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Authors: Giles Milton
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Adams was alarmed that the fleet was in such a sorry predicament. There was no question of turning back, for both the current and the wind would have been against them. But to head into the unknown with empty holds and bellies was to court disaster. They had to find food as a matter of priority and with scurvy “infecting and infesting every ship,” they hoisted their sails
“with intent to refresh their men and make better provision of water and other necessaries at the Isle of Anno-Bueno.”
“with intent to refresh their men and make better provision of water and other necessaries at the Isle of Anno-Bueno.”
It was a dangerous choice, but it was the best option in the circumstances. Off the coast of equatorial Guinea lay the rugged yet fertile isle of Annabon, an isolated chunk of tropical greenery whose rearing, smoking volcano made it an easy landmark. The safest—but longest—route to Annabon was to hug the African coastline until the fleet reached the headland of Cape Lopez. From here, it was just a few days’ sailing to the volcanic island. But the advantages of following the coastline, which would enable the men to fill their water casks, were countered by the savage tribesmen said to live on shore. When Shotten had sailed this route with Cavendish, their vessel had come under sustained attack from the native tribes. One of Shotten’s crewmates had been “shot into the thigh, who, plucking the arrow out, broke it, and left the head behind.” It was a fatal error, for “the poison wrought so that night that he was marveilously swollen, and all his belly and privie parts were as blacke as inke, and the next morning he died.”
In the event, a landfall on this coastline was not possible. Each time the Dutch fleet approached the shore they were met with a violent undertow and hazardous surf, and the fleet was forced to continue all the way to Cape Lopez before it was able to drop anchor and “set our sick men a-lande.” The men were now in the heart of equatorial Africa and the shoreline was a mass of tangled greenery. Giant laurels and myrtles, flowering acacias, and monstrous tropical ferns—all trailed their brilliant green tentacles in the soupy water. The stench of rotting vegetation permeated the vessels and the men complained of being “subject to many blaming and smothering heats, with infections and contagious aires.” Worse still, the wet season had arrived with a vengeance and the jungle was steaming in the heat. Few of the men had seen anything like it.
Yet there was a feeling of cautious optimism at their arrival at Cape Lopez, for the cape itself was known to be inhabited by friendly tribes. When the English adventurer William Towerson had visited these shores, he had been entranced by the native tribes—especially their voluptuous womenfolk, who were a feast for the eyes after long months at sea. “[They] have exceeding long breasts,” he wrote. So long, indeed, that “some of them wil lay the same upon the ground and lie downe by them.” His fellow sea dogs had been pleased to note that the women were “given to lust and uncleannesse” and enjoyed enticing mariners back to their thatched huts. If this was music to the ears of the English, it was even more welcome to the Dutch, who discovered that these tribal maidens “esteeme it to be good fortune for them to have carnall copulation with a Netherlander, and among themselves, brag and boast thereof.”
The men were even more handsomely endowed than their womenfolk, and took great delight in a public display of their wares. “[They] have a great privie member,” wrote the Dutch adventurer Pieter de Marees, “whereof they make great account.” They became “very lecherous” after their habitual drinking bouts, but there was a high price to be paid for their debauchery. Many of the men were riddled with worms, which lived “in their privie members and, which is more, in their cods [testicles].” Although these tribesmen were “wilde” and “barbarous,” they showed peculiar sensitivity when it came to breaking wind. “They are very carefull not to let [out] a fart if anybodie be by them,” recorded de Marees and “wonder at our Netherlanders that use it [farting] so commonly, for they cannot abide that a man should fart before them, esteeming it to be a great shame and contempt done unto them.”
The vice admiral, Simon de Cordes, knew that his most urgent task was to acquire food and water. Accordingly, he sent Captain Sebald de Weert of the
Geloof
ashore to make contact with the local chieftain. The captain was not impressed with what
he found. The chieftain was a diminutive fellow whose “throne” resembled a shoemaker’s chair “scarsly one foot high.” He had a furry lambskin tied to his feet and wore “a garment of violet-coloured cloth with gilded lace, attired like a rower.” He was “without shirt, shoes, or stockings, having a partly-coloured cloth on his head and many glasse beades about his necke.” His hat was decidedly eccentric—a conical-shaped jester’s horn—while his face was powdered with white makeup. His courtiers, not wishing to be outdone, had painted themselves bright red and wore equally outlandish hats “adorned with cockes feathers.”
Geloof
ashore to make contact with the local chieftain. The captain was not impressed with what
he found. The chieftain was a diminutive fellow whose “throne” resembled a shoemaker’s chair “scarsly one foot high.” He had a furry lambskin tied to his feet and wore “a garment of violet-coloured cloth with gilded lace, attired like a rower.” He was “without shirt, shoes, or stockings, having a partly-coloured cloth on his head and many glasse beades about his necke.” His hat was decidedly eccentric—a conical-shaped jester’s horn—while his face was powdered with white makeup. His courtiers, not wishing to be outdone, had painted themselves bright red and wore equally outlandish hats “adorned with cockes feathers.”
