coronation would consume much time, he undertooke himselfe their message to powhatan, to intreat him to come to james towne to receive his presents. {mn- } and where newport durst not goe with lesse then . he onely tooke with him captaine waldo, mr. andrew buckler, edward brendon, and samuel collier: with these foure he went over land to werowocomoco, some myles; there he passed the river of pamaunkee in a salvage canow. powhatan being myles of, was presently sent for: in the meane time, pocahontas and her women entertained captaine smith in this manner. _a virginia maske._ in a fayre plaine field they made a fire, before which, he sitting upon a mat, suddainly amongst the woods was heard such a hydeous noise and shreeking, that the english betooke themselves to their armes, and seized on two or three old men by them, supposing powhatan with all his power was come to surprise them. but presently pocahontas came, willing him to kill her if any hurt were intended, and the beholders, which were men, women, and children, satisfied the captaine there was no such matter. then presently they were presented with this anticke; thirtie young women came naked out of the woods, onely covered behind and before with a few greene leaves, their bodies all painted, some of one colour, some of another, but all differing, their leader had a fayre payre of bucks hornes on her head, and an otters skinne at her girdle, and another at her arme, a quiver of arrowes at her backe, a bow and arrowes in her hand; the next had in her hand a sword, another a club, another a pot-sticke; all horned alike: the rest every one with their severall devises. these fiends with most hellish shouts and cryes, rushing from among the trees, cast themselves in a ring about the fire, singing and dauncing with most excellent ill varietie, oft falling into their infernall passions, and solemnly againe to sing and daunce; having spent neare an houre in this mascarado, as they entred in like manner they departed. _the womens entertainment._ having reaccommodated themselves, they solemnly invited him to their lodgings, where he was no sooner within the house, but all these nymphes more tormented him then ever, with crowding, pressing, and hanging about him, most tediously crying, love you not me? love you not me? this salutation ended, the feast was set, consisting of all the salvage dainties they could devise: some attending, others singing and dauncing about them; which mirth being ended, with fire-brands in stead of torches they conducted him to his lodging. thus did they shew their feats of armes, and others art in dauncing: some other us'd there oaten pipe, and others voyces chanting. _captaine smiths message._ the next day came powhatan. smith delivered his [iii. .] message of the presents sent him, and redelivered him namontack he had sent for england, desiring him to come to his father newport, to accept those presents, and conclude their revenge against the monacans. whereunto this subtile savage thus replyed. _powhatans answer._ if your king have sent me presents, i also am a king, and this is my land: eight dayes i will stay to receive them. your father is to come to me, not i to him, nor yet to your fort, neither will i bite at such a bait: as for the monacans i can revenge my owne injuries, and as for atquanachuk, where you say your brother was slaine, it is a contrary way from those parts you suppose it; but for any salt water beyond the mountaines, the relations you have had from my people are false. whereupon he began to draw plots upon the ground (according to his discourse) of all those regions. many other discourses they had (yet both content to give each other content in complementall courtesies) and so captaine smith returned with this answer. _powhatans coronation._ upon this the presents were sent by water which is neare an hundred myles, and the captains went by land with fiftie good shot. all being met at werowocomoco, the next day was appointed for his coronation, then the presents were brought him, his bason and ewer, bed and furniture set up, his scarlet cloke and apparell with much adoe put on him, being perswaded by namontack they would not hurt him: but a foule trouble there was to make him kneele to receive his crowne, he neither knowing the majesty nor meaning of a crowne, nor bending of the knee, endured so many perswasions, examples, and instructions, as tyred them all; at last by leaning hard on his shoulders, he a little stooped, and three having the crowne in their hands put it on his head, when by the warning of a pistoll the boats were prepared with such a volley of shot, that the king started up in a horrible feare, till he saw all was well. then remembring himselfe, to congratulate their kindnesse, he gave his old shooes and his mantell to captaine newport: but perceiving his purpose was to discover the monacans, he laboured to divert his resolution, refusing to lend him either men or guides more then namontack; and so after some small complementall kindnesse on both sides, in requitall of his presents he presented newport with a heape of wheat eares that might containe some or bushels, and as much more we bought in the towne, wherewith we returned to the fort. _the discovery of monacan._ {mn- } _how the salvages deluded cap. newport._ {mn- } the ship having disburdened her selfe of persons, with the first gentlewoman and woman servant that arrived in our colony, captaine newport with chosen men, led by captaine waldo, lieutenant percie, captaine winne, mr. west, and mr. scrivener, {mn- } set forward for the discovery of monacan, leaving the president at the fort with about . or . (such as they were) to relade the ship. arriving at the falles we marched by land some fortie myles in two dayes and a halfe, and so returned downe the same path we went. two townes we discovered of the monacans, called massinacak and mowhemenchouch, the people neither used us well nor ill, yet for our securitie we tooke one of their petty kings, and led him bound to conduct us the way. and in our returnes searched many places we supposed mines, about which we spent some time in refyning, having one william callicut, a refyner fitted for that purpose. from that crust of earth we digged, he perswaded us to beleeve he extracted some small quantitie of silver; and (not unlikely) better stuffe might be had for the digging. with this poore tryall, being contented to leave this fayre, fertile, well watered country; and comming to the falles, the salvages fayned there were divers ships come into the bay, to kill them at james towne. {mn- } trade they would not, and finde their corne we could not; for they had hid it in the woods: and being thus deluded, we arrived at james towne, halfe sicke, all complaining, and tyred with toyle, famine, and discontent, to have onely but discovered our guilded hopes, and such fruitlesse certainties, as captaine smith fortold us. but those that hunger seeke to slake, which thus abounding wealth would rake: not all the gemmes of ister shore, nor all the gold of lydia's store, can fill their greedie appetite; [iii. .] it is a thing so infinite. _a punishment for swearing._ {mn} no sooner were we landed, but the president dispersed so many as were able, some for glasse, others for tarre, pitch, and sope-ashes, leaving them with the fort to the councels oversight, but of us he conducted downe the river some myles from james towne, to learne to make clapbord, cut downe trees, and lye in woods. amongst, the rest he had chosen gabriel beadle, and john russell, the onely two gallants of this last supply, and both proper gentlemen. strange were these pleasures to their conditions; yet lodging, eating, and drinking, working or playing, they but doing as the president did himselfe. all these things were carried so pleasantly as within a weeke they became masters: making it their delight to heare the trees thunder as they fell; but the axes so oft blistered their tender fingers, that many times every third blow had a loud othe to drowne the eccho; {mn} for remedie of which sinne, the president devised how to have every mans othes numbred, and at night for every othe to have a cann of water powred downe his sleeve, with which every offender was so washed (himselfe and all) that a man should scarce heare an othe in a weeke. for he who scornes and makes but jests of cursings, and his othe, he doth contemne, not man but god, nor god, nor man, but both. . _men better than_ . {mn} by this, let no man thinke that the president and these gentlemen spent their times as common wood-haggers at felling of trees, or such other like labours, or that they were pressed to it as hirelings, or common slaves; for what they did, after they were but once a little inured, it seemed and some conceited it, onely as a pleasure and recreation, {mn} yet or of such voluntary gentlemen would doe more in a day then of the rest that must be prest to it by compulsion, but twentie good workemen had beene better then them all. _the chickahamania's forced to contribution._ master scrivener, captaine waldo, and captaine winne at the fort, every one in like manner carefully regarded their charge. the president returning from amongst the woods, seeing the time consumed and no provision gotten, (and the ship lay idle at a great charge and did nothing) presently imbarked himselfe in the discovery barge, giving order to the councell to send lieutenant percie after him with the next barge that arrived at the fort; two barges he had himselfe and men, but arriving at chickahamania, that dogged nation was too well acquainted with our wants, refusing to trade, with as much scorne and insolency as they could expresse. {mn} the president perceiving it was powhatans policy to starve us, told them he came not so much for their corne, as to revenge his imprisonment, and the death of his men murthered by them, and so landing his men and readie to charge them, they immediately fled: and presently after sent their ambassadors with corne, fish, foule, and what they had to make their peace, (their corne being that yeare but bad) they complained extreamely of their owne wants, yet fraughted our boats with an hundred bushels of corne, and in like manner lieutenant percies, that not long after arrived, and having done the best they could to content us, we parted good friends, and returned to james towne. _a bad reward for well-doing._ though this much contented the company, (that feared nothing more then starving) yet some so envied his good successe, that they rather desired to hazzard a starving, then his paines should prove so much more effectuall then theirs. some projects there were invented by newport and ratliffe, not onely to have deposed him, but to have kept him out of the fort; for that being president, he would leave his place and the fort without their consents, but their hornes were so much too short to effect it, as they themselves more narrowly escaped a greater mischiefe. _a good taverne in virginia._ _a bad trade of the masters and saylers._ {mn} all this time our old taverne made as much of all them that had either money or ware as could be desired: by this time they were become so perfect on all sides (i meane the souldiers, saylers, and salvages) as there was tenne times more care to maintaine their damnable and private trade, then to provide for the colony things that were of necessary. {mn} neither was it a small policy in newport and the marriners to report in england we had such plentie, and bring us so many men without victuals, when they had so many private factors in the fort, that within six or seaven weeks, of two or three hundred axes, chissels, hows, and pick-axes, scarce twentie could be found: and for pike-heads, shot, powder, or any thing they could steale from their fellowes, was vendible; they knew as well (and as secretly) how to convey them to trade with the salvages for furres, baskets, mussaneeks, young beasts, or such like commodities, as exchange them with the saylers for butter, cheese, beefe, porke, aquavitae, beere, bisket, oatmeale, and oyle: and then fayne all was sent them from their friends. and though virginia affoorded no furres for the store, yet one master in one voyage hath got so many by this indirect meanes, as he confessed to have sold in england for l. those are the saint-seeming worthies of virginia, that have notwithstanding all this meate, drinke, and wages; but now they begin to grow weary, their trade being both perceived and prevented; none hath beene in virginia that hath observed any thing, which knowes not this to be true, and yet the losse, the scorne, the misery, and shame, was the poore officers, gentlemen, and carelesse governours, who were all thus bought & sold; the adventurers cousened, and the action overthrowne by their false excuses, informations, and directions. by this let all men judge, how this businesse could prosper, being thus abused by such pilfring occasions. and had not captaine newport cryed peccavi, the president would have discharged the ship, and caused him to have stayed one yeare in virginia, to learne to speake of his owne experience. _master scriveners voyage to werowocomoco._ master scrivener was sent with the barges and pinnace to werowocomoco, where he found the salvages more readie to fight then trade; but his vigilancy was such as prevented their projects, and by the meanes of namontack got three or foure hogsheads of corne, and as much pocones, which is a red roote, which then was esteemed an excellent dye. captaine newport being dispatched, with the tryals of pitch, tarre, glasse, frankincense, sope ashes; with that clapboord and waynscot that could be provided: met with mr. scrivener at poynt comfort, and so returned for england. we remaining were about two hundred. the copy of a letter sent to the treasurer and councell of virginia from captaine smith, then president in virginia. right honorable, &c. i received your letter, wherein you write, that our minds are so set upon faction, and idle conceits in dividing the country without your consents, and that we feed you but with ifs & ands, hopes, & some few proofes; as if we would keepe the mystery of the businesse to our selves: and that we must expresly follow your instructions sent by captain newport: the charge of whose voyage amounts to neare two thousand pounds, the which if we cannot defray by the ships returne, we are like to remain as banished men. to these particulars i humbly intreat your pardons if i offend you with my rude answer. for our factions, unlesse you would have me run away and leave the country, i cannot prevent them: because i do make many stay that would els fly any whether. for the idle letter sent to my lord of salisbury, by the president and his confederats, for dividing the country &c. what it was i know not, for you saw no hand of [iii. ] mine to it; nor ever dream't i of any such matter. that we feed you with hopes, &c. though i be no scholer, i am past a schoole-boy; and i desire but to know, what either you, and these here doe know, but that i have learned to tell you by the continuall hazard of my life. i have not concealed from you any thing i know; but i feare some cause you to beleeve much more then is true. expresly to follow your directions by captaine newport, though they be performed, i was directly against it; but according to our commission, i was content to be over-ruled by the major part of the councell, i feare to the hazard of us all; which now is generally confessed when it is too late. onely captaine winne and captaine waldo i have sworne of the councell, and crowned powhatan according to your instructions. for the charge of this voyage of two or three thousand pounds, we have not received the value of an hundred pounds. and for the quartred boat to be borne by the souldiers over the falles, newport had of the best men he could chuse. if he had burnt her to ashes, one might have carried her in a bag, but as she is, five hundred cannot, to a navigable place above the falles. and for him at that time to find in the south sea, a mine of gold; or any of them sent by sir walter raleigh: at our consultation i told them was as likely as the rest. but during this great discovery of thirtie myles, (which might as well have beene done by one man, and much more, for the value of a pound of copper at a seasonable tyme) they had the pinnace and all the boats with them, but one that remained with me to serve the fort. in their absence i followed the new begun workes of pitch and tarre, glasse, sope-ashes, and clapboord, whereof some small quantities we have sent you. but if you rightly consider, what an infinite toyle it is in russia and swethland, where the woods are proper for naught els, and though there be the helpe both of man and beast in those ancient commonwealths, which many an hundred yeares have used it, yet thousands of those poore people can scarce get necessaries to live, but from hand to mouth. and though your factors there can buy as much in a week as will fraught you a ship, or as much as you please; you must not expect from us any such matter, which are but a many of ignorant miserable soules, that are scarce able to get wherewith to live, and defend our selves against the inconstant salvages: finding but here and there a tree fit for the purpose, and want all things els the russians have. for the coronation of powhatan, by whose advice you sent him such presents, i know not; but this give me leave to tell you, i feare they will be the confusion of us all ere we heare from you againe. at your ships arrivall, the salvages harvest was newly gathered, and we going to buy it, our owne not being halfe sufficient for so great a number. as for the two ships loading of corne newport promised to provide us from powhatan, he brought us but foureteene bushels; and from the monacans nothing, but the most of the men sicke and neare famished. from your ship we had not provision in victuals worth twenty pound, and we are more then two hundred to live upon this: the one halfe sicke, the other little better. for the saylers (i confesse) they daily make good cheare, but our dyet is a little meale and water, and not sufficient of that. though there be fish in the sea, foules in the ayre, and beasts in the woods, their bounds are so large, they so wilde, and we so weake and ignorant, we cannot much trouble them. captaine newport we much suspect to be the authour of those inventions. now that you should know, i have made you as great a discovery as he, for lesse charge then he spendeth you every meale; i have sent you this mappe of the bay and rivers, with an annexed relation of the countries and nations that inhabit them, [iii. .] as you may see at large. also two barrels of stones, and such as i take to be good iron ore at the least; so devided, as by their notes you may see in what places i found them. the souldiers say many of your officers maintaine their families out of that you send us: and that newport hath an hundred pounds a yeare for carrying newes. for every master you have yet sent can find the way as well as he, so that an hundred pounds might be spared, which is more then we have all, that helpe to pay him wages. cap. ratliffe is now called sicklemore, a poore counterfeited imposture. i have sent you him home, least the company should cut his throat. what he is, now every one can tell you: if he and archer returne againe, they are sufficient to keepe us alwayes in factions. when you send againe i intreat you rather send but thirty carpenters, husbandmen, gardiners, fisher men, blacksmiths, masons, and diggers up of trees, roots, well provided; then a thousand of such as we have: for except wee be able both to lodge them, and feed them, the most will consume with want of necessaries before they can be made good for any thing. thus if you please to consider this account, and of the unnecessary wages to captaine newport, or his ships so long lingering and staying here (for notwithstanding his boasting to leave us victuals for moneths, though we had by this discovery lame and sicke, and but a pinte of corne a day for a man, we were constrained to give him three hogs-heads of that to victuall him homeward) or yet to send into germany or poleland for glasse-men & the rest, till we be able to sustaine our selves, and relieve them when they come. it were better to give five hundred pound a tun for those grosse commodities in denmarke, then send for them hither, till more necessary things be provided. for in over-toyling our weake and unskilfull bodies, to satisfie this desire of present profit, we can scarce ever recover our selves from one supply to another. and i humbly intreat you hereafter, let us know what we should receive, and not stand to the saylers courtesie to leave us what they please, els you may charge us with what you will, but we not you with any thing. these are the causes that have kept us in virginia, from laying such a foundation, that ere this might have given much better content and satisfaction; but as yet you must not looke for any profitable returnes: so i humbly rest. the names of those in this supply, were these: with their proceedings and accidents. captaine peter winne, captaine richard waldo, were appoynted to be of the councell. master francis west, brother to the lord la warre. gent. thomas graves. henry collins. raleigh chroshaw. hugh wolleston. gabriel beadle. john hoult. john beadle. thomas norton. john russell. george yarington. william russell. george burton. john cuderington. thomas abbay. william sambage. william dowman. henry leigh. thomas maxes. henry philpot. michael lowick. harmon harrison. master hunt. daniel tucker. thomas forrest. john dauxe tradesmen. thomas phelps. thomas bradley. john prat. john burras. [iii. .] john clarke. thomas lavander. jeffrey shortridge. henry bell. dionis oconor. master powell. hugh winne. david ellis. david ap hugh. thomas gibson. labourers. thomas dawse. williams. thomas mallard. floud. william tayler. morley. thomas fox. rose. nicholas hancock. scot. walker. hardwyn. boyes. milman. hilliard. mistresse forrest, and anne burras her maide; eight dutch men and poles, with some others, to the number of seaventie persons, &c. _nandsamund forced to contribution._ _the first marriage in virginia._ {mn} these poore conclusions so affrighted us all with famine, that the president provided for nandsamund, and tooke with him captaine winne, and mr. scrivener, then returning from captaine newport. these people also long denied him not onely the baskets of corne they promised, but any trade at all; (excusing themselves they had spent most they had, and were commanded by powhatan to keepe that they had, and not to let us come into their river) till we were constrained to begin with them perforce. upon the discharging of our muskets they all fled and shot not an arrow; the first house we came to we set on fire, which when they perceived, they desired we would make no more spoyle, and they would give us halfe they had: how they collected it i know not, but before night they loaded our three boats; and so we returned to our quarter some foure myles downe the river, which was onely the open woods under the lay of a hill, where all the ground was covered with snow, and hard frozen; the snow we digged away and made a great fire in the place; when the ground was well dryed, we turned away the fire; and covering the place with a mat, there we lay very warme. to keepe us from the winde we made a shade of another mat; as the winde turned we turned our shade, and when the ground grew cold we removed the fire. and thus many a cold winter night have wee laine in this miserable manner, yet those that most commonly went upon all those occasions, were alwayes in health, lusty, and fat. for sparing them this yeare, the next yeare they promised to plant purposely for us; and so we returned to james towne. {mn} about this time there was a marriage betwixt john laydon and anne burras; which was the first marriage we had in virginia. _apamatuck discovered._ {mn} long he stayed not, but fitting himselfe and captaine waldo with two barges. from chawopoweanock, and all parts thereabouts, all the people were fled, as being jealous of our intents; {mn} till we discovered the river and people of apamatuck; where we found not much, that they had we equally divided, but gave them copper, and such things as contented them in consideration. master scrivener and lieutenant percie went also abroad, but could find nothing. the president seeing the procrastinating of time, was no course to live, resolved with captaine waldo (whom he knew to be sure in time of need) to surprise powhatan, and all his provision, but the unwillingnesse of captaine winne, and master scrivener, for some private respect, plotted in england to ruine captaine smith, did their best to hinder their project; but the president whom no perswasions could perswade to starve, being invited by powhatan to come unto him: and if he would send him but men to build him a house, give him a gryndstone, fiftie swords, some peeces, a cock and a hen, with much copper and beads, he would load his ship with corne. the president not ignorant of his devises and subtiltie, yet unwilling to neglect any opportunitie, presently sent three dutch-men and two english, having so small allowance, few were able to doe any thing to purpose: knowing there needed no better a castle to effect this project, tooke order with captaine waldo to second him, if need required; scrivener he left his substitute, and set forth with the pinnace, two barges, and fortie-six men, which onely were such as voluntarily offered themselves for his journey, the which by reason of mr. scriveners ill successe, was censured very desperate, they all knowing smith would not returne emptie, if it were to be had; howsoever, it caused many of those that he had appointed, to find excuses to stay behinde. a.d. . chap. viii. [iii. ] captaine smiths journey to pamaunkee. the twentie-nine of december he set forward for werowocomoco: his company were these; in the discovery barge himselfe. gent. robert behethland. raleigh chrashow. nathanael graves. michael sicklemore. john russell. richard worley. souldiers. anas todkill. jeffrey shortridge. william love. edward pising. william bentley. william ward. in the pinnace. lieutenant percie, brother to the earle of northumberland. master francis west, brother to the lord la warre. william phittiplace, captaine of the pinnace. jonas profit, master. robert ford, clarke of the councell. gent. michael phittiplace. william tankard. jeffrey abbot, serjeant. george yarington. souldiers. james browne. thomas coe. edward brinton. john dods. george burton. henry powell. thomas gipson, david ellis, nathanael peacock, saylers. john prat, george acrig, james read, nicholas hancock, james watkins, thomas lambert, foure dutch-men, and richard salvage were sent by land before to build the house for powhatan against our arrivall. _the good counsell of warraskoyack._ {mn} this company being victualled but for three or foure dayes, lodged the first night at warraskoyack, where the president tooke sufficient provision. this kind king did his best to divert him from seeing powhatan, but perceiving he could not prevaile, he advised in this manner. {mn} captaine smith, you shall find powhatan to use you kindly, but trust him not, and be sure he have no oportunitie to seize on your armes; for he hath sent for you onely to cut your throats. the captaine thanking him for his good counsell: yet the better to try his love, desired guides to chawwonock; for he would send a present to that king, to bind him his friend. to performe this journey was sent mr. sicklemore, a very valiant, honest, and a painefull souldier: with him two guides, and directions how to seeke for the lost company of sir walter raleighs, and silke grasse. then we departed thence, the president assuring the king perpetuall love; and left with him samuel collier his page to learne the language. so this kings deeds by sacred oath adjur'd. more wary proves, and circumspect by ods: fearing at least his double forfeiture; to offend his friends, and sin against his gods. _plentie of victualls._ {mn- } _foules killed at three shootes._ {mn- } the next night being lodged at kecoughtan; six or seaven dayes the extreame winde, rayne, frost and snow caused us to keepe christmas among the salvages, {mn- } where we were never more merry, nor fed on more plentie of good oysters, fish, flesh, wild-foule, and good bread; nor never had better fires in england, then in the dry, smoaky houses of kecoughtan: but departing thence, when we found no houses we were not curious in any weather to lye three or foure nights together under the trees by a fire, as formerly is sayd. {mn- } an hundred fortie eight foules the president, anthony bagnall, and serjeant pising did kill at three shoots. at kiskiack the frost & contrary winds forced us three or foure dayes also (to suppresse the insolency of those proud salvages) to quarter in their houses, yet guard our barge, and cause them give us what we wanted; though we were but twelve and himselfe, yet we never wanted shelter where we found any houses. the of january we arrived at werowocomoco, where the river was frozen neare halfe a myle [iii. .] from the shore; but to neglect no time, the president with his barge so far had approached by breaking the ice, as the ebbe left him amongst those oasie shoules, yet rather then to lye there frozen to death, by his owne example he taught them to march neere middle deepe, a flight shot through this muddy frozen oase. when the barge floated, he appoynted two or three to returne her aboord the pinnace. where for want of water in melting the ice, they made fresh water, for the river there was salt. but in this march mr. russell, (whom none could perswade to stay behinde) being somewhat ill, and exceeding heavie, so overtoyled himselfe as the rest had much adoe (ere he got ashore) to regaine life into his dead benummed spirits. quartering in the next houses we found, we sent to powhatan for provision, who sent us plentie of bread, turkies, and venison; the next day having feasted us after his ordinary manner, he began to aske us when we would be gone: fayning he sent not for us, neither had he any corne; and his people much lesse: yet for fortie swords he would procure us fortie baskets. the president shewing him the men there present that brought him the message and conditions, asked powhatan how it chanced he became so forgetfull; thereat the king concluded the matter with a merry laughter, asking for our commodities, but none he liked without gunnes and swords, valuing a basket of corne more precious then a basket of copper; saying he could rate his corne, but not the copper. _cap. smiths discourse to powhatan._ captaine smith seeing the intent of this subtill salvage began to deale with him after this manner. powhatan, though i had many courses to have made my provision, yet beleeving your promises to supply my wants, i neglected all to satisfie your desire: and to testifie my love, i sent you my men for your building, neglecting mine owne. what your people had you have ingrossed, forbidding them our trade: and now you thinke by consuming the time, we shall consume for want, not having to fulfill your strange demands. as for swords and gunnes, i told you long agoe i had none to spare; and you must know those i have can keepe me from want: yet steale or wrong you i will not, nor dissolve that friendship we have mutually promised, except you constraine me by our bad usage. _powhatans reply and flattery._ the king having attentively listned to this discourse, promised that both he and his country would spare him what he could, the which within two dayes they should receive. yet captaine smith, sayth the king, some doubt i have of your comming hither, that makes me not so kindly seeke to relieve you as i would: for many doe informe me, your comming hither is not for trade, but to invade my people, and possesse my country, who dare not come to bring you corne, seeing you thus armed with your men. to free us of this feare, leave aboord your weapons, for here they are needlesse, we being all friends, and for ever powhatans. with many such discourses they spent the day, quartering that night in the kings houses. the next day he renewed his building, which hee little intended should proceede. for the dutch-men finding his plentie, and knowing our want, and perceiving his preparations to surprise us, little thinking we could escape both him and famine; (to obtaine his favour) revealed to him so much as they knew of our estates and projects, and how to prevent them. one of them being of so great a spirit, judgement, and resolution, and a hireling that was certaine of his wages for his labour, and ever well used both he and his countrymen; that the president knew not whom better to trust; and not knowing any fitter for that imployment, had sent him as a spy to discover powhatans intent, then little doubting his honestie, nor could ever be certaine of his villany till neare halfe a yeare after. whilst we expected the comming in of the country, we wrangled out of the king ten quarters of corne for a copper kettell, the which the president perceiving him much to affect, valued it at a much greater rate; but in regard of his scarcity he would accept it, provided we should have as much more the next yeare, or els the country of monacan. wherewith each seemed well contented, and powhatan began to expostulate the difference of peace and warre after this manner. _powhatans discourse of peace and warre._ captaine smith, you may understand that i having seene the death of all my people thrice, and not any one living of these three generations but my selfe; i know the difference of peace and warre better then any in my country. but now i am old and ere long must die, my [iii. .] brethren, namely opitchapam, opechancanough, and kekataugh, my two sisters, and their two daughters, are distinctly each others successors. i wish their experience no lesse then mine, and your love to them no lesse then mine to you. but this bruit from nandsamund, that you are come to destroy my country, so much affrighteth all my people as they dare not visit you. what will it availe you to take that by force you may quickly have by love, or to destroy them that provide you food. what can you get by warre, when we can hide our provisions and fly to the woods? whereby you must famish by wronging us your friends. and why are you thus jealous of our loves seeing us unarmed, and both doe, and are willing still to feede you, with that you cannot get but by our labours? thinke you i am so simple, not to know it is better to eate good meate, lye well, and sleepe quietly with my women and children, laugh and be merry with you, have copper, hatchets, or what i want being your friend: then be forced to flie from all, to lie cold in the woods, feede upon acornes, rootes, and such trash, and be so hunted by you, that i can neither rest, eate, nor sleepe; but my tyred men must watch, and if a twig but breake, every one cryeth there commeth captaine smith: then must i fly i know not whether: and thus with miserable feare, end my miserable life, leaving my pleasures to such youths as you, which through your rash unadvisednesse may quickly as miserably end, for want of that, you never know where to finde. let this therefore assure you of our loves, and every yeare our friendly trade shall furnish you with corne; and now also, if you would come in friendly manner to see us, and not thus with your guns and swords as to invade your foes. to this subtill discourse, the president thus replyed. _capt. smiths reply._ seeing you will not rightly conceive of our words, we strive to make you know our thoughts by our deeds; the vow i made you of my love, both my selfe and my men have kept. as for your promise i find it every day violated by some of your subjects: yet we finding your love and kindnesse, our custome is so far from being ungratefull, that for your sake onely, we have curbed our thirsting desire of revenge; els had they knowne as well the crueltie we use to our enemies, as our true love and courtesie to our friends. and i thinke your judgement sufficient to conceive, as well by the adventures we have undertaken, as by the advantage we have (by our armes) of yours: that had we intended you any hurt, long ere this we could have effected it. your people comming to james towne are entertained with their bowes and arrowes without any exceptions; we esteeming it with you as it is with us, to weare our armes as our apparell. as for the danger of our enemies, in such warres consist our chiefest pleasure: for your riches we have no use: as for the hiding your provision, or by your flying to the woods, we shall not so unadvisedly starve as you conclude, your friendly care in that behalfe is needlesse, for we have a rule to finde beyond your knowledge. many other discourses they had, till at last they began to trade. but the king seeing his will would not be admitted as a law, our guard dispersed, nor our men disarmed, he (sighing) breathed his minde once more in this manner. _powhatans importunity to have us unarmed to betray us._ captaine smith, i never use any werowance so kindely as your selfe, yet from you i receive the least kindnesse of any. captaine newport gave me swords, copper, cloathes, a bed, towels, or what i desired; ever taking what i offered him, and would send away his gunnes when i intreated him: none doth deny to lye at my feet, or refuse to doe what i desire, but onely you; of whom i can have nothing but what you regard not, and yet you will have whatsoever you demand. captaine newport you call father, and so you call me; but i see for all us both you will doe what you list, and we must both seeke to content you. but if you intend so friendly as you say, send hence your armes, that i may beleeve you; for you see the love i beare you, doth cause me thus nakedly to forget my selfe. smith seeing this salvage but trifle the time to cut his throat, procured the salvages to breake the ice, that his boate might come to fetch his corne and him: and gave order for more men to come on shore, to surprise the king, with whom also he but trifled the time till his men were landed: and to keepe him from suspicion, entertained the time with this reply. _cap. smiths discourse to delay time, till he found oportunity to surprise the king._ powhatan you must know, as i have but one god, i honour but one king; and i live not here as your subject, but as your friend to pleasure you with what i can. by the gifts you bestow on me, you gaine more then by trade: yet would you visit mee as i doe you, you should know it is not our custome, to sell our curtesies as a [iii. .] vendible commodity. bring all your countrey with you for your guard, i will not dislike it as being over jealous. but to content you, to morrow i will leave my armes, and trust to your promise. i call you father indeed, and as a father you shall see i will love you: but the small care you have of such a childe caused my men perswade me to looke to my selfe. _powhatans plot to have murdered smith._ _a chaine of pearls sent the captaine for a present._ {mn} by this time powhatan having knowledge his men were ready whilest the ice was a breaking, with his luggage women and children, fled. yet to avoyd suspicion, left two or three of the women talking with the captaine, whilest hee secretly ran away, and his men that secretly beset the house. which being presently discovered to captaine smith, with his pistoll, sword, and target hee made such a passage among these naked divels; that at his first shoot, they next him tumbled one over another, and the rest quickly fled some one way some another: so that without any hurt, onely accompanied with john russell, hee obtained the corps du guard. when they perceived him so well escaped, and with his eighteene men (for he had no more with him a shore) to the uttermost of their skill they sought excuses to dissemble the matter: {mn} and powhatan to excuse his flight and the sudden comming of this multitude, sent our captaine a great bracelet and a chaine of pearle, by an ancient oratour that bespoke us to this purpose, perceiving even then from our pinnace, a barge and men departing and comming unto us. captaine smith, our werowance is fled, fearing your gunnes, and knowing when the ice was broken there would come more men, sent these numbers but to guard his corne from stealing, that might happen without your knowledge: now though some bee hurt by your misprision, yet powhatan is your friend and so will for ever continue. now since the ice is open, he would have you send away your corne, and if you would have his company, send away also your gunnes, which so affrighteth his people, that they dare not come to you as hee promised they should. _pretending to kill our men loded with baskets, we caused them to do it themselves._ _pocahontas betrays her fathers deceit to kill us._ {mn} then having provided baskets for our men to carry our corne to the boats, they kindly offered their service to guard our armes, that none should steale them. a great many they were of goodly well proportioned fellowes, as grim as divels; yet the very sight of cocking our matches, and being to let fly, a few wordes caused them to leave their bowes and arrowes to our guard, and beare downe our corne on their backes; wee needed not importune them to make dispatch. but our barges being left on the oase by the ebbe, caused us stay till the next high-water, so that wee returned againe to our old quarter. powhatan and his dutch-men brusting with desire to have the head of captaine smith, for if they could but kill him, they thought all was theirs, neglected not any oportunity to effect his purpose. the indians with all the merry sports they could devise, spent the time till night: then they all returned to powhatan, who all this time was making ready his forces to surprise the house and him at supper. notwithstanding the eternall all-seeing god did prevent him, and by a strange meanes. {mn} for pocahontas his dearest jewell and daughter, in that darke night came through the irksome woods, and told our captaine great cheare should be sent us by and by: but powhatan and all the power he could make, would after come kill us all, if they that brought it could not kill us with our owne weapons when we were at supper. therefore if we would live shee wished us presently to bee gone. such things as shee delighted in, he would have given her: but with the teares running downe her cheekes, shee said shee durst not be seene to have any: for if powhatan should know it, she were but dead, and so shee ranne away by her selfe as she came. within lesse then an hour came eight or ten lusty fellowes, with great platters of venison and other victuall, very importunate to have us put out our matches (whose smoake made them sicke) and sit down to our victuall. but the captaine made them taste every dish, which done hee sent some of them backe to powhatan, to bid him make haste for hee was prepared for his comming. as for them hee knew they came to betray him at his supper: but hee would prevent them and all their other intended villanies: so that they might be gone. not long after came more messengers, to see what newes; not long after them others. thus wee spent the night as vigilantly as they, till it was high-water, yet seemed to the salvages [iii. .] as friendly as they to us: and that wee were so desirous to give powhatan content, as hee requested, wee did leave him edward brynton to kill him foule, and the dutchmen to finish his house; thinking at our returne from pamaunkee the frost would be gone, and then we might finde a better oportunity if necessity did occasion it, little dreaming yet of the dutch-mens treachery, whose humor well suted this verse: is any free, that may not live as freely as he list? let us live so, then w'are as free, and bruitish as the best. a.d. . chap. ix. how wee escaped surprising at pamaunkee. _the dutch men deceive cap. winne._ _the dutch men furnish the salvages with armes._ {mn} we had no sooner set sayle but powhatan returned, and sent adam and francis (two stout dutch-men) to james towne: who faining to captaine winne that all things were well, and that captaine smith had use of their armes, wherefore they requested new (the which were given them) they told him their comming was for some extraordinary tooles, and shift of apparell; by which colourable excuse they obtained sixe or seaven more to their confederacie, such expert theeves, that presently furnished them with a great many swords, pike-heads, peeces, shot, powder and such like: salvages they had at hand to carry it away, and the next day they returned unsuspected, leaving their confederates to follow, and in the interim to convay them such things as they could: for which service they should live with powhatan as his chiefe affected, free from those miseries that would happen the colony. {mn} samuel their other consort powhatan kept for their pledge, whose diligence had provided them three hundred of their kinde of hatchets; the rest fifty swords, eight peeces, and eight pikes. brynton and richard salvage seeing the dutch-men so diligent to accommodate the salvages with weapons, attempted to have gotten to james towne, but they were apprehended, and expected ever when to be put to death. within two or three dayes we arrived at pamaunkee, the king as many dayes entertained us with feasting and much mirth. and the day appointed to beginne our trade, the president, lieutenant percie, mr. west, mr. russell, mr. behethland, mr. crashaw, mr. powell, mr. ford, and some others to the number of fifteene, went up to opechancanoughs house (a quarter of a mile from the river) where wee found nothing but a lame fellow and a boy: and all the houses round about of all things abandoned. not long wee stayed ere the king arrived, and after him came diverse of his people loaden with bowes and arrowes: but such pinching commodities, and those esteemed at such a value, as our captaine began with the king after this manner. _smiths speech to opechancanough._ opechancanough, the great love you professe with your tongue, seemes meere deceit by your actions. last yeere you kindly fraughted our ship: but now you have invited mee to starve with hunger: you know my want, and i your plenty; of which by some meanes i must have part: remember it is fit for kings to keepe their promise. here are my commodities, whereof take your choice, the rest i will proportion fit bargains for your people. . _salvages beset the english being but_ . {mn} the king seemed kindly to accept his offer, and the better to colour his project, sold us what they had to our owne content, promising the next day more company, better provided. the barges and pinnace being committed to the charge of mr. phetiplace; the president with his old fifteene marched up to the kings house, where wee found foure or five men newly arrived, each with a great basket. not long after came the king, who with a strained cheerfulnesse held us with discourse what paines he had taken to keep his promise; {mn} till mr. russell brought us in newes that we were all betrayed: for at least seven hundred salvages well armed, had invironed [iii. .] the house, and beset the fields. the king conjecturing what russell related, wee could well perceive how the extremity of his feare betrayed his intent: whereat some of our company seeming dismaied with the thought of such a multitude; the captaine encouraged us to this effect. _smiths speech to his company._ worthy countrey-men, were the mischiefes of my seeming friends no more then the danger of these enemies, i little cared were they as many more: if you dare doe, but as i. but this is my torment, that if i escape them, our malicious councell with their open mouthed minions, will make me such a peace-breaker (in their opinions in england) as will breake my necke. i could wish those here, that make these seeme saints, and me an oppressor. but this is the worst of all, wherein i pray you aid mee with your opinions. should wee beginne with them and surprise the king, we cannot keepe him and defend well our selves. if wee should each kill our man, and so proceed with all in the house; the rest will all fly: then shall wee get no more then the bodies that are slaine, and so starve for victuall. as for their fury it is the least danger, for well you know, being alone assaulted with two or three hundred of them, i made them by the helpe of god compound to save my life. and wee are sixteene, and they but seaven hundred at the most; and assure your selves, god will so assist us, that if you dare stand but to discharge your pieces, the very smoake will bee sufficient to affright them. yet howsoever, let us fight like men, and not die like sheepe: for by that meanes you know god hath oft delivered mee, and so i trust will now. but first, i will deale with them, to bring it to passe wee may fight for something, and draw them to it by conditions. if you like this motion, promise me you will be valiant. the time not permitting any argument, all vowed to execute whatsoever hee attempted, or die: whereupon the captaine in plaine tearmes told the king this. _smiths offer to opechancanough._ i see opechancanough your plot to murder me, but i feare it not. as yet your men and mine have done no harme, but by our direction. take therefore your armes, you see mine, my body shall bee as naked as yours: the isle in your river is a fit place, if you be contented: and the conquerour (of us two) shall be lord and master over all our men. if you have not enough, take time to fetch more, and bring what number you will; so every one bring a basket of corne, against all which i will stake the value in copper, you see i have but fifteene, and our game shall be, the conquerour take all. _opechancanoughs device to betray smith._ _smith takes the king prisoner._ {mn} the king being guarded with forty or fifty of his chiefe men, seemed kindly to appease smiths suspicion of unkindnesse, by a great present at the doore, they intreated him to receive. this was to draw him out of the doore, where the bait was guarded with at least two hundred men, and thirty lying under a great tree (that lay thwart as a barricade) each his arrow nocked ready to shoot. the president commanded one to go see what kind of deceit this was, and to receive the present; but hee refused to doe it: yet the gentlemen and all the rest were importunate to goe, but he would not permit them, being vexed at that coward: and commanded lieutenant percie, master west, and the rest to make good the house; master powell and master behethland he commanded to guard the doore, {mn} and in such a rage snatched the king by his long locke in the middest of his men, with his pistoll readie bent against his brest. thus he led the trembling king, neare dead with feare amongst all his people: who delivering the captaine his vambrace, bow, and arrowes, all his men were easily intreated to cast downe their armes, little dreaming any durst in that manner have used their king: who then to escape him-selfe bestowed his presents in good sadnesse, and causing a great many of them come before him unarmed, holding the king by the hayre (as is sayd) he spake to them to this effect. _smiths discourse to the pamaunkees._ i see (you pamaunkees) the great desire you have to kill me, and my long suffering your injuries hath imboldened you to this presumption. the cause i have forborne your insolencies, is the promise i made you (before the god i serve) to be your friend, till you give me just cause to be your enemy. if i keepe this vow, my god will keepe me, you cannot hurt me, if i breake it, he will destroy me. but if you shoot but one arrow to shed one drop of bloud of any of my men, or steale the least of these beads, or copper, i spurne here before you with my foot; you shall see i will not cease revenge (if once i begin) so long as i can heare where to finde one of your nation that will not deny the name [iii. .] of pamaunk. i am not now at rassaweak halfe drowned with myre, where you tooke me prisoner; yet then for keeping your promise and your good usage and saving my life, i so affect you, that your denyals of your trechery, doe halfe perswade me to mistake my selfe. but if i be the marke you ayme at, here i stand, shoot he that dare. you promised to fraught my ship ere i departed, and so you shall, or i meane to load her with your dead carcasses, yet if as friends you will come and trade, i once more promise not to trouble you, except you give me the first occasion, and your king shall be free and be my friend, for i am not come to hurt him or any of you. _the salvages dissemble their intent._ {mn- } _their excuse and reconcilement._ {mn- } upon this away went their bowes and arrowes, and men, women, and children brought in their commodities: two or three houres they so thronged about the president and so overwearied him, as he retyred himselfe to rest, leaving mr. behethland and mr. powell to receive their presents, {mn- } but some salvages perceiving him fast asleepe, & the guard somewhat carelesly dispersed, fortie or fiftie of their choise men each with a club, or an english sword in his hand began to enter the house with two or three hundred others, that pressed to second them. the noyse and hast they made in, did so shake the house they awoke him from his sleepe, and being halfe amazed with this suddaine sight, betooke him strait to his sword and target; mr. chrashaw and some others charged in like manner; whereat they quickly thronged faster backe then before forward. {mn- } the house thus cleansed, the king and some of his auncients we kept yet with him, who with a long oration, excused this intrusion. the rest of the day was spent with much kindnesse, the companie againe renewing their presents with their best provisions, and whatsoever he gave them they seemed therewith well contented. _the loss of mr. scrivener and others with a skiff._ now in the meane while since our departure, this hapned at our fort. master scrivener having received letters from england to make himselfe either caesar or nothing, he began to decline in his affection to captaine smith, that ever regarded him as himselfe, and was willing to crosse the surprising of powhatan. some certaine daies after the presidents departure, he would needs goe visit the isle of hogs, and tooke with him captaine waldo (though the president had appointed him to be ready to second his occasions) with mr. anthony gosnoll and eight others; but so violent was the wind (that extreame frozen time) that the boat sunke, but where or how none doth know. the skiff was much over loaden, and would scarce have lived in that extreame tempest had she beene empty: but by no perswasion he could be diverted, though both waldo and an hundred others doubted as it hapned. the salvages were the first that found their bodies, which so much the more encouraged them to effect their projects. to advertise the president of this heavie newes, none could be found would undertake it, but the journey was often refused of all in the fort, untill master richard wyffin undertooke alone the performance thereof. _master wyffins desperate journey._ in this journey he was incountred with many dangers and difficulties in all parts as he passed. as for that night he lodged with powhatan, perceiving such preparation for warre, not finding the president there: he did assure himselfe some mischiefe was intended. pocahontas hid him for a time, and sent them who pursued him the cleane contrary way to seeke him; but by her meanes and extraordinary bribes and much trouble in three dayes travell, at length he found us in the middest of these turmoyles. this unhappy newes the president swore him to conceale from the company, and so dissembling his sorrow with the best countenances he could, when the night approched went safely aboord with all his souldiers; leaving opechancanough at libertie, according to his promise, the better to have powhatan in his returne. _powhatan constraineth his men to be trecherous._ _the third attempt to betray us._ {mn} now so extreamely powhatan had threatned the death of his men, if they did not by some meanes kill captaine smith: that the next day they appointed all the countrey should come to trade unarmed: yet unwilling to be trecherous, but that they were constrained, hating fighting with him almost as ill as hanging, such feare they had of bad successe. the next morning the sunne had not long appeared, but the fields appeared covered with people and baskets, to tempt us on shore: but nothing was to be had without his presence, nor they would not indure the sight of a gun. {mn} when the president saw them begin to [iii. .] depart, being unwilling to loose such a bootie, he so well contrived the pinnace, and his barges with ambuscadoes, as onely with lieutenant percie, mr. west, and mr. russell, with their armes went on shore; others he appointed unarmed to receive what was brought. the salvages flocked before him in heapes, and the banke serving as a trench for a retreat, he drew them fayre open to his ambuscado's. for he not being to be perswaded to goe visit their king, the king knowing the most of them unarmed, came to visit him with two or three hundred men, in the forme of two halfe moones; and with some twentie men, and many women loaden with painted baskets. but when they approached somewhat neare us, their women and children fled. for when they had environed and beset the fields in this manner, they thought their purpose sure, yet so trembled with feare as they were scarse able to nock their arrowes: smith standing with his three men ready bent, beholding them till they were within danger of our ambuscado's, who upon the word discovered themselves, and he retyred to the barge. which the salvages no sooner perceived, then away they fled, esteeming their heeles for their best advantage. that night we sent mr. chrashaw, and mr. ford to james towne to cap. winne. in the way betweene werowocomoco and the fort they met foure or five of the dutchmens confederates going to powhatan: the which to excuse those gentlemens suspition of their running to the salvages, returned to the fort and there continued. _a chayne of pearle sent to obtaine peace._ the salvages hearing our barge goe downe the river in the night, were so terribly affrayde, that we sent for more men (we having so much threatned their ruine, and the rasing of their houses, boats, and wires) that the next day the king sent our captaine a chayne of pearle, to alter his purpose and stay his men: promising though they wanted themselves, to fraught our ship and bring it aboord to avoyd suspition. so that five or six dayes after, from all parts of the country within ten or twelve myles in the extreame frost and snow, they brought us provision on their naked backes. _the president poysened: the offender punished._ _the salvages want and povertie._ {mn} yet notwithstanding this kindnesse and trade, had their art and poyson beene sufficient, the president, with mr. west, and some others had beene poysoned; it made them sicke, but expelled it selfe. wecuttanow, a stout young fellow, knowing he was suspected for bringing this present of poyson, with fortie or fiftie of his chiefe companions (seeing the president but with a few men at potauncak) so proudly braved it, as though he expected to incounter a revenge. which the president perceiving in the midst of his company, did not onely beate, but spurned him like a dogge, as scorning to doe him any worse mischiefe. whereupon all of them fled into the woods, thinking they had done a great matter to have so well escaped: and the townsmen remaining presently fraughted our barge to be rid of our companies, framing many excuses to excuse wecuttanow, (being sonne to their chiefe king, but powhatan) and told us if we would shew them him that brought the poyson, they would deliver him to us to punish as we pleased. men may thinke it strange there should be such a stirre for a little corne, but had it beene gold with more ease wee might have got it; and had it wanted, the whole colony had starved. wee may be thought very patient to endure all those injuries, yet onely with fearing them wee got what they had. whereas if we had taken revenge, then by their losse, we should have lost our selves. {mn} we searched also the countries of youghtanund and mattapanient, where the people imparted that little they had with such complaints and teares from the eyes of women and children, as he had beene too cruell to have beene a christian, that would not have beene satisfied and moved with compassion. but had this hapned in october, november, and december, when that unhappie discovery of monacan was made, we might have fraughted a ship of fortie tuns, and twise as much might have beene had from the rivers of rapahanock, patawomek, and pawtuxunt. _the dutch-men did much hurt._ {mn} the maine occasion of our thus temporizing with them was, to part friends as we did, to give the lesse cause of suspition to powhatan to fly, by whom we now returned [iii. .] with a purpose to have surprised him and his provision. for effecting whereof (when we came against the towne) the president sent mr. wyffin and mr. coe ashore to discover and make way for his intended project. {mn} but they found that those damned dutch-men had caused powhatan to abandon his new house and werowocomoco, and to carry away all his corne and provision: and the people they found so ill affected, that they were in great doubt how to escape with their lives. so the president finding his intent frustrated, and that there was nothing now to be had, and therefore an unfit time to revenge their abuses, sent master michael phittiplace by land to james towne, whether we sayled with all the speed we could; wee having in this journey (for l. of copper, and l. of iron & beads) enough to keepe men six weekes, and every man for his reward a moneths provision extraordinary (no trade being allowed but for the store) we got neare l. waight of deere suet, and delivered to the cape merchant bushels of corne. those temporizing proceedings to some may seeme too charitable, to such a daily daring trecherous people: to others not pleasing, that we washed not the ground with their blouds, nor shewed such strange inventions in mangling, murdering, ransacking, and destroying (as did the spanyards) the simple bodies of such ignorant soules; nor delightfull, because not stuffed with relations of heapes and mynes of gold and silver, nor such rare commodities, as the portugals and spanyards found in the east and west indies. the want whereof hath begot us (that were the first undertakers) no lesse scorne and contempt, then the noble conquests and valiant adventures beautified with it, prayse and honour. too much i confesse the world cannot attribute to their ever memorable merit: and to cleare us from the blind worlds ignorant censure, these few words may suffice any reasonable understanding. _an apology for the first planters._ it was the spanyards good hap to happen in those parts where were infinite numbers of people, who had manured the ground with that providence, it affoorded victualls at all times. and time had brought them to that perfection, they had the use of gold and silver, and the most of such commodities as those countries affoorded: so that what the spanyard got was chiefely the spoyle and pillage of those countrey people, and not the labours of their owne hands. but had those fruitfull countries beene as salvage, as barbarous, as ill peopled, as little planted, laboured, and manured, as virginia: their proper labours it is likely would have produced as small profit as ours. but had virginia beene peopled, planted, manured, and adorned with such store of precious jewels, and rich commodities as was the indies: then had we not gotten and done as much as by their examples might be expected from us, the world might then have traduced us and our merits, and have made shame and infamy our recompence and reward. but we chanced in a land even as god made it, where we found onely an idle, improvident, scattered people, ignorant of the knowledge of gold or silver, or any commodities, and carelesse of any thing but from hand to mouth, except babies of no worth; nothing to incourage us, but what accidentally we found nature afforded. which ere we could bring to recompence our paines, defray our charges, and satisfie our adventurers; we were to discover the countrey, subdue the people, bring them to be tractable, civill, and industrious, and teach them trades, that the fruits of their labours might make us some recompence, or plant such colonies of our owne, that must first make provision how to live of themselves, ere they can bring to perfection the commodities of the country: which doubtlesse will be as commodious for england as the west indies for spaine, if it be rightly mannaged: notwithstanding all our home-bred opinions, that will argue the contrary, as formerly some have done against the spanyards and portugalls. but to conclude, against all rumor of opinion, i onely say this, for those that the three first yeares began this plantation; notwithstanding all their factions, mutinies, and miseries, so gently corrected, and well prevented: peruse the spanish decades; the relations of master hackluit, and tell me how many ever with such small meanes as a barge of tuns, sometimes with seaven, eight, or nine, or but at most, twelve or sixteene men, did ever discover so many fayre and navigable rivers, subject so many severall [iii. .] kings, people, and nations, to obedience, and contribution, with so little bloudshed. and if in the search of those countries we had hapned where wealth had beene, we had as surely had it as obedience and contribution, but if we have overskipped it, we will not envie them that shall find it: yet can we not but lament, it was our fortunes to end when we had but onely learned how to begin, and found the right course how to proceed. by richard wyffin, william phittiplace, jeffrey abbot, and anas todkill. a.d. . chap. x. how the salvages became subject to the english. when the ships departed, all the provision of the store (but that the president had gotten) was so rotten with the last summers rayne, and eaten with rats and wormes, as the hogges would scarcely eate it. yet it was the souldiers dyet till our returnes, so that we found nothing done, but our victuals spent, and the most part of our tooles, and a good part of our armes conveyed to the salvages. but now casting up the store, and finding sufficient till the next harvest, the feare of starving was abandoned, and the company divided into tens, fifteens, or as the businesse required; six houres each day was spent in worke, the rest in pastime and merry exercises, but the untowardnesse of the greatest number caused the president advise as followeth. _the presidents advice to the company._ countrymen, the long experience of our late miseries, i hope is sufficient to perswade every one to a present correction of himselfe, and thinke not that either my pains, nor the adventurers purses, will ever maintaine you in idlenesse and sloath. i speake not this to you all, for divers of you i know deserve both honour and reward, better then is yet here to be had: but the greater part must be more industrious, or starve, how ever you have beene heretofore tollerated by the authoritie of the councell, from that i have often commanded you. you see now that power resteth wholly in my selfe: you must obey this now for a law, that he that will not worke shall not eate (except by sicknesse he be disabled:) for the labours of thirtie or fortie honest and industrious men shall not be consumed to maintaine an hundred and fiftie idle loyterers. and though you presume the authoritie here is but a shadow, and that i dare not touch the lives of any but my owne must answer it: the letters patents shall each weeke be read to you, whose contents will tell you the contrary. i would wish you therefore without contempt seeke to observe these orders set downe, for there are now no more counsellers to protect you, nor curbe my endevours. therefore he that offendeth, let him assuredly expect his due punishment. he made also a table, as a publicke memoriall of every mans deserts, to incourage the good, and with shame to spurre on the rest to amendment. by this many became very industrious, yet more by punishment performed their businesse, for all were so tasked, that there was no excuse could prevaile to deceive him: yet the dutch-mens consorts so closely convayed them powder, shot, swords, and tooles, that though we could find the defect, we could not finde by whom, till it was too late. _the dutch-men plot to murther cap. smith._ {mn- } _smith taketh the king of paspahegh prisoner._ {mn- } all this time the dutch men remaining with powhatan, (who kindly entertained them to instruct the salvages the use of our armes) and their consorts not following them as they expected; {mn- } to know the cause, they sent francis their companion, a stout young fellow, disguised like a salvage, to the glasse-house, a place in the woods neare a myle from james towne; where was their rendezvous for all their unsuspected villany. fortie men they procured to lie in ambuscado for captaine smith, who no sooner heard of this dutch-man, but he sent to apprehend him (but he was gone) yet to crosse his returne to powhatan, the captaine presently dispatched . shot [iii. .] after him, himselfe returning from the glasse-house alone. by the way he incountred the king of paspahegh, a most strong stout salvage, whose perswasions not being able to perswade him to his ambush, seeing him onely armed but with a faucheon, attempted to have shot him, but the president prevented his shoot by grapling with him, and the salvage as well prevented him for drawing his faucheon, and perforce bore him into the river to have drowned him. {mn- } long they strugled in the water, till the president got such hold on his throat, he had neare strangled the king; but having drawne his faucheon to cut off his head, seeing how pittifully he begged his life, he led him prisoner to james towne, and put him in chaynes. _cap. smith taketh two salvages prisoners._ {mn} the dutch-man ere long was also brought in, whose villany though all this time it was suspected, yet he fayned such a formall excuse, that for want of language captaine winne understood him not rightly, and for their dealings with powhatan, that to save their lives they were constrained to accommodate his armes, of whom he extreamely complained to have detained them perforce, and that he made this escape with the hazard of his life, and meant not to have returned, but was onely walking in the woods to gather walnuts. yet for all this faire tale, there was so small appearance of truth, and the plaine confession of paspahegh of his trechery, he went by the heeles: smith purposing; to regaine the dutch-men, by the saving his life. the poore salvage did his best by his daily messengers to powhatan, but all returned that the dutch-men would not returne, neither did powhatan stay them; and to bring them fiftie myles on his mens backes they were not able. daily this kings wives, children, and people came to visit him with presents, which he liberally bestowed to make his peace. much trust they had in the presidents promise: but the king finding his guard negligent, though fettered yet escaped. captaine winne thinking to pursue him found such troupes of salvages to hinder his passage, as they exchanged many vollies of shot for flights of arrowes. {mn} captaine smith hearing of this in returning to the fort, tooke two salvages prisoners, called kemps and tussore, the two most exact villaines in all the country. with these he sent captaine winne and fiftie choise men, and lieutenant percie, to have regained the king, and revenged this injury, and so had done, if they had followed his directions, or beene advised with those two villaines, that would have betrayed both king & kindred for a peece of copper, but he trifling away the night, the salvages the next morning by the rising of the sunne, braved him to come ashore to fight: a good time both sides let fly at other, but we heard of no hurt, onely they tooke two canowes, burnt the kings house, and so returned to james towne. _the salvages desire peace._ the president fearing those bravado's would but incourage the salvages, began againe himselfe to try his conclusions, whereby six or seaven were slaine, as many made prisoners. he burnt their houses, tooke their boats, with all their fishing wires, and planted some of them at james towne for his owne use, and now resolved not to cease till he had revenged himselfe of all them had injured him. but in his journey passing by paspahegh towards chickahamania, the salvages did their best to draw him to their ambuscadoes; but seeing him regardlesly passe their country, all shewed themselves in their bravest manner. to try their valours he could not but let fly, and ere he could land, they no sooner knew him, but they threw downe their armes and desired peace. their orator was a lustie young fellow called okaning, whose worthy discourse deserveth to be remembred. and thus it was: _okaning his oration._ captaine smith, my master is here present in the company, thinking it capt. winne, and not you, (of him he intended to have beene revenged) having never offended him. if he hath offended you in escaping your imprisonment, the fishes swim, the foules fly, and the very beasts strive to escape the snare and live. then blame not him being a man. he would intreat you remember, you being a prisoner, what paines he tooke to save your life. if since he hath injured you he was compelled to it: but howsoever, you have revenged it with our too great losse. we perceive and well know you intend to destroy us, that are here to intreat and desire your friendship, and to enjoy our houses and plant our fields, of whose fruit you shall participate: otherwise you will have the worse by our absence; for we can plant any where, though [iii. ] with more labour, and we know you cannot live if you want our harvest, and that reliefe we bring you. if you promise us peace, we will beleeve you; if you proceed in revenge we will abandon the country. upon these tearmes the president promised them peace, till they did us injury, upon condition they should bring in provision. thus all departed good friends, and so continued till smith left the countrey. _a salvage smoothered at james towne, and recovered._ arriving at james towne, complaint was made to the president, that the chickahamanians, who all this while continued trade and seemed our friends, by colour thereof were the onely theeves. and amongst other things a pistoll being stolne and the theefe fled, there was apprehended two proper young fellowes, that were brothers, knowne to be his confederates. now to regaine this pistoll, the one was imprisoned, the other was sent to returne the pistoll againe within twelve houres, or his brother to be hanged. yet the president pittying the poore naked salvage in the dungeon, sent him victuall and some char-coale for a fire: ere midnight his brother returned with the pistoll, but the poore salvage in the dungeon was so smoothered with the smoake he had made, and so pittiously burnt, that wee found him dead. the other most lamentably bewayed his death, and broke forth into such bitter agonies, that the president to quiet him, told him that if hereafter they would not steale, he would make him alive againe: but he little thought he could be recovered. yet we doing our best with aqua vitae and vineger, it pleased god to restore him againe to life, but so drunke & affrighted, that he seemed lunaticke, the which as much tormented and grieved the other, as before to see him dead. of which maladie upon promise of their good behaviour, the president promised to recover him: and so caused him to be layd by a fire to sleepe, who in the morning having well slept, had recovered his perfect senses, and then being dressed of his burning, and each a peece of copper given them, they went away so well contented, that this was spread among all the salvages for a miracle, that captaine smith could make a man alive that was dead. _two or three salvages slaine in drying powder._ another ingenuous salvage of powhatans, having gotten a great bag of powder, and the backe of an armour, at werowocomoco amongst a many of his companions, to shew his extraordinary skill, he did dry it on the backe as he had seene the souldiers at james towne. but he dryed it so long, they peeping over it to see his skill, it tooke fire, and blew him to death, and one or two more, and the rest so scorched, they had little pleasure to meddle any more with powder. these and many other such pretty accidents, so amazed and affrighted both powhatan, and all his people, that from all parts with presents they desired peace; returning many stolne things which we never demanded nor thought of; and after that, those that were taken stealing, both powhatan and his people have sent them backe to james towne, to receive their punishment; and all the country became absolute as free for us, as for themselves. chap. xi. what was done in three moneths having victualls. the store devoured by rats, how we lived three moneths of such naturall fruits as the country affoorded. now we so quietly followed our businesse, that in three moneths wee made three or foure last of tarre, pitch, and sope ashes; produced a tryall of glasse; made a well in the fort of excellent sweet water, which till then was wanting; built some twentie houses; recovered our church; provided nets and wires for fishing; and to stop the disorders of our disorderly theeves, and the salvages, built a blockhouse in the neck of our isle, kept by a garrison to entertaine the salvages trade, and none [iii. ] to passe nor repasse salvage nor christian without the presidents order. thirtie or forty acres of ground we digged and planted. of three sowes in eighteene moneths, increased , and od piggs. and neere . chickings brought up themselves without having any meat given them: but the hogs were transported to hog isle: where also we built a block-house with a garison to give us notice of any shipping, and for their exercise they made clapbord and waynscot, and cut downe trees. we built also a fort for a retreat neere a convenient river upon a high commanding hill, very hard to be assalted and easie to be defended, but ere it was finished this defect caused a stay. _great extremitie by rats._ _bread made of dried sturgeon._ {mn- } _their desire to destroy themselves._ {mn- } in searching our casked corne, we found it halfe rotten, and the rest so consumed with so many thousands of rats that increased so fast, but there originall was from the ships, as we knew not how to keepe that little we had. this did drive us all to our wits end, for there was nothing in the country but what nature afforded. untill this time kemps and tassore were fettered prisoners, and did double taske and taught us how to order and plant our fields: whom now for want of victuall we set at liberty, but so well they liked our companies they did not desire to goe from us. and to expresse their loves for . dayes continuance, the countrie people brought us (when least) . a day, of squirrils, turkyes, deere and other wilde beasts: but this want of corne occasioned the end of all our works, it being worke sufficient to provide victuall. . or . with ensigne laxon was sent downe the river to live upon oysters, and . with liutenant percy to try for fishing at poynt comfort: but in six weekes they would not agree once to cast out the net, he being sicke and burnt sore with gunpouder. master west with as many went up to the falls, but nothing could be found but a few acornes; of that in store every man had their equall proportion. till this present, by the hazard and indevours of some thirtie or fortie, this whole colony had ever beene fed. {mn- } we had more sturgeon, then could be devoured by dog and man, of which the industrious by drying and pounding, mingled with caviare, sorell and other wholesome hearbes would make bread and good meate: others would gather as much tockwhogh roots, in a day as would make them bread a weeke, so that of those wilde fruites, and what we caught, we lived very well in regard of such a diet, {mn- } but such was the strange condition of some , that had they not beene forced nolens, volens, perforce to gather and prepare their victuall they would all have starved or have eaten one another. of those wild fruits the salvages often brought us, and for that, the president would not fullfill the unreasonable desire, of those distracted gluttonous loyterers, to sell not only our kettles, hows, tooles, and iron, nay swords, pieces, and the very ordnance and howses, might they have prevayled to have beene but idle: for those salvage fruites, they would have had imparted all to the salvages, especially for one basket of corne they heard of to be at powhatans, fifty myles from our fort. though he bought neere halfe of it to satisfie their humors, yet to have had the other halfe, they would have sould their soules, though not sufficient to have kept them a weeke. thousands were their exclamations, suggestions and devises, to force him to those base inventions to have made it an occasion to abandon the country. want perforce constrained him to indure their exclaiming follies, till he found out the author, one dyer a most crafty fellow and his ancient maligner, whom he worthily punished, and with the rest he argued the case in this maner. _the presidents order for the drones._ fellow souldiers, i did little thinke any so false to report, or so many to be so simple to be perswaded, that i either intend to starve you, or that powhatan at this present hath corne for himselfe, much lesse for you; or that i would not have it, if i knew where it were to be had. neither did i thinke any so malitious as now i see a great many; yet it shal not so passionate me, but i will doe my best for my most maligner. but dreame no longer of this vaine hope from powhatan, not that i will longer forbeare to force you, from your idlenesse, and punish you if you rayle. but if i finde any more runners for newfoundland with the pinnace, let him assuredly looke to arive at the gallows. you cannot deny but that by the hazard of my life many a time i have saved yours, when (might your owne wills have [iii. .] prevailed) you would have starved; and will doe still whether i will or noe; but i protest by that god that made me, since necessitie hath not power to force you to gather for your selves those fruites the earth doth yeeld, you shall not onely gather for your selves, but those that are sicke. as yet i never had more from the store then the worst of you: and all my english extraordinary provision that i have, you shall see me divide it amongst the sick. and this salvage trash you so scornfully repine at; being put in your mouthes your stomackes can disgest, if you would have better you should have brought it; and therefore i will take a course you shall provide what is to be had. the sick shall not starve, but equally share of all our labours; and he that gathereth not every day as much as i doe, the next day shall be set beyond the river, and be banished from the fort as a drone, till he amend his conditions or starve. but some would say with seneca. i know those things thou sayst are true good nurse, but fury forceth me to follow worse. my minde is hurried headlong up and downe: desiring better counsell, yet finds none. _but seven of . dyed in nine months._ this order many murmured was very cruell, but it caused the most part so well bestirre themselves, that of . (except they were drowned) there died not past seven: as for captaine winne and master leigh they were dead ere this want hapned, and the rest dyed not for want of such as preserved the rest. many were billetted amongst the salvages, whereby we knew all their passages, fields and habitations, how to gather and use their fruits as well as themselves; for they did know wee had such a commanding power at james towne they durst not wrong us of a pin. _the salvages return our fugitives._ so well those poore salvages used us that were thus billetted, that divers of the souldiers ran away to search kemps & tassore our old prisoners. glad were these salvages to have such an oportunity to testifie their love unto us, for in stead of entertaining them, and such things as they had stollen, with all their great offers, and promises they made them how to revenge their injuryes upon captaine smith; kemps first made himselfe sport, in shewing his countrie men (by them) how he was used, feeding them with this law, who would not work must not eat, till they were neere starved indeede, continually threatning to beate them to death: neither could they get from him, till hee and his consorts brought them perforce to our captaine, that so well contented him and punished them, as many others that intended also to follow them, were rather contented to labour at home, then adventure to live idlely amongst the salvages; (of whom there was more hope to make better christians & good subjects, then the one halfe of those that counterfeited themselves both.) for so affraide was al those kings and the better sort of the people to displease us, that some of the baser sort that we have extreamly hurt and punished for their villanies would hire us, we should not tell it to their kings, or countrymen, who would also repunish them, and yet returne them to james towne to content the president for a testimony of their loves. _master sicklemores journey to chawwonoke._ master sicklemore well returned from chawwonoke; but found little hope and lesse certaintie of them were left by sir walter raleigh. the river, he saw was not great, the people few, the countrey most over growne with pynes, where there did grow here and there straglingly pemminaw, we call silke grasse. but by the river the ground was good, and exceeding furtill. _master powels jorney to the mangoags._ master nathanael powell and anas todkill were also by the quiyoughquohanocks conducted to the mangoags to search them there: but nothing could they learne but they were all dead. this honest proper good promise keeping king, of all the rest did ever best affect us, and though to his false gods he was very zealous, yet he would confesse our god as much exceeded his as our gunns did his bow and arrowes, often sending our president many presents, to pray to his god for raine or his corne would perish, for his gods were angry. three [iii. .] dayes journey they conducted them through the woods, into a high country towards the southwest: where they saw here and there a little corne field, by some little spring or smal brooke, but no river they could see: the people in all respects like the rest, except their language: they live most upon rootes, fruites and wilde beasts; and trade with them towards the sea and the fatter countryes for dryed fish and corne, for skins. _the dutch mens projects._ _two gentlemen sent to the germans._ {mn} all this time to recover the dutch-men and one bentley another fugitive, we imployed one william volday, a zwitzar by birth, with pardons & promises to regaine them. little we then suspected this double villaine of any villany; who plainly taught us, in the most trust was the greatest treason; for this wicked hypocrite, by the seeming hate he bore to the lewd conditions of his cursed country men, (having this oportunity by his imployment to regaine them) convayed them every thing they desired to effect their projects, to distroy the colony. with much devotion they expected the spaniard, to whom they intended good service, or any other, that would but carry them from us. but to begin with the first oportunity; they seeing necessitie thus inforced us to disperse our selves, importuned powhatan to lend them but his forces, and they would not onely distroy our hoggs, fire our towne, and betray our pinnace; but bring to his service and subjection the most of our company. with this plot they had acquainted many discontents, and many were agreed to their devilish practise. but one thomas douse, and thomas mallard (whose christian hearts relented at such an unchristian act) voluntarily revealed it to captaine smith, who caused them to conceale it, perswading douse and mallard to proceed in their confedracie: onely to bring the irreclamable dutch men and the inconstant salvages in such a maner amongst such ambuscade's as he had prepared, that not many of them should returne from our peninsula. but this brute comming to the eares of the impatient multitude they so importuned the president to cut off those dutch men, as amongst many that offred to cut their throats before the face of powhatan, the first was lieutenant percy, and mr. john cuderington, two gentlemen of as bold resolute spirits as could possibly be found. {mn} but the president had occasion of other imploiment for them, & gave way to master wyffin and sarjeant jeffrey abbot, to goe and stab them or shoot them. but the dutch men made such excuses, accusing volday whom they supposed had revealed their project, as abbot would not, yet wyffin would, perceiving it but deceit. the king understanding of this their imployment, sent presently his messengers to captaine smith to signifie it was not his fault to detaine them, nor hinder his men from executing his command: nor did he nor would he maintaine them, or any to occasion his displeasure. _the first arrivall of captaine argall._ but whilst this businesse was in hand. arrived one captaine argall, and master thomas sedan, sent by master cornelius to truck with the colony, and fish for sturgeon, with a ship well furnished, with wine and much other good provision. though it was not sent us, our necessities was such as inforced us to take it. he brought us newes of a great supply and preparation for the lord la warre, with letters that much taxed our president for his hard dealing with the salvages, and not returning the shippes fraughted. notwithstanding we kept this ship till the fleete arrived. true it is argall lost his voyage, but we revictualled him, and sent him for england, with a true relation of the causes of our defailments, and how imposible it was to returne that wealth they expected, or observe their instructions to indure the salvages insolencies, or doe any thing to any purpose, except they would send us men and meanes that could produce that they so much desired: otherwises all they did was lost, and could not but come to confusion. the villany of volday we still dissembled. adam upon his pardon came home but samuell still stayed with powhatan to heare further of their estates by this supply. now all their plots smith so well understood, they were his best advantages to secure us from any trechery, could be done by them or the salvages: which with facility he could revenge when he would, because all those countryes more feared him then powhatan, and hee had such parties with all his bordering neighbours: and many of the rest for love or feare would have done any thing he would have them, upon any [iii. .] commotion, though these fugitives had done all they could to perswade powhatan, king james would kill smith, for using him and his people so unkindly. _note these inconveniences._ by this you may see for all those crosses, trecheries, and dissentions, how hee wrestled and overcame (without bloudshed) all that happened: also what good was done; how few dyed; what food the countrey naturally affoordeth; what small cause there is men should starve, or be murthered by the salvages, that have discretion to mannage them with courage and industrie. the two first yeares, though by his adventures, he had oft brought the salvages to a tractable trade, yet you see how the envious authoritie ever crossed him, and frustrated his best endevours. but it wrought in him that experience and estimation amongst the salvages, as otherwise it had bin impossible, he had ever effected that he did. notwithstanding the many miserable, yet generous and worthy adventures, he had oft and long endured in the wide world, yet in this case he was againe to learne his lecture by experience. which with thus much adoe having obtained, it was his ill chance to end, when he had but onely learned how to begin. and though he left those unknowne difficulties (made easie and familiar) to his unlawfull successors, (who onely by living in james towne, presumed to know more then all the world could direct them:) now though they had all his souldiers, with a tripple power, and twice tripple better meanes; by what they have done in his absence, the world may see what they would have done in his presence, had he not prevented their indiscretions: it doth justly prove, what cause he had to send them for england, and that he was neither factious, mutinous, nor dishonest. but they have made it more plaine since his returne for england; having his absolute authoritie freely in their power, with all the advantages and opportunitie that his labours had effected. as i am sorry their actions have made it so manifest, so i am unwilling to say what reason doth compell me, but onely to make apparant the truth, least i should seeme partiall, reasonlesse, and malicious. a.d. chapter xii. the arrivall of the third supply. _the alteration of the government._ . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ {mn- } _the losse of virginia._ {mn- } _the salvages offer to fight under our colours._ {mn- } to redresse those jarres and ill proceedings, the treasurer, councell, and company of virginia, not finding that returne, and profit they expected; and them ingaged there, not having meanes to subsist of themselves, made meanes to his majestie, to call in their commission, and take a new in their owne names, as in their owne publication, . you may reade at large. having thus annihilated the old by vertue of a commission made to the right honourable, sir thomas west, lord de la warre, to be generall of virginia; sir thomas gates, his lieutenant; sir george somers, admirall; sir thomas dale, high marshall; sir fardinando wainman, generall of the horse; and so all other offices to many other worthy gentlemen, for their lives: (though not any of them had ever beene in virginia; except captaine newport, who was also by patent made vice-admirall:) those noble gentlemen drew in such great summes of money, that they sent sir thomas gates, sir george somers, and captaine newport with nine shippes, and five hundred people, who had each of them a commission, who first arrived to call in the old, without the knowledge or consent of them, that had endured all those former dangers to beat the path, not any regard had at all of them. all things being ready, because those three captaines could not agree for place, it was concluded they should goe all in one ship, so all their three commissions were in that ship with them called the sea-venture. {mn- } they set sayle from england in may . a small catch perished at sea in a hericano: the admirall with an hundred and fiftie men, with the two knights, and their new commission, their bils of loading, with all manner of directions, and the most part of their provision arrived [iii. .] not. {mn- } with the other seaven ships as captaines arrived ratliffe, whose right name (as is sayd) was sicklemore, martin, and archur, with captaine wood, captaine webbe, captaine moone, captaine king, captaine davis, and divers gentlemen of good meanes, and great parentage. but the first as they had beene troublesome at sea, began againe to marre all ashore: for though (as is said) they were formerly sent for england, yet now returning againe, graced by the titles of captaines of the passengers, seeing the admirall wanting, and great probabilitie of her losse, strengthened themselves with those new companies, so exclaiming against captaine smith, that they mortally hated him ere ever they saw him. who understanding by his scouts the arrivall of such a fleet, little dreaming of any such supply, supposed them spanyards. but he quickly so determined and ordered our affaires, as we little feared their arrivall, nor the successe of our incounter; {mn- } nor were the salvages any way negligent for the most part, to ayd and assist us with their best power. had it so beene we had beene happy; for we would not have trusted them but as our foes, where receiving them as our countreymen and friends, they did what they could to murther our president, to surprise the store, the fort, and our lodgings, to usurpe the government, and make us all their servants and slaves, till they could consume us and our remembrance; and rather indeed to supplant us then supply us, as master william box an honest gentleman in this voyage thus relateth. in the tayle of a hericano wee were separated from the admirall, which although it was but the remainder of that storme, there is seldome any such in england, or those northerne parts of europe. some lost their masts, some their sayles blowne from their yards; the seas so over-raking our ships, much of our provision was spoyled, our fleet separated, and our men sicke, and many dyed, and in this miserable estate we arrived in virginia. but in this storme, when ratling thunder ran along the clouds; did not the saylers poore, and masters proud a terror feele as strucke with feare of god? did not their trembling joynts then dread his rod? least for foule deeds and black mouth'd blasphemies, the rufull time be come that vengeance cryes. _muntinies._ to a thousand mischiefes those lewd captaines led this lewd company, wherein were many unruly gallants, packed thither by their friends to escape ill destinies, and those would dispose and determine of the government, sometimes to one, the next day to another; to day the old commission must rule, to morrow the new, the next day neither, in fine they would rule all, or ruine all: yet in charitie we must endure them thus to destroy us, or by correcting their follies, have brought the worlds censure upon us to be guiltie of their blouds. happie had we beene had they never arrived, and we for ever abandoned, and as we were left to our fortunes: for on earth for the number was never more confusion, or misery, then their factions occasioned. _the planting nandsamund._ {mn} the president seeing the desire those braves had to rule; seeing how his authoritie was so unexpectedly changed, would willingly have left all, and have returned for england. but seeing there was small hope this new commission would arrive, longer he would not suffer those factious spirits to proceede. it would be too tedious, too strange, and almost incredible; should i particularly relate the infinite dangers, plots, and practices, he daily escaped amongst this factious crew; the chiefe whereof he quickly layd by the heeles, till his leasure better served to doe them justice: and to take away all occasions of further mischiefe, master percie had his request granted to returne for england, being very sicke; and mr. west with an hundred and twentie of the best he could chuse, he sent to the falles; {mn} martin with neare as many to nandsamund, with their due proportions of all provisions according to their numbers. _the breach of peace with the salvages._ {mn} [iii. .] now the presidents yeare being neare expired, he made captaine martin president to follow the order for the election of a president every yeare: but he knowing his owne insufficiency, and the companies untowardnesse and little regard of him, within three houres after resigned it againe to captaine smith, and at nandsamund thus proceeded. {mn} the people being contributes used him kindly; yet such was his jealous feare, in the midst of their mirth, he did surprise this poore naked king, with his monuments, houses, and the isle he inhabited, and there fortified himselfe; but so apparantly distracted with feare, as imboldened the salvages to assault him, kill his men, release their king, gather and carry away a thousand bushels of corne, he not once offering to intercept them; but sent to the president then at the falles for thirtie good shot; which from james towne immediately was sent him. but he so well imployed them they did just nothing, but returned complaining of his tendernesse: yet he came away with them to james towne, leaving his company to their fortunes. here i cannot omit the courage of george forrest, that had seaventeene arrowes sticking in him, and one shot through him, yet lived sixe or seaven dayes, as if he had small hurt, then for want of chirurgery dyed. master west having seated his men by the falles, presently returned to revisit james towne: the president followed him to see that company seated; met him by the way, wondering at his so quicke returne; and found his company planted so inconsiderately, in a place not onely subject to the rivers inundation, but round invironed with many intolerable inconveniences. _powhatan bought for copper._ for remedie whereof he presently sent to powhatan to sell him the place called powhatan, promising to defend him against the monacans. and these should be his conditions (with his people) to resigne him the fort and houses, and all that countrey for a proportion of copper; that all stealing offenders should be sent him, there to receive their punishment; that every house as a custome should pay him a bushell of corne for an inch square of copper, and a proportion of pocones, as a yearely tribute to king james for their protection, as a dutie; what else they could spare to barter at their best discretions. _muntinies._ _five suppresse an hundred and twentie._ {mn- } _breach of peace with the salvages at the falles._ {mn- } but both this excellent place and those good conditions did those furies refuse, contemning both him, his kinde care and authoritie. so much they depended on the lord generals new commission; as they regarded none: the worst they could doe to shew their spights they did; supposing all the monacans country, gold; and none should come there but whom they pleased. {mn- } i doe more then wonder to thinke how onely with five men, he either durst or would adventure as he did, (knowing how greedie they were of his bloud) to land amongst them, and commit to imprisonment all the chieftaines of those mutinies, till by their multitudes being an hundred and twentie they forced him to retyre: yet in that interim he surprised one of their boates, wherewith he returned to their ship; where in deed was their provision, which also he tooke, and well it chanced he found the marriners so tractable and constant, or there had beene small possibilitie he had ever escaped. there were divers other of better reason and experience, that from their first landing, hearing the generall good report of his old souldiers, and seeing with their eyes his actions so well mannaged with discretion, as captaine wood, captaine webbe, cap. moone, captaine fitzjames, master william powell, master partridge, master white, and divers others, when they perceived the malice of ratliffe and archer, and their faction, left their companies, and ever rested his faithfull friends. {mn- } but the worst was that the poore salvages, that daily brought in their contribution to the president, that disorderly breach of company so tormented those poore soules, by stealing their corne, robbing their gardens, beating them, breaking their houses and keeping some prisoners; that they daily complained to captaine smith, he had brought them for protectors, worse enemies then the monacans themselves: which though till then, for his love they had endured, they desired pardon if hereafter they defended themselves; since he would not correct them, as they had long expected he [iii. .] would. so much they importuned him to punish their misdemeanors, as they offered (if he would leade them) to fight for him against them. but having spent nine dayes in seeking to reclaime them; shewing them how much they did abuse themselves with these great guilded hopes of the south sea mines, commodities, or victories, they so madly conceived; then seeing nothing would prevaile, he set sayle for james towne. thus oft we see from small greene wounds, and from a little griefe, a greater sore and sicknesse growes, then will admit reliefe: for thus themselves they did beguile, and with the rest play'd theefe. _an assalt by the salvages._ _the planting of non-such._ {mn} now no sooner was the ship under sayle, but the salvages assaulted those hundred and twentie in their fort, finding some stragling abroad in the woods: they slew many, and so affrighted the rest, as their prisoners escaped, and they safely retyred, with the swords and cloakes of those they had slaine. but ere wee had sayled halfe a league, our ship grounding, gave us once more libertie to summon them to a parley; where we found them all so strangely amazed with this poore silly assault of twelve salvages, that they submitted themselves upon any tearmes to the presidents mercy; who presently put by the heeles sixe or seaven of the chiefe offenders: the rest he seated gallantly at powhatan, in that salvage fort, readie built, and prettily fortified with poles and barkes of trees, sufficient to have defended them from all the salvages in virginia, dry houses for lodgings and neere two hundred accres of ground ready to be planted, {mn} and no place we knew so strong, so pleasant and delightfull in virginia for which we called it non-such. the salvages also hee presently appeased, redelivering to either party their former losses. thus all were friends. _the salvages appeased._ new officers appointed to command, and the president againe ready to depart, at that instant arrived captaine west, whose gentle nature, by the perswasions and compassion of those mutinous prisoners, (alledging they had onely done this for his honor) was so much abused, that to regaine their old hopes, new turboyles did arise. for they a-shore being possessed of all their victuall, munition, and every thing, grew to that height in their former factions, as the president left them to their fortunes: they returned againe to the open ayre at wests fort, abandoning non-such, and he to james towne with his best expedition, but this hapned him in that journey. _captaine smith blowne up with powder._ _a bloudy intent._ {mn} sleeping in his boate, (for the ship was returned two daies before) accidentallie, one fired his powder-bag, which tore the flesh from his body and thighes, nine or ten inches square in a most pittifull manner; but to quench the tormenting fire, frying him in his cloaths he leaped over-boord into the deepe river, where ere they could recover him he was neere drowned. in this estate without either chirurgian, or chirurgery he was to goe neere an hundred myles. arriving at james towne, causing all things to be prepared for peace or warres to obtaine provision, whilest those things were providing, ratliffe, archer, & the rest of their confederates, being to come to their trials; their guiltie consciences, fearing a just reward for their deserts, seeing the president, unable to stand, and neere bereft of his senses by reason of his torment, they had plotted to have murdered him in his bed. {mn} but his heart did faile him that should have given fire to that mercilesse pistoll. so not finding that course to be the best, they joyned together to usurpe the government, thereby to escape their punishment. the president, had notice of their projects, the which to withstand, though his old souldiers importuned him but permit them to take their heads that would resist his command, yet he would not suffer them, but sent for the masters of the ships, and tooke order with them for his returne for england. seeing there was neither chirurgian, nor chirurgery in the fort to cure his hurt, and the ships to depart the next day, his commission to be suppressed he knew not why, himselfe and souldiers to [iii. .] be rewarded he knew not how, and a new commission granted they knew not to whom (the which disabled that authority he had, as made them presume so oft to those mutinies as they did:) besides so grievous were his wounds, and so cruell his torments (few expecting he could live) nor was hee able to follow his busines to regaine what they had lost, suppresse those factions, and range the countries for provision as he intended; and well he knew in those affaires his owne actions and presence was as requisit as his directions, which now could not be, he went presently abroad, resolving there to appoint them governours, and to take order for the mutiners, but he could finde none hee thought fit for it would accept it. in the meane time, seeing him gone, they perswaded master percy to stay, who was then to goe for england, and be their president. within lesse then an houre was this mutation begun and concluded. for when the company understood smith would leave them, & saw the rest in armes called presidents & councellors, divers began to fawne on those new commanders, that now bent all their wits to get him resigne them his commission: who after much adoe and many bitter repulses; that their confusion (which he tould them was at their elbowes) should not be attributed to him, for leaving the colony without a commission, he was not unwilling they should steale it, but never would he give it to such as they. and thus, strange violent forces drew us on unwilling: reason perswading 'gainst our loves rebelling. we saw and knew the better, ah curse accurst! that notwithstanding: we imbrace the worst. _the causes why smith left the countrey and his commission._ but had that unhappie blast not hapned, he would quickly have qualified the heate of those humors, and factions, had the ships but once left them and us to our fortunes; and have made that provision from among the salvages, as we neither feared spanyard, salvage, nor famine; nor would have left virginia, nor our lawfull authoritie, but at as deare a price as we had bought it, and payd for it. what shall i say but thus, we left him, that in all his proceedings, made justice his first guide, and experience his second, even hating basenesse, sloath, pride, and indignitie, more then any dangers; that never allowed more for himselfe, then his souldiers with him; that upon no danger would send them where he would not lead them himselfe; that would never see us want, what he either had, or could by any meanes get us; that would rather want then borrow, or starve then not pay; that loved action more then words, and hated falshood and covetousnesse worse then death; whose adventures were our lives, and whose losse our deaths. leaving us thus with three ships, seaven boats, commodities readie to trade, the harvest newly gathered, ten weeks provision in the store, foure hundred nintie and od persons, twentie-foure peeces of ordnance, three hundred muskets, snaphances, and firelockes, shot, powder, and match sufficient, curats, pikes, swords, and morrios, more then men; the salvages, their language, and habitations well knowne to an hundred well trayned and expert souldiers; nets for fishing; tooles of all sorts to worke; apparell to supply our wants; six mares and a horse; five or sixe hundred swine; as many hennes and chickens; some goats; some sheepe; what was brought or bred there remained. but they regarding nothing but from hand to mouth, did consume that wee had, tooke care for nothing, but to perfect some colourable complaints against captaine smith. for effecting whereof three weekes longer they stayed the ships, till they could produce them. that time and charge might much better have beene spent, but it suted well with the rest of their discretions. besides james towne that was strongly pallizadoed, containing some fiftie or sixtie houses, he left five or sixe other severall forts and plantations: though they were not so sumptuous as our successors expected, they were better then they provided any for us. all this time we [iii. ] had but one carpenter in the countrey, and three others that could doe little, but desired to be learners: two black-smiths; two saylers, & those we write labourers were for most part footmen, and such as they that were adventurers brought to attend them, or such as they could perswade to goe with them, that never did know what a dayes worke was, except the dutch-men and poles, and some dozen other. for all the rest were poore gentlemen, tradsmen, serving-men, libertines, and such like, ten times more fit to spoyle a common-wealth, then either begin one, or but helpe to maintain one. for when neither the feare of god, nor the law, nor shame, nor displeasure of their friends could rule them here, there is small hope ever to bring one in twentie of them ever to be good there. notwithstanding, i confesse divers amongst them, had better mindes and grew much more industrious then was expected: yet ten good workemen would have done more substantiall worke in a day, then ten of them in a weeke. therefore men may rather wonder how we could doe so much, then use us so badly, because we did no more, but leave those examples to make others beware, and the fruits of all, we know not for whom. _the ends of the dutch-men._ but to see the justice of god upon these dutch-men; valdo before spoke of, made a shift to get for england, where perswading the merchants what rich mines he had found, and great service he would doe them, was very well rewarded, and returned with the lord la warre: but being found a meere impostor, he dyed most miserably. adam and francis his two consorts were fled againe to powhatan, to whom they promised at the arrivall of my lord, what wonders they would doe, would he suffer them but to goe to him. but the king seeing they would be gone, replyed; you that would have betrayed captaine smith to mee, will certainely betray me to this great lord for your peace: so caused his men to beat out their braines. to conclude, the greatest honour that ever belonged to the greatest monarkes, was the inlarging their dominions, and erecting common-weales. yet howsoever any of them have attributed to themselves, the conquerors of the world: there is more of the world never heard of them, then ever any of them all had in subjection: for the medes, persians, and assyrians, never conquered all asia, nor the grecians but part of europe and asia. the romans indeed had a great part of both, as well as affrica: but as for all the northerne parts of europe and asia, the interior southern and westerne parts of affrica, all america & terra incognita, they were all ignorant: nor is our knowledge yet but superficiall. that their beginnings, ending, and limitations were proportioned by the almightie is most evident: but to consider of what small meanes many of them have begun is wonderfull. for some write that even rome her selfe, during the raigne of romulus, exceeded not the number of a thousand houses. and carthage grew so great a potentate, that at first was but incirculed in the thongs of a bulls skinne, as to fight with rome for the empire of the world. yea venice at this time the admiration of the earth, was at first but a marish, inhabited by poor fishermen. and likewise ninivie, thebes, babylon, delus, troy. athens, mycena and sparta, grew from small beginnings to be most famous states, though now they retaine little more then a naked name. now this our yong common-wealth in virginia, as you have read once consisted but of persons, and in two yeares increased but to . yet by this small meanes so highly was approved the plantation in virginia, as how many lords, with worthy knights, and brave gentlemen pretended to see it, and some did, and now after the expence of fifteene yeares more, and such massie summes of men and money, grow they disanimated? if we truely consider our proceedings with the spanyards, and the rest, we have no reason to despayre for with so small charge, they never had either greater discoveries, with such certaine tryals of more severall commodities, then in this short time hath beene returned from virginia, and by much lesse meanes. new england was brought out of obscuritie, and affoorded fraught for neare sayle of ships, where there is now erected a brave plantation. for the happines of summer isles, they are no lesse then either, and yet those have had a far lesse, and a more difficult beginning, then either rome, carthage, or venice. written by richard pots, clarke of the councell, william tankard, and g.p. a.d. panegyrick verses now seeing there is thus much paper here to [iii. .] spare, that you should not be altogether cloyed with prose; such verses as my worthy friends bestowed upon new england, i here present you, because with honestie i can neither reject, nor omit their courtesies. in the deserved honour of the author, captaine john smith, and his worke. damn'd envie is a sp'rite, that ever haunts beasts, mis-nam'd men; cowards, or ignorants. but, onely such shee followes, whose deare worth (maugre her malice) sets their glory forth. if this faire overture, then, take not; it is envie's spight (deare friend) in men of wit; or feare, lest morsels, which our mouths possesse, might fall from thence; or else, tis sottishnesse. if either; (i hope neither) thee they raise; thy letters [fn] are as letters in thy praise; who, by their vice, improve (when they reproove.) thy vertue; so, in hate, procure thee love. then, on firme worth: this monument i frame; scorning for any smith to forge such fame. john davies, heref: * * * * * [fn] hinderers. to his worthy captaine the author. that which wee call the subject of all storie, is truth: which in this worke of thine gives glorie to all that thou hast done. then, scorne the spight of envie; which doth no mans merits right. my sword may helpe the rest: my pen no more can doe, but this; i'ave said enough before. your sometime souldier, j. codrinton, now templer. to my worthy friend and cosen, captaine john smith. it over-joyes my heart, when as thy words of these designes, with deeds i doe compare. here is a booke, such worthy truth affords, none should the due desert thereof impare: sith thou, the man, deserving of these ages, much paine hast ta'en for this our kingdomes good, in climes unknowne, 'mongst turks and salvages, t'inlarge our bounds; though with thy losse of blood. hence damn'd detraction: stand not in our way. envie, it selfe, will not the truth gainesay. n. smith. in the deserved honour of my honest and worthy captaine, john smith, and his worke. captaine and friend; when i peruse thy booke (with judgements eyes) into my heart i looke: and there i finde (what sometimes albion knew) a souldier, to his countries-honour, true. some fight for wealth; and some for emptie praise; but thou alone thy countries fame to raise. [iii. .] with due discretion, and undanted heart, i (oft) so well have seene thee act thy part in deepest plunge of hard extreamitie, as forc't the troups of proudest foes to flie. though men of greater ranke and lesse desert would pish-away thy praise, it can not start from the true owner: for, all good mens tongues shall keepe the same. to them that part belongs. if, then, wit, courage, and successe should get thee fame; the muse for that is in thy debt: apart whereof (least able though i be) thus here i doe disburse, to honor thee. raleigh crashaw. michael phettiplace, wil: phettiplace, and richard wiffing, gentlemen, and souldiers under captaine smiths command: in his deserved honour for his worke, and worth. why may not wee in this worke have our mite, that had our share in each black day and night, when thou virginia foild'st, yet kept'st unstaind; and held'st the king of paspeheh enchaind. thou all alone this salvage sterne didst take. pamaunkees king wee saw thee captive make among seaven hundred of his stoutest men, to murther thee and us resolved; when fast by the hayre thou ledst this salvage grim, thy pistoll at his breast to governe him: which did infuse such awe in all the rest (sith their drad soveraigne thou had'st so distrest) that thou and wee (poore sixteene) safe retir'd unto our helplesse ships. thou (thus admir'd) didst make proud powhatan, his subjects send to james his towne, thy censure to attend: and all virginia's lords, and pettie kings, aw'd by thy vertue, crouch, and presents brings to gaine thy grace; so dreaded thou hast beene: and yet a heart more milde is seldome seene; so, making valour vertue, really; who hast nought in thee counterfeit, or slie; if in the sleight be not the truest art, that makes men famoused for faire desert. who saith of thee, this savors of vaine glorie, mistakes both thee and us, and this true storie. if it be ill in thee, so well to doe; then, is ill in us, to praise thee too. but, if the first be well done; it is well, to say it doth (if so it doth) excell. praise is the guerdon of each deare desert making the praised act the praised part with more alacritie: honours spurre is praise; without which, it (regardlesse) soone decaies. and for this paines of thine wee praise thee rather, that future times may know who was the father of that rare worke (new england) which may bring, praise to thy god, and profit to thy king. the fourth booke. [iv. .] a.d. to make plaine the true proceedings of the historie for . we must follow the examinations of doctor simons, and two learned orations published by the companie; with the relation of the right honourable the lord de la ware. what happened in the first government after the alteration in the time of captaine george piercie their governour. _the planting point comfort._ the day before captaine smith returned for england with the ships, captaine davis arrived in a small pinace, with some sixteene proper men more: to these were added a company from james towne, under the command of captaine john sickelmore alias ratliffe, to inhabit point comfort. captaine martin and captaine west, having lost their boats and neere halfe their men among the salvages, were returned to james towne; for the salvages no sooner understood smith was gone, but they all revolted, and did spoile and murther all they incountered. now wee were all constrained to live onely on that smith had onely for his owne companie, for the rest had consumed their proportions, and now they had twentie presidents with all their appurtenances: master piercie our new president, was so sicke hee could neither goe nor stand. but ere all was consumed, captaine west and captaine sickelmore, each with a small ship and thirtie or fortie men well appointed, sought abroad to trade. sickelmore upon the confidence of powhatan, with about thirtie others as carelesse as himselfe, were all slaine, onely jeffrey shortridge escaped, and pokahontas the kings daughter saved a boy called henry spilman, that lived many yeeres after, by her meanes, amongst the patawomekes. powhatan still as he found meanes, cut off their boats, denied them trade, so that captaine west set saile for england. now we all found the losse of captaine smith, yea his greatest maligners could now curse his losse: as for corne, provision and contribution from the salvages, we had nothing but mortall wounds, with clubs and arrowes; as for our hogs, hens, goats, sheepe, horse, or what lived, our commanders, officers & salvages daily consumed them, some small proportions sometimes we tasted, till all was devoured; then swords, armes, pieces, or any thing, wee traded with the salvages, whose cruell fingers were so oft imbrewed in our blouds, that what by their crueltie, our governours indiscretion, and the losse of our ships, of five hundred within six moneths after captaine smiths departure, there remained not past sixtie men, women and children, most miserable and poore creatures; and those were preserved for the most part, by roots, herbes, acornes, walnuts, berries, now and then a little fish: they that had startch in these extremities, made no small use of it; yea, even the very skinnes of our horses. nay, so great was our famine, that a salvage we slew, and buried, the poorer sort tooke [iv. .] him up againe and eat him, and so did divers one another boyled and stewed with roots and herbs: and one amongst the rest did kill his wife, powdered her, and had eaten part of her before it was knowne, for which hee was executed, as hee well deserved; now whether shee was better roasted, boyled or carbonado'd, i know not, but of such a dish as powdered wife i never heard of. this was that time, which still to this day we called the starving time; it were too vile to say, and scarce to be beleeved, what we endured: but the occasion was our owne, for want of providence, industrie and government, and not the barrennesse and defect of the countrie, as is generally supposed; for till then in three yeeres, for the numbers were landed us, we had never from england provision sufficient for six moneths, though it seemed by the bils of loading sufficient was sent us, such a glutton is the sea, and such good fellowes the mariners; we as little tasted of the great proportion sent us, as they of our want and miseries, yet notwithstanding they ever over-swayed and ruled the businesse, though we endured all that is said, and chiefly lived on what this good countrie naturally afforded; yet had wee beene even in paradice it selfe with these governours, it would not have beene much better with us; yet there was amongst us, who had they had the government as captaine smith appointed, but that they could not maintaine it, would surely have kept us from those extremities of miseries. this in ten daies more, would have supplanted us all with death. _the arrivall of sir thomas gates._ but god that would not this countrie should be unplanted, sent sir thomas gates, and sir george sommers with one hundred and fiftie people most happily preserved by the bermudas to preserve us: strange it is to say how miraculously they were preserved in a leaking ship, as at large you may reade in the insuing historie of those ilands. a.d. the government resigned to sir thomas gates, . _james towne abandoned._ {mn} when these two noble knights did see our miseries, being but strangers in that countrie, and could understand no more of the cause, but by conjecture of our clamours and complaints, of accusing and excusing one another: {mn} they embarked us with themselves, with the best meanes they could, and abandoning james towne, set saile for england, whereby you may see the event of the government of the former commanders left to themselves; although they had lived there many yeeres as formerly hath beene spoken (who hindred now their proceedings, captaine smith being gone.) at noone they fell to the ile of hogs, and the next morning to mulbery point, at what time they descried the long-boat of the lord la ware, for god would not have it so abandoned. for this honourable lord, then governour of the countrie, met them with three ships exceedingly well furnished with all necessaries fitting, who againe returned them to the abandoned james towne. out of the observations of william simmons doctor of divinitie. the government devolved to the lord la ware. _the arivall of the lord la ware._ his lordship arrived the ninth of june . accompanied with sir ferdinando waynman, captaine houlcroft, captaine lawson, and divers other gentlemen of sort; the tenth he came up with his fleet, went on shore, heard a sermon, read his commission, and entred into consultation for the good of the colonie, in which secret counsell we will a little leave them, that we may duly observe the revealed counsell of god. hee that shall but turne up his eie, and behold the spangled canopie of heaven, or shall but cast downe his eie, and consider the embroydered carpet of the earth, and withall shall marke how the heavens heare the earth, and the earth the corne and oile, and they relieve the necessities of man, [iv. .] that man will acknowledge gods infinite providence: but hee that shall further observe, how god inclineth all casuall events to worke the necessary helpe of his saints, must needs adore the lords infinite goodnesse; never had any people more just cause, to cast themselves at the very foot-stoole of god, and to reverence his mercie, than this distressed colonie; for if god had not sent sir thomas gates from the bermudas, within foure daies they had almost beene famished; if god had not directed the heart of that noble knight to save the fort from fiering at their shipping, for many were very importunate to have burnt it, they had beene destitute of a present harbour and succour; if they had abandoned the fort any longer time, and had not so soone returned, questionlesse the indians would have destroied the fort, which had beene the meanes of our safeties amongst them and a terror. if they had set saile sooner, and had lanched into the vast ocean, who would have promised they should have incountered the fleet of the lord la ware, especially when they made for new found land, as they intended, a course contrarie to our navie approaching. if the lord la ware had not brought with him a yeeres provision, what comfort would those poore soules have received, to have beene relanded to a second distruction? this was the arme of the lord of hosts, who would have his people passe the red sea and wildernesse, and then to possesse the land of canaan: it was divinely spoken of heathen socrates, if god for man be carefull, why should man bee over-distrustfull? for he hath so tempered the contrary qualities of the elements, that neither cold things want heat, nor moist things dry, nor sad things spirits, to quicken them thereby, yet make they musicall content of contrarietie, which conquer'd, knits them in such links together, they doe produce even all this whatsoever. the lord governour, after mature deliberation delivered some few words to the companie, laying just blame upon them, for their haughtie vanities and sluggish idlenesse, earnestly intreating them to amend those desperate follies, lest hee should be compelled to draw the sword of justice, and to cut off such delinquents, which he had rather draw, to the shedding of his vitall bloud, to protect them from injuries; heartning them with relation of that store hee had brought with him, constituting officers of all conditions, to rule over them, allotting every man his particular place, to watch vigilantly, and worke painfully: this oration and direction being received with a generall applause, you might shortly behold the idle and restie diseases of a divided multitude, by the unitie and authoritie of this government to be substantially cured. those that knew not the way to goodnesse before, but cherished singularitie and faction, can now chalke out the path of all respective dutie and service: every man endevoureth to outstrip other in diligence: the french preparing to plant the vines, the english labouring in the woods and grounds; every man knoweth his charge, and dischargeth the same with alacritie. neither let any man be discouraged, by the relation of their daily labour (as though the sap of their bodies should bee spent for other mens profit) the setled times of working, to effect all themselves, or as the adventurers need desire, required no more paines than from six of the clocke in the morning, untill ten, and from two in the afternoone, till foure, at both which times they are provided of spirituall and corporall reliefe. first, they enter into the church, and make their praiers unto god, next they returne to their houses and receive their proportion of food. nor should it bee conceived that this businesse excludeth gentlemen, whose breeding never knew what a daies labour meant, for though they cannot digge, use the spade, nor practice the axe, yet may the staied spirits of any condition, finde how to imploy the force of knowledge, the exercise of counsell, the operation and power of their best breeding and qualities. the houses which are built, are as warme [iv. .] and defensive against wind and weather, as if they were tiled and slated, being covered above with strong boards, and some matted round with indian mats. our forces are now such as are able to tame the furie and trecherie of the salvages: our forts assure the inhabitants, and frustrate all assaylants. and to leave no discouragement in the heart of any, who personally shall enter into this great action, i will communicate a double comfort; first, sir george sommers, that worthy admirall hath undertaken a dangerous adventure for the good of the colonie. _sir george sommers returne to the bermudas._ upon the . of june, accompanied with captaine samuel argall, hee returned in two pinaces unto the bermudas, promising (if by any meanes god will open a way to that iland of rocks) that he would soone returne with six moneths provision of flesh; with much crosse weather at last hee there safely arrived, but captaine argall was forced backe againe to james towne, whom the lord de la ware not long after sent to the river of patawomeke, to trade for corne; where finding an english boy, one henry spilman, a young gentleman well descended, by those people preserved from the furie of powhatan, by his acquaintance had such good usage of those kinde salvages, that they fraughted his ship with corne, wherewith he returned to james towne. _the building fort henry and fort charles._ the other comfort is, that the lord la ware hath built two new forts, the one called fort henry, the other fort charles, in honour of our most noble prince, and his hopefull brother, upon a pleasant plaine, and neare a little rivilet they call southampton river; they stand in a wholsome aire, having plentie of springs of sweet water, they command a great circuit of ground, containing wood, pasture and marsh, with apt places for vines, corne and gardens; in which forts it is resolved, that all those that come out of england, shall be at their first landing quartered, that the wearisomnesse of the sea, may bee refreshed in this pleasing part of the countrie, and sir thomas gates hee sent for england. but to correct some injuries of the paspahegs, he sent captaine pearcie, master stacy, and fiftie or threescore shot, where the salvages flying, they burnt their houses, tooke the queene and her children prisoners, whom not long after they slew. the fertilitie of the soile, the temperature of the climate, the forme of government, the condition of our people, their daily invocating of the name of god being thus expressed; why should the successe, by the rules of mortall judgement, bee disparaged? why should not the rich harvest of our hopes be seasonably expected? i dare say, that the resolution of caesar in france, the designes of alexander, the discoveries of hernando cortes in the west, and of emanuel king of portugal in the east, were not encouraged upon so firme grounds of state and possibilitie. but his lordship being at the fales, the salvages assaulted his troopes and slew three or foure of his men. not long after, his honour growing very sicke, he returned for england the . of march; in the ship were about five and fiftie men, but ere we arrived at fyall, fortie of us were neare sicke to death, of the scurvie, callenture, and other diseases: the governour being an english-man, kindly used us, but small reliefe we could get, but oranges, of which we had plenty, whereby within eight daies wee recovered, and all were well and strong by that they came into england. written by william box. the counsell of virginia finding the smalnesse of that returne which they hoped should have defrayed the charge of a new supply, entred into a deep consultation, whether it were fit to enter into a new contribution, or in time to send for them home, and give over the action, and therefore they adjured sir thomas gates to deale plainly with them, who with a solemne and a sacred oath replyed, that all things before reported were true, and that all men know that wee stand at the devotion of politicke princes and states, who for their proper utilitie, devise all courses to grind our merchants, and by all pretences to confiscate their goods, and to draw from us all manner of gaine by their inquisitive inventions, when in virginia, a few yeeres labour by planting and husbandry, will furnish [iv. .] all our defects with honour and securitie. out of a declaration published by the counsell, . a.d. . lord de la ware's relation the government left againe to captaine george piercie, and the returne of the lord la ware, with his relation to the councell. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _the relation of the lord la ware._ {mn} my lords, now by accident returned from my charge at virginia, contrary either to my owne desire, or other mens expectations, who spare not to censure me, in point of dutie, and to discourse and question the reason, though they apprehend not the true cause of my returne, {mn} i am forced out of a willingnesse to satisfie every man, to deliver unto your lordships and the rest of this assemblie, in what state i have lived ever since my arrivall to the colonie, what hath beene the just cause of my sudden departure, and on what tearmes i have left the same, the rather because i perceive, that since my comming into england, such a coldnesse and irresolution is bred in many of the adventurers, that some of them seeke to withdraw their payments, by which the action must be supported, making this my returne colour of their needlesse backwardnesse and unjust protraction: which that you may the better understand, i was welcomed to james towne by a violent ague; being cured of it, within three weekes after i began to be distempered with other grievous sicknesses which successively and severally assailed me, for besides a relapse into the former disease, which with much more violence held me more than a moneth, and brought me to greater weaknesse; the flux surprised mee, and kept me many daies, then the crampe assaulted my weake body with strong paines, and after, the gout; all those drew me to that weaknesse, being unable to stirre, brought upon me the scurvie, which though in others it be a sicknesse of slothfulnesse, yet was it in me an effect of weaknesse, which never left me, till i was ready to leave the world. in these extremities i resolved to consult with my friends, who finding nature spent in me, and my body almost consumed, my paines likewise daily increasing, gave me advice to preferre a hopefull recoverie, before an assured ruine, which must necessarily have ensued, had i lived but twentie daies longer in virginia, wanting at that instant both food and physicke, fit to remedie such extraordinary diseases; wherefore i shipped my selfe with doctor bohun and captaine argall, for mevis in the west indies, but being crossed with southerly winds, i was forced to shape my course for the westerne iles, where i found helpe for my health, and my sicknesse asswaged, by the meanes of fresh dyet, especially oranges and limons, and undoubted remedie for that disease: then i intended to have returned backe againe to virginia, but i was advised not to hazard my selfe, before i had perfectly recovered my strength: so i came for england; in which accident, i doubt not but men of judgement will imagine, there would more prejudice have happened by my death there, than i hope can doe by my returne. . _kine and_ . _swine sent to virginia._ {mn} for the colony i left it to the charge of captaine george piercie, a gentleman of honour and resolution, untill the comming of sir thomas dale, whose commission was likewise to bee determined upon the arrivall of sir thomas gates, according to the order your lordships appointed: the number i left were about two hundred, the most in health, and provided of at least ten moneths victuall, and the countrie people tractable and friendly. what other defects they had, i found by sir thomas gates at the cowes; his fleet was sufficiently furnished with supplies, but when it shall please god that sir thomas dale, and sir thomas gates shall arrive in virginia {mn} with the extraordinarie supply of . kine, and . swine, besides store of other provision, for the maintenance of the colonie, there will appeare that successe in the action, as shall give no man cause of distrust, that hath already adventured, but incourage every good minde to further so good a worke, as will redound both to the glory of god, to the credit of our nation, and the comfort of all those that have beene instruments in the furthering of it. out of the lord la wares discourse, published by authoritie, . a.d. sir thomas dale's government the government surrendred to sir thomas dale, who arrived in virginia the tenth of may, . out of master hamors booke. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _the arrivall of sir thomas dale._ {mn} before the lord la ware arrived in england, the councell and companie had dispatched away sir thomas dale with three ships, men and cattell, and all other provisions necessarie for a yeere; {mn} all which arrived well the tenth of may . where he found them growing againe to their former estate of penurie, being so improvident as not to put corne in the ground for their bread, but trusted to the store, then furnished but with three moneths provision; his first care therefore was to imploy all hands about setting of corne, at the two forts at kecoughtan, henry and charles, whereby, the season then not fully past, though about the end of may, wee had an indifferent crop of good corne. _his preparation to build a new towne._ this businesse taken order for, and the care and trust of it committed to his under-officers, to james towne he hastened, where most of the companie were at their daily and usuall works, bowling in the streets; these hee imployed about necessarie workes, as felling of timber, repayring their houses ready to fall on their heads, and providing pales, posts and railes, to impale his purposed new towne, which by reason of his ignorance, being but newly arrived, hee had not resolved where to seat; therefore to better his knowledge, with one hundred men he spent some time in viewing the river of nausamund, in despight of the indians then our enemies; then our owne river to the fales, where upon a high land, invironed with the maine river, some twelve miles from the fales, by arsahattock, he resolved to plant his new towne. _divers mutinie suppressed._ {mn} it was no small trouble to reduce his people so timely to good order, being of so ill a condition, as may well witnesse his severitie and strict imprinted booke of articles, then needfull with all extremitie to be executed; now much mitigated; so as if his lawes had not beene so strictly executed, i see not how the utter subversion of the colonie should have beene prevented, witnesse webbes and prices designe the first yeere, since that of abbots, and others, more dangerous than the former. here i entreat your patience for an apologie, though not a pardon. this jeffrey abbots, how ever this author censures him, and the governour executes him, i know he had long served both in ireland and netherlands, here hee was a sargeant of my companie, and i never saw in virginia a more sufficient souldier, less turbulent, a better wit, more hardy or industrious, nor any more forward to cut off them that sought to abandon the countrie, or wrong the colonie; how ingratefully those deserts might bee rewarded, envied or neglected, or his farre inferiors preferred to over-top him, i know not, but such occasions might move a saint, much more a man, to an unadvised passionate impatience, but how ever, it seemes he hath beene punished for his offences, that was never rewarded for his deserts. {mn} and even this summer cole and kitchins plot with three more, bending their course to ocanahowan, five daies journey from us, where they report are spaniards inhabiting. these were cut off by the salvages, hired by us to hunt them home to receive their deserts: so as sir thomas dale hath not beene so tyrannous nor severe by the halfe, as there was occasion, and just cause for it, and though the manner was not usuall, wee were rather to have regard to those, whom we would have terrified and made fearefull to commit the like offences, than to the offenders justly condemned, for amongst them so hardned in evill, the feare of a cruell, painfull and unusuall death more restraines them, than death it selfe. thus much i have proceeded of his endeavour, untill the comming of sir thomas gates, in preparing himselfe to proceed as he intended. [iv. .] now in england againe to second this noble knight, the counsell and companie with all possible expedition prepared for sir thomas gates six tall ships, with three hundred men, and one hundred kine and other cattell, with munition and all other manner of provision that could be thought needfull; and about the first or second of august, . arrived safely at james towne. the government returned againe to sir thomas gates, . _the second arrivall of sir thomas gates._ these worthy knights being met, after their welcoming salutations, sir thomas dale acquainted him what he had done, and what he intended, which designe sir thomas gates well approving, furnished him with three hundred and fiftie men, such as himselfe made choice of. in the beginning of september, . hee set saile, and arrived where hee intended to build his new towne: within ten or twelve daies he had invironed it with a pale, and in honour of our noble prince henry, called it henrico. the next worke he did, was building at each corner of the towne, a high commanding watch-house, a church, and store-houses; which finished, hee began to thinke upon convenient houses for himselfe and men, which with all possible speed hee could he effected, to the great content of his companie, and all the colonie. _the building of henrico._ this towne is situated upon a necke of a plaine rising land, three parts invironed with the maine river, the necke of land well impaled, makes it like an ile; it hath three streets of well-framed houses, a handsome church, and the foundation of a better laid, to bee built of bricke, besides store-houses, watch-houses, and such like: upon the verge of the river there are five houses, wherein live the honester sort of people, as farmers in england, and they keepe continuall centinell for the townes securitie. about two miles from the towne, into the maine, is another pale, neere two miles in length, from river to river, guarded with severall commanders, with a good quantitie of corne-ground impailed, sufficiently secured to maintaine more than i suppose will come this three yeeres. on the other side of the river, for the securitie of the towne, is intended to be impaled for the securitie of our hogs, about two miles and a halfe, by the name of hope in faith, and coxendale, secured by five of our manner of forts, which are but palisadoes, called charitie fort, mount malado, a guest house for sicke people, a high seat and wholsome aire elisabeth fort, and fort patience: and here hath master whitaker chosen his parsonage, impaled a faire framed parsonage, and one hundred acres called rocke hall, but these are not halfe finished. _the building the bermudas._ {mn} about christmas following, in this same yeere . in regard of the injurie done us by them of apamatuck, sir thomas dale, without the losse of any, except some few salvages, tooke it and their corne, being but five miles by land from henrico, and considering how commodious it might be for us, resolved to possesse and plant it, {mn} and at the instant called it the new bermudas, whereunto hee hath laid out and annexed to the belonging freedome and corporation for ever, many miles of champian and woodland ground in severall hundreds, as the upper and nether hundreds, rochdale hundred, west sherly hundred, and digs his hundred. in the nether hundred he first began to plant, for there is the most corne-ground, and with a pale of two miles, cut over from river to river, whereby we have secured eight english miles in compasse; upon which circuit, within halfe a mile of each other, are many faire houses already built, besides particular mens houses neere to the number of fiftie. rochdale, by a crosse pale welnigh foure miles long, is also planted with houses along the pale, in which hundred our hogs and cattell have twentie miles circuit to graze in securely. the building of the citie is referred till our harvest be in, which he intends to make a retreat against any forraigne enemie. about fiftie miles from these is james towne, upon [iv. .] a fertill peninsula, which although fomerly scandaled for an unhealthfull aire, wee finde it as healthfull as any other part of the countrie; it hath two rowes of houses of framed timber, and some of them two stories, and a garret higher, three large store-houses joined together in length, and hee hath newly strongly impaled the towne. this ile, and much ground about it, is much inhabited: to kecoughtan we accounted it fortie miles, where they live well with halfe that allowance the rest have from the store, because of the extraordinarie quantitie of fish, fowle and deere; as you may reade at large in the discoveries of captaine smith. and thus i have truly related unto you the present estate of that small part of virginia wee frequent and possesse. a.d. _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _captaine argalls arrivall._ {mn- } _how pocahontas was taken prisoner._ {mn- } since there was a ship fraughted with provision, and fortie men; and another since then with the like number and provision, to stay twelve moneths in the countrie, with captaine argall, which was sent not long after. {mn- } after hee had recreated and refreshed his companie, hee was sent to the river patawomeake, to trade for corne, the salvages about us having small quarter, but friends and foes as they found advantage and opportunitie: but to conclude our peace, thus it happened. captaine argall, having entred into a great acquaintance with japazaws, an old friend of captaine smiths, and so to all our nation, ever since hee discovered the countrie: hard by him there was pocahontas, whom captaine smiths relations intituleth the numparell of virginia, and though she had beene many times a preserver of him and the whole colonie, yet till this accident shee was never seene at james towne since his departure, being at patawomeke, as it seemes, {mn- } thinking her selfe unknowne, was easily by her friend japazaws perswaded to goe abroad with him and his wife to see the ship, for captaine argall had promised him a copper kettle to bring her but to him, promising no way to hurt her, but keepe her till they could conclude a peace with her father; the salvage for this copper kettle would have done any thing, it seemed by the relation; for though she had seene and beene in many ships, yet hee caused his wife to faine how desirous she was to see one, and that hee offered to beat her for her importunitie, till she wept. but at last he told her, if pocahontas would goe with her, hee was content: and thus they betraied the poore innocent pocahontas aboord, where they were all kindly feasted in the cabbin. japazaws treading oft on the captaines foot, to remember he had done his part, the captaine when he saw his time, perswaded pocahontas to the gun-roome, faining to have some conference with japazaws, which was onely that she should not perceive hee was any way guiltie of her captivitie: so sending for her againe, hee told her before her friends, she must goe with him, and compound peace betwixt her countrie and us, before she ever should see powhatan, whereat the old jew and his wife began to howle and crie as fast as pocahontas, that upon the captaines faire perswasions, by degrees pacifying her selfe, and japazaws and his wife, with the kettle and other toies, went merrily on shore, and shee to james towne. a messenger forthwith was sent to her father, that his daughter pocahontas he loved so dearely, he must ransome with our men, swords, peeces, tooles, &c. hee trecherously had stolne. _seven english returned from powhatan prisoners._ {mn} this unwelcome newes much troubled powhatan, because hee loved both his daughter and our commodities well, yet it was three moneths after ere hee returned us any answer: {mn} then by the perswasion of the councell, he returned seven of our men, with each of them an unserviceable musket, and sent us word, that powhatan when wee would deliver his daughter, hee would make us satisfaction for all injuries done us, and give us five hundred bushels of corne, and for ever be friends with us. that he sent, we received in part of payment, and returned him this answer: that his daughter should be well used, but we could not beleeve the rest of our armes were either lost or stolne from him, and therefore till hee sent them, we would keepe his daughter. _sir thomas dale his voyage to paumaunke._ {mn} this answer, it seemed, much displeased him, for we [iv. .] heard no more from him a long time after, when with captaine argals ship, and some other vessels belonging to the colonie,{mn} sir thomas dale, with a hundred and fiftie men well appointed, went up into his owne river, to his chiefe habitation, with his daughter; with many scornfull bravado's they affronted us, proudly demanding why wee came thither; our reply was, wee had brought his daughter, and to receive the ransome for her that was promised, or to have it perforce. they nothing dismayed thereat, told us, we were welcome if wee came to fight, for they were provided for us, but advised us, if wee loved our lives to retire; else they would use us as they had done captaine ratcliffe: we told them, wee would presently have a better answer; but we were no sooner within shot of the shore than they let flie their arrowes among us in the ship. _a man shot in the forehead._ being thus justly provoked, wee presently manned our boats, went on shore, burned all their houses, and spoiled all they had we could finde; and so the next day proceeded higher up the river, where they demanded why wee burnt their houses, and wee, why they shot at us: they replyed, it was some stragling salvage, with many other excuses, they intended no hurt, but were our friends: we told them, wee came not to hurt them, but visit them as friends also. upon this we concluded a peace, and forthwith they dispatched messengers to powhatan, whose answer, they told us, wee must expect foure and twentie houres ere the messengers could returne: then they told us, our men were runne away for feare we would hang them, yet powhatans men were runne after them; as for our swords and peeces, they should be brought us the next day, which was only but to delay time; for the next day they came not. then we went higher, to a house of powhatans, called matchot, where we saw about foure hundred men well appointed; here they dared us to come on shore, which wee did; no shew of feare they made at all, nor offered to resist our landing, but walking boldly up and downe amongst us, demanded to conferre with our captaine, of his comming in that manner, and to have truce till they could but once more send to their king to know his pleasure, which if it were not agreeable to their expectation, then they would fight with us, and defend their owne as they could, which was but onely to deferre the time, to carrie away their provision; yet wee promised them truce till the next day at noone, and then if they would fight with us, they should know when we would begin by our drums and trumpets. _two of powhatans sonnes come to see pocahontas._ upon this promise, two of powhatans sonnes came unto us to see their sister, at whose sight, seeing her well, though they heard to the contrarie, they much rejoiced, promising they would perswade her father to redeeme her, and for ever be friends with us. and upon this, the two brethren went aboord with us, and we sent master john rolfe and master sparkes to powhatan, to acquaint him with the businesse; kindly they were entertained, but not admitted the presence of powhatan, but they spoke with opechancanough, his brother and successor; hee promised to doe the best he could to powhatan, all might be well. so it being aprill, and time to prepare our ground and set our corne, we returned to james towne, promising the forbearance of their performing their promise, till the next harvest. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _the marriage of pocahontas to master john rolfe._ long before this, master john rolfe, an honest gentleman, and of good behaviour, had beene in love with pocahontas, and she with him, which thing at that instant i made knowne to sir thomas dale by a letter from him, wherein hee intreated his advice, and she acquainted her brother with it, which resolution sir thomas dale well approved: the brute of this mariage came soone to the knowledge of powhatan, a thing acceptable to him, as appeared by his sudden consent, for within ten daies he sent opachisco, an old uncle of hers, and two of his sons, to see the manner of the marriage, and to doe in that behalfe what they were requested, for the confirmation thereof, as his deputie; which was accordingly done about the first of aprill: and ever since wee have had friendly trade and commerce, as well with powhatan himselfe, as all his subjects. _the chicahamanias desire friendship._ besides this, by the meanes of powhatan, we became [iv. .] in league with our next neighbours, the chicahamanias, a lustie and a daring people, free of themselves. these people, so soone as they heard of our peace with powhatan, sent two messengers with presents to sir thomas dale, and offered him their service, excusing all former injuries, hereafter they would ever be king james his subjects, and relinquish the name of chickahamania, to be called tassautessus, as they call us, and sir thomas dale there governour, as the kings deputie; onely they desired to be governed by their owne lawes, which is eight of their elders as his substitutes. this offer he kindly accepted, and appointed the day hee would come to visit them. when the appointed day came, sir thomas dale and captaine argall with fiftie men well appointed, went to chickahamania, where wee found the people expecting our comming, they used us kindly, and the next morning sate in counsell, to conclude their peace upon these conditions: _articles of peace._ first, they should for ever bee called englishmen, and bee true subjects to king james and his deputies. secondly, neither to kill nor detaine any of our men, nor cattell, but bring them home. thirdly, to bee alwaies ready to furnish us with three hundred men, against the spaniards or any. fourthly, they shall not enter our townes, but send word they are new englishmen. fiftly, that every fighting man, at the beginning of harvest, shall bring to our store two bushels of corne, for tribute, for which they shall receive so many hatchets. lastly, the eight chiefe men should see all this performed, or receive the punishment themselves: for their diligence they should have a red coat, a copper chaine, and king james his picture, and be accounted his noblemen. all this they concluded with a generall assent, and a great shout to confirme it: then one of the old men began an oration, bending his speech first to the old men, then to the young, and then to the women and children, to make them understand how strictly they were to observe these conditions, and we would defend them from the furie of powhatan, or any enemie whatsoever, and furnish them with copper, beads, and hatchets; but all this was rather for feare powhatan and we, being so linked together, would bring them againe to his subjection; the which to prevent, they did rather chuse to be protected by us, than tormented by him, whom they held a tyrant. and thus wee returned againe to james towne. _the benefit of libertie in the planters._ _wiliam spence the first farmer in virginia._ {mn} when our people were fed out of the common store, and laboured jointly together, glad was he could slip from his labour, or slumber over his taske he cared not how, nay, the most honest among them would hardly take so much true paines in a weeke, as now for themselves they will doe in a day, neither cared they for the increase, presuming that howsoever the harvest prospered, the generall store must maintaine them, so that wee reaped not so much corne from the labours of thirtie, as now three or foure doe provide for themselves. to prevent which, sir thomas dale hath allotted every man three acres of cleare ground, in the nature of farmes, except the bermudas, who are exempted, but for one moneths service in the yeere, which must neither bee in seed-time, nor harvest; for which doing, no other dutie they pay yeerely to the store, but two barrels and a halfe of corne {mn} (from all those farmers, whereof the first was william spence, an honest, valiant, and an industrious man, and hath continued from . to this present) from those is expected such a contribution to the store, as wee shall neither want for our selves, nor to entertaine our supplies; for the rest, they are to worke eleven moneths for the store, and hath one moneth onely allowed them to get provision to keepe them for twelve, except two bushels of corne they have out of the store; if those can live so, why should any feare starving, and it were much better to denie them passage, that would not ere they come, bee content to ingage themselves to those conditions: for onely from the slothfull and idle drones, [iv. .] and none else, hath sprung the manifold imputations, virginia innocently hath undergone; and therefore i would deter such from comming here, that cannot well brooke labour, except they will undergoe much punishment and penurie, if they escape the skurvie: but for the industrious, there is reward sufficient, and if any thinke there is nothing but bread, i referre you to his relations that discovered the countrie first. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ the government left to sir thomas dale upon sir thomas gates returne for england. _captaine argalls voyage to port royall._ sir thomas dale understanding there was a plantation of frenchmen in the north part of virginia, about the degrees of . sent captaine argall to port royall and sancta crux, where finding the frenchmen abroad dispersed in the woods, surprized their ship and pinnace, which was but newly come from france, wherein was much good apparel, and other provision, which he brought to james towne, but the men escaped, and lived among the salvages of those countries. it pleased sir thomas dale, before my returne to england, because i would be able to speake somewhat of my owne knowledge, to give mee leave to visit powhatan and his court: being provided, i had thomas salvage with mee, for my interpreter, with him and two salvages for guides, i went from the bermuda in the morning, and came to matchot the next night, where the king lay upon the river of pamaunke; his entertainment was strange to me, the boy he knew well, and told him; my child, i gave you leave, being my boy, to goe see your friends, and these foure yeeres i have not seene you, nor heard of my owne man namoutack i sent to england, though many ships since have beene returned thence: having done with him, hee began with mee, and demanded for the chaine of pearle he sent his brother sir thomas dale at his first arrivall, which was a token betwixt them, when ever hee should send a messenger from himselfe to him, he should weare that chaine about his necke, since the peace was concluded, otherwaies he was to binde him and send him home. _master hamars journey to powhatan._ it is true sir thomas dale had sent him such word, and gave his page order to give it me, but he forgot it, and till this present i never heard of it, yet i replyed i did know there was such an order, but that was when upon a sudden he should have occasion to send an englishman without an indian guide; but if his owne people should conduct his messenger, as two of his did me who knew my message, it was sufficient; with which answer he was contented, and so conducted us to his house, where was a guard of two hundred bow-men, that alwaies attend his person. the first thing he did, he offered me a pipe of tobacco, then asked mee how his brother sir thomas dale did, and his daughter, and unknowne sonne, and how they lived, loved and liked; i told him his brother was well, and his daughter so contented, she would not live againe with him; whereat he laughed, and demanded the cause of my comming: i told him my message was private, and i was to deliver it onely to himselfe and papaschicher, one of my guides that was acquainted with it; instantly he commanded all out of the house, but onely his two queenes, that alwaies sit by him, and bade me speake on. _his message to powhatan._ i told him, by my interpreter, sir thomas dale hath sent you two pieces of copper, five strings of white and blue beads, five woodden combes, ten fish-hookes, a paire of knives, and that when you would send for it, hee would give you a grind-stone; all this pleased him: but then i told him his brother dale, hearing of the fame of his youngest daughter, desiring in any case he would send her by me unto him, in testimonie of his love, as well for that he intended to marry her, as the desire her sister had to see her, because being now one people, and hee desirous for ever to dwell in his countrie, he conceived there could not be a truer assurance of peace and friendship, than in such a naturall band of an united union. i needed not entreat his answer by his oft interrupting [iv. .] mee in my speech, and presently with much gravitie he thus replyed. _powhatans answer._ i gladly accept your salute of love and peace, which while i live, i shall exactly keepe, his pledges thereof i receive with no lesse thanks, although they are not so ample as formerly he had received; but for my daughter, i have sold her within this few daies to a great werowance, for two bushels of rawrenoke, three daies journie from me. i replyed, i knew his greatnesse in restoring the rawrenoke, might call her againe to gratifie his brother, and the rather, because she was but twelve yeeres old, assuring him, besides the band of peace, hee should have for her, three times the worth of the rawrenoke, in beads, copper, hatchets, &c. his answer was, he loved his daughter as his life, and though hee had many children, hee delighted in none so much as shee, whom he should not often behold, he could not possibly live, which she living with us he could not do, having resolved upon no termes to put himselfe into our hands, or come amongst us; therefore desired me to urge him no further, but returne his brother this answer: that i desire no firmer assurance of his friendship, than the promise hee hath made, from me he hath a pledge, one of my daughters, which so long as she lives shall be sufficient, when she dies, he shall have another: i hold it not a brotherly part to desire to bereave me of my two children at once. farther, tell him though he had no pledge at all, hee need not distrust any injurie from me or my people; there have beene too many of his men and mine slaine, and by my occasion there shall never be more, (i which have power to performe it, have said it) although i should have just cause, for i am now old, & would gladly end my daies in peace; if you offer me injurie, any countrie is large enough to goe from you: thus much i hope will satisfie my brother. now because you are wearie, and i sleepie, wee will thus end. so commanding us victuall and lodging, we rested that night, and the next morning he came to visit us, and kindly conducted us to the best cheere hee had. william parker. _william parker recovered._ while i here remained, by chance came an englishman, whom there had beene surprized three yeeres agoe at fort henry, growne so like, both in complexion and habit like a salvage, i knew him not, but by his tongue: hee desired mee to procure his libertie, which i intended, and so farre urged powhatan, that he grew discontented, and told mee, you have one of my daughters, and i am content, but you cannot see one of your men with mee, but you must have him away, or breake friendship; if you must needs have him, you shall goe home without guides, and if any evill befall you, thanke your selves: i told him i would, but if i returned not well, hee must expect a revenge, and his brother might have just cause to suspect him. so in passion he left me till supper, and then gave me such as hee had with a cheereful countenance: about midnight hee awaked us, and promised in the morning my returne with parker; but i must remember his brother to send him ten great piece of copper, a shaving-knife, a frowe, a grind-stone, a net, fish-hookes, and such toies; which lest i should forget, he caused me write in a table-booke he had; however he got it, it was a faire one, i desired hee would give it me; he told me, no, it did him much good in shewing to strangers, yet in the morning when we departed, having furnished us well with provision, he gave each of us a bucks skin as well dressed as could be, and sent two more to his sonne and daughter: and so we returned to james towne. written by master ralph hamor and john rolph. _from a letter of sir thomas dale and mater whittakers._ i have read the substance of this relation, in a letter written by sir thomas dale, another by master whitaker and a third by master john rolfe; how carefull they were to instruct her in christianity, and how capable and desirous shee was thereof, after she had beene some time thus tutored, shee never had desire to goe to her father, nor could well endure the society of her owne nation: the true affection she constantly bare her husband was much, and the strange apparitions and violent passions he endured for her love, as he deeply protested, was wonderful, and she openly renounced her countries [iv. .] idolatry, confessed the faith of christ, and was baptized, but either the coldnesse of the adventurers, or the bad usage of that was collected, or both, caused this worthy knight to write thus. oh why should so many princes and noblemen ingage themselves, and thereby intermedling herein, have caused a number of soules transport themselves, and be transported hither? why should they, i say, relinquish this so glorious an action: for if their ends be to build god a church, they ought to persevere; if otherwise, yet their honour ingageth them to be constant; howsoever they stand affected, here is enough to content them. these are the things have animated me to stay a little season from them, i am bound in conscience to returne unto; leaving all contenting pleasures and mundall delights, to reside here with much turmoile, which i will rather doe than see gods glory diminished, my king and country dishonoured, and these poore soules i have in charge revived, which would quickly happen if i should leave them; so few i have with me fit to command or manage the businesse: master whitaker their preacher complaineth, and much museth, that so few of our english ministers, that were so hot against the surplice and subscription come hether, where neither is spoken of. doe they not wilfully hide their talents, or keepe themselves at home, for feare of losing a few pleasures; be there not any among them of moses his minde, and of the apostles, that forsooke all to follow christ, but i refer them to the judge of all hearts, and to the king that shall reward every one according to his talent. from virginia, june . . the businesse being brought to this perfection, captaine argall returned for england, in the latter end of june, . arriving in england, and bringing this good tidings to the councell and company by the assistances of sir thomas gates, that also had returned from virginia but the march before; it was presently concluded, that to supply this good successe with all expedition, the standing lottery should be drawne with all diligent conveniency, and that posterity may remember upon occasion to use the like according to the declaration, i thinke it not amisse to remember thus much. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ the contents of the declaration of the lottery published by the counsell. it is apparent to the world, by how many former proclamations, we manifested our intents, to have drawn out the great standing lottery long before this, which not falling out as we desired, and others expected, whose monies are adventured therein, we thought good therefore for the avoiding all unjust and sinister constructions, to resolve the doubts of all indifferent minded, in three speciall points for their better satisfaction. but ere i goe any farther, let us remember there was a running lottery, used a long time in saint pauls church-yard, where this stood, that brought into the treasury good summes of mony dayly, though the lot was but small. now for the points, the first is, for as much as the adventurers came in so slackly for the yeere past, without prejudice to the generality, in losing the blankes and prises, we were forced to petition to the honourable lords, who out of their noble care to further this plantation, have recommended their letsenters to the countries, cities, and good townes in england, which we hope by adding in their voluntary adventurers, will sufficiently supply us. the second for satisfaction to all honest well affected minds, is, that though this expectation answer not our hopes, yet wee have not failed in our christian care, the good of that colony, to whom we have lately sent two sundry supplies, and were they but now supplied with more hands, wee should soone resolve the division of the country by lot, and so lessen the generall charge. the third is our constant resolution, that seeing our credits are so farre ingaged to the honourable lords and [iv. .] the whole state, for the drawing this great lottery, which we intend shall be without delay, the . of june next, desiring all such as have undertaken with bookes to solicit their friends, that they will not with-hold their monies till the last moneth be expired, lest we be unwillingly forced to proportion a lesse value and number of our blankes and prises which hereafter followeth. welcomes. crownes. to him that first shall be drawne out with a blanke, to the second, to the third, to him that every day during the drawing of this lottery, shall bee first drawne out with a blanke, prizes crownes. great prize of great prizes, each of great prizes, each of great prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of prizes, each of rewards. crownes. to him that shall be last drawne out with a blanke, to him that putteth in the greatest lot, under one name, to him that putteth in the second greatest number, to him that putteth in the third greatest number, to him that putteth in the fourth greatest number, if divers be of equall number, their rewards are to be divided proportionally. addition of new rewards. crownes. the blanke that shall bee drawne out next before the great prize shall have the blanke that shall be drawne out next after the said great prize the blancks that shall be drawne out immediatly before the two next great prizes, shall have each of them the severall blankes next after them, each shall have the severall blankes next before the foure great prizes, each shall have the severall blankes next after them, each shall have the severall blankes next before the six great prizes, each shall have the severall blankes next after them, each shall have [iv. .] the prizes, welcomes, and rewards, shall be payed in ready mony, plate, or other goods reasonably rated; if any dislike of the plate or goods, he shall have mony, abating only the tenth part, except in small prizes of ten crownes or under. the mony for the adventurers is to be paied to sir thomas smith, knight, and treasurer for virginia, or such officers as he shall appoint in city or country, under the common seale of the company for the receit thereof. all prizes, welcomes and rewards drawne where ever they dwell, shall of the treasurer have present pay, and whosoever under one name or poesie payeth three pound in ready money, shall receive six shillings and eight pence, or a silver spoone of that value at his choice. _a spanish ship in virginia._ about this time it chanced a spanish ship, beat too and againe before point comfort, and at last sent a shore their boat, as desirous of a pilot. captaine james davis the governor, immediatly gave them one, but he was no sooner in the boat, but away they went with him, leaving three of their companions behind them; this sudden accident occasioned some distrust, and a strict examination of those three thus left, yet with as good usage as our estate could afford them. they only confessed having lost their admirall, accident had forced them into those parts, and two of them were captaines, and in chiefe authority in the fleet: thus they lived till one of them was found to be an englishman, and had been the spaniards pilot for england in . and having here induced some male-contents, to beleeve his projects, to run away with a small barke, which was apprehended, some executed, and he expecting but the hangmans curtesie, directly confessed that two or three spanish ships was at sea, purposely to discover the estate of the colony, but their commission was not to be opened till they arrived in the bay, so that of any thing more he was utterly ignorant. one of the spaniards at last dyed, the other was sent for england but this reprieved, till sir thomas dale hanged him at sea in his voyage home-ward; the english pilot they carried for spaine, whom after a long time imprisonment, with much sute was returned for england. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ whilst those things were effecting, sir thomas dale, having setled to his thinking all things in good order, made choice of one master george yearly, to be deputy-governour in his absence, and so returned for england, accompanied with pocahontas the kings daughter, and master rolfe her husband, and arrived at plimmoth the . of june, . the government left to captaine yearly. _a digression._ now a little to commentary upon all these proceedings, let me leave but this as a caveat by the way; if the alteration of government hath subverted great empires, how dangerous is it then in the infancy of a common-weale? the multiplicity of governors is a great damage to any state, but uncertaine daily changes are burdensome, because their entertainments are chargeable, and many will make hay whilst the sunne doth shine, how ever it shall fare with the generality. this deare bought land with so much bloud and cost, hath onely made some few rich, and all the rest losers. but it was intended at the first, the first undertakers should be first preferred and rewarded, and the first adventurers satisfied, and they of all the rest are the most neglected; and those that never adventured a groat, never see the country, nor ever did any service for it, imploied in their places, adorned with their deserts, and inriched with their ruines; and when they are fed fat, then in commeth others so leane as they were, who through their omnipotency doe as much. thus what one officer doth, another undoth, only ayming at their owne ends, thinking all the world derides his dignity, cannot fill his coffers being in authority with any thing. every man hath his minde free, but he can never be a true member to that [iv. .] estate, that to enrich himselfe beggers all the countrie. which bad course, there are many yet in this noble plantation, whose true honour and worth as much scornes it, as the others loves it; for the nobilitie and gentrie, there is scarce any of them expects any thing but the prosperitie of the action: and there are some merchants and others, i am confidently perswaded, doe take more care and paines, nay, and at their continuall great charge, than they could be hired to for the love of money, so honestly regarding the generall good of this great worke, they would hold it worse than sacrilege, to wrong it but a shilling, or extort upon the common souldier a penny. but to the purpose, and to follow the historie. _the government of captaine yearley._ _twelve salvages slaine, twelve prisoners taken, and peace concluded._ {mn- } _eleven men cast away._ {mn- } _a bad president._ {mn- } mr. george yearly now invested deputie governour by sir thomas dale, applied himselfe for the most part in planting tobacco, as the most present commoditie they could devise for a present gaine, so that every man betooke himselfe to the best place he could for the purpose: now though sir thomas dale had caused such an abundance of corne to be planted, that every man had sufficient, yet the supplies were sent us, came so unfurnished, as quickly eased us of our superfluitie. to relieve their necessities, he sent to the chickahamanias for the tribute corne sir thomas dale and captaine argall had conditioned for with them: but such a bad answer they returned him, that hee drew together one hundred of his best shot, with whom he went to chickahamania; the people in some places used him indifferently, but in most places with much scorne and contempt, telling him he was but sir thomas dales man, and they had payed his master according to condition, but to give any to him they had no such order, neither would they obey him as they had done his master; after he had told them his authoritie, and that he had the same power to enforce them that dale had, they dared him to come on shore to fight, presuming more of his not daring, than their owne valours. yearly seeing their insolencies, made no great difficultie to goe on shore at ozinies, and they as little to incounter him: but marching from thence towards mamanahunt, they put themselves in the same order they see us, lead by their captaine kissanacomen, governour of ozinies, & so marched close along by us, each as threatning other who should first begin. but that night we quartered against mamanahunt, and they passed the river. the next day we followed them; there are few places in virginia had then more plaine ground together, nor more plentie of corne, which although it was but newly gathered, yet they had hid it in the woods where we could not finde it: a good time we spent thus in arguing the cause, the salvages without feare standing in troupes amongst us, seeming as if their countenances had beene sufficient to dant us: what other practises they had i know not; but to prevent the worst, our captaine caused us all to make ready, and upon the word, to let flie among them, where he appointed: others also he commanded to seize on them they could for prisoners; all which being done according to our direction, {mn- } the captaine gave the word, and wee presently discharged, where twelve lay, some dead, the rest for life sprawling on the ground, twelve more we tooke prisoners, two whereof were brothers, two of their eight elders, the one tooke by sergeant boothe, the other by robert a polonian; neere one hundred bushels of corne we had for their ransomes, which was promised the souldiers for a reward, but it was not performed: now opechankanough had agreed with our captaine for the subjecting of those people, that neither hee nor powhatan could ever bring to their obedience, and that he should make no peace with them without his advice: in our returne by ozinies with our prisoners wee met opechankanough, who with much adoe, fained with what paines hee had procured their peace, the which to requite, they called him the king of ozinies, and brought him from all parts many presents of beads, copper, and such trash as they had; here as at many other times wee were beholding to captaine henry spilman our interpreter, a gentleman had lived long time in this countrie, and sometimes a prisoner among the salvages, and done much good service, though but badly rewarded. from hence we marcht [iv. ] towards james towne, {mn- } we had three boats loaded with corne and other luggage, the one of them being more willing to be at james towne with the newes than the other, was overset, and eleven men cast away with the boat, corne and all their provision; notwithstanding this put all the rest of the salvages in that feare, especially in regard of the great league we had with opechankanough, that we followed our labours quietly, and in such securitie, that divers salvages of other nations, daily frequented us with what provisions they could get, and would guide our men on hunting, and oft hunt for us themselves. {mn- } captaine yearly had a salvage or two so well trained up to their peeces, they were as expert as any of the english, and one hee kept purposely to kill him fowle. there were divers others had salvages in like manner for their men. thus we lived together, as if wee had beene one people, all the time captaine yearley staied with us, but such grudges and discontents daily increased among our selves, that upon the arrivall of captaine argall, sent by the councell and companie to bee our governour, captaine yearley returned for england in the yeere . from the writings of captaine nathaniel powell, william cantrill, sergeant boothe, edward gurganey. _pocahontas instructions._ during this time, the lady rebecca, alias pocahontas, daughter to powhatan, by the diligent care of master john rolfe her husband and his friends, was taught to speake such english as might well bee understood, well instructed in christianitie, and was become very formall and civill after our english manner; shee had also by him a childe which she loved most dearely, and the treasurer and company tooke order both for the maintenance of her and it, besides there were divers persons of great ranke and qualitie had beene very kinde to her; and before she arrived at london, captaine smith to deserve her former courtesies, made her qualities knowne to the queenes most excellent majestie and her court, and writ a little booke to this effect to the queene: an abstract whereof followeth. to the most high and vertuous princesse queene anne of great brittanie. most admired queene, the love i beare my god, my king and countrie, hath so oft emboldened mee in the worst of extreme dangers, that now honestie doth constraine mee presume thus farre beyond my selfe, to present your majestic this short discourse: if ingratitude be a deadly poyson to all honest vertues, i must bee guiltie of that crime if i should omit any meanes to bee thankfull. so it is, _a relation to queene anne of pocahontas._ that some ten yeeres agoe being in virginia, and taken prisoner by the power of powhatan their chiefe king, i received from this great salvage exceeding great courtesie, especially from his sonne nantaquans, the most manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit, i ever saw in a salvage, and his sister pocahontas, the kings most deare and wel-beloved daughter, being but a childe of twelve or thirteene yeeres of age, whose compassionate pitifull heart, of my desperate estate, gave me much cause to respect her: i being the first christian this proud king and his grim attendants ever saw: and thus inthralled in their barbarous power, i cannot say i felt the least occasion of want that was in the power of those my mortall foes to prevent, notwithstanding al their threats. after some six weeks fatting amongst those salvage courtiers, at the minute of my execution, she hazarded the beating out of her owne braines to save mine, and not onely that, but so prevailed with her father, that i was safely conducted to james towne, where i found about eight and thirtie miserable poore and sicke creatures, to keepe possession of all those large territories of virginia, such was the weaknesse of this poore commonwealth, as had the salvages not fed us, we directly had starved. and this reliefe, most gracious queene, was commonly [iv. .] brought us by this lady pocahontas, notwithstanding all these passages when inconstant fortune turned our peace to warre, this tender virgin would still not spare to dare to visit us, and by her our jarres have beene oft appeased, and our wants still supplyed; were it the policie of her father thus to imploy her, or the ordinance of god thus to make her his instrument, or her extraordinarie affection to our nation, i know not: but of this i am sure; when her father with the utmost of his policie and power, sought to surprize mee, having but eighteene with mee, the darke night could not affright her from comming through the irkesome woods, and with watered eies gave me intelligence, with her best advice to escape his furie; which had hee knowne, hee had surely slaine her. james towne with her wild traine she as freely frequented, as her fathers habitation; and during the time of two or three yeeres, she next under god, was still the instrument to preserve this colonie from death, famine and utter confusion, which if in those times had once beene dissolved, virginia might have line as it was at our first arrivall to this day. since then, this businesse having beene turned and varied by many accidents from that i left it at: it is most certaine, after a long and troublesome warre after my departure, betwixt her father and our colonie, all which time shee was not heard of, about two yeeres after shee her selfe was taken prisoner, being so detained neere two yeeres longer, the colonie by that meanes was relieved, peace concluded, and at last rejecting her barbarous condition, was maried to an english gentleman, with whom at this present she is in england; the first christian ever of that nation, the first virginian ever spake english, or had a childe in mariage by an englishman, a matter surely, if my meaning bee truly considered and well understood, worthy a princes understanding. thus most gracious lady, i have related to your majestie, what at your best leasure our approved histories will account you at large, and done in the time of your majesties life, and however this might bee presented you from a more worthy pen, it cannot from a more honest heart, as yet i never begged any thing of the state, or any, and it is my want of abilitie and her exceeding desert, your birth, meanes and authentic, her birth, vertue, want and simplicitie, doth make mee thus bold, humbly to beseech your majestie to take this knowledge of her, though it be from one so unworthy to be the reporter, as my selfe, her husbands estate not being able to make her fit to attend your majestie: the most and least i can doe, is to tell you this, because none so oft hath tried it as my selfe, and the rather being of so great a spirit, how ever her stature: if she should not be well received, seeing this kingdome may rightly have a kingdome by her meanes; her present love to us and christianitie, might turne to such scorne and furie, as to divert all this good to the worst of evill, where finding so great a queene should doe her some honour more than she can imagine, for being so kinde to your servants and subjects, would so ravish her with content, as endeare her dearest bloud to effect that, your majestie and all the kings honest subjects most earnestly desire: and so i humbly kisse your gracious hands. _pocahontas meeting in england with captaine smith._ being about this time preparing to set saile for new-england, i could not stay to doe her that service i desired, and she well deserved; but hearing shee was at branford with divers of my friends, i went to see her: after a modest salutation, without any word, she turned about, obscured her face, as not seeming well contented; and in that humour her husband, with divers others, we all left her two or three houres, repenting my selfe to have writ she could speake english. but not long after, she began to talke, and remembred mee well what courtesies shee had done: saying, you did promise powhatan what was yours should bee his, and he the like to you; you called him father being in his land a stranger, and by the same reason so must i doe you: which though i would have excused, i durst not allow of that title, because she was a kings daughter; with a well set countenance she said, were you not afraid to come into my fathers countrie, and caused feare in him and all his people (but mee) and feare you here i should call you father; i tell [iv. .] you then i will, and you shall call mee childe, and so i will bee for ever and ever your countrieman. they did tell us alwaies you were dead, and i knew no other till i came to plimoth; yet powhatan did command uttamatomakkin to seeke you, and know the truth, because your countriemen will lie much. _uttamacomack, observations of his usage._ this salvage, one of powhatans councell, being amongst them held an understanding fellow; the king purposely sent him, as they say, to number the people here, and informe him well what wee were and our state. arriving at plimoth, according to his directions, he got a long sticke, whereon by notches hee did thinke to have kept the number of all the men hee could see, but he was quickly wearie of that taske: comming to london, where by chance i met him, having renewed our acquaintance, where many were desirous to heare and see his behaviour, hee told me powhatan did bid him to finde me out, to shew him our god, the king, queene, and prince, i so much had told them of: concerning god, i told him the best i could, the king i heard he had seene, and the rest hee should see when he would; he denied ever to have seene the king, till by circumstances he was satisfied he had: then he replyed very sadly, you gave powhatan a white dog, which powhatan fed as himselfe, but your king gave me nothing, and i am better than your white dog. _pocahontas her entertainment with the queene._ the small time i staid in london, divers courtiers and others, my acquaintances, hath gone with mee to see her, that generally concluded, they did thinke god had a great hand in her conversion, and they have seene many english ladies worse favoured, proportioned and behavioured, and as since i have heard, it pleased both the king and queenes majestie honourably to esteeme her, accompanied with that honourable lady the lady de la ware, and that honourable lord her husband, and divers other persons of good qualities, both publikely at the maskes and otherwise, to her great satisfaction and content, which doubtlesse she would have deserved, had she lived to arrive in virginia. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ the government devolved to captaine samuel argall, . _the death of pocahontas._ . _bushels of corne from the salvages._ {mn} the treasurer, councell and companie, having well furnished captaine samuel argall, the lady pocahontas alias rebecca, with her husband and others, in the good ship called the george, it pleased god at gravesend to take this young lady to his mercie, where shee made not more sorrow for her unexpected death, than joy to the beholders, to heare and see her make so religious and godly an end. her little childe thomas rolfe therefore was left at plimoth with sir lewis stukly, that desired the keeping of it. captaine hamar his vice-admirall was gone before, but hee found him at plimoth. in march they set saile . and in may he arrived at james towne, where hee was kindly entertained by captaine yearley and his companie in a martiall order, whose right hand file was led by an indian. in james towne he found but five or six houses, the church downe, the palizado's broken, the bridge in pieces, the well of fresh water spoiled; the store-house they used for the church, the market-place, and streets, and all other spare places planted with tobacco, the salvages as frequent in their houses as themselves, whereby they were become expert in our armes, and had a great many in their custodie and possession, the colonie dispersed all about, planting tobacco. captaine argall not liking those proceedings, altered them agreeable to his owne minde, taking the best order he could for repairing those defects which did exceedingly trouble us; we were constrained every yeere to build and repaire our old cottages, which were alwaies a decaying in all places of the countrie, yea, the very courts of guard built by sir thomas dale, was ready to fall, and the palizado's not sufficient to keepe out hogs. their number of people were about . but not past . fit for husbandry and tillage: we found there in all one hundred twentie eight cattell, and fourescore and eight goats, besides innumerable numbers of swine, and good plentie of corne in some places, yet the next yeere the [iv. .] captaine sent out a frigat and a pinnace, {mn} that brought us neere six hundred bushels more, which did greatly relieve the whole colonie: for from the tenants wee seldome had above foure hundred bushels of rent corne to the store, and there was not remaining of the companies companie, past foure and fiftie men, women and children. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ this yeere having planted our fields, came a great drought, and such a cruell storme of haile, which did such spoile both to the corne and tobacco, that wee reaped but small profit, the magazine that came in the george, being five moneths in her passage, proved very badly conditioned, but ere she arrived, we had gathered and made up our tobacco, the best at three shillings the pound, the rest at eighteene pence. _the death of lord la ware._ {mn- } _they are relieved in new-england._ {mn- } to supply us, the councell and company with all possible care and diligence, furnished a good ship of some two hundred and fiftie tunne, with two hundred people and the lord la ware. they set saile in aprill, and tooke their course by the westerne iles, where the governour of the ile of saint michael received the lord la ware, and honourably feasted him, with all the content hee could give him. going from thence, they were long troubled with contrary winds, in which time many of them fell very sicke, thirtie died, {mn- } one of which number was that most honourable lord governour the lord la ware, whose most noble and generous disposition, is well knowne to his great cost, had beene most forward in this businesse for his countries good: yet this tender state of virginia was not growne to that maturitie, to maintaine such state and pleasure as was fit for such a personage, with so brave and great attendance: for some small number of adventrous gentlemen to make discoveries, and lie in garrison, ready upon any occasion to keepe in feare the inconstant salvages, nothing were more requisite, but to have more to wait & play than worke, or more commanders and officers than industrious labourers was not so necessarie: for in virginia, a plaine souldier that can use a pick-axe and spade, is better than five knights, although they were knights that could breake a lance; for men of great place, not inured to those incounters; when they finde things not sutable, grow many times so discontented, they forget themselves, & oft become so carelesse, that a discontented melancholy brings them to much sorrow, and to others much miserie. at last they stood in for the coast of new-england, where they met a small frenchman, rich of bevers and other furres. {mn- } though wee had here but small knowledge of the coast nor countrie, yet they tooke such an abundance of fish and fowle, and so well refreshed themselves there with wood and water, as by the helpe of god thereby, having beene at sea sixteene weekes, got to virginia, who without this reliefe had beene in great danger to perish. the french-men made them such a feast, with such an abundance of varietie of fish, fowle and fruits, as they all admired, and little expected that wild wildernesse could affoord such wonderfull abundance of plentie. in this ship came about two hundred men, but very little provision, and the ship called the treasurer came in againe not long after with fortie passengers; the lord la wares ship lying in virginia three moneths, wee victualled her with threescore bushels of corne, and eight hogsheads of flesh, besides other victuall she spent whilest they tarried there: this ship brought us advice that great multitudes were a preparing in england to bee sent, and relied much upon that victuall they should finde here: whereupon our captaine called a councell, and writ to the councell here in england the estate of the colonie, and what a great miserie would insue, if they sent not provision as well as people; and what they did suffer for want of skilfull husbandmen, and meanes to set their ploughs on worke, having as good ground as any man can desire, and about fortie bulls and oxen, but they wanted men to bring them to labour, and irons for the ploughs, and harnesse for the cattell. some thirtie or fortie acres wee had sowne with one plough, but it stood so long on the ground before it was reaped, it was most shaken, and the rest spoiled with the cattell and rats [iv. .] in the barne, but no better corne could bee for the quantitie. _richard killingbeck and foure other murdered by the salvages._ _their church and storehouse._ {mn- } _fairfax, three children and two boys also murdered._ {mn- } richard killingbeck being with the captaine at kekoughtan, desired leave to returne to his wife at charles hundred, hee went to james towne by water, there he got foure more to goe with him by land, but it proved that he intended to goe trade with the indies of chickahamania, where making shew of the great quantitie of trucke they had, which the salvages perceiving, partly for their trucke, partly for revenge of some friends they pretended should have beene slaine by captaine yearley, one of them with an english peece shot killingbeck dead, the other salvages assaulted the rest and slew them, stripped them, and tooke what they had: but fearing this murther would come to light, and might cause them to suffer for it, would now proceed to the perfection of villanie; {mn- } for presently they robbed their machacomocko house of the towne, stole all the indian treasure thereout, and fled into the woods, as other indians related. {mn- } on sunday following, one farfax that dwelt a mile from the towne, going to church, left his wife and three small children safe at home, as he thought, and a young youth: she supposing praier to be done, left the children, and went to meet her husband; presently after came three or foure of those fugitive salvages, entred the house, and slew a boy and three children, and also another youth that stole out of the church in praier time, meeting them, was likewise murdered. of this disaster the captaine sent to opechankanough for satisfaction, but he excused the matter, as altogether ignorant of it, at the same time the salvages that were robbed were complaining to opechankanough, and much feared the english would bee revenged on them, so that opechankanough sent to captaine argall, to assure him the peace should never be broken by him, desiring that he would not revenge the injurie of those fugitives upon the innocent people of that towne, which towne he should have, and sent him a basket of earth, as possession given of it, and promised, so soone as possibly they could catch these robbers, to send him their heads for satisfaction, but he never performed it. samuel argall, john rolfe. . _sir edwin sands treasurer._ _master john farer deputie._ a relation from master john rolfe, june . . _powhatans death._ {mn- } _haile-stones eight inches about._ {mn- } concerning the state of our new common-wealth, it is somewhat bettered, for we have sufficient to content our selves, though not in such abundance as is vainly reported in england. {mn- } powhatan died this last aprill, yet the indians continue in peace. itopatin his second brother succeeds him, and both hee and opechankanough have confirmed our former league. on the eleventh of may, about ten of the clocke in the night, happened a most fearefull tempest, but it continued not past halfe an houre, {mn- } which powred downe hailestones eight or nine inches about, that none durst goe out of their doores, and though it tore the barke and leaves of the trees, yet wee finde not they hurt either man or beast; it fell onely about james towne, for but a mile to the east, and twentie to the west there was no haile at all. thus in peace every man followed his building and planting without any accidents worthy of note. some private differences happened betwixt captaine bruster and captaine argall, and captaine argall and the companie here in england; but of them i am not fully informed, neither are they here for any use, and therefore unfit to be remembred. in december one captaine stallings, an old planter in those parts, being imployed by them of the west countrie for a fishing voyage, in new-england, fell foule of a frenchman whom hee tooke, leaving his owne ship to returne for england, himselfe with a small companie remained in the french barke, some small time after upon the coast, and thence returned to winter in virginia. the government surrendred to sir george [iv. .] yearley. _waraskoyack planted._ {mn} for to begin with the yeere of our lord, . there arrived a little pinnace privatly from england about easter for captaine argall, who taking order for his affaires, within foure or five daies returned in her, and left for his deputy, captaine nathaniel powell. on the eighteenth of aprill, which was but ten or twelve daies after, arrived sir george yearley, by whom we understood sir edwin sands was chosen treasurer, and master john farrar his deputy, and what great supplies was a preparing to be sent us, which did ravish us so much with joy and content, we thought our selves now fully satisfied, for our long toile and labours, and as happy men as any in the world. notwithstanding, such an accident hapned captaine stallings, the next day his ship was cast away, and he not long after slaine in a private quarrell. sir george yearly to beginne his government, added to be of his councell, captaine francis west, captaine nathaniel powell, master john pory, master john rolfe, and master william wickam, and master samuel macocke, and propounded to have a generall assembly with all expedition. upon the twelfth of this moneth, came in a pinnace of captaine bargraves, and on the seventeenth captaine lownes, and one master evans, {mn} who intended to plant themselves at waraskoyack, but now ophechankanough will not come at us, that causes us suspect his former promises. _a barrell they account foure bushels._ {mn} in may came in the margaret of bristoll, with foure and thirty men, all well and in health, and also many devout gifts, and we were much troubled in examining some scandalous letters sent into england, to disgrace this country with barrennesse, to discourage the adventurers, and so bring it and us to ruine and confusion; notwithstanding, we finde by them of best experience, an industrious man not other waies imploied, may well tend foure akers of corne, and . plants of tobacco, and where they say an aker will yeeld but three or foure barrels, we have ordinarily foure or five, but of new ground six, seven, and eight, and a barrell of pease and beanes, which we esteeme as good as two of corne, which is after thirty or forty bushels an aker, so that one man may provide corne for five, and apparell for two by the profit of his tobacco; {mn} they say also english wheat will yeeld but sixteene bushels an aker, and we have reaped thirty: besides to manure the land, no place hath more white and blew marble than here, had we but carpenters to build and make carts and ploughs, and skilfull men that know how to use them, and traine up our cattell to draw them, which though we indevour to effect, yet our want of experience brings but little to perfection but planting tobaco, and yet of that many are so covetous to have much, they make little good; besides there are so many sofisticating tobaco-mungers in england, were it never so bad, they would sell it for verinas, and the trash that remaineth should be virginia, such devilish bad mindes we know some of our owne country-men doe beare, not onely to the businesse, but also to our mother england her selfe; could they or durst they as freely defame her. _the time of parlament._ {mn- } _foure corporations named._ {mn- } _captaine wards exploit._ {mn- } the . of june came in the triall with corne and cattell all in safety, which tooke from us cleerely all feare of famine; {mn- } then our governour and councell caused burgesses to be chosen in all places, and met at a generall assembly, where all matters were debated though expedient for the good of the colony, and captaine ward was sent to monahigan in new england, to fish in may, and returned the latter end of may, but to small purpose, for they wanted salt: the george also was sent to new-found-land with the cape merchant, there she bought fish, that defraied her charges, and made a good voyage in seven weekes. about the last of august came in a dutch man of warre that sold us twenty negars, and japazous king of patawomeck, came to james towne, to desire two ships to come trade in his river, for a more plentifull yeere of corne had not beene in a long time, yet very contagious, and by the trechery of one poule, in a manner turned heathen, wee were [iv. .] very jealous the salvages would surprize us. {mn- } the governours have bounded foure corporations; which is the companies, the university, the governours and gleabe land: ensigne wil. spencer, & thomas barret a sergeant, with some others of the ancient planters being set free, we are the first farmers that went forth, and have chosen places to their content, so that now knowing their owne land, they strive who should exceed in building and planting. the fourth of november the bona nova came in with all her people lusty and well; not long after one master dirmer sent out by some of plimoth for new-england, arrived in a barke of five tunnes, and returned the next spring; notwithstanding the ill rumours of the unwholsomnesse of james towne, the new commers that were planted at old paspaheghe, little more then a mile from it, had their healths better then any in the country. {mn- } in december captaine ward returned from patawomeck, the people there dealt falsly with him, so that hee tooke . bushels of corne from them perforce. captaine woddiffe of bristol came in not long after, with all his people lusty and in health, and we had two particular governors sent us, under the titles of deputies to the company, the one to have charge of the colledge lands, the other of the companies: now you are to understand, that because there have beene many complaints against the governors, captaines, and officers in virginia, for buying and selling men and boies, or to bee set over from one to another for a yeerely rent, was held in england a thing most intolerable, or that the tenants or lawfull servants should be put from their places, or abridged their covenants, was so odious, that the very report thereof brought a great scandall to the generall action. the councell in england did send many good and worthy instructions for the amending those abuses, and appointed a hundred men should at the companies charge be allotted and provided to serve and attend the governour during the time of his government, which number he was to make good at his departure, and leave to his successor in like manner, fifty to the deputy-governour of the college land, and fifty to the deputy of the companies land, fifty to the treasurer, to the secretary five and twenty, and more to the marshall and cape merchant; which they are also to leave to their successors, and likewise to every particular officer such a competency, as he might live well in his office, without oppressing any under their charge, which good law i pray god it be well observed, and then we may truly say in virginia, we are the most happy people in the world. by me john rolfe. _the number of ships and men._ there went this yeere by the companies records, . ships and . persons to be thus disposed on: tenants for the governors land fourescore, besides fifty sent the former spring; for the companies land a hundred and thirty, for the college a hundred, for the glebe land fifty, young women to make wives ninety, servants for publike service fifty, and fifty more whose labours were to bring up thirty of the infidels children, the rest were sent to private plantations. _gifts given._ _but few performe them._ {mn} two persons unknowne have given faire plate and ornaments for two communion tables, the one at the college, the other at the church of mistris mary robinson, who towards the foundation gave two hundred pound. and another unknowne person sent to the treasurer five hundred and fifty pounds, for the bringing up of the salvage children in christianity. master nicholas farrar deceased, hath by his will given three hundred pounds to the college, to be paid when there shall be ten young salvages placed in it, in the meane time foure and twenty pound yeerely to bee distributed unto three discreet and godly young men in the colony, to bring up three wilde young infidels in some good course of life, also there were granted eleven pattents, {mn} upon condition to transport people and cattle to increase the plantations. a.d. . _the earle of southampton treasurer, and m. john ferrar deputy._ [iv. .] a desperat sea-fight betwixt two spanish men of warre, and a small english ship, at the ile of dominica going to virginia, by captaine anthony chester. _a french-man cast away at guardalupo._ {mn- } _the spaniards begin._ {mn- } _the vice-admirall shot between wind and water,_ {mn- } having taken our journey towards virginia in the beginning of february, a ship called the margaret and john, of one hundred and sixty tuns, eight iron peeces and a falcon, with eightie passengers besides sailers; after many tempests and foule weather, about the foureteenth of march we were in thirteene degrees and an halfe of northerly latitude, where we descried a ship at hull; it being but a faire gale of wind, we edged towards her to see what she was, but she presently set saile, and ran us quickly out of sight: this made us keepe our course for mettalina, and the next day passing dominica, we came to an anchor at guardalupo, to take in fresh water. {mn- } six french-men there cast away sixteene moneths agoe came aboord us; they told us a spanish man of warre but seven daies before was seeking his consort, and this was she we descried at hull. at mevis we intended to refresh our selves, having beene eleven weeks pestered in this unwholsome ship; but there we found two tall ships with the hollanders colours, but necessitie forcing us on shore, we anchored faire by them, and in friendly manner sent to hale them: {mn- } but seeing they were spaniards, retiring to our ship, they sent such a volley of shot after us, that shot the boat, split the oares, and some thorow the clothes, yet not a man hurt; and then followed with their great ordnance, that many times over-racked our ship, which being so cumbred with the passengers provisions, our ordnance was not well fitted, nor any thing as it should have beene. but perceiving what they were, we fitted our selves the best we could to prevent a mischiefe, seeing them warp themselves to windward, we thought it not good to be boorded on both sides at an anchor, we intended to set saile, but that the vice-admirall battered so hard our star-boord side, that we fell to our businesse, and answered their unkindnesse with such faire shot from a demiculvering, {mn- } that shot her betweene wind and water, whereby she was glad to leave us and her admirall together. comming faire by our quarter, he tooke in his holland flag, and put forth his spanish colours, and so haled us. _the manner of their fight._ {mn} we quietly and quickly answered him, both what wee were, and whither bound, relating the effect of our commission, and the cause of our comming thither for water, and not to annoy any of the king of spaines subjects, nor any. she commanded us amaine for the king of spaine, we replied with inlarging the particulars what friends both the kings our masters were, and as we would doe no wrong, we would take none. they commanded us aboord to shew our commission, which we refused, but if they would send their boat to us willingly they should see it. {mn} but for answer they made two great shot at us, with a volley of small shot, which caused us to leave the decks; then with many ill words they laid us aboord, which caused us to raise our maine saile, and give the word to our small shot which lay close and ready, that paid them in such sort, they quickly retired. the fight continued halfe an houre, as if we had beene invironed with fire and smoke, untill they discovered the waste of our ship naked, where they bravely boorded us loofe for loofe, hasting with pikes and swords to enter, but it pleased god so to direct our captaine, and encourage our men with valour, that our pikes being formerly placed under our halfe deck, and certaine shot lying close for that purpose under the port holes, encountred them so rudely, that their fury was not onely rebated, but their hastinesse intercepted, and their whole company beaten backe, many of our men were hurt, but i am sure they had two for one. _the captaine slaine._ {mn} in the end they were violently repulsed, untill they [iv. .] were reinforced to charge againe by their commands, who standing upon their honors, thought it a great indignity to be so affronted, which caused a second charge, and that answered with a second beating backe: whereat the captaine grew inraged, and constrained them to come on againe afresh, which they did so effectually, that questionlesse it had wrought an alteration, if the god that tosseth monarchies, and teareth mountaines, had not taught us to tosse our pikes with prosperous events, and powred out a volley of small shot amongst them, {mn} whereby that valiant commander was slaine, and many of his souldiers dropped downe likewise on the top of the hatches. this we saw with our eies, and rejoyced with it at our hearts, so that we might perceive good successe comming on, our captaine presently tooke advantage of their discomfiture, though with much comiseration of that resolute captaine, and not onely plied them againe with our ordnance, but had more shot under the pikes, which was bestowed to good purpose, and amazed our enemies with the suddennesse. _a worthy exploit of lucas._ _the event of the fight._ {mn} amongst the rest, one lucas, our carpenters mate, must not be forgotten, who perceiving a way how to annoy them; as they were thus puzled and in a confusion, drew out a minion under the halfe decke, and there bent it upon them in such a manner, that when it was fired, the cases of stones and peeces of iron fell upon them so thick, as cleared the decke, and slew many, and in short time we saw few assailants, but such as crept from place to place covertly from the fury of our shot, which now was thicker than theirs: for although as far as we may commend our enemies, they had done something worthy of commendations; yet either wanting men, or being overtaken with the unlooked for valour of our men, they now began to shrinke, and give us leave to be wanton with our advantage. yet we could onely use but foure peece of ordnances, but they served the turne as well as all the rest: for she was shot so oft betweene wind and water, we saw they were willing to leave us, but by reason she was fast in the latch of our cable, which in haste of weighing our anchor hung aloofe, she could not cleare her selfe as she wrought to doe, till one cut the cable with an axe, and was slaine by freeing us. having beene aboord us two houres and an halfe, seeing her selfe cleere, all the shot wee had plaied on both sides, which lasted till we were out of shot, then we discovered the vice-admirall comming to her assistance, who began a farre off to ply us with their ordnances, and put us in minde we had another worke in hand. whereupon we separated the dead and hurt bodies, and manned the ship with the rest, and were so well incouraged wee waifed them a maine. the admirall stood aloofe off, and the other would not come within falcon shot, where she lay battering us till shee received another paiment from a demiculvering, which made her beare with the shore for smooth water to mend her leakes. the next morning they both came up againe with us, as if they had determined to devour us at once, but it seemed it was but a bravado, though they forsooke not our quarter for a time within musket shot; yet all the night onely they kept us company, but made not a shot. during which time we had leasure to provide us better than before: but god be thanked they made onely but a shew of another assault, ere suddenly the vice-admirall fell a starne, and the other lay shaking in the wind, and so they both left us. {mn} the fight continued six houres, and was the more unwelcome, because we were so ill provided, and had no intent to fight, nor give occasion to disturbe them. as for the losse of men, if religion had not taught us what by the providence of god is brought to passe, yet daily experience might informe us, of the dangers of wars, and perils at sea, by stormes tempests, shipwracks, encounters with pirats, meeting with enemies, crosse winds, long voiages, unknowne shores, barbarous nations, and an hundred inconveniences, of which humane pollicies are not capable, nor mens conjectures apprehensive. we lost doctor bohun, a worthy valiant gentleman, (a long time brought up amongst the most learned surgeons, and physitions in netherlands, and this his second journey to virginia:) and seven slaine out right, two died shortly [iv. .] of their wounds; sixteene was shot, whose limbs god be thanked was recovered without maime, and now setled in virginia: how many they lost we know not, but we saw a great many lie on the decks, and their skuppers runne with bloud, they were about three hundred tunnes apeece, each sixteene or twentie brasse-peeces. captaine chester, who in this fight had behaved himselfe like a most vigilant, resolute, and a couragious souldier, as also our honest and valiant master, did still so comfort and incourage us by all the meanes they could, at last to all our great contents we arrived in virginia, and from thence returned safely to england. the names of the adventurers for virginia, alphabetically set downe, according to a printed booke, set out by the treasurer and councell in this present yeere, . a sir william aliffe. william atkinson, esquire. sir roger aston. richard ashcroft. sir anthony ashley. nicholas andrews. sir john akland. john andrews the elder. sir anthonie aucher. john andrews the younger. sir robert askwith. james ascough. doctor francis anthony. giles allington. charles anthony. morris abbot. edward allen. ambrose asten. edmund allen esquire. james askew. john allen. anthony abdey. thomas allen. john arundell, esquire. b edward, earle of bedford. sir henry beddingfield. james, lord bishop of bathe companie of barbers-surgeons. and wells. sir francis barrington. companie of bakers. sir morice barkley. richard banister. sir john benet. john bancks. sir thomas beamont. miles bancks. sir amias bamfield. thomas barber. sir john bourcher. william bonham. sir edmund bowyer. james bryerley. sir thomas bludder. william earners. sir george bolles. anthony earners, esquire. sir john bingley. william brewster. sir thomas button. richard brooke. hugh brooker, esquire. john bullock. ambrose brewsey. george bache. john brooke. thomas bayly. matthew bromridge. william barkley. christopher brooke, george butler. esquire. timothie bathurst. martin bond. george burton. gabriel beadle. thomas bret. john beadle. captaine john brough. david borne. thomas baker. edward barnes. john blunt. john badger. thomas bayly. edmund brandvell. richard and edward blunt. robert bowyer, esquire. mineon burrell. robert bateman. richard blackmore. thomas britton. william beck. nicholas benson. benjamin brand. [iv. .] edward bishop. john busbridge. peter burgoney. william burrell. thomas burgoney. william barret. robert burgoney. francis baldwin. christopher baron. edward barber. peter benson. humphrey basse. john baker. robert bell. john bustoridge. matthew bromrick. francis burley. john beaumont. william browne. george barkley. robert barker. peter bartle. samuel burnham. thomas bretton. edward barkley. john blount. william bennet. arthur bromfeld esquire. captaine edward brewster. william berbloke. thomas brocket. charles beck. c george, lord archbishop of william lord cranborne, canterburie. now earle of salisburie. william, lord compton, thomas carpenter. now earle of anthony crew. northhampton. richard cox. william lord cavendish, william crosley. now earle of devonshire. james chatfeild. richard earle of clanricard. richard caswell. sir william cavendish now john cornelis. lord cavendish. randall carter. gray, lord chandos. executors of randall carter. sir henry cary. william canning. sir george calvert. edward carve, esquire. sir lionell cranfield. thomas cannon, esquire. sir edward cecill. richard champion. sir robert gotten. rawley crashaw. sir oliver cromwell. henry collins. sir anthony cope. henry cromwell. sir walter cope. john cooper. sir edward carr. richard cooper. sir thomas conisbie. john casson. [iv. .] sir george cary. thomas colthurst. sir edward conwey. allen gotten. sir walter chute. edward cage. sir edward culpeper. abraham carthwright. sir henry cary, captaine. robert coppin. sir william craven. thomas conock. sir walter covert. john clapham. sir george coppin. thomas church. sir george chute. william carpenter. sir thomas coventry. laurence campe. sir john cutts. james cambell. lady cary. christopher cletheroe. company of cloth-workers. matthew cooper. citie of chichester. george chamber. robert chamberlaine. captaine john cooke. richard chamberlaine. captaine thomas conwey, francis covill. esquire. william coyse, esquire. edward culpeper, esquire. abraham chamberlaine. master william crashaw. abraham colmer. richard connock, esquire. john culpeper. william compton. edmund colbey. william chester. richard cooper. thomas covel. robert creswell. richard carmarden, esquire. john cage, esquire. william and paul canning. matthew cave. henry cromwell, esquire. william crowe. simon codrington. abraham carpenter. clement chichley. john crowe. james cullemore. thomas cordell. william cantrell. d richard earle of dorset. william dunne. edward lord denny. john davis. sir john digbie, now lord matthew dequester. digbie. philip durdent. sir john doderidge. abraham dawes. sir drew drewry the john dike. elder. thomas draper. sir thomas dennis. lancelot davis. sir robert drewry. rowley dawsey. sir john davers. william dobson esquire. sir dudley digs. anthony dyot, esquire. sir marmaduke dorrel. avery dranfield. sir thomas dale. roger dye. sir thomas denton. john downes. companie of drapers. john drake. thomas bond, esquire. john delbridge. david bent, esquire. benjamin decree. companie of dyers. thomas dyke. towne of dover. jeffery duppa. master richard deane, daniel darnelly. alderman. sara draper. henry dawkes. clement and henry dawkney. edward dichfield. e thomas, earle of exeter. hugh evans. sir thomas everfield. raph ewens, esquire. sir francis egiock. john elkin. sir robert edolph. john elkin. john eldred, esquire. robert evelin. william evans. nicholas exton. richard evans. john exton. george etheridge. f sir moyle finch. john farrar. sir henry fanshaw. giles francis. sir thomas freake. edward fawcet. sir peter fretchuile. richard farrington. sir william fleetwood. john francklin. [iv. ] sir henry fane. richard frith. company of fishmongers. john feme. john fletcher. george farmer. john farmer. thomas francis. martin freeman, esquire. john fenner. ralph freeman. nicholas fuller, esquire. william and ralph freeman. thomas foxall. michael fetiplace. william fleet. william fettiplace. peter franck, esquire. thomas forrest. richard fishborne. edward fleetwood, esquire. william faldoe. william felgate. john fletcher, and company. william field. william ferrars. nicholas ferrar. g lady elizabeth gray. sir thomas gates. sir john gray. sir william gee. sir william godolfine. sir richard grobham. sir william garaway. john gray. sir francis goodwin. nicholas griece. sir george goring. richard goddard. sir thomas grantham. thomas gipps. company of grocers. peter gates. company of goldsmiths. thomas gibbs, esquire. company of girdlers. laurence greene. john geering. william greenwell. john gardiner. robert garset. richard gardiner. robert gore. john gilbert. thomas gouge. thomas grave. francis glanvile, esquire. h henry, earle of huntington. master hugh hamersley, lord theophilus haward, alderman. l. walden. master richard heron, sir john harrington, alderman. l. harington. richard humble, esquire. sir john hollis, now lord master richard hackleuit. hautein. edward harrison. sir thomas holecroft. george holeman. sir william harris. robert hill. sir thomas harefleet. griffin hinton. sir george haiward. john hawkins. sir warwicke heale. william hancocke. sir baptist hicks. john harper. sir john hanham. george hawger. sir thomas horwell. john holt. sir thomas hewit. john huntley. sir william herrick. jeremy heiden. sir eustace hart. ralph hamer. sir pory huntley. ralph hamer, junior. sir arthur harris. john hodgeson. sir edward heron. john hanford. sir persevall hart. thomas harris. [iv. .] sir ferdinando heiborne. richard howell. sir lawrence hide. thomas henshaw. leonard harwood. james haiward. tristram hill. nicholas hide, esquire. francis haselridge. john hare, esquire. tobias hinson. william hackwell, esquire. peter heightley. gressam hoogan. george hawkenson. humfrey hanford. thomas hackshaw. william haselden. charles hawkens. nicholas hooker. john hodgis. doctor anthony hunton. william holland. john hodsale. robert hartley. george hooker. gregory herst. anthony hinton. thomas hodgis. john hogsell. william hodgis. thomas hampton. roger harris. william hicks. john harris. william holiland. m. john haiward. ralph harison. harman harison. i sir thomas jermyn. thomas jadwine. sir robert johnson. john josua. sir arthur ingram. george isam. sir francis jones. philip jacobson. company of ironmongers. peter jacobson. company of inholders. thomas juxson senior. company of imbroyderers. james jewell. bailiffes of ipswich. gabriel jaques. henry jackson. walter jobson. richard ironside. edward james. m. robert johnson alderman. zachary jones, esquire. thomas jones. anthony irbye, esquire. william jobson. william i-anson. thomas johnson. humfrey jobson. k sir valentine knightley. sir charles kelke. sir robert killegrew. sir john kaile. richard kirrill. henry kent. john kirrill. towne of kingslynne. raph king. john kettleby, esquire. walter kirkham, esquire. l henry earle of lincolne. morris lewellin. robert, l. lisle, now earle edward lewis. of leicester. edward lewkin. thomas, lord laware. peter lodge. sir francis leigh. thomas layer. sir richard lowlace. thomas lawson. sir william litton. francis lodge. [iv. .] sir john lewson. john langley. sir william lower. david loide. sir samuel leonard. john levitt. sir samson leonard. thomas fox and luke company of lethersellers. lodge. thomas laughton. captaine richard linley. william lewson. arnold lulls. peter latham. william lawrence. peter van lore. john landman. henry leigh. nicholas lichfield. thomas levar. nicholas leate. christofer landman. gedeon de laune. m philip earle of sir peter manhood. montgomerie. sir john merrick. doctor george mountaine, sir george more. now lord bishop of sir robert mansell. lincolne. sir arthur mannering. william lord mounteagle, sir david murrey. now lord morley. sir edward michelborn. sir thomas mansell. sir thomas middleton. sir thomas mildmay. sir robert miller. sir william maynard. sir cavaliero maicott. sir humfrey may. doctor james meddus. richard martin, esquire. josias maude. company of mercers. richard morton. company of merchant george mason. taylors. thomas maddock. otho mowdite. richard moore. captaine john martin. nicholas moone. arthur mouse. alfonsus van medkerk. adrian more. captaine henry meoles. thomas mountford. philip mutes. thomas morris. thomas mayall. ralph moorton. humfrey marret. francis mapes. jarvis mundz. richard maplesden. robert mildmay. james monger. william millet. peter monsell. richard morer. robert middleton. john miller. thomas maile. thomas martin. john martin. john middleton. francis middleton. n dudly, lord north. william nicols. francis, lord norris. george newce. sir henry nevill of joseph newberow. barkshire. christopher newgate. thomas nicols. thomas norincott. christopher nicols. jonathan nuttall. thomas norton. o william oxenbridge, robert offley. esquire. francis oliver. p william, earle of pembroke. sir christofer parkins. william, lord paget. sir amias preston. john, lord petre. sir nicholas parker. george percy, esquire. sir william poole. sir stephen powell. allen percy. sir henry peyton. abraham peirce. sir james perrot. edmund peirce. sir john pettus. phenice pet. sir robert payne. thomas philips. william payne. henry philpot. john payne. master george procter. edward parkins. robert penington. edward parkins his widow. peter peate. [iv. .] aden perkins. john prat. thomas perkin. william powell. richard partridge. edmund peashall. william palmer. captaine william proude. miles palmer. henry price. robert parkhurst. nicholas pewriffe. richard percivall, esquire. thomas pelham. richard poyntell. richard piggot. george pretty. john pawlet, esquire. george pit. robert pory. richard paulson. q william quicke. r sir robert rich, now earle john russell. of warwicke. richard rogers. sir thomas row. arthur robinson. sir henry rainsford. robert robinson. sir william romney. millicent ramsden. sir john ratcliffe. john robinson. sir steven ridlesdon. george robins. sir william russell. nichalas rainton. master edward rotheram, henry rolffe. alderman. john reignolds. robert rich. elias roberts. tedder roberts. henry reignolds, henry robinson. esquire. william roscarrocke, humfrey raymell. esquire. richard robins. s henry, earle of john stokley. southampton. richard staper. thomas earle of suffolke. robert singleton. edward semer, earle of thomas shipton. hartford. cleophas smith. robert, earle of salisbury. richard strongtharm. mary, countesse of hildebrand spruson. shrewsbury. matthew scrivener. edmund, lord sheffield. othowell smith. robert, lord spencer. george scot. john lord stanhope. hewet stapers. sir john saint-john. james swift. [iv. .] sir thomas smith. richard stratford. sir john samms. edmund smith. sir john smith. robert smith. sir edwin sandys. matthias springham. sir samuel sandys. richard smith. sir steven some. edward smith. sir raph shelton. jonathan smith. sir thomas stewkley. humfrey smith. sir william saint-john. john smith. sir william smith. george swinhow. sir richard smith. joseph some. sir martin stutevill. william sheckley. sir nicolas salter. john southick. doctor matthew sutcliffe of henry shelley. exeter. walter shelley. captaine john smith. richard snarsborow. thomas sandys, esquire. george stone. henry sandys, esquire. hugh shepley. george sandys, esquire. william strachey. company of skinners. urion spencer. company of salters. john scarpe. company of stationers. thomas scott. william sharpe. william seabright, esquire. steven sparrow. nicholas sherwell. thomas stokes. augustine steward. richard shepard. thomas stile. henry spranger. abraham speckhard. william stonnard. edmund scot. steven sad. francis smalman. john stockley. gregory sprint, esquire. thomas stevens. thomas stacey. matthew shepard. william sandbatch. thomas sherwell. augustine stuard, esquire. t sir william twisden. charles towler. sir william throckmorton. william tayler. sir nicholas tuston. leonard townson. sir john trever. richard tomlins. sir thomas tracy. francis tate, esquire. george thorpe, esquire. andrew troughton. doctor william turner. george tucker. the trinity house. henry timberlake. richard turner. william tucker. john taverner. lewis tite. daniel tucker. robert thornton. v sir horatio vere. richard venne. sir walter vaughan. christopher vertue. henry vincent. john vassell. arthur venne. w henry bishop of worcester. sir john wats. francis west, esquire. sir hugh worrell. sir ralph winwood. sir edward waterhouse. sir john wentworth. sir thomas wilsford. sir william waad. sir richard williamson. sir robert wroth. sir john wolstenholm. sir percival willoby. sir thomas walsingham. sir charles wilmott. sir thomas watson. sir thomas wilson. richard widowes. sir john weld. david waterhouse, esquire. mistris kath. west, now captaine owen winne. lady conway. randall wetwood. john wroth, esquire. george wilmer, esquire. captaine maria winckfield, edward wilkes. esquire. leonard white. thomas webb. andrew willmer. rice webb. clement willmer. edward webb. george walker. sands webb. william welbie. felix wilson. francis whistler. thomas white. thomas wells. richard wissen. captaine thomas winne. [iv. .] william williamson. john whittingham. humfrey westwood. thomas wheeler. hugh willeston. william willet. thomas wheatley. devereux woogam. william wattey. john walker. william webster. thomas wood. james white. john willes. edmund winne. nicholas wheeler. john west. thomas wale. john wright. william wilston. edward wooller. john waller. thomas walker. william ward. john wooller. william willeston. john westrow. john water. edward welch. thomas warr, esquire. nathaniel waad. david wiffen. garret weston. y sir george yeardley, now william yong. governour of virginia. simon yeomans. z edward, lord zouch. john zouch, esquire. that most generous and most honourable lord, the earle of southhampton, being pleased to take upon him the title of treasurer, and master john farrar his deputy, with such instructions as were necessary, and admonitions to all officers to take heede of extortion, ingrosing commodities, forestalling of markets, especially to have a vigilant care, the familiarity of the salvages living amongst them made them not way to betray or surprize them, for the building of guest-houses to relieve the weake in, and that they did wonder in all this time they had made no discoveries, nor knew no more then the very place whereon they did inhabit, nor yet could ever see any returne for all this continuall charge and trouble, therefore they sent to be added to the councell seven gentlemen, namely mr. thorp, captaine nuce, mr. tracy, captaine middleton, captaine blount, mr. john pountas, and mr. harwood, with men, munition, and all things thought fitting, but they write from virginia, many of the ships were so pestred with diseased people, & thronged together in their passage, there was much sicknesse and a great mortality, wherfore they desired rather a few able sufficient men well provided, then great multitudes, and because there were few accidents of note, but private advertisements by letters, we will conclude this yeere, and proceed to the next. collected out of the councels letters for virginia. a.d. . _the earle of south-hampton treasurer. master john farrar deputy._ _the election of sir francis wyat governour for virginia._ {mn- } _notes worthy observation._{mn- } the instructions and advertisements for this yeere were both from england and virginia, much like the last: only whereas before they had ever a suspicion of opechankanough, and all the rest of the salvages, they had an eye over him more then any, but now they all write so confidently of their assured peace with the salvages, there is now no more feare nor danger either of their power or trechery, so that every man planteth himselfe where he pleaseth, and followeth his businesse securely. {mn- } but the time or sir george yearley being neere [iv. .] expired, the councel here made choise of a worthy young gentleman sir francis wyat to succeed him, whom they forthwith furnished and provided, as they had done his predecessors, with all the necessary instructions all these times had acquainted them for the conversion of the salvages, the suppressing of planting tobacco, and planting of corne, not depending continually to be supplied by the salvages, but in case of necessity to trade with them, whom long ere this, it hath beene promised and expected should have beene fed and relieved by the english, not the english by them; and carefully to redresse all the complaints of the needlesse mortality of their people, and by all diligence seeke to send something home to satisfie the adventurers, that all this time had only lived upon hopes, grew so weary and discouraged, that it must now be substance that must maintaine their proceedings, & not letters, excuses and promises; seeing they could get so much and such great estates for themselves, {mn- } as to spend after the rate of . pounds, , , , , , , , , . nay some . or . pounds yearely, that were not worth so many pence when they went to virginia, can scarce containe themselves either in diet, apparell, gaming, and all manner of such superfluity, within a lesse compasse than our curious, costly, and consuming gallants here in england, which cannot possibly be there supported, but either by oppressing the comminalty there, or deceiving the generality here (or both.) extracted out of the councels letters for virginia. _a degression_ from virginia, by the relations of the chieftains there, & many i have conferred with, that came from thence hither, i have much admired to heare of the incredible pleasure, profit and plenty this plantation doth abound in, and yet could never heare of any returne but tobacco, but it hath oft amazed me to understand how strangely the salvages hath beene taught the use of our armes, and imploied in hunting and fowling with our fowling peeces, and our men rooting in the ground about tobacco like swine; besides that, the salvages that doe little but continually exercise their bow and arrowes, should dwell and lie so familiarly amongst our men that practised little but the spade, being so farre asunder, and in such small parties dispersed, and neither fort, exercise of armes used, ordnances mounted, courts of guard, nor any preparation nor provision to prevent a forraine enemy, much more the salvages howsoever; for the salvages uncertaine conformity i doe not wonder, but for their constancy and conversion, i am and ever have beene of the opinion of master jonas stockam a minister in virginia, who even at this time, when all things were so prosperous, and the salvages at the point of conversion, against all their governours and councels opinions, writ to the councell and company in england to this effect. may . _master stockams relation._ we that have left our native country to sojourne in a strange land, some idle spectators, who either cowardly dare not, or covetously will not adventure either their purses or persons in so commendable a worke; others supporting atlas of this almost unsupportable burdens as your selves, without whose assistance this virginia firmament (in which some) and i hope in short time will shine many more glorious starres, though there be many italiannated and spaniolized englishmen envies our prosperities, and by all their ignominious scandals they can devise seekes to dishearten what they can, those that are willing to further this glorious enterprize, to such i wish according to the decree of darius, that whosoever is an enemy to our peace, and seeketh either by getting monipolicall patens, or by forging unjust tales to hinder our welfare, that his house were pulled downe, and a paire of gallowes made of the wood, and he hanged on them in the place. as for those lasie servants, who had rather stand all day idle, than worke, though but an houre in this vineyard, and spend their substance riotously, than cast the superfluity of their wealth into your treasury, i leave them as they are to the eternall judge of the world. but you right worthy, that hath adventured so freely, i will not examine, if it were for the glory of god, or your [iv. .] desire of gaine, which it may be you expect should flow unto you with a full tide, for the conversion of the salvages: i wonder you use not the meanes, i confesse you say well to have them converted by faire meanes, but they scorne to acknowledge it, as for the gifts bestowed on them they devoure them, and so they would the givers if they could, and though many have endevoured by all the meanes they could by kindnesse to convert them, they finde nothing from them but derision and ridiculous answers. we have sent boies amongst them to learne their language, but they returne worse than they went; but i am no states-man, nor love i to meddle with any thing but my bookes, but i can finde no probability by this course to draw them to goodnesse; and i am perswaded if mars and minerva goe hand in hand, they will effect more good in an houre, then those verball mercurians in their lives, and till their priests and ancients have their throats cut, there is no hope to bring them to conversion. the government of sir francis wyat. _the arrivall of sir francis wyat._ about october arrived sir francis wyat, with master george sands, appointed treasurer, master davison secretary, doctor pot the physician, and master cloyburne the surgian, but much provision was very badly conditioned, nay the hogs would not eat that corne they brought, which was a great cause of their sicknesse and mortality, and whatsoever is said against the virginia corne, they finde it doth better nourish than any provision is sent thither; the sailers still they complaine are much to blame for imbesling the provisions sent to private men, killing of swine, and disorderly trucking; for which some order would be taken. _master gookins plantation._ {mn} in them nine ships that went with sir francis wyat not one passenger died, at his arrivall he sent master thorpe to opechancanough, whom hee found much satisfied with his comming, to confirme their leagues as he had done his predecessors, and so contented his people should coinhabit amongst them, and hee found more motions of religion in him than could be imagined: every man betaking himselfe to his quarter, it was ordered, that for every head they should plant but . plants of tobacco, and upon each plant nine leaves, which will be about . weight, the corne being appointed but at two shillings & six pence the bushell, required such labour, it caused most men neglect it, and depend upon trade; where were it rated at ten shillings the bushell, every man would indevour to have plenty to sell to the new commers, or any that wanted, and seldome any is transported from england, but it standeth in as much, besides the hazard and other necessaries, the ships might transport of that burden. {mn} the . of november arrived master gookin out of ireland, with fifty men of his owne, and thirty passengers, exceedingly well furnished with all sorts of provision and cattle, and planted himselfe at nupors-newes: the cotten trees in a yeere grew so thicke as ones arme, and so high as a man: here any thing that is planted doth prosper so well as in no place better. for the mortality of the people accuse not the place, for of the old planters and the families scarce one of twenty miscarries, onely the want of necessaries are the occasions of those diseases. and so wee will conclude this yeere with the shipping and numbers sent. out of the councels letters from virginia. _the number of ships and men._ this yeere was sent one and twenty saile of ships that imployed more than . sailers and . men, women and children of divers faculties, with foure-score cattle; the tiger fell in the turkes hands, yet safely escaped, and by the returne of their letters from thence, the company is assured there can bee no fitter places of mines, wood and water for iron than there; and the french men affirme no country is more proper for vines, olives, sike, rice and salt, &c. of which the next yeere they promise a good quantity. gifts. [iv. ] _gifts given._ _patents granted._ {mn} the gentlemen and mariners that came in the royall james from the east-indies, gave towards the building of a free schoole pound, eight shillings, and six pence; and an unknowne person to further it, sent thirtie pounds; and another in like manner five & twentie pounds; another refusing to be made knowne, gave fortie shillings yeerely for a sermon before the virginia companie: also another that would not be knowne, sent for the college at henrico, many excellent good religious bookes, worth ten pound, & a most curious map of al that coast of america. master thomas bargave their preacher there deceased, gave a librarie valued at one hundred markes: and the inhabitants hath made a contribution of one thousand and five hundred pounds, to build a house for the entertaining of strangers. {mn} this yeere also there was much suing for patents for plantations, who promised to transport such great multitudes of people: there was much disputing concerning those divisions, as though the whole land had beene too little for them: six and twentie obtained their desires, but as yet not past six hath sent thither a man; notwithstanding many of them would have more, and are not well contented; whom i would intreat, and all other wranglers, to peruse this saying of honest claudius. see'st not the world of natures worke, the fairest well, i wot, how it, it selfe together ties, as in a true-loves knot. nor seest how th' elements ayre combin'd, maintaine one constant plea, how midst of heaven contents the sunne, and shore containes the sea; and how the aire both compasseth, and carrieth still earths frame, yet neither pressing burdens it, nor parting leaves the same. the observations of master john pory secretarie of virginia, in his travels. _my journey to the easterne shore._ _a good place to make salt in._ {mn} having but ten men meanly provided to plant the secretaries land on the easterne shore neere acomack (captaine wilcocks plantation, the better to secure and assist each other). sir george yearley intending to visit smiths iles, fell so sicke that he could not, so that he sent me with estinien moll a french-man, to finde a convenient place to make salt in. not long after namenacus the king of pawtuxunt, came to us to seeke for thomas salvage our interpreter. thus insinuating himselfe, he led us into a thicket, where all sitting downe, he shewed us his naked brest; asking if we saw any deformitie upon it, we told him, no; no more, said hee, is the inside, but as sincere and pure; therefore come freely to my countrie and welcome: which wee promised wee would within six weekes after. having taken a muster of the companies tenants, {mn} i went to smiths iles, where was our salt-house: not farre off wee found a more convenient place, and so returned to james towne. _the king of pawtuxunts entertainment._ {mn} being furnished the second time, wee arrived at aquohanock, and conferred with kiptopeke their king. passing russels ile and onavcoke, we arrived at pawtuxunt: the discription of those places, you may reade in captaine smiths discoveries, therefore needlesse to bee writ againe. but here arriving at attoughcomoco the habitation of namenacus and wamanato, his brother, {mn} long wee staied not ere they came aboord us with a brasse kettle, as bright without as within, ful of boyled oisters. strict order was given none should offend us, so that the next day i went with the two kings a hunting, to discover what i could in their confines. wamanato brought mee first to his house, where hee shewed mee his wife and children, and many corne-fields; and being two miles within the woods a hunting, as the younger conducted [iv. .] me forth, so the elder brought me home, and used me as kindly as he could, after their manner. the next day he presented me twelve bever skinnes and a canow, which i requited with such things to his content, that he promised to keepe them whilst hee lived, and burie them with him being dead. hee much wondered at our bible, but much more to heare it was the law of our god, and the first chapter of genesis expounded of adam and eve, and simple mariage; to which he replyed, hee was like adam in one thing, for he never had but one wife at once: but he as all the rest, seemed more willing of other discourses they better understood. the next day the two kings with their people, came aboord us, but brought nothing according to promise; so that ensigne salvage challenged namenacus the breach of three promises, viz. not in giving him a boy, nor corne, though they had plentie, nor moutapass a fugitive, called robert marcum, that had lived . yeeres amongst those northerly nations, which hee cunningly answered by excuses. womanato it seemes, was guiltlesse of this falshood, because hee staied alone when the rest were gone. i asked him if he desired to bee great and rich; he answered, they were things all men aspired unto: which i told him he should be, if he would follow my counsell, so he gave me two tokens, which being returned by a messenger, should suffice to make him confident the messenger could not abuse us. _the treacherie of namanicus._ {mn} some things being stolne from us, he tooke such order that they were presently restored, then we interchanged presents: in all things hee much admired our discretions, and gave us a guide that hee called brother, to conduct us up the river: by the way we met with divers that stil tould us of marcum: and though it was in october, we found the countrie very hot, and their corne gathered before ours at james towne. {mn} the next day we went to paccamaganant, and they directed us to assacomoco, where their king cassatowap had an old quarrell with ensigne salvage, but now seeming reconciled, went with us, with another werowance towards mattapanient, where they perswaded us ashore upon the point of a thicket; but supposing it some trecherie, we returned to our boat: farre we had not gone from the shore, but a multitude of salvages sallied out of the wood, with all the ill words and signes of hostilitie they could. when wee saw plainly their bad intent, wee set the two werowances at libertie, that all this while had line in the cabbin, as not taking any notice of their villanie, because we would convert them by courtesie. leaving them as we found them, very civill and subtill, wee returned the same way wee came, to the laughing kings on the easterne shore, who told us plainly, namanicus would also have allured him into his countrie, under colour of trade to cut his throat. hee told us also opechancanough had imployed onianimo to kill salvage, because he brought the trade from him to the easterne shore, and some disgrace hee had done his sonne, and some thirteene of his people before one hundred of those easterlings in rescuing thomas graves whom they would have slaine, where hee and three more did challenge the thirteene pamaunkes to fight, but they durst not, so that all those easterlings so derided them, that they came there no more. _thomas salvages good service._ this thomas salvage, it is sixteene yeeres since he went to virginia, being a boy, hee was left with powhatan, for namontacke to learne the language, and as this author affirmeth, with much honestie and good successe hath served the publike without any publike recompence, yet had an arrow shot through body in their service. this laughing king at accomack, tels us the land is not two daies journy over in the broadest place, but in some places a man may goe in halfe a day, betwixt the bay and the maine ocean, where inhabit many people, so that by the narrownesse of the land there is not many deere, but most abundance of fish and fowle. kiptope his brother rules as his lieutenant, who seeing his younger brother more affected by the people than himselfe, freely resigned him the moitie of his countrie, applying himselfe onely to husbandry and hunting, yet nothing neglected in his degree, nor is hee carelesse of any thing concernes the state, but as a vigilant and faithfull counceller, as hee is an affectionated brother, bearing the greater burden in government, though the lesser honour, where cleane [iv. .] contrary they on the westerne shore, the younger beares the charge, and the elder the dignitie. those are the best husbands of any salvages we know: for they provide corne to serve them all the yeare, yet spare; and the other not for halfe the yeare, yet want. they are the most civill and tractable people we have met with, and by little sticks will keepe as just an account of their promises, as by a tally. in their mariages they observe a large distance, as well in affinitie as consanguinitie; nor doe they use that devillish custome in making black boyes. there may be on this shore about two thousand people: they on the west would invade them, but that they want boats to crosse the bay, and so would divers other nations, were they not protected by us. a few of the westerly runnagados had conspired against the laughing king, but fearing their treason was discovered, fled to smiths iles, where they made a massacre of deere and hogges; and thence to rickahake, betwixt cissapeack and nansamund, where they now are seated under the command of itoyatin, and so i returned to james towne, where i found the government rendred to sir francis wyat. in february also he travelled to the south river chawonock, some sixtie miles over land, which he found to be a very fruitfull and pleasant country, yeelding two harvests in a yeare, and found much of the silke grasse formerly spoken of, was kindly used by the people, and so returned. captaine each sent to build a fort to secure the countrey. a.d. . _the earl of southampton treasurer, and nicolas farrar deputy._ _five and twentie sent only to build barks and boats._ {mn} it was no small content to all the adventurers to heare of the safe arivall of all those ships and companies, which was thought sufficient to have made a plantation of themselves: and againe to second them, was sent captaine each in the abigale, a ship of three or foure hundred tunnes, who hath undertaken to make a blockhouse amongst the oyster banks, that shall secure the river. the furnishing him with instruments, cost three hundred pounds; but the whole charge and the ships returne, will be neere two thousand pounds. {mn} in her went captaine barwicke with five and twentie men for the building ships and boats, and not other waies to be imploied: and also a selected number to build the east indie schoole, but as yet from virginia little returnes but private mens tobacco, and faire promises of plentie of iron, silke, wine, and many other good and rich commodities, besides the speedy conversion of the salvages, that at first were much discouraged from living amongst them, when they were debarred the use of their peeces; therefore it was disputed as a matter of state, whether such as would live amongst them should use them or not, as a bait to allure them; or at least such as should bee called to the knowledge of christ. but because it was a great trouble for all causes to be brought to james towne for a triall, courts were appointed in convenient places to releeve them: but as they can make no lawes in virginia till they be ratified here; so they thinke it but reason, none should bee inacted here without their consents, because they onely feele them, and must live under them. still they complaine for want of corne, but what must be had by trade, and how unwilling any officer when he leaveth his place, is to make good his number of men to his successor, but many of them during their times to help themselves, undoes the company: for the servants you allow them, or such as they hire, they plant on their private lands, not upon that belongeth to their office, which crop alwaies exceeds yours, besides those which are your tenants to halfes, are forced to row them up and downe, whereby both you and they lose more then halfe. nor are those officers the ablest or best deserving, but make their experience upon the companies cost, and your land lies unmanured to any purpose, and will yeeld as little profit to your next new officers. the massacre upon the two and twentieth [iv. .] of march. _the death of nemattanow writ by m. wimp._ the prologue to this tragedy, is supposed was occasioned by nemattanow, otherwise called jack nemattanow of the feather, because hee commonly was most strangely adorned with them; and for his courage and policy, was accounted amongst the salvages their chiefe captaine, and immortall from any hurt could bee done him by the english. this captaine comming to one morgans house, knowing he had many commodities that hee desired, perswaded morgan to goe with him to pamaunke to trucke, but the salvage murdered him by the way; and after two or three daies returned againe to morgans house, where he found two youths his servants, who asked for their master: jack replied directly he was dead; the boyes suspecting as it was, by seeing him weare his cap, would have had him to master thorp: but jack so moved their patience, they shot him, so he fell to the ground, put him in a boat to have him before the governor, then seven or eight miles from them. but by the way jack finding the pangs of death upon him, desired of the boyes two things; the one was, that they would not make it knowne hee was slaine with a bullet; the other, to bury him amongst the english. at the losse of this salvage opechankanough much grieved and repined, with great threats of revenge; but the english returned him such terrible answers, that he cunningly dissembled his intent, with the greatest signes he could of love and peace, yet within foureteene daies after he acted what followeth. _security a bad guard._ sir francis wyat at his arrivall was advertised, he found the countrey setled in such a firme peace, as most men there thought sure and unviolable, not onely in regard of their promises, but of a necessitie. the poore weake salvages being every way bettered by us, and safely sheltred and defended, whereby wee might freely follow our businesse: and such was the conceit of this conceited peace, as that there was seldome or never a sword, and seldomer a peece, except for a deere or fowle, by which assurances the most plantations were placed straglingly and scatteringly, as a choice veine of rich ground invited them, and further from neighbours the better. their houses generally open to the salvages, who were alwaies friendly fed at their tables, and lodged in their bed-chambers, which made the way plaine to effect their intents, and the conversion of the salvages as they supposed. _the manner of the massacre._ {mn} having occasion to send to opechankanough about the middle of march, hee used the messenger well, and told him he held the peace so firme, the sky should fall or he dissolved it; yet such was the treachery of those people, when they had contrived our destruction, even but two daies before the massacre, they guided our men with much kindnesse thorow the woods, and one browne that lived among them to learne the language, they sent home to his master; yea, they borrowed our boats to transport themselves over the river, to consult on the devillish murder that insued, and of our utter extirpation, which god of his mercy (by the meanes of one of themselves converted to christianitie) prevented, and as well on the friday morning that fatall day, being the two and twentieth of march, {mn} as also in the evening before, as at other times they came unarmed into our houses, with deere, turkies, fish, fruits, and other provisions to sell us, yea in some places sat downe at breakfast with our people, whom immediatly with their owne tooles they slew most barbarously, not sparing either age or sex, man woman or childe, so sudden in their execution, that few or none discerned the weapon or blow that brought them to destruction: in which manner also they slew many of our people at severall works in the fields, well knowing in what places and quarters each of our men were, in regard of their familiaritie with us, for the effecting that great master-peece of worke their conversion; and by this meanes fell that fatall morning under the bloudy and barbarous hands of that perfidious and inhumane people, [iv. .] three hundred forty seven men, women and children, most by their owne weapons, and not being content with their lives, they fell againe upon the dead bodies, making as well as they could a fresh murder, defacing, dragging, and mangling their dead carkases into many peeces, and carying some parts away in derision, with base and brutish triumph. _their cruelty._ neither yet did these beasts spare those amongst the rest well knowne unto them, from whom they had daily received many benefits, but spightfully also massacred them without any remorse or pitie; being in this more fell then lions and dragons, as histories record, which have preserved their benefactors; such is the force of good deeds, though done to cruell beasts, to take humanitie upon them, but these miscreants put on a more unnaturall brutishnesse then beasts, as by those instances may appeare. _the murder of master thorp._ that worthy religious gentleman m. george thorp, deputie to the college lands, sometimes one of his majesties pensioners, & in command one of the principall in virginia; did so truly affect their conversion, that whosoever under him did them the least displeasure, were punished severely. he thought nothing too deare for them, he never denied them any thing, in so much that when they complained that our mastives did feare them, he to content them in all things, caused some of them to be killed in their presence, to the great displeasure of the owners, and would have had all the rest guelt to make them the milder, might he have had his will. the king dwelling but in a cottage, he built him a faire house after the english fashion, in which he tooke such pleasure, especially in the locke and key, which he so admired, as locking and unlocking his doore a hundred times a day, he thought no device in the world comparable to it. _the slaughter of captaine powell._ {mn- } _a salvage slaine._ {mn- } _m. baldwins escape._ {mn- } _m. thomas hamer with escapeth._ {mn- } thus insinuating himselfe into this kings favour for his religious purpose, he conferred oft with him about religion, as many other in this former discourse had done, and this pagan confessed to him as he did to them, our god was better then theirs, and seemed to be much pleased with that discourse, and of his company, and to requite all those courtesies; yet this viperous brood did, as the sequell shewed, not onely murder him, but with such spight and scorne abused his dead corps as is unfitting to be heard with civill eares. one thing i cannot omit, that when this good gentleman upon his fatall houre, was warned by his man, who perceiving some treachery intended by those hell-hounds, to looke to himselfe, and withall ran away for feare he should be apprehended, and so saved his owne life; yet his master out of his good meaning was so void of suspition and full of confidence, they had slaine him, or he could or would beleeve they would hurt him. {mn- } captaine nathaniel powell one of the first planters, a valiant souldier, and not any in the countrey better knowne amongst them; yet such was the error of an over-conceited power and prosperitie, and their simplicities, they not onely slew him and his family, but butcher-like hagled their bodies, and cut off his head, to expresse their uttermost height of cruelty. {mn- } another of the old company of captaine smith, called nathaniel causie, being cruelly wounded, and the salvages about him, with an axe did cleave one of their heads, whereby the rest fled and he escaped: for they hurt not any that did either fight or stand upon their guard. in one place where there was but two men that had warning of it, they defended the house against . or more that assaulted it. {mn- } m. baldwin at warraskoyack, his wife being so wounded, she lay for dead, yet by his oft discharging of his peece, saved her, his house, himselfe, & divers others. at the same time they came to one master harisons house, neere halfe a mile from baldwines, {mn- } where was master thomas hamer with six men, and eighteene or nineteene women and children. here the salvages with many presents and faire perswasions, fained they came for capt. ralfe hamer to go to their king, then hunting in the woods, presently they sent to him, but he not comming as they expected, set fire of a tobacco-house, and then came to tell them in the dwelling house of it to quench it; all the men ran towards it, but master hamer not suspecting any thing, whom the salvages pursued, [iv. .] shot them full of arrowes, then beat out their braines. hamer having finished a letter hee was a writing, followed after to see what was the matter, but quickly they shot an arrow in his back, which caused him returne and barricado up the doores, whereupon the salvages set fire on the house. harisons boy finding his masters peece loaded, discharged it at randome, at which bare report the salvages all fled, baldwin still discharging his peece, and mr. hamer with two and twentie persons thereby got to his house, leaving their owne burning. in like manner, they had fired lieutenant basse his house, with all the rest there about, slaine the people, and so left that plantation. _captaine ralfe hamer with forty escapeth._ captaine hamer all this while not knowing any thing, comming to his brother that had sent for him to go hunt with the king, meeting the salvages chasing some, yet escaped, retired to his new house then a building, from whence he came; there onely with spades, axes, and brickbats, he defended himselfe and his company till the salvages departed. not long after, the master from the ship had sent six musketiers, with which he recovered their merchants store-house, where he armed ten more, and so with thirtie more unarmed workmen, found his brother and the rest at baldwins: now seeing all they had was burnt and consumed, they repaired to james towne with their best expedition; yet not far from martins hundred, where seventy three were slaine, was a little house and a small family, that heard not of any of this till two daies after. _the salvages attempt to surprise a ship._ {mn} all those, and many others whom they have as maliciously murdered, sought the good of those poore brutes, that thus despising gods mercies, must needs now as miscreants be corrected by justice: to which leaving them, i will knit together the thred of this discourse. {mn} at the time of the massacre, there were three or foure ships in james river, and one in the next, and daily more to come in, as there did within foureteene daies after, one of which they indevoured to have surprised: yet were the hearts of the english ever stupid, and averted from beleeving any thing might weaken their hopes, to win them by kinde usage to christianitie. but divers write from thence, that almighty god hath his great worke in this tragedy, and will thereout draw honor and glory to his name, and a more flourishing estate and safetie to themselves, and with more speed to convert the salvage children to himselfe, since he so miraculously hath preserved the english; there being yet, god be praised, eleven parts of twelve remaining, whose carelesse neglect of their owne safeties, seemes to have beene the greatest cause of their destructions: yet you see, god by a converted salvage that disclosed the plot, saved the rest, and the pinnace then in pamaunkes river, whereof (say they) though our sinnes made us unworthy of so glorious a conversion, yet his infinite wisdome can neverthelesse bring it to passe, and in good time, by such meanes as we thinke most unlikely: for in the delivery of them that survive, no mans particular carefulnesse saved one person, but the meere goodnesse of god himselfe, freely and miraculously preserving whom he pleased. the letters of master george sands, a worthy gentleman, and many others besides them returned, brought us this unwelcome newes, that hath beene heard at large in publike court, that the indians and they lived as one nation, yet by a generall combination in one day plotted to subvert the whole colony, and at one instant, though our severall plantations were one hundred and fortie miles up on river on both sides. but for the better understanding of all things, you must remember these wilde naked natives live not in great numbers together, but dispersed, commonly in thirtie, fortie, fiftie, or sixtie in a company. some places have two hundred, few places more, but many lesse; yet they had all warning given them one from another in all their habitations, though farre asunder, to meet at the day and houre appointed for our destruction at al our several plantations; some directed to one place, some to another, all to be done at the time appointed, which they did accordingly: some entring their houses under colour of trading, so tooke their advantage; others drawing us [iv. .] abroad under faire pretences, and the rest suddenly falling upon those that were at their labours. _six of the councell slaine._ six of the counsell suffered under this treason, and the slaughter had beene universall, if god had not put it into the heart of an indian, who lying in the house of one pace, was urged by another indian his brother, that lay with him the night before to kill pace, as he should doe perry which was his friend, being so commanded from their king; telling him also how the next day the execution should be finished: perrys indian presently arose and reveales it to pace, that used him as his sonne; and thus them that escaped was saved by this one converted infidell. and though three hundred fortie seven were slaine, yet thousands of ours were by the meanes of this alone thus preserved, for which gods name be praised for ever and ever. _how it was revealed._ pace upon this, securing his house, before day rowed to james towne, and told the governor of it, whereby they were prevented, and at such other plantations as possibly intelligence could be given: and where they saw us upon our guard, at the sight of a peece they ranne away; but the rest were most slaine, their houses burnt, such armes and munition as they found they tooke away, and some cattell also they destroied. since wee finde opechankanough the last yeare had practised with a king on the easterne shore, to furnish him with a kind of poison, which onely growes in his country to poison us. but of this bloudy acte never griefe and shame possessed any people more then themselves, to be thus butchered by so naked and cowardly a people, who dare not stand the presenting of a staffe in manner of a peece, nor an uncharged peece in the hands of a woman. (but i must tell those authors, though some might be thus cowardly, there were many of them had better spirits.) _memorandums._ _captaine smith._ {mn} thus have you heard the particulars of this massacre, which in those respects some say will be good for the plantation, because now we have just cause to destroy them by all meanes possible: but i thinke it had beene much better it had never happened; for they have given us an hundred times as just occasions long agoe to subject them, (and i wonder i can heare of none but master stockam and master whitaker of my opinion.) moreover, where before we were troubled in cleering the ground of great timber, which was to them of small use: now we may take their owne plaine fields and habitations, which are the pleasantest places in the countrey. besides, the deere, turkies, and other beasts and fowles will exceedingly increase if we beat the salvages out of the countrey, for at all times of the yeare they never spare male nor female, old nor young, egges nor birds, fat nor leane, in season or out of season with them, all is one. the like they did in our swine and goats, for they have used to kill eight in tenne more then we, or else the wood would most plentifully abound with victuall; besides it is more easie to civilize them by conquest then faire meanes; for the one may be made at once, but their civilizing will require a long time and much industry. the manner how to suppresse them is so often related and approved, i omit it here: and you have twenty examples of the spaniards how they got the west-indies, and forced the treacherous and rebellious infidels to doe all manner of drudgery worke and slavery for them, themselves living like souldiers upon the fruits of their labours. {mn} this will make us more circumspect, and be an example to posteritie: (but i say, this might as well have beene put in practise sixteene yeares agoe as now.) _his majesties gift._ {mn- } _london sets out . persons._ {mn- } thus upon this anvill shall wee now beat our selves an armour of proofe hereafter to defend us against such incursions, and ever hereafter make us more circumspect: {mn- } but to helpe to repaire this losse, besides his majesties bounty in armes, he gave the company out of the tower, and divers other honorable persons have renewed their adventures, we must not omit the honorable citie of london, {mn- } to whose endlesse praise wee may speake it, are now setting forward one hundred persons, and divers others at their owne costs are a repairing, and all good [iv. .] men doe thinke never the worse of the businesse for all these disasters. _a lamentable example, too oft approved._ {mn} what growing state was there ever in the world which had not the like? rome grew by oppression, and rose upon the backe of her enemies: and the spaniards have had many of those counterbuffes, more than we. columbus, upon his returne from the west-indies into spaine, having left his people with the indies, in peace and promise of good usage amongst them, at his returne backe found not one of them living, but all treacherously slaine by the salvages. after this againe, when the spanish colonies were increased to great numbers, {mn} the indians from whom the spaniards for trucking stuffe used to have all their corne, generally conspired together to plant no more at all, intending thereby to famish them; themselves living in the meane time upon cassava, a root to make bread, onely then knowne to themselves. this plot of theirs by the spaniards oversight, that foolishly depended upon strangers for their bread, tooke such effect, and brought them to such misery by the rage of famine, that they spared no uncleane nor loathsome beast, no not the poisonous and hideous serpents, but eat them up also, devouring one death to save them from another; and by this meanes their whole colony well-neere surfeted, sickned and died miserably, and when they had againe recovered this losse, by their incontinency an infinite number of them died on the indian disease, we call the french pox, which at first being a strange and an unknowne malady, was deadly upon whomsoever it lighted: then had they a little flea called nigua, which got betweene the skinne and the flesh before they were aware, and there bred and multiplied, making swellings and putrifactions, to the decay and losse of many of their bodily members. _note this conclusion._ {mn} againe, divers times they were neere undone by their ambition, faction, and malice of the commanders. columbus, to whom they were also much beholden, was sent with his brother in chaines into spaine; and some other great commanders killed and murdered one another. pizzaro was killed by almagros sonne, and him vasco beheaded, which vasco was taken by blasco, and blasco was likewise taken by pizzaros brother: and thus by their covetous and spightfull quarrels, they were ever shaking the maine pillars of their common-weale. these and many more mischiefes and calamities hapned them, more then ever did to us, and at one time being even at the last gaspe, had two ships not arrived with supplies as they did, they were so disheartned, they were a leaving the countrey: yet we see for all those miseries they have attained to their ends at last, as is manifest to all the world, both with honour, power, and wealth: and whereas before few could be hired to goe to inhabit there, now with great sute they must obtaine it; {mn} but where there was no honesty, nor equity, nor sanctitie, nor veritie, nor pietie, nor good civilitie in such a countrey, certainly there can bee no stabilitie. _how the spaniards raise their wealth in the west indies._ {mn} therefore let us not be discouraged, but rather animated by those conclusions, seeing we are so well assured of the goodnesse and commodities may bee had in virginia, nor is it to be much doubted there is any want of mines of most sorts, no not of the richest, as is well knowne to some yet living that can make it manifest when time shall serve: and yet to thinke that gold and silver mines are in a country otherwise most rich and fruitfull, or the greatest wealth in a plantation, is but a popular error, as is that opinion likewise, that the gold and silver is now the greatest wealth of the west indies at this present. {mn} true it is indeed, that in the first conquest the spaniards got great and mighty store of treasure from the natives, which they in long space had heaped together, and in those times the indians shewed them entire and rich mines, which now by the relations of them that have beene there, are exceedingly wasted, so that now the charge of getting those metals is growne excessive, besides the consuming the lives of many by their pestilent smoke and vapours in digging and refining them, so that all things considered, the cleere gaines of those metals, the kings part defraied, to the adventurers is but small, and nothing neere so much as vulgarly is imagined; and were it not for other rich commodities there that inrich [iv. .] them, those of the contraction house were never able to subsist by the mines onely; for the greatest part of their commodities are partly naturall, and partly transported from other parts of the world, and planted in the west-indies, as in their mighty wealth of sugarcanes, being first transported from the canaries; and in ginger and other things brought out of the east-indies, in their cochanele, indicos, cotton, and their infinite store of hides, quick-silver, allum, woad, brasill woods, dies, paints, tobacco, gums, balmes, giles, medicinals and perfumes, sassaparilla and many other physicall drugs: these are the meanes whereby they raise that mighty charge of drawing out their gold and silver to the great & cleare revenue of their king. now seeing the most of those commodities, or as usefull, may be had in virginia by the same meanes, as i have formerly said; let us with all speed take the priority of time, where also may be had the priority of place, in chusing the best seats of the country, which now by vanquishing the salvages, is like to offer a more faire and ample choice of fruitfull habitations, then hitherto our gentlenesse and faire comportments could attaine unto. a.d. . the numbers that were slaine in those severall plantations. at captaine berkleys plantation, himselfe and . others, seated at the falling-crick, . miles from james city. master thomas sheffelds plantation, some three miles from the falling-crick, himselfe and . others. at henrico iland, about two miles from sheffelds plantation. slaine of the college people, twenty miles from henrico. at charles city, and of captaine smiths men. at the next adjoyning plantation. at william farrars house. at brickley hundred, fifty miles from charles city, master thorp and at westover, a mile from brickley. at master john wests plantation. at captaine nathaniel wests plantation. at lieutenant gibs his plantation. at richard owens house, himselfe and at master owen macars house, himselfe and at martins hundred, seven miles from james city at another place. at edward bonits plantation. at master waters his house, himselfe and at apamatucks river, at master perce his plantation, five miles from the college. at master macocks divident, captaine samuel macock, and at flowerda hundred, sir george yearleys plantation. on the other side opposite to it. at master swinhows house, himselfe and at master william bickars house, himselfe and at weanock, of sir george yearleys people. at powel brooke, captaine nathaniel powel, and at south-hampton hundred. at martin brandons hundred. at captaine henry spilmans house. at ensigne spences house. at master thomas perse his house by mulbery ile, himselfe and the whole number . men in this taking bettered with affliction, [iv. .] better attend, and mind, and marke religion, for then true voyces issue from their hearts, then speake they what they thinke in inmost parts, the truth remaines, they cast off fained arts. _how they were reduced to five or six places._ {mn- } _gookins and jordens resolutions._ {mn- } _the opinion of captaine smith._ {mn- } this lamentable and so unexpected a disaster caused them all beleeve the opinion of master stockam, and drave them all to their wits end: it was twenty or thirty daies ere they could resolve what to doe, {mn- } but at last it was concluded, all the petty plantations should be abandoned, and drawne onely to make good five or six places, where all their labours now for the most part must redound to the lords of those lands where they were resident. now for want of boats, it was impossible upon such a sudden to bring also their cattle, and many other things, which with much time, charge and labour they had then in possession with them; all which for the most part at their departure was burnt, ruined and destroyed by the salvages. {mn- } only master gookins at nuports-newes would not obey the commanders command in that, though hee had scarce five and thirty of all sorts with him, yet he thought himselfe sufficient against what could happen, and so did to his great credit and the content of his adventurers. master samuel jorden gathered together but a few of the straglers about him at beggers-bush, where he fortified and lived in despight of the enemy. nay, mistresse proctor, a proper, civill, modest gentlewoman did the like, till perforce the english officers forced her and all them with her to goe with them, or they would fire her house themselves, as the salvages did when they were gone, in whose despight they had kept it, and what they had a moneth or three weekes after the massacre; which was to their hearts a griefe beyond comparison, to lose all they had in that manner, onely to secure others pleasures. {mn- } now here in england it was thought, all those remainders might presently have beene reduced into fifties or hundreds in places most convenient with what they had, having such strong houses as they reported they had, which with small labour might have beene made invincible castles against all the salvages in the land, and then presently raised a company, as a running armie to torment the barbarous and secure the rest, and so have had all that country betwixt the rivers of powhatan and pamaunke to range and sustaine them; especially all the territories of kecourrhtan, chiskact and paspahege, from ozenies to that branch of pamaunke, comming from youghtanund, which strait of land is not past . or . miles, to have made a peninsula much bigger then the summer iles, invironed with the broadest parts of those two maine rivers, which for plenty of such things as virginia affords is not to be exceeded, and were it well manured, more then sufficient for ten thousand men. this, were it well understood, cannot but be thought better then to bring five or six hundred to lodge and live on that, which before would not well receive and maintaine a hundred, planting little or nothing, but spend that they have upon hopes out of england, one evill begetting another, till the disease is past cure: therefore it is impossible but such courses must produce most fearefull miseries and extreme extremities; if it prove otherwise, i should be exceeding glad. i confesse i am somewhat too bold to censure other mens actions being not present, but they have done as much of me; yea many here in england that were never there, & also many there that knowes little more then their plantations, but as they are informed; and this doth touch the glory of god, the honour of my country, and the publike good so much, for which there hath beene so many faire pretences, that i hope none will be angry for speaking my opinion, seeing the old proverbe doth allow losers leave to speake; and du bartas saith, even as the wind the angry ocean moves, wave hunteth wave, and billow billow shoves, so doe all nations justell each the other, [iv. .] and so one people doe pursue another, and scarce a second hath the first unhoused, before a third him thence againe have roused. _the providence of captaine nuse._ amongst the multitude of these severall relations, it appeares captaine nuse seeing many of the difficulties to ensue, caused as much corne to be planted as he could at elizabeths city, & though some destroyed that they had set, fearing it would serve the salvages for ambuscadoes, trusting to releefe by trade, or from england, which hath ever beene one cause of our miseries, for from england wee have not had much, and for trading, every one hath not ships, shalops, interpreters, men and provisions to performe it, and those that have, use them onely for their owne private gaine, not the publike good, so that our beginning this yeere doth cause many to distrust the event of the next. here wee will leave captaine nuse for a while, lamenting the death of captaine norton, a valiant industrious gentleman, adorned with many good qualities, besides physicke and chirurgery, which for the publike good he freely imparted to all gratis, but most bountifully to the poore; and let us speake a little of captaine croshaw amongst the midst of those broiles in the river of patawomeke. _captaine croshaw his voyage to patawomeke._ being in a small barke called the elizabeth, under the command of captaine spilman, at cekacawone, a salvage stole aboord them, and told them of the massacre, and that opechancanough had plotted with his king and country to betray them also, which they refused, but them of wighcocomoco at the mouth of the river had undertaken it; upon this spilman went thither, but the salvages seeing his men so vigilant and well armed, they suspected themselves discovered, and to colour their guilt, the better to delude him, so contented his desire in trade, his pinnace was neere fraught; but seeing no more to be had, croshaw went to patawomek, where he intended to stay and trade for himselfe, by reason of the long acquaintance he had with this king that so earnestly entreated him now to be his friend, his countenancer, his captaine and director against the pazaticans, the nacotchtanks, and moyaons his mortall enemies. of this oportunity croshaw was glad, as well to satisfie his owne desire in some other purpose he had, as to keepe the king as an opposite to opechancanough, and adhere him unto us, or at least make him an instrument against our enemies; so onely elis hill stayed with him, and the pinnace returned to elizabeths city; here shall they rest also a little, till we see how this newes was entertained in england. _the arrivall of this newes in england._ it was no small griefe to the councell and company, to understand of such a supposed impossible losse, as that so many should fall by the hands of men so contemptible; and yet having such warnings, especially by the death of nemattanow, whom the salvages did thinke was shot-free, as he had perswaded them, having so long escaped so many dangers without any hurt. but now to leape out of this labyrinth of melancholy, all this did not so discourage the noble adventurers, nor divers others still to undertake new severall plantations, but that divers ships were dispatched away, for their supplies and assistance thought sufficient. yet captaine smith did intreat and move them to put in practise his old offer, seeing now it was time to use both it and him, how slenderly heretofore both had beene regarded, and because it is not impertinent to the businesse, it is not much amisse to remember what it was. a.d. . the project and offer of captaine john smith, to [iv. .] the right honourable, and right worshipfull company of virginia. _captaine smiths offer to the company._ if you please i may be transported with a hundred souldiers and thirty sailers by the next michaelmas, with victuall, munition, and such necessary provision, by gods assistance, we would endevour to inforce the salvages to leave their country, or bring them in that feare and subjection that every man should follow their businesse securely, whereas now halfe their times and labours are spent in watching and warding, onely to defend, but altogether unable to suppresse the salvages, because every man now being for himselfe will be unwilling to be drawne from their particular labours, to be made as pack-horses for all the rest, without any certainty of some better reward and preferment then i can understand any there can or will yet give them. these i would imploy onely in ranging the countries, and tormenting the salvages, and that they should be as a running army till this were effected, and then settle themselves in some such convenient place, that should ever remaine a garison of that strength, ready upon any occasion against the salvages, or any other for the defence of the countrey, and to see all the english well armed, and instruct them their use. but i would have a barke of one hundred tunnes, and meanes to build sixe or seven shalops, to transport them where there should bee occasion. towards the charge, because it is for the generall good, and what by the massacre and other accidents, virginia is disparaged, and many men and their purses much discouraged, how ever a great many doe hasten to goe, thinking to bee next heires to all the former losses, i feare they will not finde all things as they doe imagine; therefore leaving those gilded conceits, and dive into the true estate of the colony; i thinke if his majestie were truly informed of their necessitie, and the benefit of this project, he would be pleased to give the custome of virginia, and the planters also according to their abilities would adde thereto such a contribution, as would be fit to maintaine this garison till they be able to subsist, or cause some such other collections to be made, as may put it with all expedition in practice; otherwise it is much to be doubted, there will neither come custome, nor any thing from thence to england within these few yeares. now if this should be thought an imploiment more fit for ancient souldiers there bred, then such new commers as may goe with me; you may please to leave that to my discretion, to accept or refuse such voluntaries, that will hazard their fortunes in the trialls of these events, and discharge such of my company that had rather labour the ground then subdue their enemies: what releefe i should have from your colony i would satisfie and spare them (when i could) the like courtesie. notwithstanding these doubts, i hope to feede them as well as defend them, and yet discover you more land unknowne then they all yet know, if you will grant me such priviledges as of necessity must be used. for against any enemy we must be ready to execute the best can be devised by your state there, but not that they shall either take away my men, or any thing else to imploy as they please by vertue of their authority, and in that i have done somewhat for new-england as well as virginia, so i would desire liberty and authority to make the best use i can of my best experiences, within the limits of those two patents, and to bring them both in one map, and the countries betwixt them, giving alwaies that respect to the governors and government, as an englishman doth in scotland, or a scotchman in england, or as the regiments in the low-countries doe to the governors of the townes and cities where they are billited, or in garrison, where though they live with [iv. .] them, and are as their servants to defend them, yet not to be disposed on at their pleasure, but as the prince and state doth command them, and for my owne paines in particular i aske not any thing but what i can produce from the proper labour of the salvages. _their answer._ i cannot say, it was generally for the company, for being published in their court, the most that heard it liked exceeding well of the motion, and some would have been very large adventurers in it, especially sir john brookes and master david wyffin, but there were such divisions amongst them, i could obtaine no answer but this, the charge would be too great; their stocke was decayed, and they did thinke the planters should doe that of themselves if i could finde meanes to effect it; they did thinke i might have leave of the company, provided they might have halfe the pillage, but i thinke there are not many will much strive for that imploiment, for except it be a little corne at some time of the yeere is to be had, i would not give twenty pound for all the pillage is to be got amongst the salvages in twenty yeeres: but because they supposed i spake only for my owne ends, it were good those understand providents for the companies good they so much talke of, were sent thither to make triall of their profound wisdomes and long experiences. _the manner of the sallary._ about this time also was propounded a proposition concerning a sallery of five and twenty thousand pounds to be raised out of tobacco, as a yeerely pension to bee paid to certaine officers for the erecting a new office, concerning the sole importation of tobacco, besides his majesties custome, fraught, and all other charges. to nominate the undertakers, favourers and opposers, with their arguments (pro) and (con) would bee too tedious and needlesse being so publikely knowne; the which to establish, spent a good part of that yeere, and the beginning of the next. this made many thinke wonders of virginia, to pay such pensions extraordinary to a few here that were never there, and also in what state and pompe some chieftaines and divers of their associates live in virginia, and yet no money to maintaine a garrison, pay poore men their wages, nor yet five and twenty pence to all the adventurers here, and very little to the most part of the planters there, bred such differences in opinion it was dissolved. _captaine croshaw staies at patawomek, and his adventures._ now let us returne to captaine croshaw at patawomek, where he had not beene long ere opechancanough sent two baskets of beads to this king, to kill him and his man, assuring him of the massacre he had made, and that before the end of two moones there should not be an englishman in all their countries: this fearefull message the king told this captaine, who replied, he had seene both the cowardise and trechery of opechancanough sufficiently tried by captaine smith, therefore his threats he feared not, nor for his favour cared, but would nakedly fight with him or any of his with their owne swords; if he were slaine, he would leave a letter for his country men to know, the fault was his owne, not the kings; two daies the king deliberated upon an answer, at last told him the english were his friends, and the salvage emperour opitchapam now called toyatan, was his brother, therefore there should be no bloud shed betwixt them, so hee returned the presents, willing the pamaunkes to come no more in his country, lest the english, though against his will, should doe them any mischiefe. _the escape of waters and his wife._ not long after, a boat going abroad to seeke out some releefe amongst the plantations, by nuports-newes met such ill weather, though the men were saved they lost their boat, which the storme and waves cast upon the shore of nandsamund, where edward waters one of the three that first stayed in summer iles, and found the great peece of amber-greece, dwelling in virginia at this [iv. .] massacre, hee and his wife these nandsamunds kept prisoners till it chanced they found this boat, at which purchase they so rejoyced, according to their custome of triumph, with songs, dances and invocations, they were so busied, that waters and his wife found opportunity to get secretly into their canow, and so crossed the river to kecoughtan, which is nine or ten miles, whereat the english no lesse wondred and rejoyced, then the salvages were madded with discontent. thus you may see how many desperate dangers some men escape, when others die that have all things at their pleasure. _the arrivall of captaine hamer at patawomeke._ _croshaws fort and plot for trade._ {mn} all men thinking captaine croshaw dead, captaine hamer arriving with a ship and a pinnace at patawomeke, was kindly entertained both by him and the king; that don hamar told the king he came for corne: the king replied hee had none, but the nacotchtanks and their confederats had, which were enemies both to him and them; if they would fetch it, he would give them . or choise bow-men to conduct and assist them. those salvages with some of the english they sent, who so well played their parts, they slew . of the nacotchtanks, some write but . and some they had a long skirmish with them; where the patawomeks were so eager of revenge, they drive them not onely out of their towne, but all out of sight through the woods, thus taking what they liked, and spoiling the rest, they retired to patawomek, where they left captaine croshaw, with foure men more, the rest set saile for james towne. {mn} captaine croshaw now with five men and himselfe found night and day so many alarums, he retired into such a convenient place, that with the helpe of the salvages, hee had quickly fortified himselfe against all those wilde enemies. captaine nuse his pinnace meeting hamar by the way understanding all this, came to see captaine croshaw: after their best enterchanges of courtesies, croshaw writ to nuse the estate of the place where he was, but understanding by them the poore estate of the colony, offered if they would send him but a bold shallop, with men, armes and provision for trade, the next harvest he would provide them corne sufficient, but as yet it being but the latter end of june, there was little or none in all the country. _captaine madyson sent to patawomek._ this being made knowne to the governour and the rest, they sent captaine madyson with a ship and pinnace, and some six and thirtie men: those croshaw a good time taught the use of their armes, but receiving a letter from boyse his wife, a prisoner with nineteene more at pamaunke, to use meanes to the governour for their libertie; so hee dealt with this king, hee got first two of his great men to goe with him to james towne, and eight daies after to send foure of his counsell to pamaunke, there to stay till he sent one of his two to them, to perswade opachankanough to send two of his with two of the patawomekes, to treat about those prisoners, and the rest should remaine their hostage at pamaunke; but the commanders, at james towne, it seemes, liked not of it, and so sent the patawomekes backe againe to their owne countrie, and captaine croshaw to his owne habitation. _the industry of captaine nuse._ all this time we have forgot captaine nuse, where we left him but newly acquainted with the massacre, calling all his next adjoyning dispersed neighbours together, he regarded not the pestring his owne house, nor any thing to releeve them, and with all speed entrenched himselfe, mounted three peece of ordnance, so that within . daies, he was strong enough to defend himselfe from all the salvages, yet when victuall grew scant, some that would forrage without order, which he punished, neere occasioned a mutiny. notwithstanding, he behaved himselfe so fatherly and kindly to them all, they built two houses for them, he daily expected from england, a faire well of fresh water mantled with bricke, because the river and cricks are there brackish or salt; in all which things he plaied the sawyer, carpenter, dauber, laborer, or any thing; wherein though his courage and heart were steeled, he found his body was not made of iron, for hee had many sicknesses, and at last a dropsie, no lesse griefe to himselfe, then sorrow to his wife and all under his government. these crosses [iv. .] and losses were no small increasers of his malady, nor the thus abandoning our plantations, the losse of our harvest, and also tobacco which was as our money; the vineyard our vineyetours had brought to a good forwardnesse, bruised and destroyed with deere, and all things ere they came to perfection, with weeds, disorderly persons or wild beasts; so that as we are i cannot perceive but the next yeere will be worse, being still tormented with pride and flattery, idlenesse and covetousnesse, as though they had vowed heere to keepe their court with all the pestilent vices in the world for their attendants, inchanted with a conceited statelinesse, even in the very bottome of miserable senselesnesse. _captaine powel kills_ . _salvages._ shortly after, sir george yearly and captaine william powel, tooke each of them a company of well disposed gentlemen and others to seeke their enemies. yearley ranging the shore of weanock, could see nothing but their old houses which he burnt, and so went home: powel searching another part, found them all fled but three he met by chance, whose heads hee cut off, burnt their houses, and so returned; for the salvages are so light and swift, though wee see them (being so loaded with armour) they have much advantage of us though they be cowards. _the opinion of captaine smith._ i confesse this is true, and it may cause some suppose they are grown invincible: but will any goe to catch a hare with a taber and a pipe? for who knowes not though there be monsters both of men and beasts, fish and fowle, yet the greatest, the strongest, the wildest, cruellest, fiercest and cunningest, by reason, art and vigilancy, courage and industry hath beene slaine, subjected or made tame, and those are still but salvages as they were, onely growne more bold by our owne simplicities, and still will be worse and worse till they be tormented with a continuall pursuit, and not with lying inclosed within palizados, or affrighting them out of your sights, thinking they have done well, can but defend themselves: and to doe this to any purpose, will require both charge, patience and experience. but to their proceedings. _sir george yearlys journey to accomack._ _captaine nuse his misery._ {mn- } _an alarum. foure slaine._ {mn- } about the latter end of june, sir george yearley accompanied with the councell, and a number of the greatest gallants in the land, stayed three or foure daies with captaine nuse, he making his moane to a chiefe man amongst them for want of provision for his company, the great commander replied hee should turne them to his greene corne, which would make them plumpe and fat: these fields being so neere the fort, were better regarded and preserved then the rest, but the great mans command, as we call them, was quickly obeied, for though it was scarce halfe growne either to the greatnesse or goodnesse, they devoured it greene though it did them small good. sir george with his company went to accomack to his new plantation, where he staied neere six weekes; some corne he brought home, but as he adventured for himselfe, he accordingly enjoyed the benefit; some pety magazines came this summer, but either the restraint by proclamation, or want of boats, or both, caused few but the chieftaines to be little better by them. {mn- } so long as captaine nuse had any thing we had part; but now all being spent, and the people forced to live upon oisters and crabs, they became so faint no worke could be done; and where the law was, no worke, no meat, now the case is altered, to no meat, no worke; some small quantity of milke and rice the captaine had of his owne, and that he would distribute gratis as he saw occasion; i say gratis, for i know no place else, but it was sold for ready paiment: those eares of corne that had escaped till august, though not ripe by reason of the late planting, the very dogs did repaire to the corne fields to seeke them as the men till they were hanged; and this i protest before god is true that i have related, not to flatter nuse, nor condemne any, but all the time i have lived in virginia, i have not seene nor heard that any commander hath taken such continuall paines for the publike, or done so little good for himselfe, and his vertuous wife was no lesse charitable and compassionate according to her power. for my owne part, although i found neither mulberies planted, houses built, men nor victuall provided, as the honourable adventurers [iv. .] did promise mee in england; yet at my owne charge, having made these preparations, and the silke-wormes ready to be covered, all was lost, but my poore life and children, by the massacre, the which as god in his mercy did preserve, i continually pray we may spend to his glory. {mn- } the . of september, we had an alarum, and two men at their labours slaine; the captaine, though extreme sicke, sallied forth, but the salvages lay hid in the corne fields all night, where they destroyed all they could, and killed two men more, much mischiefe they did to master edward hills cattle, yet he alone defended his house though his men were sicke and could doe nothing, and this was our first assault since the massacre. _the kindnesse of the king of patawomek._ about this time captaine madyson passed by us, having taken prisoners, the king of patawomek, his sonne, and two more, and thus it happened; madyson not liking so well to live amongst the salvages as croshaw did, built him a strong house within the fort, so that they were not so sociable as before, nor did they much like poole the interpreter; many alarums they had, but saw no enemies: madyson before his building went to moyaoncs, where hee got provision for a moneth, and was promised much more, so he returned to patawomek and built this house, and was well used by the salvages. now by the foure great men the king sent to pamaunke for the redemption of the prisoners, madyson sent them a letter, but they could neither deliver it nor see them: so long they stayed that the king grew doubtfull of their bad usage, that hee swore by the skyes, if they returned not well, he would have warres with opechankanough so long as he had any thing: at this time two of madysons men ranne from him, to finde them he sent master john upton and three more with an indian guide to nazatica, where they heard they were. at this place was a king beat out of his country by the necosts, enemies to the patawomeks; this expulsed king though he professed much love to the patawomeks, yet hee loved not the king because he would not helpe him to revenge his injuries, but to our interpreter poole hee protested great love, promising if any treason were, he would reveale it; our guide conducted this bandyto with them up to patawomek, and there kept him; our fugitives we found the patawomeks had taken and brought home, and the foure great men returned from pamaunke; not long after, this expulsed king desired private conference with poole, urging him to sweare by his god never to reveale what hee would tell him, poole promised he would not; then quoth this king, those great men that went to pamaunke, went not as you suppose they pretended, but to contract with opechankanough how to kill you all here, and these are their plots. _a salvages policy._ first, they will procure halfe of you to goe a fishing to their furthest towne, and there set upon them, and cut off the rest; if that faile, they will faine a place where are many strangers would trade their furres, where they will perswade halfe of you to goe trade, and there murder you and kill them at home; and if this faile also, then they will make alarums two nights together, to tire you out with watching, and then set upon you, yet of all this, said he, there is none acquainted but the king and the great conjurer. _madyson takes the king and kils_ . _or_ . _the king set at liberty._ {mn} this being made known to the captain, we all stood more punctually upon our guard, at which the salvages wondering, desired to know the cause; we told them we expected some assault from the pamaunkes, whereat they seemed contented, and the next day the king went on hunting with two of our men, and the other a fishing and abroad as before, till our shallop returned from james towne with the two salvages, sent home with captaine croshaw: by those the governour sent to madyson, that this king should send him twelve of his great men; word of this was sent to the king at another towne where he was, who not comming presently with the messenger, madyson conceited hee regarded not the message, and intended as he supposed the same treason. the next morning the king comming home, being sent for, he came to the captaine and brought him a dish of their daintiest fruit; then the captaine fained his returne to james towne, the king told him he might if he would, [iv. .] but desired not to leave him destitute of aid, having so many enemies about him; the captaine told him he would leave a guard, but intreated his answer concerning the twelve great men for the governour; the king replied, his enemies lay so about him he could not spare them, then the captaine desired his sonne and one other; my sonne, said the king, is gone abroad about businesse, but the other you desire you shall have, and that other sits by him, but that man refused to goe, whereupon madyson went forth and locked the doore, leaving the king, his sonne, and foure salvages, and five english men in the strong house, and setting upon the towne with the rest of his men, slew thirty or forty men, women and children; the king demanding the cause, poole told him the treason, crying out to intreat the captaine cease from such cruelty: but having slaine and made flye all in the towne, hee returned, taxing the poore king of treason, who denied to the death not to know of any such matter, but said, this is some plot of them that told it, onely to kill mee for being your friend. then madyson willed him, to command none of his men should shoot at him as he went aboord, which he presently did, and it was performed: so madyson departed, leading the king, his sonne, and two more to his ship, promising when all his men were shipped, he should returne at libertie; {mn} notwithstanding he brought them to james towne, where they lay some daies, and after were sent home by captaine hamer, that tooke corne for their ransome, and after set saile for new found land. but, alas the cause of this was onely this they understood, nor knew what was amisse. a.d. . _a digression._ ever since the beginning of these plantations, it hath beene supposed the king of spaine would invade them, or our english papists indevour to dissolve them. but neither all the counsels of spaine, nor papists in the world could have devised a better course to bring them all to ruine, then thus to abuse their friends, nor could there ever have beene a better plot, to have overthrowne opechankanough then captaine chroshaws, had it beene fully managed with expedition. but it seemes god is angry to see virginia made a stage where nothing but murder and indiscretion contends for victory. _their proceedings of the other plantations._ _surpriseth nandsamund._ {mn- } _samuell collyer slaine._ {mn- } amongst the rest of the plantations all this summer little was done, but securing themselves and planting tobacco, which passes there as current silver, and by the oft turning and winding it, some grow rich, but many poore, notwithstanding ten or twelve ships or more hath arrived there since the massacre, although it was christmas ere any returned, and that returne greatly revived all mens longing expectation here in england: for they brought newes, that notwithstanding their extreme sicknesse many were recovered, and finding the salvages did not much trouble them, except it were sometimes some disorderly straglers they cut off. to lull them the better in securitie, they sought no revenge till their corne was ripe, {mn- } then they drew together three hundred of the best souldiers they could, that would leave their private businesse, and adventure themselves amongst the salvages to surprize their corne, under the conduct of sir george yearley, being imbarked in convenient shipping, and all things necessary for the enterprise, they went first to nandsamund, where the people set fire on their owne houses, and spoiled what they could, and then fled with what they could carry; so that the english did make no slaughter amongst them for revenge. their corne fields being newly gathered, they surprized all they found, burnt the houses remained unburnt, and so departed. quartering about kecoughtan, after the watch was set, {mn- } samuell collyer one of the most ancientest planters, and very well acquainted with their language and habitation, humors and conditions, and governor of a towne, when the watch was set going the round, unfortunately by a centinell that discharged his peece, was slaine. _they surprise pamaunke._ thence they sailed to pamaunke, the chiefe seat of opechankanough, [iv. .] the contriver of the massacre: the salvages seemed exceeding fearefull, promising to bring them sara, and the rest of the english yet living, with all the armes, and what they had to restore, much desiring peace, and to give them any satisfaction they could. many such devices they fained to procrastinate the time ten or twelve daies, till they had got away their corne from all the other places up the river, but that where the english kept their quarter: at last, when they saw all those promises were but delusions, they seised on all the corne there was, set fire on their houses: and in following the salvages that fled before them, some few of those naked devils had that spirit, they lay in ambuscado, and as our men marched discharged some shot out of english peeces, and hurt some of them flying at their pleasures where they listed, burning their empty houses before them as they went to make themselves sport: so they escaped, and sir george returned with corne, where for our paines we had three bushels apeece, but we were enjoyned before we had it, to pay ten shillings the bushell for fraught and other charges. thus by this meanes the salvages are like as they report, to endure no small misery this winter, and that some of our men are returned to their former plantations. _the opinion of captaine smith._ what other passages or impediments hapned in their proceedings, that they were not fully revenged of the salvages before they returned, i know not; nor could ever heare more, but that they supposed they slew two, and how it was impossible for any men to doe more then they did: yet worthy ferdinando courtus had scarce three hundred spaniards to conquer the great citie of mexico, where thousands of salvages dwelled in strong houses: but because they were a civilized people, had wealth, and those meere barbarians as wilde as beasts have nothing; i intreat your patience to tell you my opinion, which if it be gods pleasure i shall not live to put in practice, yet it may be hereafter usefull for some, but howsoever i hope not hurtfull to any, and this it is. _how to subject all the salvages in virginia._ had these three hundred men beene at my disposing, i would have sent first one hundred to captaine rawley chroshaw to patawomek, with some small ordnance for the fort, the which but with daily exercising them, would have struck that love and admiration into the patowomeks, and terror and amazement into his enemies, which are not farre off, and most seated upon the other side the river, they would willingly have beene friends, or have given any composition they could, before they would be tormented with such a visible feare. now though they be generally perfidious, yet necessity constraines those to a kinde of constancy because of their enemies, and neither my selfe that first found them, captaine argall, chroshow, nor hamar, never found themselves in fifteene yeares trials: nor is it likely now they would have so hostaged their men, suffer the building of a fort, and their women and children amongst them, had they intended any villany; but suppose they had, who would have desired a better advantage then such an advertisement, to have prepared the fort for such an assault, and surely it must be a poore fort they could hurt, much more take, if there were but five men in it durst discharge a peece: therefore a man not well knowing their conditions, may be as wel too jealous as too carelesse; such another lope skonce would i have had at onawmanient, and one hundred men more to have made such another at atquacke upon the river of toppahanock, which is not past thirteene miles distant from onawmanient: each of which twelve men would keepe, as well as twelve thousand, and spare all the rest to bee imploied as there should be occasion. and all this with these numbers might easily have beene done, if not by courtesie, yet by compulsion, especially at that time of september when all their fruits were ripe, their beasts fat, and infinite numbers of wilde fowle began to repaire to every creeke, that men if they would doe any thing, could not want victuall. this done, there remained yet one hundred who should have done the like at ozinieke, upon the river of chickahamania, not past six miles [iv. .] from the chiefe habitations of opechankanough. these small forts had beene cause sufficient to cause all the inhabitants of each of those rivers to looke to themselves. then having so many ships, barks, and boats in virginia as there was at that present, with what facility might you have landed two hundred and twentie men, if you had but onely five or six boats in one night; forty to range the branch of mattapanyent, fortie more that of youghtanund, and fortie more to keepe their randivous at pamaunke it selfe. all which places lie so neere, they might heare from each other within foure or five houres, and not any of those small parties, if there were any valour, discretion, or industry in them, but as sufficient as foure thousand, to force them all to contribution, or take or spoile all they had. for having thus so many convenient randevous to releeve each other, though all the whole countries had beene our enemies, where could they rest, but in the depth of winter we might burne all the houses upon all those rivers in two or three daies? then without fires they could not live, which they could not so hide but wee should finde, and quickly so tire them with watching and warding, they would be so weary of their lives, as either fly all their countries, or give all they had to be released of such an hourely misery. now if but a small number of the salvages would assist us, as there is no question but divers of them would; and to suppose they could not be drawne to such faction, were to beleeve they are more vertuous then many christians, and the best governed people in the world. all the pamaunkes might have beene dispatched as well in a moneth as a yeare, and then to have dealt with any other enemies at our pleasure, and yet made all this toile and danger but a recreation. if you think this strange or impossible, men with my selfe i found sufficient, to goe where i would adaies, and surprise a house with the people, if not a whole towne in a night, or incounter all the power they could make, as a whole army, as formerly at large hath beene related: and it seemes by these small parties last amongst them, by captaine crashow, hamar, and madyson, they are not growne to that excellency in policy and courage but they might bee encountred, and their wives and children apprehended. i know i shall bee taxed for writing so much of my selfe, but i care not much, because the judiciall know there are few such souldiers as are my examples, have writ their owne actions, nor know i who will or can tell my intents better then my selfe. some againe finde as much fault with the company for medling with so many plantations together, because they that have many irons in the fire some must burne; but i thinke no if they have men enow know how to worke them, but howsoever, it were better some burne then have none at all. the king of spaine regards but how many powerfull kingdomes he keepes under his obedience, and for the salvage countries he hath subjected, they are more then enow for a good cosmographer to nominate, and is three mole-hills so much to us; and so many empires so little for him? for my owne part, i cannot chuse but grieve, that the actions of an english-man should be inferior to any, and that the command of england should not be as great as any monarchy that ever was since the world began, i meane not as a tyrant to torment all christendome, but to suppresse her disturbers, and conquer her enemies. for the great romans got into their hand the whole worlds compasse, both by sea and land, or any seas, or heaven, or earth extended, and yet that nation could not be contented. a.d. . master argent's deliverance _the arrivall of captaine butler, & his accidents._ much about this time arrived a small barke of barnestable, which had beene at the summer iles, and in her captaine nathaniel butler, who having beene governor there three yeares, and his commission expired, he tooke the opportunity of this ship to see virginia: at james towne he was kindly entertained by sir francis wyat [iv. .] the governor. after he had rested there foureteene daies, he fell up with his ship to the river of chickahamania, where meeting captaine william powell, joyning together such forces as they had to the number of eighty, they set upon the chickahamanians, that fearefully fled, suffering the english to spoile all they had, not daring to resist them. thus he returned to james towne, where hee staied a moneth, at kecoughtan as much more, and so returned for england. _a strange deliverance of master argent & others._ but riding at kecoughtan, m. john argent, sonne to doctor argent, a young gentleman that went with captaine butler from england to this place, michael fuller, william gany, cornelius may, and one other going ashore with some goods late in a faire evening, such a sudden gust did arise, that drive them thwart the river, in that place at least three or foure miles in breadth, where the shore was so shallow at a low water, and the boat beating upon the sands, they left her, wading neere halfe a mile, and oft up to the chin: so well it hapned, master argent had put his bandileir of powder in his hat, which next god was all their preservations: for it being february, and the ground so cold, their bodies became so benumbed, they were not able to strike fire with a steele and a stone hee had in his pocket; the stone they lost twice, and thus those poore soules groping in the darke, it was master argents chance to finde it, and with a few withered leaves, reeds, and brush, make a small fire, being upon the chisapeaks shore, their mortall enemies, great was their feare to be discovered. the joyfull morning appearing, they found their boat and goods drive ashore, not farre from them, but so split shee was unserviceable: but so much was the frost, their clothes did freeze upon their backs, for they durst not make any great fire to dry them, lest thereby the bloudy salvages might discry them, so that one of them died the next day, and the next night digging a grave in the sands with their hands, buried him. in this bodily feare they lived and fasted two daies and nights, then two of them went into the land to seeke fresh water; the others to the boat to get some meale and oyle, argent and his comrade found a canow, in which they resolved to adventure to their ship, but shee was a drift in the river before they returned: thus frustrate of all hopes, captaine butler the third night ranging the shore in his boat to seeke them, discharged his muskets, but they supposing it some salvages had got some english peeces, they grew more perplexed then ever, so he returned and lost his labour. the fourth day they unloaded their boat, and stopping her leakes with their handkerchiefes, and other rags, two rowing, and two bailing out the water; but farre they went not ere the water grew upon them so fast, and they so tired, they thought themselves happy to be on shore againe, though they perceived the indians were not farre off by their fires. thus at the very period of despaire, fuller undertooke to sit a stride upon a little peece of an old canow; so well it pleased god the wind and tide served, by padling with his hands and feet in the water, beyond all expectation god so guided him three or foure houres upon this boord, he arrived at their ship, where they no lesse amazed then he tired, they tooke him in. presently as he had concluded with his companions, he caused them discharge a peece of ordnance if he escaped, which gave no lesse comfort to master argent and the rest, then terror to those plantations that heard it, (being late) at such an unexpected alarum but after, with warme clothes and a little strong water, they had a little recovered him, such was his courage and care of his distressed friends, he returned that night againe with master felgate to conduct him to them, and so giving thanks to god for so hopelesse a deliverance, it pleased his divine power, both they and their provision came safely aboord, but fuller they doubt will never recover his benumbed legs and thighes. now before butlers arrivall in england, many hard speeches were rumored against him for so leaving his charge, before he received order from the company: divers againe of his souldiers as highly commended him, for his good government, art, judgement and industry. [iv. .] but to make the misery of virginia appeare that it might be reformed in time, how all those cities, townes, corporations, forts, vineyards, nurseries of mulberies, glasse-houses, iron forges, guest-houses, silke-wormes, colleges, the companies great estate, and that plenty some doe speake of here, are rather things in words and paper then in effect, with divers reasons of the causes of those defects; if it were false, his blame nor shame could not be too much: but if there bee such defects in the government, and distresse in the colony, it is thought by many it hath beene too long concealed, and requireth rather reformation then disputation: but however, it were not amisse to provide for the worst, for the best will help it selfe. notwithstanding, it was apprehended so hardly, and examined with that passion, that the brute thereof was spread abroad with that expedition, it did more hurt then the massacre; and the fault of all now by the vulgar rumour, must be attributed to the unwholesomnesse of the ayre, and barrennesse of the countrey, as though all england were naught, because the fens and marshes are unhealthy; or barren, because some will lie under windowes and starve in cheap-side, rot in goales, die in the street, high-waies, or any where, and use a thousand devices to maintaine themselves in those miseries, rather then take any paines to live as they may by honest labour, and a great part of such like are the planters of virginia, and partly the occasion of those defailements. . _the earle of southampton treasurer._ _how captaine spilman was left in the river of patawomek._ in the latter end of this last yeare, or the beginning of this, captaine henrie spilman a gentleman, that hath lived in those countries thirteene or foureteene yeares, one of the best interpreters in the land, being furnished with a barke and six and twentie men, hee was sent to trucke in the river of patawomek, where he had lived a long time amongst the salvages, whether hee presumed too much upon his acquaintance amongst them, or they sought to be revenged of any for the slaughter made amongst them by the english so lately, or hee sought to betray them, or they him, are all severall relations, but it seemes but imaginary: for then returned report they left him ashore about patawomek, but the name of the place they knew not, with one and twentie men, being but five in the barke, the salvages ere they suspected any thing, boorded them with their canowes, and entred so fast, the english were amazed, till a sailer gave fire to a peece of ordnance onely at randome; at the report whereof, the salvages leapt overboord, so distracted with feare, they left their canowes, and swum a shore; and presently after they heard a great brute amongst the salvages a shore, and saw a mans head throwne downe the banke, whereupon they weighed anchor and returned home, but how he was surprised or slaine, is uncertaine. thus things proceed and vary not a jot, whether we know them, or we know them not. necessaries for virginia a.d. . a particular of such necessaries as either private families, or single persons, shall have cause to provide to goe to virginia, whereby greater numbers may in part conceive the better how to provide for themselves. apparell. _apprarell for one man, so after the rate for more._ a monmouth cap. s. d. falling bands. s. d. shirts. s. d. waste-coat. s. d. suit of canvase. s. d. suit of frize. s. suit of cloth. s. paire of irish stockings. s. paire of shoes. s. d. paire of garters. d. dozen of points. d. paire of canvas sheets. s. [iv. .] ells of canvas to make a bed and boulster, to be filled in virginia, serving for two men. s. ells of course canvas to make a bed at sea for two men. s. course rug at sea for two men. s __________ l. victuall for a whole yeare for a man, and so after the rate for more. bushels of meale. l. bushels of pease. s. bushels of otemeale. s. gallon of aquavitae. s. d. gallon of oyle. s. d. gallons of vineger. s. __________ l. s. armes for a man, but if halfe your men be armed it is well, so all have swords and peeces. armor compleat, light. s. long peece five foot and a halfe, neere musket bore. l. s. sword. s. belt. s. bandilier. s. d. pound of powder. s. pound of shot or lead, pistoll and goose shot. s. ____________ l. s. d. tooles for a family of six persons, and so after the rate for more. broad howes at s. a peece. s. narrow howes at d. a peece. s. d. broad axes at s. d. a peece. s. d. felling axes at d. a peece. s. d. steele handsawes at d. a peece. s. d. two handsawes at s. a peece. s. whipsaw, set and filed, with box, file and wrest. s. hammers d. a peece. s. shovels d. a peece. s. d. spades at d. a peece. s. augers at d. peece. s. chissels at d. a peece. s. percers stocked d. a peece. d. gimblets at d. a peece. d. hatchets at d. a peece. s. d. frowes to cleave pale d. each. s. hand bills d. a peece. s. d. grindstone. s. nailes of all sorts to the value of l. pickaxes. s. ____________ l. s. d. houshold implements for a family and six persons, and so for more or lesse after the rate. iron pot. s. kettell. s. large frying-pan. s. d. gridiron. s. d. skellets. s. spit. s. platters, dishes, spoones of wood. s. __________ l. s. for sugar, spice, and fruit, and at sea for six men. s. d. so the full charge after this rate for each person, will amount about the summe of l. s. the passage of each man is l. the fraught of these provisions for a man, will be about halfe a tun, which is l. s. d. so the whole charge will amount to about l. now if the number be great, nets, hooks and lines, but cheese, bacon, kine and goats must be added. and this is the usuall proportion the virginia company doe bestow upon their tenents they send. a.d. . a briefe relation written by captaine smith to his majesties commissioners for the reformation of virginia, concerning some aspersions against it. honourable gentlemen, for so many faire and navigable rivers so neere adjoyning, and piercing thorow so faire a naturall land, free from any inundations, or large fenny unwholsome marshes, i have not seene, read, nor heard of: and for the building of cities, townes, and wharfage, if they will use the meanes, where there is no more ebbe nor floud, nature in few places affoords any so convenient, for salt marshes or [iv. .] quagmires. in this tract of james towne river i know very few; some small marshes and swamps there are, but more profitable then hurtfull: and i thinke there is more low marsh ground betwixt eriffe and chelsey, then kecoughton and the falls, which is about one hundred and eighty miles by the course of the river. _the causes of our first miseries._ being enjoyned by our commission not to unplant nor wrong the salvages, because the channell was so neere the shore, where now is james towne, then a thicke grove of trees; wee cut them downe, where the salvages pretending as much kindnesse as could bee, they hurt and slew one and twenty of us in two houres: at this time our diet was for most part water and bran, and three ounces of little better stuffe in bread for five men a meale, and thus we lived neere three moneths: our lodgings under boughes of trees, the salvages being our enemies, whom we neither knew nor understood; occasions i thinke sufficient to make men sicke and die. _but_ _english in all virginia._ necessity thus did inforce me with eight or nine, to try conclusions amongst the salvages, that we got provision which recovered the rest being most sicke. six weeks i was led captive by those barbarians, though some of my men were slaine, and the rest fled, yet it pleased god to make their great kings daughter the means to returne me safe to james towne, and releeve our wants, and then our common-wealth was in all eight and thirty, the remainder of one hundred and five. _proofes of the healthfulnesse of the countrey._ being supplied with one hundred and twenty, with twelve men in a boat of three tuns, i spent foureteene weeks in those large waters; the contents of the way of my boat protracted by the skale of proportion, was about three thousand miles, besides the river we dwell upon, where no christian knowne ever was, and our diet for the most part what we could finde, yet but one died. _how the salvages became subjected._ the salvages being acquainted, that by command from england we durst not hurt them, were much imboldned; that famine and their insolencies did force me to breake our commission and instructions, cause powhatan fly his countrey, and take the king of pamaunke prisoner; and also to keepe the king of paspahegh in shackels, and put his men to double taskes in chaines, till nine and thirty of their kings paied us contribution, and the offending salvages sent to james towne to punish at our owne discretions: in the two last yeares i staied there, i had not a man slaine. _how we lived of the natural fruit of the countrey._ all those conclusions being not able to prevent the bad events of pride and idlenesse, having received another supply of seventie, we were about two hundred in all, but not twentie work-men: in following the strict directions from england to doe that was impossible at that time; so it hapned, that neither wee nor they had any thing to eat, but what the countrey afforded naturally; yet of eightie who lived upon oysters in june and july, with a pint of corne a week for a man lying under trees, and for the most part living upon sturgion, which was dried til we pounded it to powder for meale, yet in ten weeks but seven died. _proofe of the commodities we returned._ it is true, we had of tooles, armes, & munition sufficient, some aquavitae, vineger, meale, pease, and otemeale, but in two yeares and a halfe not sufficient for six moneths, though by the bils of loading the proportions sent us, would well have contented us, notwithstanding we sent home ample proofes of pitch, tar, sope ashes, wainskot, clapboord, silke grasse, iron ore, some sturgion and glasse, saxefras, cedar, cypris, and blacke walnut, crowned powhatan, sought the monacans countrey, according to the instructions sent us, but they caused us neglect more necessary workes: they had better have given for pitch and sope ashes one hundred pound a tun in denmarke: wee also maintained five or six severall plantations. _what we built._ james towne being burnt, wee rebuilt it and three forts more, besides the church and store-house, we had about fortie or fiftie severall houses to keepe us warme and dry, invironed with a palizado of foureteene or fifteene foot, and each as much as three or foure men could carrie. we digged a faire well of fresh water in the fort, where wee had three bulwarks, foure and twentie peece of [iv. .] ordnance, of culvering, demiculvering, sacar and falcon, and most well mounted upon convenient platformes, planted one hundred acres of corne. we had but six ships to transport and supply us, and but two hundred seventy seven men, boies, and women, by whose labours virginia being brought to this kinde of perfection, the most difficulties past, and the foundation thus laid by this small meanes; yet because we had done no more, they called in our commission, tooke a new in their owne names, and appointed us neere as many offices and officers as i had souldiers, that neither knew us nor wee them, without our consents or knowledge; since there have gone more then one hundred ships of other proportions, and eight or ten thousand people. now if you please to compare what hath beene spent, sent, discovered and done this fifteene yeares, by that we did in the three first yeares, and every governor that hath beene there since, give you but such an account as this, you may easily finde what hath beene the cause of those disasters in virginia. then came in captaine argall, and master sedan, in a ship of master cornelius, to fish for sturgion, who had such good provision, we contracted with them for it, whereby we were better furnished then ever. not long after came in seven ships, with about three hundred people; but rather to supplant us then supply us, their admirall with their authoritie being cast away in the bermudas, very angry they were we had made no better provision for them. seven or eight weekes we withstood the inundations of these disorderly humors, till i was neere blowne to death with gun-powder, which occasioned me to returne for england. _how i left the countrey._ in the yeare about michaelmas, i left the countrey, as is formerly related, with three ships, seven boats, commodities to trade, harvest newly gathered, eight weeks provision of corne and meale, about five hundred persons, three hundred muskets, shot, powder, and match, with armes for more men then we had. the salvages their language and habitation, well knowne to two hundred expert souldiers; nets for fishing, tooles of all sorts, apparell to supply their wants: six mares and a horse, five or six hundred swine, many more powltry, what was brought or bred, but victuall there remained. _my charge._ _my reward._ {mn} having spent some five yeares, and more then five hundred pounds in procuring the letters patents and setting forward, and neere as much more about new england, &c. thus these nineteene yeares i have here and there not spared any thing according to my abilitie, nor the best advice i could, to perswade how those strange miracles of misery might have beene prevented, which lamentable experience plainly taught me of necessity must insue, but few would beleeve me till now too deerely they have paid for it. wherefore hitherto i have rather left all then undertake impossibilities, or any more such costly taskes at such chargeable rates: {mn} for in neither of those two countries have i one foot of land, nor the very house i builded, nor the ground i digged with my owne hands, nor ever any content or satisfaction at all, and though i see ordinarily those two countries shared before me by them that neither have them nor knowes them, but by my descriptions: yet that doth not so much trouble me, as to heare and see those contentions and divisions which will hazard if not ruine the prosperitie of virginia, if present remedy bee not found, as they have hindred many hundreds, who would have beene there ere now, and makes them yet that are willing to stand in a demurre. for the books and maps i have made, i will thanke him that will shew me so much for so little recompence, and beare with their errors till i have done better. for the materials in them i cannot deny, but am ready to affirme them both there and here, upon such grounds as i have propounded, which is to have but fifteene hundred men to subdue againe the salvages, fortifie the countrey, discover that yet unknowne, and both defend & feed their colony, which i most humbly refer to his majesties most judiciary judgement, and the most honourable lords of [iv. .] his privy councell, you his trusty and well-beloved commissioners, and the honourable company of planters and well-willers to virginia, new-england and sommer-ilands. out of these observations it pleased his majesties commissioners for the reformation of virginia, to desire my answer to these seven questions. quest. . what conceive you is the cause the plantation hath prospered no better since you left it in so good a forwardnesse? answ. idlenesse and carelesnesse brought all i did in three yeeres in six moneths to nothing, and of five hundred i left, scarce threescore remained, and had sir thomas gates not got from the bermudas, i thinke they had beene all dead before they could be supplied. quest. . what conceive you should be the cause, though the country be good, there comes nothing but tobacco? answ. the oft altering of governours it seemes causes every man make use of his time, and because corne was stinted at two shillings six pence the bushell, and tobacco at three shillings the pound, and they value a mans labour a yeere worth fifty or threescore pound, but in corne not worth ten pound, presuming tobacco will furnish them with all things; now make a mans labour in corne worth threescore pound, and in tobacco but ten pound a man, then shall they have corne sufficient to entertaine all commers, and keepe their people in health to doe any thing, but till then, there will be little or nothing to any purpose. quest. . what conceive you to have beene the cause of the massacre, and had the salvages had the use of any peeces in your time, or when, or by whom they were taught? answ. the cause of the massacre was the want of marshall discipline, and because they would have all the english had by destroying those they found so carelesly secure, that they were not provided to defend themselves against any enemy, being so dispersed as they were. in my time, though captaine nuport furnished them with swords by truck, and many fugitives did the like, and some peeces they got accidentally, yet i got the most of them againe, and it was death to him that should shew a salvage the use of a peece. since i understand they became so good shot, they were imployed for fowlers and huntsmen by the english. quest. . what charge thinke you would have setled the government both for defence and planting when you left it? answ. twenty thousand pound would have hyred good labourers and mechanicall men, and have furnished them with cattle and all necessaries, and . of them would have done more then a thousand of those that went, though the lord laware, sir ferdinando waynman, sir thomas gates and sir thomas dale were perswaded to the contrary, but when they had tried, they confessed their error. quest. . what conceive you would be the remedy and the charge? answ. the remedy is to send souldiers and all sorts of labourers and necessaries for them, that they may be there by next michaelmas, the which to doe well will stand you in five thousand pound, but if his majesty would please to lend two of his ships to transport them, lesse would serve, besides the benefit of his grace to the action would encourage all men. quest. . what thinke you are the defects of the government both here and there? answ. the multiplicity of opinions here, and officers there, makes such delaies by questions and formalitie, [iv. .] that as much time is spent in complement as in action; besides, some are so desirous to imploy their ships, having six pounds for every passenger, and three pounds for every tun of goods, at which rate a thousand ships may now better be procured then one at the first, when the common stocke defrayed all fraughts, wages, provisions and magazines, whereby the ships are so pestred, as occasions much sicknesse, diseases and mortality, for though all the passengers die they are sure of their fraught; and then all must be satisfied with orations, disputations, excuses and hopes. as for the letters of advice from hence, and their answers thence, they are so well written, men would beleeve there were no great doubt of the performance, and that all things were wel, to which error here they have beene ever much subject; and there not to beleeve, or not to releeve the true and poore estate of that colony, whose fruits were commonly spent before they were ripe, and this losse is nothing to them here, whose great estates are not sensible of the losse of their adventures, and so they thinke, or will not take notice; but it is so with all men: but howsoever they thinke or dispose of all things at their pleasure, i am sure not my selfe onely, but a thousand others have not onely spent the most of their estates, but the most part have lost their lives and all, onely but to make way for the triall of more new conclusions, and he that now will adventure but twelve pounds ten shillings, shall have better respect and as much favour then he that sixteene yeere agoe adventured as much, except he have money as the other hath, but though he have adventured five hundred pound, and spent there never so much time, if hee have no more and not able to beg in a family of himselfe, all is lost by order of court. but in the beginning it was not so, all went then out of one purse, till those new devices have consumed both mony and purse; for at first there were but six patentees, now more then a thousand, then but thirteene counsailors, now not lesse then an hundred; i speake not of all, for there are some both honourable and honest, but of those officers, which did they manage their owne estates no better then the affaires of virginia, they would quickly fall to decay so well as it; but this is most evident, few officers in england it hath caused to turne banquerupts, nor for all their complaints would leave their places, neither yet any of their officers there, nor few of the rest but they would be at home, but fewer adventurers here will adventure any more till they see the businesse better established, although there be some so wilfully improvident they care for nothing but to get thither, and then if their friends be dead, or want themselves, they die or live but poorely for want of necessaries, and to thinke the old planters can releeve them were too much simplicity; for who here in england is so charitable to feed two or three strangers, have they never so much; much lesse in virginia where they want for themselves. now the generall complaint saith, that pride, covetousnesse, extortion and oppression in a few that ingrosses all, then sell all againe to the comminalty at what rate they please, yea even men, women and children for who will give most, occasions no small mischiefe amongst the planters. as for the company, or those that doe transport them, provided of necessaries, god forbid but they should receive their charges againe with advantage, or that masters there should not have the same privilege over their servants as here, but to sell him or her for forty, fifty, or threescore pounds, whom the company hath sent over for eight or ten pounds at the most, without regard how they shall be maintained with apparell, meat, drinke and lodging, is odious, and their fruits sutable, therefore such merchants it were better they were made such merchandize themselves, then suffered any longer to use that trade, and those are defects sufficient to bring a well setled common-wealth to misery, much more virginia. quest. . how thinke you it may be rectified? answ. if his majestie would please to intitle it to his crowne, and yearely that both the governours here and there may give their accounts to you, or some that are not ingaged in the businesse, that the common stocke [iv. .] bee not spent in maintaining one hundred men for the governour, one hundred for two deputies, fifty for the treasurer, five and twenty for the secretary, and more for the marshall and other officers who were never there nor adventured any thing, but onely preferred by favour to be lords over them that broke the ice and beat the path, and must teach them what to doe, if any thing happen well, it is their glory; if ill, the fault of the old directors, that in all dangers must endure the worst, yet not five hundred of them have so much as one of the others; also that there bee some present course taken to maintaine a garrison to suppresse the salvages, till they be able to subsist, and that his majesty would please to remit his custome, or it is to be feared they will lose custome and all, for this cannot be done by promises, hopes, counsels and countenances, but with sufficient workmen and meanes to maintaine them, not such delinquents as here cannot be ruled by all the lawes in england, yet when the foundation is laid, as i have said, and a common-wealth established, then such there may better be constrained to labour then here: but to rectifie a common-wealth with debaushed people is impossible, and no wise man would throw himselfe into such a society, that intends honestly, and knowes what he undertakes, for there is no countrey to pillage as the romans found: all you expect from thence must be by labour. for the government i thinke there is as much adoe about it as the kingdomes of scotland and ireland, men here conceiting virginia as they are, erecting as many stately offices as officers with their attendants, as there are labourers in the countrey, where a constable were as good as twenty of their captaines, and three hundred good souldiers and labourers better then all the rest that goe onely to get the fruits of other mens labours by the title of an office. thus they spend michaelmas rent in mid-summer moone, and would gather their harvest before they have planted their corne. as for the maintenance of the officers, the first that went never demanded any, but adventured good summes, and it seemes strange to me, the fruits of all their labours, besides the expence of an hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and such multitudes of people, those collaterall officers could not maintaine themselves so well as the old did, and having now such liberty to doe to the salvages what they will, the others had not. i more then wonder they have not five hundred salvages to worke for them towards their generall maintenance, and as many more to returne some content and satisfaction to the adventurers, that for all their care, charge and diligence, can heare nor see nothing but miserable complaints; therefore under your correction to rectifie all, is with all expedition to passe the authority to them who will releeve them, lest all bee consumed ere the differences be determined. and except his majestie undertake it, or by act of parliament some small tax may be granted throughout his dominions, as a penny upon every poll, called a head-penny; two pence upon every chimney, or some such collection might be raised, and that would be sufficient to give a good stocke, and many servants to sufficient men of any facultie, and transport them freely for paying onely homage to the crowne of england, and such duties to the publike good as their estates increased reason should require. were this put in practice, how many people of what quality you please, for all those disasters would yet gladly goe to spend their lives there, and by this meanes more good might be done in one yeere, then all those pety particular undertakings will effect in twenty. for the patent the king may, if he please, rather take it from them that have it, then from us who had it first, pretending to his majesty what great matters they would doe, and how little we did, and for any thing i can conceive, had we remained still as at first, it is not likely we could have done much worse; but those oft altering of governments are not without much charge, hazard and losse. if i be too plaine, i humbly crave your pardon; but you requested me, therefore i doe but my duty. for the nobility, who knowes not how freely both in [iv. .] their purses and assistances many of them have beene to advance it, committing the managing of the businesse to inferiour persons, amongst whom questionlesse also many have done their utmost best, sincerely and truly according to their conceit, opinion and understanding; yet grosse errors have beene committed, but no man lives without his fault; for my owne part, i have so much adoe to amend my owne, i have no leisure to looke into any mans particular, but those in generall i conceive to be true. and so i humbly rest yours to command, j. s. enquiry by king james a.d. . _the king hath pleased to take into his consideration._ thus those discords, not being to be compounded among themselves, nor yet by the extraordinary diligences, care and paines or the noble and right worthy commissioners, sir william jones, sir nicholas fortescue, sir francis goston, sir richard sutton, sir henry bourgchier and sir william pit; a corante was granted against master deputy farrar, and . or . others of that party to plead their causes before the right honourable, the lords of his majesties privy councell: now notwithstanding all the relations, examinations, and intercepting of all letters whatsoever came from thence, yet it seemes they were so farre unsatisfied and desired to know the truth, as well for the preservation of the colony, as to give content and doe all men right, they sent two commissioners strictly to examine the true estate of the colony. upon whose returne after mature deliberation, it pleased his royall majesty to suppresse the course of the court at deputy farrars, and that for the present ordering the affaires of virginia, untill he should make a more full settlement thereof, the lord viscount mandevile, lord president of his majesties privie councell, and also other privy councellors, with many understanding knights and gentlemen, should every thursday in the afternoone meet at sir thomas smiths in philpot lane, where all men whom it should concerne may repaire, to receive such directions and warrant for their better security, as more at large you may see in the proclamation to that effect, under the great seale of england, dated the . of july, . but as for the relations last returned, what numbers they are, how many cities, corporations, townes, and houses, cattle and horse they have, what fortifications or discoveries they have made, or revenge upon the salvages; who are their friends or foes, or what commodities they have more then tobacco, & their present estate or what is presently to be put in execution, in that the commissioners are not yet fully satisfied in the one, nor resolved in the other, at this present time when this went to the presse, i must intreat you pardon me till i be better assured. thus far i have travelled in this wildernesse of virginia, not being ignorant for all my paines this discourse will be wrested, tossed and turned as many waies as there is leaves; that i have writ too much of some, too little of others, and many such like objections. to such i must answer, in the companies name i was requested to doe it, if any have concealed their approved experiences from my knowledge, they must excuse me: as for every fatherles or stolne relation, or whole volumes of sofisticated rehearsals, i leave them to the charge of them that desire them. i thanke god i never under-tooke any thing yet any could tax me of carelesnesse or dishonesty, and what is hee to whom i am indebted or troublesome? ah! were these my accusers but to change cases and places with me but . yeeres, or till they had done but so much as i, it may be they would judge more charitably of my imperfections. but here i must leave all to the triall of time, both my selfe, virginia's preparations, proceedings and good events, praying to that great god the protector of all goodnesse to send them as good successe as the goodnesse of the action and country deserveth, and my heart desireth. finis. a.d. . the fifth booke. [v. .] the generall historie of the bermudas, now called the summer iles, from their beginning in the yeere of our lord . to this present . with their proceedings, accidents and present estate. _the description of the iles._ before we present you the matters of fact, it is fit to offer to your view the stage whereon they were acted, for as geography without history seemeth a carkasse without motion, so history without geography, wandreth as a vagrant without a certaine habitation. those ilands lie in the huge maine ocean, and two hundred leagues from any continent, situated in . degrees and . minutes, of northerly latitude, and distant from england west south-west, about . miles, some twenty miles in length, and not past two miles and a halfe in breadth, environed with rocks, which to the north-ward, west-ward, and south-east, extend further then they have bin yet well discovered: by reason of those rocks the country is naturally very strong, for there is but two places, & scarce two, unlesse to them who know them well, where shipping may safely come in, and those now are exceeding well fortified, but within is roome to entertaine a royall fleet: the rocks in most places appeare at a low water, neither are they much covered at a high, for it ebbs and flowes not past five foot; the shore for most part is a rocke, so hardened with the sunne, wind and sea, that it is not apt to be worne away with the waves, whose violence is also broke by the rocks before they can come to the shore: it is very uneven, distributed into hills and dales; the mold is of divers colours, neither clay nor sand, but a meane betweene; the red which resembleth clay is the worst, the whitest resembling sand and the blackest is good, but the browne betwixt them both which they call white, because there is mingled with it a white meale is the best: under the mould two or three foot deep, and sometimes lesse, is a kinde of white hard substance which they call the rocke: the trees usually fasten their roots in it; neither is it indeed rocke or stone, or so hard, though for most part more harder then chalke; nor so white, but pumish-like and spungy, easily receiving and containing much water. in some places clay is found under it, it seemes to be ingendred with raine water, draining through the earth, and drawing with it of his substance unto a certaine depth where it congeales; the hardest kinde of it lies under the red ground like quarries, as it were thicke slates one upon another, through which the water hath his passage, so that in such places there is scarce found any fresh water, for all or the most part of the fresh water commeth out of the sea draining through the sand, or that substance called the rocke, leaving the salt behinde, it becomes fresh: sometimes we digged wells of fresh water which we finde in most places, and but three or foure paces from the sea side, some further, the most part of them would ebbe and flow as the sea did, and be levell or little higher then the superficies of the sea, and in some places very strange, darke and cumbersome caves. climate of the islands a.d. . _the clime, temper and fertility._ the aire is most commonly cleere, very temperate, [v. .] moist, with a moderate heat, very healthfull and apt for the generation and nourishing of all things, so as many things transported from hence yeeld a farre greater increase, and if it be any living thing it becomes fatter and better; by this meanes the country is so replenished with hens and turkies, within the space of three or foure yeeres, that many of them being neglected, forsake the houses and become wilde, and so live in great abundance; the like increase there is in hogs, tame conies, and other cattle according to their kindes. there seemes to be a continuall spring, which is the cause some things come not to that maturity and perfection as were requisite; and though the trees shed their leaves, yet they are alwaies full of greene; the corne is the same they have in virginia, and the west-indies: of this and many other things without plowing or much labour, they have two harvests every yeere, for they set about march, which they gather in july; and againe in august, which they reape in december; and little slips of fig-trees and vines doe usually beare fruit within the yeere, and sometimes in lesse; but we finde not the grapes as yet come to any perfection; the like fertility it hath in oranges and limons, pomgranates, and other things. concerning the serenity and beauty of the skie, it may as truly be said of those ilands as ever it was said of the rhodes, that there is no one day throughout the . moneths, but that in some houre thereof, the sun lookes singularly & cleere upon them: for the temperature it is beyond all others most admirable; no cold there is beyond an english aprill, nor heat much greater then an ordinary july in france, so that frost and snow is never seene here, nor stinking and infectious mists very seldome, by reason of the maine ocean, there is some wind stirring that cooles the aire: the winter they have observes the time with ours, but the longest daies and nights are shorter then ours almost by two houres. _trees and fruits._ _the prickell peare._ {mn- } _the poison weed._ {mn- } _the red weed._ {mn- } we found it at first all overgrowne with weeds, and plants of severall kinds, as many tall and goodly cedars, infinite store of palmetoes, numbers of mulberies, wild olive-trees store, with divers others unknowne both by name and nature, so that as yet they become lost to many usefull imployments, which time and industry no doubt will one day discover, and even already certaine of the most notorious of them have gotten them appellations from their apparent effects, {mn- } as the prickell-peare which growes like a shrub by the ground, with broad thick leaves, all over-armed with long and sharpe dangerous thornes, the fruit being in forme not much unlike a small greene peare, and on the outside of the same colour, but within bloud red, and exceeding full of juice; with graines not much unlike the pomgranat, and colouring after its nature. {mn- } the poysoned weed is much in shape like our english ivy, but being but touched, causeth rednesse, itching, and lastly blisters, the which howsoever after a while passe away of themselves without further harme, yet because for the time they are somewhat pain-full, it hath got it selfe an ill name, although questionlesse of no ill nature. {mn- } here is also frequently growing a certaine tall plant, whose stalke being all over covered with a red rinde, is thereupon termed the red weed, the root whereof being soked in any liquor, or but a small quantity of the juice drunke alone, procures a very forcible vomit, and yet is generally used by the people, and found very effectuall against the paines and distempers of the stomacke. _the purging beane._ {mn- } _the costive tree._ {mn- } _red pepper._ {mn- } _the sea feather._ {mn- } _fruits transported._ {mn- } {mn- } a kinde of wood-bind there is likewise by the sea very commonly to bee found, which runnes upon trees twining it selfe like a vine: the fruit somewhat resembles a beane, but somewhat flatter, the which any way eaten worketh excellently in the nature of a purge, and though very vehemently, yet without all perill. {mn- } contrary to this, another small tree there is, which causeth costivenesse; there is also a certaine plant like a bramble bush, which beares a long yellow fruit, having the shell very hard, and within it a hard berry, that beaten and taken inwardly purgeth gently. {mn- } there is another fruit much like our barberies, which being beaten or brused betweene the teeth, sets all the mouth on an extreme heat very terrible for the time, to avoid which they are swallowed downe whole, and found of the same or better operation then [v. .] the red pepper, and thence borroweth the name. {mn- } in the bottome of the sea there is growing upon the rocks a large kinde of plant in the forme of a vine leafe, but far more spread with veines in colour of a pale red, very strangely interlaced & woven one into another, which we call the feather, but the vertue thereof is altogether unknowne, but only regarded for the rarity. now besides these naturall productions, providences & paines since the plantation, have offered divers other seeds & plants, which the soile hath greedily imbraced & cherished, {mn- } so that at this present . there are great abundance of white, red and yellow coloured potatoes, tobacco, sugar-canes, indicos, parsnips, exceeding large radishes, the american bread, the cassado root, the indian pumpian, the water-millon, musk-millon, & the most delicate pine-apples, plantans, and papawes, also the english artichoke, pease, &c. briefly whatsoever else may be expected for the satisfaction either of curiosity, necessity or delight. _birds._ _egge-birds._ {mn} neither hath the aire for her part been wanting with due supplies of many sorts of fowles, as the gray and white hearne, the gray and greene plover, some wilde ducks and malards, coots and red-shankes, sea-wigions, gray-bitterns, cormorants, numbers of small birds like sparrowes and robins, which have lately beene destroyed by the wilde cats, wood-pickars, very many crowes, which since this plantation are kild, the rest fled or seldome scene except in the most uninhabited places, from whence they are observed to take their flight about sun set, directing their course towards the north-west, which makes many conjecture there are some more ilands not far off that way. sometimes are also seene falcons & jar-falcons, ospraies, a bird like a hobby, but because they come seldome, they are held but as passengers; but above all these, most deserving observation and respect are those two sorts of birds, the one for the tune of his voice, the other for the effect, called the cahow, {mn} and egge-bird, which on the first of may, a day constantly observed, fall a laying infinite store of eggs neere as big as hens, upon certaine small sandie baies especially in coupers ile; and although men sit downe amongst them when hundreds have bin gathered in a morning, yet there it hath stayed amongst them till they have gathered as many more: they continue this course till midsummer, and so tame & feareles, you must thrust them off from their eggs with your hand; then they grow so faint with laying, they suffer them to breed & take infinite numbers of their yong to eat, which are very excellent meat. _cahowes._ {mn- } _the tropicke bird and the pemblicos presagements._ {mn- } {mn- } the cahow is a bird of the night, for all the day she lies hid in holes in the rocks, where they and their young are also taken with as much ease as may be, but in the night if you but whoop and hollow, they will light upon you, that with your hands you may chuse the fat and leave the leane; those they have only in winter: their eggs are as big as hens, but they are speckled, the other white. mr. norwood hath taken twenty dozen of them in three or foure houres, and since there hath beene such havocke made of them, they were neere all destroyed, till there was a strict inhibition for their preservation. {mn- } the tropicke bird is white, as large as a pullet, with one onely long feather in her taile, and is seldome seene far distant from other of the tropicks: another small bird there is, because she cries pemblyco they call her so, she is seldome seene in the day but when she sings, as too oft she doth very clamorously; too true a prophet she proves of huge winds and boysterous weather: there were a kinde of small owles in great abundance, but they are now all slaine or fled: some tame ducks, geese and pigeons there are, but the two latter prosper not. _of vermine._ _note._ {mn} concerning vermine and noisome creatures, there are not many, but onely rats and cats, there increased since the plantation, but how they agree together you shall heare hereafter. the musketas and flies are also too busie, with a certaine india bug, called by the spaniards a cacarootch, the which creeping into chests they eat and defile with their ill-sented dung: also the little ants in summer time are so troublesome, they are forced to dry their figs upon high frames, and anoint their feet with tar, wherein they sticke, else they would spoile them all ere [v. .] they could be dryed: wormes in the earth also there are, but too many, so that to keepe them from destroying their corne and tobacco, they are forced to worme them every morning, which is a great labour, else all would be destroyed. lizards there were many and very large, but now none, and it is said they were destroyed by the cat. {mn} certaine spiders also of very large size are found hanging upon trees, but instead of being any way dangerous as in other places, they are here of a most pleasing aspect, all over drest, as it were with silver, gold, and pearle, and their webs in the summer woven from tree to tree, are generally a perfect raw silke, and that as well in regard of substance as colour, and so strong withall, that divers birds bigger than black-birds, being like snipes, are often taken and snared in them as a net: then what would the silke-worme doe were shee there to feede upon the continuall greene mulbery? _fishes._ _the most hurtfull things in those iles._ {mn} but above all the rest of the elements, the sea is found most abundantly liberall: hence have they as much excellent fish, and as much variety as need be desired. the most of which being unknowne to our northerne parts, got there new names, either for their shapes or conditions; as the large rocke-fish from his like hew, and haunting amongst the rocks, the fat hog-fish from his swinelike shape and snout: for this is not the old knowne hog-fish with brussels on his backe; the delicate amber-fish from his taste and smell, angell-fish, cony-fish, the small yellow taile from that naturall painting; the great growper from his odde and strange grunting, some of them yet knowne to the americans, as the purgoose, the cavallo, the gar-fish, flying-fish and morerayes: the rest are common to other continents; as the whale in great numbers, the sharke, the pilot-fish, the sea-breame, the oyster and lobster, with divers others; twenty tortoises have beene taken in a day, and some of them will affoord halfe a bushell of egges, and suffice to feed forty men at a meale. and thus have you briefely epitomized mother natures benefits to this little, yet danty spot of earth, neither were it ingenuity to conceale wherein shee inclineth to the stepdame, especially since the particulars are so few, as rather requisite antidotes against idlenesse to rouse up industry, then any great cause of much distaste, much lesse despaire: {mn} and of those to speake troth, there are onely two: viz. the winds, and the wormes, especially in the spring and autumne; and thus conditioned as yet we will let rest these small ilands, in the midst of this mightie and maine ocean, so invironed on every side, by infinite numbers of uncertaine scattered rocks, lying shallowly hid under the surface of the water, a league, two, three, foure, or five, to sea, to the which advantages added by art, as hereafter you shall heare at large, and finde described in the map. it may well be concluded to be the most impregnable place in the world, and although the amber greece, pearles, nor tobacco, are of that quantity and certainty to be relied upon to gaine wealth; yet by practise and experience they finde, by silke, saffron, indico, madar, sugar-canes, wine, oile, and such like great profit may be expected: yet were those hopelesse in regard of their conveniency to nourish and maintaine themselves, and releeve them shall visit them with wood, water, and other necessaries, besides what an eye-sore they are already becommed to them that have them not, and how deare and pretious to them that have them, i thinke none will deny but they are well worth the keeping: and so we will proceed to the accidents that befell the first finders; also the proceedings of the first planters and their successors, master norrod, thomas sparkes, and divers others. a.d. . a briefe relation of the shipwracke of henry may. _how it is supposed they were called the bermudas._ how these iles came by the name of bermudas, or the infinite number of blacke hogs, or so fearefull to the world, that many called them the ile of devils, that all men did shun as hell and perdition; i will not expostulate, nor trouble your patiences with those uncertaine antiquities further then thus; our men found [v. .] divers crosses, peeces of spanish monies here and there. two or three wracks also they found, by certaine inscriptions to bee some spanish, some dutch, some french; but the greatest rumour is, that a spanish ship called bermudas was there cast away, carrying hogges to the west-indies that swam a shore, and there increased: how the spaniards escaped is uncertaine: but they say, from that ship those iles were first called bermudas, which till then for six thousand yeares had beene namelesse. but the first english-man that was ever in them, was one henry may, a worthy mariner that went with captaine lancaster to the east-indies . and in their returne by the west-indies, being in some distresse, sent this henry may for england by one mounsier de la barbotier, to acquaint the merchants with their estate. the last of november, saith may, we departed from laguna in hispaniola, and the seventeenth of december following, we were cast away upon the north-west of the bermudas; the pilots about noone made themselves southwards of the iles twelve leagues, and demanded of the captaine their wine of hight as out of all danger, which they had: but it seemes they were either drunke, or carelesse of their charge; for through their negligences a number of good men were cast away. i being but a stranger amongst fiftie and odde french-men, it pleased god to appoint me to be one of them should be saved. in this extremity we made a raft, which we towed with our boat, there were but six and twentie of us saved; and i seeing scarce roome for the one halfe, durst not passe in amongst them till the captaine called me along with him, leaving the better halfe to the seas mercy: that day we rowed till within two houres of night ere we could land, being neere dead with thirst, every man tooke his way to seeke fresh water, at length, by searching amongst many weeds, we found some raine water, but in the maine are many faire baies, where we had enough for digging. _the building and calking their barke._ now it pleased god before our ship split we saved our carpenters tooles, some nailes, sailes, and tacklings, wherewith we went roundly to worke, and built a barke of eighty tunnes: in stead of pitch, we made lime, mixed with tortoise oyle, and as the carpenters calked her, i and another paied the seames with this plaster, which being in aprill, became quickly dry, and as hard as a stone. _his returne for england._ in aprill it was so hot, we feared our water would faile, two great chests wee made which we calked as our ship; those we stowed on each side our maine mast, filled them with water and thirtie live tortoises: wee found many hogges, but so leane wee could not eat them; the tops of the palmetaberries was our bread, and the juyce we got out of the trees we cut downe our drinke, and of the leaves, which are more then an ell long, we covered our cabens, & made our beds, and found many of those provisions as is related, but little foule weather. the eleventh of may it pleased god to set us cleere of the ile, after wee had lived there five moneths: and the twentieth wee fell with cape britton, neere new found land, where refreshing our selves with wood and water, and such things as we could get of the salvages, it seemed a good countrey, but we staied not past foure houres before we set saile for the banke of new found land, where wee met many ships, but not any would take in a man of us, untill it pleased god we met a barke of fawmothe, which received us for a little time, and with her we tooke a french ship, wherein i left captaine de la barbotier, my deare friend, and all his company: and in august arrived at falmouth in this honest english barke, . written by me henry may. sir george somers ad. . the first english ship knowne to have beene cast [v. .] away upon the bermudas . from the relation of mr. jordan, master john evens, master henry shelly, and divers others. _a most desperate estate by a storm._ {mn} you have heard, that when captaine smith was governor of virginia, there were nine ships sent with sir thomas gates, and sir george somers, and captaine nuport with five hundred people, to take in the old commission, and rectifie a new government: they set saile in may, and in the height of thirty degrees of northerly latitude, {mn} they were taken with an extreme storme, or rather a part of hericano, upon the five and twentieth of july, which as they write, did not onely separate them from the fleet, but with the violent working of the seas, their ship became so shaken, torne, and leake, she received so much water as covered two tire of hogs-heads above the ballace, that they stood up to the middles, with buckets, baricos, and kettles, to baile out the water. thus bailing and pumping three daies and three nights without intermission, and yet the water seemed rather to increase then diminish, in so much that being all utterly spent with labour, were even resolved without any hope to shut up the hatches, and commit themselves to the mercy of the sea, which is said to be mercilesse, or rather to the mercy of almighty god, whose mercy farre exceeds all his workes; seeing no sense or hope in mans apprehension, but presently to sinke: some having some good and comfortable waters, fetched them and dranke one to another, as taking their last leaves untill a more happy, and a more joyfull meeting in a more blessed world, when it pleased god out of his most gracious and mercifull providence, so to direct and guide their ship for her most advantage. _the care and judgements of sir george somers._ _an evident token of gods mercy._ {mn} that sir george somers all this time sitting upon the poupe, scarce taking leisure to eat nor sleepe, coving the ship to keepe her as upright as he could, otherwaies she must long ere that needs have foundered, most wishedly and happily descried land; whereupon he most comfortably incouraged them to follow their worke, many of them being fast asleepe: this unlocked for welcome newes, as if it had bin a voice from heaven, hurrieth them all above hatches, to looke for that they durst scarce beleeve, so that improvidently forsaking that taske which imported no lesse then their lives, they gave so dangerous advantage to their greedy enemy the salt water, which still entred at the large breaches of their poore wooden castle, as that in gaping after life, they had well-nigh swallowed their death. surely it is impossible any should now be urged to doe his best, and although they knew it, that place all men did so shun, yet they spread all the saile they could to attaine them: {mn} for not long it was before they strucke upon a rocke, till a surge of the sea cast her from thence, and so from one to another, till most luckily at last so upright betwixt two, as if she had beene in the stocks, till this they expected but every blow a death: but now behold, suddenly the wind gives place to a calme, and the billowes, which each by overtaking her, would in an instant have shivered her in peeces, become peaceable and still, so that with all conveniency and ease, they unshipped all their goods, victuall, and persons into their boats, and with extreme joy, even almost to amazednesse, arrived in safetie, though more then a league from the shore, without the losse of a man; yet were they in all one hundred and fiftie: yet their deliverance was not more strange in falling so happily upon the land, as their feeding and preservation was beyond their hopes; for you have heard, it hath beene to the spaniards more fearefull then an utopian purgatory, and to all sea-men no lesse terrible then an inchanted den of furies and devils, the most dangerous, unfortunate, and forlorne place in the world, and they found it the richest, healthfullest and pleasantest they ever saw, as is formerly said. _sir george somers his first ranging the land._ being thus safe on shore, they disposed themselves to [v. .] search the iles for food and water; others to get a shore what they could from the ship; not long sir george wandred but found such a fishing, that in halfe an houre with a hooke and line, he tooke so many as sufficed the whole company, in some places they were so thicke in the coves, and so great, they durst not goe in lest they should bite them, and these rocke fish are so great two will load a man, and fatter nor better fish cannot be. mr. shelly found a bay neere a quarter of a mile over, so full of mullets, as none of them before had ever seene or heard of the like: the next day seeking to kill them with fis-gigs, they strucke so many the water in many places was red with bloud, yet caught not one, but with a net they caught so many as they could draw a shore, with infinite number of pilchards and divers other sorts; great craw-fishes in a night by making a fire they have taken in great quantity. sir george had twice his hooke and line broke out of his hand, but the third time he made it so strong he caught the same fish, which had pulled him into the sea had not his men got hold of him, whereby he had his three hookes againe were found in her belly. at their first hunting for hogs they found such abundance, they killed and this hunting & fishing was appointed to captaine robert walsingham, and mr. henry shelly for the company in general: they report they killed at least . besides pigs, and many that were killed by divers others; for the birds in their seasons, the facility to make their cabens of palmeta leaves, caused many of them utterly forget or desire ever to returne from thence, they lived in such plenty, peace and ease. _what meanes they made to send to virginia._ but let us remember how the knights began to resolve in those desperat affaires: many projects they had, but at last it was concluded, to decke their long boat with their ship hatches; which done, with all expedition they sent master raven, a very sufficient mariner, with eight more in her to virginia, to have shipping from thence to fetch them away; three weekes or a moneth they expected her returne, but to this day she was never more heard of; all this time was spent in searching the iles: now although god still fed them with this abundance of plenty, yet such was the malice of envy or ambition, for all this good service done by sommers, such a great difference fell amongst their commanders, that they lived asunder in this distresse, rather as meere strangers then distressed friends: but necessity so commanded, patience had the victory. _a mariage and two children borne._ two ships at this time by those severall parties were a building; in the meane time two children were borne, the boy was called bermudas, the girle bermuda, and amongst all those sorrowes they had a merry english mariage; the forme of those iles you may see at large in the map of mr. norwood, where you may plainly see no place knowne hath better walls, nor a broader ditch. but having finished and rigged their two new cedar ships with such provisions they saved from the sea-adventurer they left amongst the rocks, they called the one the patience, the other the deliverance; they used lime and oile, as may did for pitch and tar. sir george summers had in his barke no iron at all but one bolt in her keele; now having made their provisions of victuall and all things ready, they set saile the tenth of may . onely leaving two men behinde them, called christopher carter and edward waters, that for their offences, or the suspition they had of their judgements, fled into the woods, and there rather desired to end their daies then stand to their trials and the event of justice; for one of their consorts was shot to death, and waters being tied to a tree also to be executed, had by chance a knife about him, and so secretly cut the rope, he ran into the woods where they could not finde him. there were two salvages also sent from virginia by captain smith, the one called namuntack, the other matchumps, but some such differences fell betweene them, that matchumps slew namuntack, and having made a hole to bury him, because it was too short, he cut of his legs and laid them by him, which murder he concealed till he was in virginia. a.d. _their arrivall in virginia._ the foure and twentieth of the same moneth they arrived in virginia at james towne, where they found but threescore persons, as you may reade at large in the history of virginia, of the five hundred left by captaine smith, also of the arrivall of the lord laware, that met [v. .] them thus bound for england, returned them backe, and understanding what plenty there was of hogs and other good things in the bermudas, was desirous to send thither to supply his necessary occasions; whereupon sir george summers, the best acquainted with the place, whose noble minde ever regarded a generall good more then his owne ends, though above threescore yeeres of age, and had meanes in england sutable to his ranke, offered himselfe by gods helpe to performe this dangerous voyage againe for the bermudas, which was kindly accepted, so upon the . of june, he imbarked in his cedar ship, about the burthen of thirty tunnes, and so set saile. _sir george somers his return to the bermudas._ much foule and crosse weather he had, and was forced to the north parts of virginia, where refreshing himselfe upon this unknowne coast, he could not bee diverted from the search of the bermudas, where at last with his company he safely arrived: but such was his diligence with his extraordinary care, paines and industry to dispatch his businesse, and the strength of his body not answering the ever memorable courage of his minde, having lived so long in such honourable services, the most part of his well beloved and vertuous life, god and nature here determined, should ever remaine a perpetuall memory of his much bewailed sorrow for his death: finding his time but short, after he had taken the best course he could to settle his estate, like a valiant captaine he exhorted them with all diligence to be constant to those plantations, and with all expedition to returne to virginia. in that very place which we now call saint georges towne, this noble knight died, whereof the place taketh the name. but his men, as men amazed, seeing the death of him who was even as the life of them all, embalmed his body and set saile for england, being the first that ever went to seeke those ilands, which have beene ever since called summers iles, in honour of his worthy memory, leaving three men behind them, that voluntarily stayed, whose names were christopher carter, edward waters, there formerly left as is said, and edward chard. this cedar ship at last with his dead body arrived at whit-church in dorsetshire, where by his friends he was honourably buried, with many vollies of shot, and the rites of a souldier, and upon his tombe was bestowed this epitaph. _his epitaph._ hei mihi virginia quod tam cito praeterit aestas, autumnus sequitur, saeviet inde & hiems; at ver perpetuum nascetur, & anglia laeta, decerpit flores florida terra tuas. in english thus: alas virginia's summer so soone past, autumne succeeds and stormy winters blast, yet englands joyfull spring with joyfull showers, o florida, shall bring thy sweetest flowers. _the proceedings of the three men._ _a peece of amber-greece of_ . _pound weight._ {mn} the honour of this resulution belongs principally to carter, for through his importunity, not to leave such a place abandoned, chard & waters were moved to stay with him, and the rest promised with all the speed they could againe to revisit them. but the ship once out of sight, those three lords, the sole inhabitants of all those ilands, began to erect their little common wealth for a while with brotherly regency, repairing the ground, planting corne, and such seeds and fruits as they had, building a house, &c. then making privy search amongst the crevises and corners of those craggy rocks, what this maine ocean since the worlds creation had throwne amongst them, {mn} at last they chanced upon the greatest peece of amber-greece was ever seene or heard or in one lumpe, being in weight fourescore pound, besides divers other small peeces. but now being rich, they grew so proud and ambitious, [v. .] contempt tooke such place, they fell out for superiority, though but three forlorne men, more then three thousand miles from their native country, and but small hope ever to see it againe. notwithstanding, they sometimes fell from words to blowes about meere trifles: in one of which fights, one of them was bitten with his owne dog, as if the dumbe beast would reprove them of their folly; at last chard and waters, the two greater spirits, must try it out in the field, but carter wisely stole away their weapons, affecting rather to live amongst his enemies, then by being rid of them live alone; and thus those miserable men lived full two yeeres, so that all their clothes were neere worne cleane from their backs, and their hopes of any forraine releefe as naked as their bodies. at last they began to recover their wits, yet in a fashion perhaps would have cost them dearer then when they were mad; for concluding a tripartite peace of their matachin warre, they resolved to frame as good a boat as they could, and therein to make a desperate attempt for virginia, or new found land; but no sooner were they entred into that resolution, but they descried a saile standing in for the shore, though they neither knew what she was, nor what she would, they were so over-joyed, with all possible speed they went to meet her, and according to their hearts desire she proved an english-man, whom they safely conducted into their harbour. a.d. _how they were supplied._ now you are to understand, that captaine matthew somers, nephew and heire to sir george, that returned with his dead body, though both he and his company did their utmost in relating all those passages to their countrey-men and adventurers, their relations were beleeved but as travellers tales, till it came to be apprehended by some of the virginia company, how beneficiall it might be, and helpfull to the plantation in virginia, so that some one hundred and twentie of them bought the pretended right of all the company, and had sent this ship to make a triall; but first they had obtained letters patents of the kings most excellent majestie. sir thomas smith was elected treasurer and governor heere, and master richard more to be governor of the iles and colony there. a.d. . the first beginning of a colonie in the somer iles, under the command of master richard more, extracted out of a plot of master richard norwood surveior, and the relations of divers others. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _the arrivall of master more._ master more thus finding those three men not onely well and lusty, but well stored with divers sorts of provisions, as an acre of corne ready to be gathered, numbers of pumpions and indian beanes, many tortoises ready taken, good store of hogs flesh salted, and made in flitches of bacon, were very good, and so presently landed his goods and sixty persons towards the beginning of july . upon the south side of smiths ile. _their differences about the amber-greece._ not long after his arrivall, more having some private intelligence of this amber-greece, tooke first chard in examination, he being one of the three the most masterfull spirit, what amber-greece, pearle, treasure, or other commodities they had found. chard no lesse witty then resolute, directly answered; not any thing at all but the fruits of the ile, what his fellowes had done he knew not, but if they had, he doubted not but to finde it out, and then hee should know it certainly. this he spake onely to win time to sweare his consorts to secrecy, and he would finde the meanes how they should all returne in that ship with it all for england, otherwise they should be deceived of all. till this was effected they thought every houre an age; now for the better conveiance of it aboord, they acquainted it to captaine davis, master of the ship, and one master edwin kendall, that for their secrecy and transportation should participate with them: without further ceremony the match was accepted, and absolutely concluded, the plot laid, time and place set downe to have it aboord. but carter, were it for feare the governor at last should know of it, to whom so oft [v. .] they had denied it; or that the rest should deceive him, is uncertaine; but most certaine it is, he revealed all the plot to master more: to get so much wealth he knew would please them in england, though it did displease all his company, and to lose such a prize he would not for hazarding a mutiny. so first hee revealed himselfe to kendall in faire tearmes, reproving his dishonesty, but not being answered according to his expectation, he committed both chard and him to person. the next sabboath day davis comming on shore, more also taxed with very hard language and many threats, to lay him fast also if he mended not his manners; davis for the present replied little, but went with him to the place of praier: but in the midst of divine service he goeth away, commanding all his sea-men to follow him presently aboord, where he encourageth them to stand to him like men, and hee would free the prisoners, have all the amber-greece for themselves, and so be gone. _chard in danger of hanging._ the governor hearing of this resolution, prepares with his company to repulse force with force, so that a generall expectance or a civill uncivill warre possessed every man; but this threatning gust passed over more calmlier then was expected; for davis having better advised with himselfe, repented his rashnesse, and desired a reconcilement with the governor. peace thus concluded, kendall was set at libertie, but chard was condemned, and upon the ladder to be hanged for his obstinacy; yet upon better consideration more reprived him, but kept him a prisoner all the time he staied in the country, which was generally thought a very bad reward for his great desert, and that there was more of this amber-greece imbeziled, then would have contented all the finders, that never had any consideration at all. the greatest part though more thus recovered, yet davis and kendall had so much, either by the ignorance or connivency of the governors, that arriving in england, they prepared themselves for a new voiage; at last they two falling out, the company having notice thereof, so tormented them both, they gave over their voiage, and durst not be seene a long time after. _master mores industry in fortifying and planting._ the governor thus rid of the ship and those discontents, removed his seat from smiths ile to saint georges, after he had fitted up some small cabbens of palmata leaves for his wife and family, in that valley where now stands their prime towne called s. georges, hee began to apply himselfe to fortifie the countrey, and training his men in the exercise of armes. for although he was but a carpenter, he was an excellent artist, a good gunner, very witty and industrious: he built and laid the foundation of eight or nine forts, called the kings castle, charles fort, pebrook's fort, smiths fort, pagits fort, gates fort, warwicks castle, saint katharines fort, &c. mounting in them all the ordnance he had, preparing the ground to build houses, plant corne, and such fruits as they had. _a contention of the minister against the governor._ being thus busied, and as the necessitie of the time required, keeping his men somewhat hard at wok, master keath his minister, were it by the secret provocation of some drones, that grew weary or their taskes, or his affection to popularity is not certaine: but he begins to tax the governor in the pulpit, hee did grinde the faces of the poore, oppressing his christian brethren with pharoahs taxes. more finding this in short time, might breed ill bloud, called the company together and also the minister, urging them plainly, to tell him wherein he had deserved those hard accusations: whereupon, with an universall cry they affirmed the contrary, so that keath downe of his knees to aske him forgivenesse. but master more kindly tooke him up, willing him to kneele to god, and hereafter be more modest and charitable in his speeches; notwithstanding two other discontents so upbraided more with that doctrine, and stood to maintaine it, he impaneled a jury, with a great deale of seeming much adoe he would hang them being condemned, one of them with the very feare, fell into a dead palsie; so that the other was set at libertie, and proved after a very good labourer. _two peeces weighed out of the sea adventure._ many conclusions he tried about the sea-venture, the [v. .] wracke of sir george somers, but he got onely for his paines but two peece of ordnance. having framed a church of timber, it was blowne downe by a tempest, so that he built another in a more closer place with palmeta leaves. _the first supply._ before this yeere was expired, the adventurers sent them an adviso with thirtie passengers and good provisions, to prepare with all expedition for their defence against the spaniard, whom they understood ere long would visit them: this occasioned him to keepe all his men together in that ile so hard at worke, that wanting libertie to goe abroad for food, living onely on that they had, and expected daily to receive from england, they were so over-toiled, many fell sicke, but none died. very earnest this ship was to have all the amber-greece, which m. more perceiving, was the chiefest cause of their comming, and that it was the onely loadstone to draw from england still more supplies; for all the expresse command sent from the company, he returned this ship but with the one third part; so from thence she went to virginia, and not long; after arrived safely in england. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _the second supply._ _a strange increase of potatoes._ {mn- } _the attempt of two spanish ships._ {mn- } but before her returne the company sent the martha with sixtie passengers more; they arrived in june with one master bartlet to survey the iland, and the estate of the colonie, with expresse command for all the amber-greece: but more perceiving him not as he would have him, and that the company began to mistrust him, would send no more but another third part, wherewith they returned, leaving a french-man to make triall of the mulberies for silke, but he did not bring any thing to perfection; excusing himselfe, they were not the right mulberies he expected. about this time they were in hope of a small crop of tobacco, but it was most spoiled for want of knowledge to use it. now in england master more became amongst the merchants marvelous distastfull, for the detaining so long the amber-greece; which delaies they so much abhorred, they forthwith dispatched the elizabeth the second time and forty passengers, much rebuking more for so long detaining the amber-greece: for the which, having now no more colourable excuses, he delivered it, wherewith the ship went to virginia, & thence home. {mn- } in this ship was brought the first potato roots, which flourished exceedingly for a time, till by negligence they were almost lost (all but two cast-away roots) that so wonderfully have increased, they are a maine releefe to all the inhabitants. {mn- } this ship was not long gone but there came two spanish ships, sounding with their boat, which attempted to come in: but from the kings castle master more made but two shot, which caused them presently depart. marke here the handy-worke of the divine providence, for they had but three quarters of a barrell of powder, and but one shot more, and the powder by carelesnesse was tumbled downe under the mussels of the two peeces were discharged, yet not touched with fire when they were discharged. this feare thus past, appeares another much worse, which was the extremity of famine; in this extremity god sent captaine daniel elfrid with a carvell of meale which a little relieved them, but brought withall so many rats, that within two yeeres after neere ruined all; now though elfrid had deceived his friend fisher of this carvell in the west-indies they revenged fishers injury, for elfrid had his passage for england, and they made use of all he had. some two moneths after, came in the blessing with an hundred passengers; and two daies after the starre with a hundred and fourescore more, amongst which were many gentlemen, as master lower for marshall, master barret, master felgate, and divers others; but very unproper for what they undertooke. within foureteene daies after came in the margaret and two frygats, and in them one hundred and threescore passengers; also master bartlet came now expresly to divide the country into tribes, and the tribes into shares. but master more finding no mention made of any part for himselfe nor all them with him, as he was promised in england, by no meanes would admit of any division, nor suffer his men from finishing their fortifications, which was so necessary, it was his maine ambition to see that accomplished; but such unkindnesse grew betwixt this master bartlet and the governour, that the rude [v. .] multitude with all the disdaine they could devise caused bartlet returne for england as he came. about this time william millington was drawne into the sea by a fish, but never after ever seene. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _a great famine and mortalitie._ the neglect of this division was very hardly conceited in england, so that master more grew more and more in dislike with the company; notwithstanding he followed the building of these forts so earnestly, neglecting planting of corne, till their store was neere all consumed, whereby they became so feeble and weake, some would not, others could not goe abroad to seeke releefe, but starved in their houses, and many that went abroad, through weaknesse were subject to be suddenly surprized with a disease called the feauges, which was neither paine nor sicknesse, but as it were the highest degree of weaknesse, depriving them of power and ability from the execution of any bodily exercises, whether it were working, walking, or what else, being thus taken, if any presently gave them food many times they straight recovered, yet some after a little rest would bee able to walke, but if they found not present succour, died. _a strange being of ravens._ about this time or immediatly before, came in a company of ravens, which continued amongst them all the time of this mortality and then departed, which for any thing knowne, neither before nor since were ever seene or heard of: this with divers other reasons caused master more to goe out to sea, to see if he could discover any other ilands, but he went not farre ere ill weather forced him backe; and it were a noble adventure of him would undertake to make more perfect all the dangers are about the summer iles. _all workes abandoned to get only victuals._ thus famine and misery caused governour more leave all his workes, and send them abroad to get what they could; one hundred and fifty of the most weake and sicke he sent to coupers ile, where were such infinite numbers of the birds called cahowes, which were so fearelesse they might take so many as they would, and that admired abundance of fish, that the extremity of their hunger, and their gluttony was such, those heavenly blessings they so consumed and wasted by carelesnesse and surfetting, many of them died upon those silly birds that offered themselves to the slaughter, which the governour understanding, caused them for change of aire to be removed to port-royall, and a company of fishers with a boat to releeve them with fish, but the gange grew so lazie the poore weaklings still died; they that remained killed the cattle they found in the ile, faining the heat caused them to runne into the sea and so were drowned; so that the governour sent againe for them home, but some obtained leave still to live abroad; one amongst the rest hid himselfe in the woods, and lived onely on wilkes and land crabs, fat and lusty many moneths, but most of them being at saint georges, ordinarily was taken one hundred and fifty or two hundred great fishes daily for their food; for want of hookes and lines, the smith made hookes of old swords, and lines of old ropes, but finding all those poore engines also decay, they sent one of the two frigats last left with them for england, to tell them of this misery. all which was now attributed to master mores perversnesse, who at first when he got the amber-greece had not such a generall applause, but now all the worst could possibly be suggested was too good for him; yet not knowing for the present how to send a better, they let him continue still, though his time was neere expired, and with all speed sent the welcome fraught with provision, where shee well arrived, and proved her selfe as welcome in deed as in name; for all those extremities, master lewes hues writeth, not one of all those threescore that first beganne this plantation was dead, which shewes it was not impossible, but industry might have prevented a great part of the others sluggish carelesnesse. _a supply and m. mores returne._ this ship much refreshed this miserable colony, but master more seeing they sent not for him, his time being now expired, understanding how badly they reputed him in england, and that his imploiment now was more for their owne ends then any good for himselfe, resolved directly to returne with this ship. having setled all things in the best order he could, left the government to the charge of the counsell of six to succeed each other [v. .] monethly, till they had further directions from england; whose names were captaine miles kendall, captaine john mansfield, thomas knight, charles caldycot, edward waters, and christopher carter, with twelve others for their assistances. more thus taking leave of those ilands, arrived in england, much wrangling they had, but at last they confirmed him according to promise eight shares of land, and so he was dismissed of his charge, with shew of favour and much friendship. the rule of the six governors. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ the first thing they did was casting of lots, who should rule first, which lot lighted upon master caldicot. this last supply somewhat abated the extremitie of their miseries, and the better in that their fortifications being finished, they had the more leasure to goe abroad with that meanes was brought to that purpose to fish. chard as you have heard, whom all this while more had kept prisoner, they set at libertie: now by reason of their former miseries, little or nothing could be done; yet this governour having thus concluded his moneth, and prepared a frigot and two and thirtie men, hee imbarked himselfe with two other of his fellow counsellers; namely, knight and waters for the west-indies, to get fruits and plants, goats, young cattle, and such like. but this poore vessell, whether through ill weather, or want of mariners, or both, in stead of the indies fell with the canaries, where taking a poore portugall, the which they manned with ten of their owne people, as soone after separated from her in a storme, & the next day was taken by a french pickaroune, so that the frigot out of hope of her prize, makes a second time for the west-indies, where she no sooner arrived, but foundred in the sea; but the men in their boat recovered a desolate ile, where after some few moneths stay, an english pyrat tooke them in, and some of them at last got for england, and some few yeares after returned to the somer iles. captaine john mansfield his moneth. the frigot thus gone, captaine mansfield succeeded. then was contrived a petition, as from the generalitie, unto the triumverat governors; wherein they supplicated, that by no meanes they should resigne the government to any should come from england, upon what tearmes soever, untill six moneths after the returne of their ship sent to the west-indies: about this unwarrantable action, master lewes hues their preacher was so violent in suppressing it, that such discontents grew betwixt the governors and him, and divisions among the company, he was arraigned, condemned, and imprisoned, but not long detained before released. then the matter fell so hotly againe to be disputed betwixt him and one master keath a scotch-man, that professed schollership, that made all the people in a great combustion: much adoe there was, till at last as they sate in the church and ready to proceed to a judicary course against master hues, suddenly such an extreme gust of wind and weather so ruffled in the trees and church; some cried out a miracle; others, it was but an accident common in those iles, but the noise was so terrible it desolved the assembly: notwithstanding, master hues was againe imprisoned, and as suddenly discharged; but those factions were so confused, and their relations so variable, that such unnecessary circumstances were better omitted then any more disputed. _master carter. captaine kendall. capt. mansfield._ this mans moneth thus ended, begins master carter, which was altogether spent in quietnesse, and then captaine miles kendall had the rule, whose moneth was also as quietly spent as his predecessors. then captaine mansfield begins his second moneth, when the ship called the edwin arrived with good supplies. about this time divers boats going to sea were lost, and some men drowned; and many of the company repaired to master [v. .] hues, that there might bee a councell according to master mores order of six governours, and twelve assistants, whereupon grew as many more such silly brawles as before, which at last concluded with as simple a reconciliation. in the interim happened to a certaine number of private persons as miserable and lamentable an accident, as ever was read or heard of, and thus it was: _a wonderful accident._ in the month of march, a time most subject of all others to such tempests; on a friday there went seven men in a boat of two or three tunnes to fish. the morning being faire, so eager they were of their journey, some went fasting: neither carried they either meat or drinke with them, but a few palmeta berries, but being at their fishing place some foure leagues from the shoare, such a tempest arose, they were quickly driven from the sight of land in an overgrowne sea, despairing of all hope, onely committing themselves to gods mercy, let the boat drive which way shee would. on sunday the storme being somewhat abated, they hoysed saile as they thought towards the island. in the evening it grew starke calme; so that being too weake to use their oares, they lay a drift that night. the next morning andrew milliard, for now all his companions were past strength either to helpe him or themselves: before a small gale of wind spred his saile againe. on tuesday one died, whom they threw over board. on wednesday three. and on thursday at night the sixt. all these but the last were buried by hilliard in the sea, for so weake hee was growne hee could not turne him over as the rest, whereupon hee stripped him, ripping his belly with his knife, throwing his bowels into the water, hee spread his body abroad tilted open with a sticke, and so lets it lie as a cisterne to receive some lucky raine-water, and this god sent him presently after, so that in one small shoure hee recovered about foure spoonefuls of raine water to his unspeakeable refreshment; he also preserved neere halfe a pint of blood in a shooe, which he did sparingly drinke of to moist his mouth: two severall daies he fed on his flesh, to the quantity of a pound, on the eleventh day from his losing the sight of land, two flying fishes fals in his boat, whose warme jucie blood hee sucked to his great comfort. but within an houre after to his greater comfort you will not doubt, he once againe descried the land, and within foure houres after was cast upon a rocke neere to port royall, where his boat was presently split in pieces, but himselfe, though extreamly weake, made shift to clamber up so steepe and high a rocke, as would have troubled the ablest man in the ile to have done that by day hee did by night. being thus astride on a rocke, the tumbling sea had gotten such possession in his braines, that a good while it was before his giddy head would suffer him to venture upon the forsaking it: towards the morning he craules a shore, and then to his accomplished joy descernes where hee is, and travels halfe a day without any refreshment then water, whereof wisely and temperately he stinted him selfe, otherwise certainely hee had drunke his last. in which case hee attaines a friends house: where at the first they tooke him for a ghost, but at last acknowledged and received him with joy, his story after some houres of recovery of strength to tell it, heard out with admiration: he was not long after conveyed to the towne, where he received his former health, and was living in the yeere . _treasure found in the summer iles._ the next newes that happened in this time of ease, was, that a merry fellow having found some few dollars against flemish wracke, the bruit went currant the treasure was found, and they all made men. much adoe there was to prevent the purloining of it, before they had it: where after they had tyred themselves with searching, that they found, amounted not to above twenty pounds starling, which is not unlike but to be the remainder of some greater store, washed from some wracke not farre from the shore. _a new governour chosen._ the company by the edwin receiving newes of the revels were kept in sommer iles, resolved to make choice of a new governour, called master daniel tuckar, that a long time had bin a planter in virginia in the government of captaine smith. all things being furnished for [v. .] his voyage; hee set saile in the george, consorted with the edwin, with many passengers, which being discovered by them in those iles, they supposed them the frigot sent to the west indies; but when they understood what they were, much preparation they made to resist the new governour. many great ostentations appeared on both sides, but when the quondam governour did see his men for most part forsake him; all was very well and quietly compounded, and with much kindnesse received and welcomed a shore, where his commission was no sooner read, then they accepted and acknowledged him for their governour. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ the government of captaine daniel tuckar. about the midst of may arrived this governor, where finding the inhabitants both abhorring all exacted labour, as also in a manner disdaining and grudging much to be commanded by him; it could not but passionate any man living. but at last according to the virginia order, hee set every one was with him at saint georges, to his taske, to cleere grounds, fell trees, set corne, square timber, plant vines and other fruits brought out of england. these by their taske masters by breake a day repaired to the wharfe, from thence to be imployed to the place of their imployment, till nine of the clocke, and then in the after-noone from three till sunne-set. beside meat, drinke and cloaths, they had for a time a certaine kinde of brasse money with a hogge on the one side, in memory of the abundance of hogges was found at their first landing. _captaine tuckars proceedings._ this course thus squared, imitating divers orders used in virginia, by sir tho. dale: he began by them to looke into his instructions given by the company. whereupon by one mr. richard norwood a survayor, sent over for that purpose, in the time of master moore, hee began to lay out the eight tribes in the maine, which were to consist of fifty shares to a tribe; and twenty five acers to every share. he also began to plant some colony men on some of the especiall shares. he swore also certaine of the chiefe men of every tribe to bee bailiffes thereof; and appointed as many men as hee was able for all supplied shares. the goods landed in the store houses hee sent from thence, and dispersed it to his workemen in generall: some boats also began to be builded; but the pinace called the thomas suspected might make an escape, was laid up in a docke, where shee yet remaineth. _a barke sent to the west indies._ in the beginning of the second moneth of his government, he directed warrants to all the bailiffes, for the holding of a generall assise at saint georges, and appointed master stokes lieutenant of the kings castle at the gurnets head. the edwin came with him he sent to the west indies by directions from england, to trade with the natives, for cattell, corne, plants, and other commodities. a course of great importance, which had it been pursued, would certainly have produced more hopefull effects for the good of the colony, then all the supplies and magazines from england hath or will in a long time. _the assises._ presently after her departure began the assises, executed by his deputy. the chiefe matter handled was the hanging one john wood a french man, for speaking many distastefull and mutinous speeches against the governour, to shew the rest by that example, the power of his authority, which after with his owne hands he so oft executed with a bastinado amongst the poorer sort; many tearmed it a cruelty, not much lesse then tyranny: but the sequell is more then strange. _the strange adventure of five men in a boat._ so it was that five of them, seeing by no meanes they could get passage for england, resolved to undergoe all hazards but they would make an escape from such servitude. the chiefe mariner and plotter of this businesse, was richard sanders and his confederates, william goodwin a ship carpenter, thomas harison a joyner; james barker a gentleman, and henry puet. these repairing to the governour, and with pleasing insinuations told him, if hee would allow them but things [v. .] necessary, they would build him a boat of two or three tunnes, with a close decke, should goe a fishing all weathers. the governour halfe proud that hee had brought his men to so good a passe, as he conceived, to offer themselves to so necessary a worke; instantly with all willingnesse furnished them with all things they could desire, and many faire promises to incourage them to performe it with all expedition. having made choise of a place most fit from molestation, they went forward with that expedition, that in a short time shee was brought to perfection. by this time, the ship that brought the governour, being ready to depart, hee sends a lusty gange to goe fetch his new boat to carry him aboard, but arriving at the place where she was built, they could heare no more of her, but she was gone the last evening to sea, to try how shee would saile. much search and dispute was where this boat should be: but at last they found divers letters in the cabbins, to this effect, directed to the governour, and other their friends: that their hard and bad usage was so intolerable, and their hope so small ever againe to see their countrey, or be delivered from such servitude, they did rather chuse to put themselves to that desperate hazard to goe for england, in which if they miscaried, as it was much to be mistrusted, their lives and bloods should be required at their hands was the cause. a compasse diall barker had borrowed of master hues, to whom he writ that as hee had oft perswaded them to patience, and that god would pay them though none did: hee must now bee contented with the losse of his diall, with his owne doctrine. such leasure they found to bee merry when in the eye of reason they were marching into a most certaine ruine. the governour being thus satisfied of their escape, extreamly threatned them no lesse then a hanging, but the stormes of the ocean they now more feared then him; good provision by bartering they had got from the ship, where goodwin in a bravado told the mariners, though he could not be permitted to goe with them, yet peradventure hee might be in england before them, whereat the master and his mate laughed merrily. but having beene now under saile three weekes, the winds so favoured them, they felt nothing of what they had cause to feare: then a blustering gale blowing in their teeth, put them to much extremity for divers dayes, then becomming more gentle away they past prosperously some eight or ten dayes more, till meeting a french piccaroune of whom they desired succour, hee like himselfe tooke from them what hee liked, leaving them not so much as a crosse-staffe to observe withall, and so cast them off: their course still they continued till their victuall began to fall to the lowest ebbe; and the very knees of their small vessell were halfe hewed away for fire wood. at last to their infinit joy they arrived in ireland, where the earle of tomund honorably entertained them, and caused the boat to be hung up for a monument, and well she might, for shee had sailed more then . miles by a right line thorow the maine sea, without any sight of land, and i thinke since god made the world, the like navigation was never done, nor heard of. this fortunate sanders going to the east indies, in the rifling some ships there tooke, it was his chance to buy an old chest, for three or foure shillings, but because it wanted a key hee repented his bargaine, and would gladly have sold it againe for lesse. a certaine time it lay tossed to and fro as a thing hee little regarded, but at last having little to doe, hee broke it open, where he found a thousand pounds starling, or so much gold as bought him in england a good estate, which leaving with his wife he returned againe to the east indies. _plants from the west indies._ {mn- } _the exploits of captaine powell._ {mn- } the george setting saile three dayes after this escape, the governour seazed and confiscated all that those fugitives left behinde them. {mn- } within a weeke after returned the edwin from the west indies, furnished with figges, pynes, sugar-canes, plantaines, papanes and divers other plants, which were presently replanted, and since increased into greater numbers, also an indian and a negar, and so much ligna vitae as defrayed all the charge. the governor thus busied amongst his plants, making hedges of figtrees, and pomgranets, and severall divisions by palizadoes for the defence of their guarding [v. .] and keeping their cattell, for in such husbandry qualities he well deserved great commendations. the adventurers to supply him sent with all speed they could the hopewell, a small barke, but an excellent sailer, {mn- } and in her one captaine powell an excellent mariner, and well acquainted in the indies where he was to goe trade, after he had landed his passengers in the summer lies: but in his journey at the westerne iles meeting a brasile man, hee liked the suger and passengers so well, hee mand the carvill with his owne men, and continued his course, but bethinking himself how this would be entertained at the summer lies, hee found such doubts, hee went directly for the west indies to take time to resolve what to doe: arriving there hee met a french rover, one every way as cunning as himselfe, but much more trecherous. a great league of kindnesse is soone made betweene them, upon confidence whereof, powell and some of the chiefe with him being invited aboord him, is easily entised, and in the midst of their cups both hee and his company treacherously made prisoners; and thus was forced to give him their prise, or hang at the yards arme with all his company. having set them a shore, away goes the french man; powels ship being but hard by, presently fetcht them all a boord, but finding his victuall neere spent, and no hope at all to recover his prize, set his portugales on shore, and set saile for the summer iles; where safely arriving, hee declared the whole passage to the governour, lest some other in telling might make it worse, of which the governour seemed well enough to approve. _the second assises._ this governour still spent his time in good husbandry, although some of the snarling sort here in england, whom nothing will please, writ to him hee was fitter to be a gardiner then a governour: some time he spent in digging of a great pond, but that worke proved altogether unprofitable: about that time was held the second assise. the greatest matter passed, was a proclamation against the spoile of cahowes, but it came too late, for they were most destroyed before: a platforme hee caused to be erected by pagits fort, where a good fort were very necessary. captaine powell not having performed his service in the west indies, he conditioned with the company, is sent thither againe by this governour, and thirteene or fourteene of his best men, furnished with all things necessary. in the meane time the company understanding, that in january, february and march, there are many whales, for which fishing they sent the neptune, a tall ship well provided with every thing fitting for that purpose. but before she arrived, captaine tuckar, who had brought also with him most provisions for that imploiment, sent three good shalops to try what could be done, but whether it was the swiftnes of the whale in swimming, or the condition of the place, certaine it is for all their labour and hazard, they could kill none, though they strucke many. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _the third assise._ to begin his second yeere, he called the third assise, where divers were punished as their faults deserved: three were condemned to die; two were reprived, but the third was hanged: the next day there was also a levy for the repairing two forts; but that labour tooke not such effect as was intended, for want of good directions. _the country neere devoured with rats._ but the great god of heaven being angry at somewhat happened in those proceedings, caused such an increase of silly rats, in the space of two yeeres so to abound, before they regarded them, that they filled not onely these places where they were first landed, but swimming from place to place, spread themselves into all parts of the countrey, insomuch that there was no iland but it was pestered with them; and some fishes have beene taken with rats in their bellies, which they caught in swimming from ile to ile: their nests they had almost in every tree, and in most places their burrowes in the ground like conies: they spared not the fruits of the plants, or trees, nor the very plants themselves, but ate them up. when they had set their corne, the rats would come by troupes in the night and scratch it out of the ground. if by diligent watch any escaped till it came to earing, it should then very hardly escape them: and they became noysome even to the very persons of men. they used all the diligence they could for the destroying of them, [v. .] nourishing cats both wilde and tame, for that purpose; they used rats-bane, and many times set fire on the woods, that oft ran halfe a mile before it was extinct; every man was enjoyned to set twelve traps, and some of their owne accord have set neere an hundred, which they ever visited twice or thrice in a night; they also trained up their dogges to hunt them, wherein they became so expert, that a good dog in two or three houres would kil forty or fifty. many other devices they used to destroy them, but could not prevaile, finding them still increasing against them: nay they so devoured the fruits of the earth, that they were destitute of bread for a yeere or two; so that when they had it afterwards, they were so wained from it, they easily neglected to eat it with their meat. besides they endevoured so much for the planting tobacco for present gaine, that they neglected many things might more have prevailed for their good, which caused amongst them much weaknesse and mortality, since the beginning of this vermine. _a strange confusion of rats._ at last it pleased god, but by what meanes it is not well knowne, to take them away; in so much that the wilde cats and many dogs which lived on them, were famished, and many of them leaving the woods, came downe to their houses, and to such places where they use to garbish their fish, and became tame. some have attributed the destruction of them to the encrease of wild cats, but that is not likely they should be so suddenly encreased rather at that time, then foure yeeres before; and the chiefe occasion of this supposition was, because they saw some companies of them leave the woods, and slew themselves for want of food. others by the coldnesse of winter, which notwithstanding is never so great there, as with us in march, except it be in the wind: besides the rats wanted not the fethers of young birds and chickins, which they daily killed, and palmeta mosse to build themselves warme nests out of the wind, as usually they did; neither doth it appeare that the cold was so mortall to them, seeing they would ordinarily swimme from place to place, and bee very fat even in the midst of winter. it remaineth then, that as god doth sometimes effect his will without subordinate and secondary causes, so wee need not doubt, but that in the speedy encrease of this vermine; as also by the preservation of so many of them by such weake meanes as they then enjoyed, and especially in the so sudden removall of this great annoyance, there was joyned with and besides the ordinary and manifest meanes, a more mediate and secret worke of god. about this time henry long, with seven others in an extreame storme were cast away, but three of them escaped. one of them being asked what hee thought in the worst of that extremity, answered, he thought nothing but gallowes claime thy right, and it seemes god well heard his prayer, and rewarded his ingratitude; for he was hanged within halfe a yeere after. in that march also five men went to sea, but as yet was never heard of, and three more drowned in a boat. by hilliards house grew a very faire cedar, which by a thunder clap was rent almost to small shivers, and a man stood by him, and samuel tanton, most fearfully blasted, yet neither they, the house, nor a little childe, yet a paire of racks in the house was all torne to fitters. the neptune not long after arriving to fish for whale, her fortune proved no better then the governours, yet some are of opinion, profit might be made by them. _the returne of m. powel from the indies._ in may they discried foure saile, so that manning all their forts, they stood two daies in armes, expecting what they were; at last they found it master powell returned from the west-indies in the hopewell, where missing such trade as he expected, these three frigots comming in his way, he could not chuse but take them; meale, hides and munition was their lading: faire weather the governor made with powell till he had got all the goods into his owne possession, and then called powell to a strict account for doing such an unwarrantable act; much a doe then was betwixt the taker and receiver; but powell was glad to be excused to answer it in england, leaving all hee had taken behinde him in the iles: the neptune also returned with him, but noble powell lost all his pay and pillage for this yeeres worke. for which the company [v. .] sent for to tuckar, so that he also lost his part as well as powell: notwithstanding, the governour by this meanes being strong in shipping, fitted the carvill with twelve men, under the command of edward waters formerly spoken of, and sent them to virginia about such businesse as hee had conceived. arriving there, they obtained some goates, and hogs, & what they could spare, and so returned for the summer iles; but whether they could not finde the iles for want of skill, or beaten off by ill weather, or the ill will they bare the governor, it matters not much: but they bare up again for virginia, where they all remained, and would returne no more to summer lies. _a supposed mutiny by m. pollard, and m. rich._ the governour thinking to make some use of the hides, set some that professed themselves tanners, to make tryall of their skill; but they lost their labours and spoiled the hides. also he called another assise concerning a poore fellow called gabriel, for concealing some speeches m. pollard and m. rich should use, tending to the dis-reputation of the governour, and his injustice and cruelties; which being brought within the compasse of sedition and mutiny, though a yeere agoe; many were called in question about it, although every one ordinarily had spoke as much. yet gabriel for example sake was condemned to bee hanged, and was upon the ladder, but reprieved. the other two m. pollard, and m. rich were imprisoned, but upon better consideration the fact appeared so small and ridiculous, upon their submission they were pardoned, and restored to their places. the division of the summer lies into tribes, by master richard norwood, surveyor. a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer._ _the division of the iles into tribes._ according to the directions of the councell and company as they had determined by lot, m. norwood tooke a plot of the ile, and divided it with as much faithfulnes as he could, assigning to every adventurer his share or proportion, as namely, to lay out a large proportion, to bee called the generall land, and imployed for publike uses, as for the maintenance of the governour, ministers, commanders of forts, souldiers, and such like: and to this end was assigned s. georges iland, s. davids iland, longbridge iland, smiths iland, coopers iland, cony iland, nonesuch iland, part of the maine, and sundry other small iles. the rest was to be divided into eight parts, each part to be called a tribe, and to have his denomination of some principall person that was adventurer therein: and accordingly the first tribe to bee eastward, was then called bedfords tribe, now hamiltons: the second, smiths: tribe the third, cavendish, now devonshires: the fourth, pembrooks: the fift, pagits: the sixt, mansils, now warwicks: the seventh, southampton: the eighth, sands: in the honours of the right honorable the marquis hamilton, sir thomas smith, the earle of devonshire, the earle of pembrooke, the lord pagit, the earle of warwicke, the earle of southampton, and sir edwin sands. againe each of those tribes were to bee divided into fifty parts, called shares; and every adventurer to have his shares in these tribes as was determined, by casting lots in england, the manner of it appeares by the map, and more largely by his booke of the survay of the countrey, which is in the records of the colony. and then began this which was before as you have heard, but as an unsetled and confused chaos, to receive a disposition, forme, and order, and become indeed a plantation. the names of the adventurers, and their shares in [v. ] every tribe, according to the survey, and the best information yet ascertained, of any of their alterations. hamiltons tribe. shares. shares. james l. marquis hamil. m. john gearing. sir edward harwood. m. cleophas smith. m. john delbridge. robert earle of warwick. m. john dike. m. thomas covell. m. ellis roberts. m. greenwels assignes m. robert phips. m. cley. m. ralph king. m. powlson. m. quicks assignes. m. john dike. / m. william cannig. common land for m. william cannig. conveniency. m. william web. m. john dike. / m. john bernards assignes. m. george thorps m. elias roberts jun. assignes. . smiths tribe shares. shares. sir dudley digs assignes. sir edwin sands. m. richard edwards. sir thomas smith. m. william pane. m. richard more. m. robert smith. m. ad. brumfield. m. george barkley m. rob. johnson assignes. alderman. sir samuel sands. m. john wroth. m. anthony pennistone. m. george smith. . devonshire tribe. shares. shares. m. anth. penistone. m. edw. ditchfield. m. john dike. m. will. nicols. m. john dike. m. edw. ditchfield. m. john bernards heires. m. john fletcher. robert earle of warwick. m. gedion delawne. m. francis west. m. anth. pennistone. will. lord cavendish. m. best. will. earle of devonshire. m. edw. luckin. m. edw. luckin. m. richard rogers. m. edw. ditchfield. m. will. palmer. . pembrookes tribe shares. shares. m. george smith. m. nicholas farrar. gleab land. m. nicholas farrar. m. nicholas hide. m. will. canning. sir lawrence hide. m. richard martin. m. thomas indwyn. m. moris abbot. will. earle of pemb. m. rich. caswell. m. richard edwards. m. rich. caswell. m. harding. m. will. caswell. m. rich. edwards. m. rich. edwards. m. elias roberts. m. rich. caswell. m. rich. edwards. m. rich edwards. jacobsons assignes. m. george sands assignes. john farrar. m. will paine. . pagits tribe. shares. shares. m. john chamberlaine. m. christop. barren. m. tho. ayres, and } m. john wodall. m. rich. wiseman. } m. john wodall. m. rich. wiseman m. lewis. will. lord pagit. m. owen arthors assignes. m. will. palmer. m. george etheridge. m. bagnell. m. john bale. sir will. wade. m. wheatley. m. john bernards heires. . warwicks tribe. shares. shares. m. wheatley. doctor. anth. hunton. cap. daniel tuckar. m. francis moverill. m. will. felgate. m. rich. poulson. rob. earle of warwicke. m. math. shephard. m. george smith. m. george tuckar. m. sam. tickner. m. ch. clitheroe. m. francis mevell. m. george swinow. m. stephen sparrow. m. rich. tomlings. m. joseph man. m. francis meverill. cap. daniel tuckar. m. john waters. m. elias more. m. martin bond. . southamptons tribe. shares. shares. cap. dan. tuckar. m. george scot. } m. john britton. m. edward scot. } m. rich. chamberland. m. antho. abdy. } m. leon. harwods assignes. hen. earle of southampton. m. john banks. m. and. broumfield. sir nathanael rich. m. henry timbed. rob. earle of warwicke. sir tho. hewet. m. richard more. m. perce. [v. .] sir ralph winwood. . sandys tribe. shares. shares. m. george barcklies heires. m. robert gore. sir edwin sands. sir edw. sackvile. m. jerom hidon. sir john danvers. m. tho. millin and } m. robert gore. m. john cuffe. } m. john delbridge. m. robert chamberlaine. m. john wroth. m. abr. chamberlaine. m. john wests heires. m. george smith. m. richard chamberlaine. touching the common ground in each tribe, as also the over-plus, you may finde that at large in the booke of surveyes amongst their records. now though the countrey was small, yet they could not conveniently have beene disposed and well setled, without a true description and a survey of it; and againe, every man being setled where he might constantly abide, they knew their businesse, and fitted their houshold accordingly: then they built no more cabbens, but substantiall houses, they cleered their grounds, and planted not onely such things as would yeeld them their fruits in a few moneths, but also such as would affoord them profit within a few yeares, so that in a short time the countrey began to aspire, and neerely approach unto that happinesse and prosperitie, wherein now it flourisheth, &c. _the first magazine._ . but to follow the history; upon the best plot of ground could be found, the governor prevailed so much with the generalitie, they built a faire house of cedar, which being done, he appropriated it to himselfe, which occasioned exceeding much distaste. about this time arrived the diana with a good supply of men and provision, and the first magazin ever seene in those iles; which course is not so much commended here, as cursed and abhorred by reason of enhansements of all the inhabitants there; six or seven weeks this ship staied, then having towards her fraught thirtie thousand weight of tobacco; which proving good, and comming to a lucky market, gave great encouragement to the adventurers to goe lustily forward in their plantation, and without such successe, there is nothing but grudging and repining. but about the appropriation of this new built house, many bad discontents grew betwixt the oppressed colony and the governor, especially betwixt him and the minister, and lewes, who would neither be feared with threats nor imprisonment, that their malice continued till they met in england, of which the minister made the cause so plaine, hee very well and honestly it seemes, discharged himselfe. _two exploits of desperate fugitives._ now in those times of these endlesse uncivill broiles, two desperate men and a proper gentlewoman got into a boat, and thinking to make an escape to virginia, as appeared by some letters they left behinde them were never more heard on. the very next moneth after the like was attempted by six others, so desirous they were to be rid of their servitude; but their plot being discovered by one of their societie, they were apprehended, arraigned, and condemned to be hanged: the next day being led with halters about their neckes to the place of execution, one was hanged, and the rest reprived. _the arrival of the blessing._ the diana arriving well in england, for all the infinite numbers of complaints, the tobacco did helpe to sweeten all manner of grievances, yet it bred a distaste in the opinions of so many, they began to thinke of another governor; but for that time it was so qualified by divers of his friends, they dispatched away the blessing, which arrived in the somer iles. though their generall letter was faire and courteous to the governor, yet by the report of the passengers and divers particular letters from his friends, it was assured him his cruelty and covetousnesse, for all his paines and industry was much disliked, nor was he like to enjoy his house, and that land he had [v. .] planted for himselfe, by the extreme oppression of the comminalty. this caused so many jelousies to arise in his conceit, that at last he fully resolved to returne by this ship, that no sooner set saile from england, then they proceeded to the nomination of a new governor. many were presented according to the affections of those that were to give in their voices, but it chiefely rested betwixt one captaine southwell, and one mr. nathaniel butler, where wee will leave them a while to the consideration of the court and company. now captaine tuckar having instituted captaine kendall one of the six governors before spoken of for his substitute, returned with this ship directly for england, as well to excuse himselfe of those objections he suspected, as to get assured him the house and land he had alotted for himselfe, lest it might otherwise be disposed of in his absence. collected out of their records by n. b. and the relations of m. pollard, and divers others. the government of captaine miles kendall, deputy for captaine tuckar. _the arrival of two ships._ the unexpected returne of captaine tuckar, caused a demurre in the election of the new governor; some perswading these oft changes were so troublesome, dangerous, and chargeable, it were best to continue captaine kendall; others againe stood for captaine tuckar, but during the time of these opinions, the gilliflower was dispatched with a supply. now i should have remembred, tuckar was no sooner out of the harbour, but he met master elfred in a ship called the treasurer, sent from virginia to trade: by her he writ to his deputy master kendall, to have a care of all things, and beware of too much acquaintance with this ship, which hee suspected was bound for the west-indies. notwithstanding, elfred received what kindnesse the ile could afford; he promised to revisit them at his returne; this done, because they would not be governlesse when his deputiship was expired, there was a generall assembly, and by that election kendall was confirmed to succeed still governor. now they began to apply themselves to the finishing some plat-forme about smiths fort, and laying the foundation of a church to be built of cedar, till the gillyflower arrived with some private letters to kendall, how he was elected governor of those iles for three yeeres. during her stay they held their assises, where for some few suspected facts three were condemned, and the better to terrifie the rest, led to the place of execution, but reprieved; divers of the rest had their faults pardoned, and the gilliflower set saile for new found land. _captain butler chosen governour._ the love and kindnesse, honesty and industry of this captaine kendall, hath beene very much commended; by others, somewhat disliked but an angell in those imploiments cannot please all men, yet this consideration bred much ill bloud as well here as there, so that the company directly concluded, captaine butler should with what expedition they could, goe to be their governor: in the interim they tooke the opportunitie of a ship, called the sea-flower, bound for virginia, and by her sent a preacher and his family, with divers passengers, and newes of a new governor. this bred a great distaste amongst many, that still they should have new officers and strangers for their governors they never heard of, and themselves still kept there whether they would or no, without any preferment, no nor scarce any of them their inhabiting, to have any land at all of their owne, but live all as tenants, or as other mens poore servants. about this time came in captaine kerby with a small barke from the west-indies, who having refreshed himselfe, was very kindly used by the governor and so [v. .] departed. not long after a dutch frigot was cast away upon the westerne shore, yet by the helpe of the english they saved the men, though the ship perished amongst the rocks. a little after one ensigne wood being about the loading of a peece, by thrusting a pike into the concavitie, grating upon the shot, or somewhat about the powder, strucke fire within her and so discharged, but wounded him cruelly and blew him into the sea, though hee was got out by some that stood by him, yet hee died of those wounds. within two or three daies after, captaine elfred now comes in a second time: but of that we shall say more in the government of captaine butler, who presently after arrived with a good supply, and was kindly entertained by captaine kendall and all the colony. from a relation of tho. sparks, and divers others. a.d. the government of captaine nathaniel butler. _a plat-forme burnt, and much hurt by a hericano._ captaine butler being arrived the twentieth of october, . some mutterings there was how to maintaine their election of captaine kendall, but better remembring themselves, that conceit quickly dissolved. the next day, kendall, the ministers, and the counsell went aboord to salute the new governor, where after they had dined with the best entertainment he could give them; they saw the redout belonging to the kings castle by a mischance on fire, whither he repaired with all the meanes he could to quench it; but all the platforme and cariages were consumed before their faces, and they could not helpe it. two daies after he went up to the towne, had his commission publikely read, made a short speech to the company, and so tooke upon him the government. then presently he began to repaire the most necessary defects: the next moneth came in the garland, sent from england six or seven weekes before him; so that being seventeene weeks in her voyage, it was so tedious and grievous to divers of the fresh-water passengers, that such a sicknesse bred amongst them, many died as well sailers as passengers. having taken the best order he could for their releefe, passed through all the tribes, and held his first assise in captaine tuckars house at the over-plus. towards the last of this moneth of novemb. there arose a most terrible storme or hericano, that blew up many great trees by the roots: the warwick that brought the governor was cast away, but the garland rid by her, saved her selfe by cutting downe her masts; and not long after a second storme, no lesse violent then the first, wherein the mount which was a frame of wood built by master more for a watch-tower to looke out to sea, was blowne up by the roots, and all that winter crop of corne blasted: and thus was the new governor welcomed. _the refortifying the kings castle._ _amber-greece found._ {mn} with the beginning of the new yeere he began his first peece of fortification, upon a rocke which flankers the kings castle, and finding the ship called the treasurer starke rotten and unserviceable, hee tooke nine peeces of ordinance from her to serve other uses. the garland for want of meanes, could not make her voiage to virginia as she was appointed; wherefore he entertained her to returne to england, with all the tabacco they had in the ile. it was january before she departed, in which time shee failed not much to have beene twice cast away. but those strange and unavoidable mischances, rather seemed to quicken the governors industry then to dull it. having finished the church begun by captaine kendall, with an infinite toile and labour he got three peeces out of the wracke warwicke. having an excellent dutch carpinter he entertained of them that were cast away in the dutch frigot; he imploied him in building of boats, whereof they were in exceeding great want. in february they discovered a tall ship beating too and againe, as it seemed by her working being ignorant of the coast; some thought her a spaniard to view their forts, which stand most to that part she so neerely [v. .] approached; some, english; but the most, some dutch man of warre: the wind blew so high, they durst not send out a boat, though they much doubted she would be foule of their rocks, but at last she bore up rommy for the sea, and we heard of her no more. {mn} that evening, a lucky fellow it should seeme he was, that found a peece of amber-greece of eight ounces, as he had twice before, which bringing to the governor, he had ready money for the one halfe, after three pound an ounce, according to their order of court, to encourage others to looke out for more, and prevent the mischiefe insueth by concealing of it. _the arrivall of two dutch frigots._ within a few daies after, they descried two frigots that came close to the shore, and sent a letter to the governor, writ in italian, that they were hollanders had beene in the west-indies, and desired but to arrive, refresh themselves with wood and water, and so be gone. the governor forthwith sent them to understand, that being there under his majestie of england to command those iles, he was to carrie himselfe a friend to his friends, and an enemy to his enemies; if therefore he could shew a lawfull commission for his being honestly and nobly emploied, he and his should be kindly welcome, otherwise they were to adventure at their perills. but his commission was so good, he staied there two moneths, and was so well fitted with oile & bacon, they were all glad and happy of this dutch captaine scoutans arrivall, with many thanks to their old friend captaine powell that had conducted him thither: the colony being exceedingly in great want and distresse, bought the most part of it at reasonable rates, so captaine scoutan returned to the west-indies, and captaine powell for his part in the low-countries. whilest these things were in action, the adventurers in england made many a long looke for their ships; at last the garland brought them all the newes, but the tobacco was so spoiled either in the leaking ship, or the making up, it caused a great suspicion there could none was good come from those iles; where (were they but perfit in the cure) questionlesse it would be much better then a great quantitie of that they sell for verinas, and many a thousand of it in london hath beene bought and sold by that title. _the differences betwixt the ministers._ the governor being cleere of those distractions, falls upon the restoring of the burnt redoubt, where he cuts out a new plat-forme, and mounts seven great peece of ordnance upon new cariages of cedar. now amongst all those troubles, it was not the least to bring the two ministers to subscribe to the booke of common praier, which all the bishops in england could not doe. finding it high time to attempt some conformitie, bethought himselfe of the liturgie of garnsey and jarse, wherein all those particulars they so much stumbled at, were omitted. no sooner was this propounded, but it was gladly imbraced by them both, whereupon the governor translated it verbatim out of french into english, and caused the eldest minister upon easter day to begin the use thereof at s. georges towne, where himselfe, most of the councell, officers and auditorie received the sacrament: the which forme they continued during the time of his government. _the rebuilding the mount._ much about this time, in such a faire morning, that had invited many boats farre out to the sea to fish, did rise such a hericano that much indangered them all, so that one of them with two boies were driven to sea and never more heard of. the ministers thus agreed, a proclamation was published for keeping of the sabbath, and all the defective cariages he endevoured to have renewed, builded a small boat of cedar onely to goe with ores, to be ready upon any occasion to discover any shipping, and tooke order every fort should have the like: also caused numbers of cedars to be brought from divers places in flotes, to rebuild the mount, which with an unspeakable toile, was raised seven foot higher then before, and a falcon mounted at the foot, to be alwaies discharged for a warning to all the forts upon the discovery of any shipping, and this he called rich mount. this exceeding toile and labour, having no cattle but onely mens strengths, caused many petitions [v. .] to the governour, that all those generall works might cease till they had reaped their harvests, in that they were in great distresse for victuall; which hee so well answered, their owne shames did cause them desist from that importunity, and voluntarily performe as much as hee required. _the tomb, of sir george summers._ finding accidentally a little crosse erected in a by place, amongst a many of bushes, understanding there was buried the heart and intrailes of sir george summers, hee resolved to have a better memory for so worthy a souldier, then that. so finding also a great marble stone brought out of england, hee caused it by masons to bee wrought handsomely and laid over the place, which hee invironed with a square wall of hewen stone, tombe like; wherein hee caused to bee graven this epitaph he had composed, and fixed it upon the marble stone; and thus it was, in the yeere , noble sir george summers went hence to heaven; whose well tri'd worth that held him still imploid, gave him the knowledge of the world so wide. hence 't was by heavens decree, that to this place he brought new guests, and name to mutuall grace. at last his soule and body being to part, he here bequeath'd his entrails and his heart. _their manner of losses reformed._ upon the sixt of june began the second assise, that reduced them to the direct forme used in england. for besides the governour and councell, they have the bailiffes of the tribes, in nature of the deputy lieutenants of the shires in england, for to them are all precepts and warrants directed, and accordingly answered and respected; they performe also the duties of justices of peace, within their limits. the subordinate officers to these in every tribe, are the constables, head-borowes, and church-wardens; these are the triers of the tobacco, which if they allow not to be marchantable, is burnt: and these are the executioners of their civill and politicke causes. _martiall officers._ for points of warre and martiall affaires, they have the governour for lieutenant generall, the sergeant major, master of ordinance, captaines of companies, captaines of forts, with their severall officers, to traine and exercise those numbers under their charge, in martiall discipline. _civill offices and courts._ concerning their courts for decision of right and justice, the first, though last in constitution, is their generall assembly; allowed by the state in england, in the nature of a parliament, consisting of about forty persons; viz. the governour, the counsell, the bailiffes of the tribes, and two burgesses of each tribe chosen by voyces in the tribe, besides such of the clergie as the governour thinkes most fit, to be held once a yeere, as you shal heare more thereof hereafter. the next court is the assise or jayles of deliverie, held twice every yeere, in christmas, and whitson weeke, for all criminall offenders, and civill causes betwixt party and party; as actions of debt, trespasse, battery, slander, and the like: and these are determined by a jury of twelve men, and above them is also a grand jury to examine matters of greater consequence. the last day of the assise might also well be held a court, for hearing the transgressions in matters of contempt, mis-behaviour towards any magistrate, riots, seditious speakers, contemners of warrants, and such like: there are also as occasion shall require, many matters heard by the governor, or his officers, and oft justice done in severall places, but those are but as daies of hearing, and as preparatives against their courts, &c. _the second assise._ at this last assize eighteene were arrained for criminall causes, a number very extraordinary considering the place; but now occasioned by reason of the hard yeere, and the store of ill chosen new commers; of these, some were censured to the whipping post, some burned in the hand, but two were condemned to die, yet the one was reprieved, the other hanged; this done, every man returned to his home: many trials they made againe about the warwicke, but to small purpose, her ordnance being [v. .] lashed so fast they could not be unloosed, till the ropes and decks were rotten, yet some few buttes of beare being flotie they got, which though it had lien six moneths under water was very good, notwithstanding the next yeere they recovered five peeces of ordnance. _a generall assemblie in manner a parliament._ upon the first of august, according to the companies instructions from england, began the generall assembly at the towne of saint george, which was the first these iles ever had; consisting is is said, of the governour, councell, bailiffes, and burgesses, and a secretarie to whom all bils were presented, and by him openly read in the house, also a clerke to record the acts, being thirty two in all; fifteene of which being sent into england, were by a generall consent received and enacted, the titles whereof are these following: as for all the reasons for them, they would be too tedious to recite. _their acts._ the first was against the unjust sale and letting of apprentises and other servants, and this was especially for the righting the undertakers in england. the second, concerning the disposing of aged, diseased, and impotent persons, for it being considered how carelesse many are in preferring their friends, or sending sometimes any they can procure to goe, such unserviceable people should be returned back at their charge that sent them, rather then be burdensome to the poore inhabitants in the iles. the third, the necessary manning the kings castle, being the key of the ile, that a garison of twelve able men should bee there alwaies resident: and . eares of corne, and . pounds of tobacco payed them by the generality yeerely, as a pension. the fourth, against the making unmarchantable tobacco, and officers sworne to make true trials, & burne that was naught. the fift, injoyned the erection of certaine publike bridges, and the maintenance of them. the sixt, for a continuall supply of victuall for all the forts, to bee preserved, till some great occasion to use it. the seventh was, for two fixed dayes every yeere for the assises. the eight, commands the making of high-waies, and prohibiting the passage over mens grounds and planted fields, as well to prevent the spoyling gardens, conveniencie to answer any alarum. the ninth, for the preserving young tortoises and birds, that were carelesly destroyed. the tenth, provided against vagabonds, & prohibited the entertainement of other mens servants. the eleventh, compelled the setting of a due quantity of corne for every family. the twelfth, the care corne being set, enjoyned the keeping up of their poultry till it was past their reaches. the thirteenth, for the preservation of sufficient fences, & against the felling of marked trees appointed for bounds. the fourteenth, granted to a levy for a thousand pound weight of tobacco, towards the payment of publike workes, as the the bridges and the mount. the fifteenth, for the enjoyning as acknowledgement and acception of all resident governours, and the warranting him to continue, though his time be expired, till the arrivall of a legitimate successor from england, to prevent all unmeet and presumptuous elections, besides it was desired by petition in england, the new governour should live two months as a private man after his arrivall, if his predecessor did stay so long, the better to learne and observe his course. and these are the contents of those fifteene acts, appplied as you may perceive: which the lawes of england could not take notice of, because every climate hath somewhat to it selfe in that kinde in particular; for otherwise as it is conceived, it had beene a high impudency and presumption to have medled with them, or indeed with any such as these lawes, that had with such great judgement and justice alwaies provided for. _the arrivall of the magazin ship._ . _weight of tobacco._ {mn} no sooner was this businesse over, but the magazin ship is discovered, and that night came into the harbour, but in a very weake and sickly case, having cast over board twenty or thirty of her people, and so violent was the infection, that the most part of the sailers, as well as passengers, were so sicke, or dismaid, or both, that the master confessed, had they stayed it the sea but a weeke longer, they had all perished. there arrived with this ship divers gentlemen of good fashion, with their wives and families; but many of them crasie by the tediousnesse of the voyage: howsoever most of them, by the [v. .] excellent salubrity of the aire, then which the world hath not a better, soone after recovered; yet some there were that died presently after they got ashore, it being certainly the quality of the place, either to kill, or cure quickly, as the bodies are more or lesse corrupted. by this ship the company sent a supply of ten persons for the generality, but of such bad condition that it seemed they had picked the males out of newgate, the females from bridewell: as the governour found it his best course, to grant out the women to such as were so greedy of wives, and would needs have them for better for worse; and the men hee placed in the kings castle for souldiers. but this bad, weake, sickly supply being dispersed for their best reliefe, by the much imployment of his boats in remooving them, many of his owne men became infected, so that for some weekes, they were not able to doe him any service at all. strict instructions also they brought for the planting of sugar canes, for which the iland being rockie and dry, is so unproper, that few as yet have beene seene to prosper: yet there are others hold the contrary opinion, that there is raine so ordinarily, the iles are so moist as produceth all their plants in such infinit abundance: there is no great reason to suspect this, were it rightly used, more then the rest. {mn} seventy thousand weight of tobacco being prepared towards her fraught she returned for england. no sooner was shee gone then came in another, sent by the company and generalty, well conditioned, but shee failed not much to have beene cast away amongst those dangerous & terrible rocks; by her came also expresse command, they should entertaine no other ships, then were directly sent from the company: this caused much grudging, and indeed a generall distraction and exclamation among the inhabitants, to be thus constrained to buy what they wanted, and sell what they had at what price the magazin pleased, and to debarre true men from comming to them for trade or reliefe, that were daily received in all the harbours in england. so long this ship stayed going for fraught and wages, the master not caring how long he lay at that rate in a good harbour, the governour was ready to send her away by proclamation. thus ended the first yeere of the government of c. butler. a.d. . _the building of three bridges and other works._ with the first of the second yeere were held the assises, where all the bailiffes were fined for not giving a beginning to the building of the bridges; there was also an order to restraine the excessive wages all handicrafts men would have: and that the church-wardens should meet twice a yeere, to have all their presentments made perfect against the assises. the assises done, all the ablest men were trained in their armes, and then departed to their owne homes. the towne thus cleered, he made certaine new carriages for some demy culverings, and a large new store-house of cedar for the yeerely magazines goods; finished warwicks fort begun by master more, and made a new platforme at pagits fort, also a faire house of lime and stone for the townes-house. the three bridges appointed by the generall assembly, was followed with such diligence, though they were more then an hundred, or an hundred and twenty foot in length, having the foundation and arches in the sea, were raised and accomplished, so that man or beast with facility might passe them. _the generall assises, and the proceedings._ at whitsonday was held the fourth generall assise at saint georges, where were tryed twenty severall causes; foure or five were whipped or burnt in the hand, for breaking of houses: also an order was made, that the party cast in the triall of any cause, should pay to every of the jurours foure pence: moreover, that not past ten leaves at the most should grow upon a plant of tobacco, and that also in the making it up, a distinction should diligently be observed of two kinds, a better and a worse: then they built a strong stone house for the captaine of the kings castle and corps du guard; and repaired what defects they could finde in the platformes and carriages. captaine powell so oft mentioned, having beene in the west-indies for the states of holland, came to an anchor within shot of their ordnance, desiring admittance for wood and water, of which hee had great need, but the governor would not permit him, so he weighed and [v. .] departed, whereat the company were so madded, it was not possible to constraine them to cease their exclaimations against the companies inhibition, till they were weary with exclaming: but still for their better defence, not thinking themselves sufficiently secure, having finished two new plat-formes more, arrived the magazin ship, but her master was dead, and many of the passengers, the rest for most part very sicke; and withall, a strange and wonderfull report of much complaint made against the governor to the company in england, by some of them returned in the last yeeres shipping: but it was eight daies before she could get in by reason of ill weather, being forced againe to sea; so that time, they kept every night continually great fires, she might see the ile as well by night as day; but at last she arrived, and he plainly understood, he had more cause a great deale to looke for misconstruction of all his service then an acknowledgment, much lesse a recompence any better then his predecessors; but it is no new thing to requite the best desert with the most vildest of ingratitude. _a strange deliverence of a spanish wracke._ the very next daies night after the arrivall of the magazins ship, newes was brought the governor by a dismaied messenger from sands his tribe, that one hundred spaniards were landed in that part, and divers ships discovered at sea, whereupon he presently manned the forts, and instantly made thitherward in person with twentie men, determining as he found cause to draw together more strength by the way. being got thither by the breake of the next day, in stead of an enemy which he expected, he met onely with a company of poore distressed portugals and spaniards, who in their passage from carthagena in the west-indies, in consort with the spanish fleet of plait; by the same storme that had indangered the magazin ship, lost theirs upon those terrible rocks, being to the number of seventy persons, were strangely preserved; and the manner was thus. about sunne-set their ship beating amongst the rocks, some twenty of the sailers got into the boat with what treasure they could, leaving the captaine, the master, and all the rest to the mercy of the sea. but a boy not past foureteene yeares of age that leaped after to have got into the boat, missing that hope, it pleased god he got upon a chest a drift by him, whereon they report he continued two daies, and was driven neere to the cleane contrary part of the ile, where he was taken up neere dead, yet well recovered. all this night the ship sticking fast, the poore distressed in her the next day spying land, made a raft, and were those gave the alarum first a shore about three of the clocke in the afternoone. the morning after, about seven of the clocke came in the boat to a place called mangrove bay; and the same day their carpenter was driven a shore upon a planke neere hog-bay. there was a gentlewoman that had stood wet up to the middle upon the raft from the ship to the shore, being big with childe; and although this was upon the thirteenth of september, she tooke no hurt, and was safely delivered of a boy within three daies after. the best comfort could be given them in those extremities they had, although some of the baser sort had beene rifling some of them before the governors arrivall; also the spanish captaine and the chiefe with him, much complained of the treachery of his men to leave him in that manner, yet had conveyed with them the most of the money they could come by, which he easily missed; whereupon hee suddenly caused all them he accused, to be searched, and recovered to the value of one hundred and fortie pounds starling, which he delivered into the captaines hands, to be imploied in a generall purse towards their generall charge: during their stay in the iles, some of the better sort, nine or ten weeks dieted at his owne table, the rest were billited amongst the inhabitants at foure shillings the weeke, till they found shipping for their passage, for which they paied no more then the english paied themselves; and for the passage of divers of them, the governor was glad to stand bound to the master; some others that were not able to procure such friendship, were so constrained to stay in the iles, till by their labours they [v. .] had got so much as would transport them; and thus they were preserved, releeved, and delivered. _how they solemnized the powder treason, and the arrival of two ships._ in the moneth insuing arrived the second ship, and she also had lost her master, and divers of her passengers; in her came two virginian women to be married to some would have them, that after they were converted and had children, they might be sent to their countrey and kindred to civilize them. towards the end of this moneth came in the third ship with a small magazin, having sold what she could, caried the rest to virginia, and never did any of those passengers complaine either of their good diet, or too good usage at sea; but the cleane contrary still occasioned many of those extremities. the fift of november the damnable plot of the powder treason was solemnized, with praiers, sermons, and a great feast, whereto the governor invited the chiefe of the spaniards, where drinking the kings health, it was honored with a quicke volly of small shot, which was answered from the forts with the great ordnance, and then againe concluded with a second volley of small shot; neither was the afternoone without musicke and dancing, and at night many huge bone-fires of sweet wood. a.d. . _the spaniards returne, and in danger againe._ _the english murderers found in the spanish wracke._ {mn} the spaniards to expresse their thankfulnesse at their departure, made a deed of gift to the governor of whatsoever he could recover of the wracked ship; but the ships as they went out came so dangerously upon a rock, that the poore spaniards were so dismaied, swearing this place was ominous unto them, especially the women, that desired rather to goe a shore and die howsoever, than adventure any further in such a labyrinth of dangers, but at last she got cleere without danger, and well to england; the other went to virginia, wherein the governor sent two great chests filled with all such kinds and sorts of fruits and plants as their ilands had; as figs, pomgranats, oranges, lemons, sugar-canes, plantanes, potatoes, papawes, cassado roots, red pepper, the prickell peare, and the like. the ships thus dispatched, hee goeth into the maine, and so out to sea to the spanish wracke. he had beene there before presently after her ruine, for never had ship a more sudden death, being now split in peeces all under water. he found small hope to recover any thing, save a cable and an anchor, and two good sacars; {mn} but the wind was so high hee was forced to returne, being ten miles from the shore, onely with three murderers, which were knowne to be the same captaine kendall had sold to captaine kerby, whose ship was taken by two men of warre of carthagena, the most of his men slaine or hanged, and he being wounded, died in the woods. now their pilot being at this service, got thus those three murderers to their ship, and their ship thus to the bermudas, as the spaniards remaining related to the governor and others. _their aisses, and other passages._ having raised three small bulwarkes at southhamptons fort, with two curtaines, and two ravilings, which indeed is onely the true absolute peece of fortification in the iles; christmas being come, and the prefixed day of the assise; divers were whipped and burnt in the hand, onely three young boyes for stealing were condemned, and at the very point of hanging reprived. the governour then sent his lieutenant all over the maine to distribute armes, to those were found most fit to use them, & to give order for their randezvous, which were hanged up in the church. about this time it chanced a pretty secret to be discovered to preserve their corne from the fly, or weavell, which did in a manner as much hurt as the rats. for the yeere before having made a proclamation that all corne should be gathered by a certaine day, because many lazy persons ranne so after the ships to get beere and aquavitae, for which they will give any thing they have, much had beene lost for want of gathering. this yeare having a very faire crop, some of the inhabitants, none of the best husbands, hastily gathered it for feare of the penaltie, threw it in great heaps into their houses unhusked, and so let it lie foure or five moneths, which was thought would have spoiled it: where the good husbands husked it, and with much labour hung it up, where the flies did so blow on it, they increased [v. .] to so many weavels, they generally complained of great losse; but those good fellowes that never cared but from hand to mouth, made their boasts, that not a graine of theirs had beene touched nor hurt, there being no better way to preserve it then by letting it lie in its huske, and spare an infinite labour formerly had beene used. there were also very luckily about this time found out divers places of fresh water, of which many of the forts were very destitute, and the church-wardens and side-men were very busie in correcting the prophaners of the sabbath, drunkards, gamesters, and such like. there came also from virginia a small barke with many thanks for the presents sent them; much aquavitae, oile, sacke and bricks they brought in exchange of more fruits and plants, ducks, turkies and limestone, of which she had plenty, and so returned. during the aboad of the stay of this ship, the mariage of one of the virginia maides was consummated with a husband fit for her, attended with more then one hundred guests, and all the dainties for their dinner could be provided; they made also another triall to fish for whales, but it tooke no more effect then the former: this was done by the master of the virginia ship that professed much skill that way, but having fraughted his ship with lime-stone, with . weight of potatoes, and such things as he desired, returned for virginia. _a strange sodomy._ _more trialls about the wracks._ {mn} aprill and may were spent in building a strong new prison, and perfecting some of the fortifications, and by the labour of twenty men in fourteene daies was got from the spanish wracke foure excellent good sacres, and mounted them at the forts. then began the generall assize, where not fewer then fifty civill, or rather uncivill actions were handled, and twenty criminall prisoners brought to the bar; such a multitude of such vild people were sent to this plantation, that he thought himselfe happy his time was so neere expired: three of the foulest acts were these: the first for the rape of a married woman, which was acquitted by a senselesse jury; the second for buggering a sow, and the third for sodomy with a boy, for which they were hanged; during the time of the imprisonment of this buggerer of the sow, a dung-hill cocke belonging to the same man did continually haunt a pigge of his also, and to the wonder of all them that saw it who were many, did so frequently tread the pigge as if it had beene one of his hens, that the pigge languished and died within a while after, and then the cocke resorted to the very same sow (that this fellow was accused for) in the very same manner; and as an addition to all this, about the same time two chickens were hatched, the one whereof had two heads, the other crowed very loud and lustily within twelve houres after it was out of the shell. a desperate fellow being to bee arraigned for stealing a turky, rather then he would endure his triall, secretly conveighed himselfe to sea in a little boat, and never since was ever heard of, nor is he ever like to be, without an exceeding wonder, little lesse then a miracle. {mn} in june they made another triall about the spanish wracke, and recovered another sacre and a murderer, also he caused to be hewed out of the maine rocke a paire of large staires for the convenient landing of goods and passengers, a worke much to the beauty and benefit of the towne. with twenty chosen men, and two excellent divers, the governour went himselfe to the wracke warwick, but they could recover but one murderer, from thence he went to the sea-adventure, the wracke of sir george summers, the hull though two or three fathomes in the water, they found unperished and with much a doe weighed a sacre, her sheat anchor, divers barres of iron and pigs of lead, which stood the plantation in very great stead. towards the end of july he went to seeke for a wracke they reported lay under water with her hatches spiked up, but they could not finde her, but from the spanish wracke lay there by they weighed three faire sacres more, and so returned through the tribes to saint georges: some were also imployed to seeke out beds of oisters for pearle, some they found, some seed pearle they got, but out of one little shell above all the rest they got about . small pearle, but somewhat defective in their colour. _the planters complaints._ {mn} [v. .] the time of captain butlers government drawing neere an end, the colony presented unto him divers grievances, to intreat him to remember to the lords and company in england at his returne: also they appointed two to be joyned with him, with letters of credence to solicit in their behalfe those grievances following: {mn} first, they the planters were defrauded of the food of their soules: for being not fewer then one thousand and five hundred people, dispersed in length twenty miles, they had at that present but one minister, nor never had but two, and they so shortned of their promises, that but onely for meere pity they would have forsaken them. secondly, neglected in the safety of their lives by wants of all sorts of munition. thirdly, they had beene censured contrary to his majesties lawes, and not allowed them the benefit of their booke as they are in england, but by captaine butler. fourthly, they were frustrated of many of their covenants, and most extremely pinched and undone by the extortion of the magazine, for although their tobacco was stinted but at two shillings sixpence the pound, yet they pitched their commodities at what rate they pleased. fifthly, their fatherlesse children are left in little better condition then slaves, for if their parents die in debt, their children are made as bondmen till the debt be discharged: these things being perfected, there grew a great question of one heriot for plotting of factions and abusing the governour, for which he was condemned to lose his eares, yet he was used so favourably he lost but the part of one in all. _the returne of captaine butler._ by this time it being growne past the wonted season of the comming in of ships from england, after a generall longing and expectation, especially of the governour, whose commission being neere upon expiration, gave him cause to wish for a meane of deliverance from so troublesome and thanklesse an imploiment as he had hitherto found it; a saile is discovered, and long it was not before shee arrived in the kings castle-harbour: this barke was set out by two or three private men of the company, and having landed her supplies, was to goe for virginia; by her the governour received certaine advertisements of the carriage and behaviour of the spaniards, which he had relieved as you have heard the yeere before; that quite contrary both to his merit, their vow, and his owne expectation, they made clamours against him, the which being seconded by the spanish ambassadour, caused the state to fall in examination about it; whereupon having fully cleared their ingratefulnesse and impudency, and being assured of the choice of a successor that was to be expected within five or six weekes; hee was desirous to take the opportunity of this barke, and to visit the colony in virginia in his returne for england: leaving the government to captaine felgat, captaine stokes, master lewis hewes, master nedom and master ginner, but now his time being fully expired, and the fortifications finished, viz. the kings castle wherein were mounted upon sufficient platformes sixteene peece of ordnances: in charles fort two; in southampton fort five, betwixt which and the castle passeth the chanell into the harbour, secured by three and twenty peeces of good artillery to play upon it. in cowpers ile is pembrocks fort, where is two peeces. the chanell of saint george is guarded by smiths fort, and pagits fort, in which is eleven peece of ordnance. saint george towne is halfe a league within the harbour, commanded by warwicks fort, where are three great peeces, and on the wharfe before the governours house eight more, besides the warning peece by the mount, and three in saint katharines; so that in all there are ten fortresses and two and fifty peeces of ordnance sufficient and serviceable: their formes and situations you may see more plainlier described in the map; and to defend those, he left one thousand five hundred persons with neere a hundred boats, and the ile well replenished with store of such fruits, provisions and poultry, as is formerly related; yet for so departing and other occasions, much difference hath beene betwixt him and some of the company, as any of his predecessors, which i rather wish were reconciled, then to be a reporter of such unprofitable dissentions. [v. ] for till trechery and faction, and avarice be gone, till envy and ambition, and backbiting be none, till perjury and idlenesse, and injury be out, and truly till that villany the worst of all that rout; unlesse those vises banisht be, what ever forts you have, a hundred walls together put will not have power to save. a.d. . _the lord cavendish treasurer, master nicholas farrar deputy._ master john barnard sent to be governour. to supply this place was sent by the noble adventurers john bernard, a gentleman both of good meanes and quality, who arrived within eight daies after butlers departure with two ships, and about one hundred and forty passengers with armes and all sorts of munition and other provisions sufficient. during the time of his life which was but six weekes in reforming all things he found defective, he shewed himselfe so judiciall and industrious as gave great satisfaction, and did generally promise vice was in great danger to be suppressed, and vertue and the plantation much advanced; but so it hapned that both he and his wife died in such short time they were both buried in one day and one grave, and master john harrison chosen governour till further order came from england. a.d. . _sir edward sackvil treasurer, master gabriel barber deputy._ what hapned in the government of master john harrison. they are still much troubled with a great short worme that devours their plants in the night, but all the day they lie hid in the ground, and though early in the morning they kill so many, they would thinke there were no more, yet the next morning you shall finde as many. the caterpillars to their fruits are also as pernicious, and the land crabs in some places are as thicke in their borowes as conies in a warren, and doe much hurt; besides all this, there hapned this yeere a very heavy disaster, for a ship wherein there had beene much swearing and blaspheming used all the voyage, and landed what she had to leave in those iles, jovially froliking in their cups and tobacco, by accident fired the powder, that at the very instant blew up the great cabin, and some one way and some another, it is a wonder to thinke how they could bee so blowne out of the gun-roome into the sea, where some were taken up living, so pitifully burned, their lives were worse then so many deaths, some died, some lived, but eighteene were lost at this fatall blast, the ship also immediatly sunke with threescore barrels of meale sent for virginia, and all the other provision in her was thus lost. _note._ a.d. . _sir thomas smith treasurer, master edwards deputy._ {mn} now to consider how the spaniards, french, and dutch, have beene lost and preserved in those invincible iles, yet never regarded them but as monuments of miseries, though at this present they all desire them; how sir thomas gates, and sir george summers being ready to sinke in the sea were saved, what an incredible abundance of victuall they found, how it was first planted by the english, the strange increase of rats, and their sudden departure, the five men came from england in a boat, the escape of hilliard, and the rest of those accidents there hapned, a man would thinke it a tabernacle of miracles, and the worlds wonder, that from such a paradise of admiration who would thinke should spring such wonders of afflictions as are onely fit to be sacrificed upon the highest altars of sorrow, thus to be set upon the highest pinacles of content, and presently throwne downe to the lowest degree of extremity, as you see have beene the yeerely succeedings of those plantations; the which to overcome, as it is an incomparable honour, so it can be no dishonour if a man doe miscarry by unfortunate accidents in such honourable actions, the which renowne and vertue to attaine hath caused so many attempts by divers nations besides ours, even to passe through the very amazement of adventures. upon the relation of this newes the company hath sent one captaine woodhouse, a gentleman of good repute and great experience in the warres, and no lesse provident then industrious and valiant: then returned report, all goeth well there. it is too true, in the absence of the noble treasurer, sir edward sackvill, now earle of dorset, there have beene such complaints betwixt the planters and the company, {mn} that by command the lords appointed sir thomas smith againe treasurer, that since then according to their order of court he is also elected, where now we must leave them all to their good fortune and successe, till we heare further of their fortunate proceedings. finis. end of volume i.