Sebald de Weert was even less impressed when he poked his nose into the chieftain’s mud-walled dwelling. “The palace,” he wrote contemptuously, “was not comparable to a stable.” Captain de Weert decided upon a little extravaganza to impress the chieftain. He ordered his trumpeters to blast their brass and, when silence had once again returned to the jungle clearing, he explained that he had come “to seeke refreshing for our men.” The chieftain nodded and mumbled something to his wives, who scurried back to their cooking pots. After a long interval, they finally returned, bearing earthenware dishes. Captain de Weert was hoping for fresh meat and fruit, and waited excitedly for the women to serve the meal. His expectations were quickly dashed. One of the pots contained a stew made from smoked hippopotamus, which he found not at all to his taste, while the other contained “a few roasted plantans.”
from De Ries van Mahu en de Cordes, Lindschoten Society, 1923
.
.
The African chieftain at Cape Lopez sat on a throne “scarsly one foot high” and wore an eccentric conical hat that resembled a jester’s horn, The Dutch blew their trumpets (right) in order to impress him.
More disappointment was in store. The chieftain now expected the Dutchmen to reciprocate his kindness and began to call for food from the ship. Captain de Weert was less than happy to oblige but asked his men to bring a few supplies in order to “satisfy his [the chieftain’s] barking.” These included a bottle of Spanish wine, which the chief glugged in one gigantic gulp: “In the Spanish wine, the Guinean forgot his temperance and was carried to his rest.” As the chieftain fell into a deep slumber, the crew were left listening to their rumbling bellies.
The captains of the fleet realized that Cape Lopez was not going to supply them with the necessary quantity of supplies and were increasingly alarmed by the unhealthy tropical climate: “Many that were well fell sick because the air of that country was very unwholsome.” Sixteen men expired and were buried in the African jungle, while de Weert himself fell sick of “a violent fever.” The captain decided to press on toward Annabon, but no sooner had they arrived at the island than they discovered that it was swarming with Portuguese musketeers. Worse still, the air was “worse than that of Guinea, [and so] the diseases amongst the seamen encreased every day.” A nighttime raid yielded paltry supplies—biscuits, a few cheeses, and some bottles of wine—but it was not enough to feed hundreds of starving men. Many of the crew members were suffering from severe dysentery, and fever was
taking its toll. One of those who died was Thomas Spring, “an English young man of great towardnesse.”
taking its toll. One of those who died was Thomas Spring, “an English young man of great towardnesse.”
On January 2, 1599, the fleet once again weighed anchor and set course for South America, praying that their ships would survive the passage. The tropical African waters had severely weakened the timbers, and when a sharp squall battered the fleet shortly after sailing from Annabon, it caused severe damage. The mainmast of the
Geloof
snapped into three pieces, revealing the wood to be as soft as a sponge and riddled with wormholes. The vessel was towed by the
Liefde
while a new mast was made by carpenters. They need not have bothered, for the breezes soon died and left the fleet in becalmed waters. The little fleet had now entered the doldrums, or windless zone, of the southern Atlantic, where a ship could “lie half a yeare without wind or water … [for] there is not a breth of air stirring.” With the prospect of many weeks at sea before reaching South America, Vice Admiral Simon de Cordes was left with no alternative but to slash the already meager daily rations. “Our general commanded,” wrote Adams, “that a man, for four dayes, should have but one pound of bread, that was a quarter of a pound a day, with the like proportion of wine and water.” One of the
Liefde
’s crew was so hungry that he crept into the ship’s kitchen and stole some bread. His punishment was swift and merciless. He was hanged and his body hurled into the sea as a warning to others.
Geloof
snapped into three pieces, revealing the wood to be as soft as a sponge and riddled with wormholes. The vessel was towed by the
Liefde
while a new mast was made by carpenters. They need not have bothered, for the breezes soon died and left the fleet in becalmed waters. The little fleet had now entered the doldrums, or windless zone, of the southern Atlantic, where a ship could “lie half a yeare without wind or water … [for] there is not a breth of air stirring.” With the prospect of many weeks at sea before reaching South America, Vice Admiral Simon de Cordes was left with no alternative but to slash the already meager daily rations. “Our general commanded,” wrote Adams, “that a man, for four dayes, should have but one pound of bread, that was a quarter of a pound a day, with the like proportion of wine and water.” One of the
Liefde
’s crew was so hungry that he crept into the ship’s kitchen and stole some bread. His punishment was swift and merciless. He was hanged and his body hurled into the sea as a warning to others.
Adams knew that the reduction in rations would quickly increase the rate of death and disease. “[This] scarcitie of victuals brought such feeblenesse,” he wrote, “that our men fell into so great weaknesse and sicknesse for hunger that they did eate the calves’ skinnes wherewith our ropes were covered.” Salty leather was no diet for sick men and scurvy began to tighten its deadly grip on the fleet.
This terrible sickness was the scourge of every long sea voyage, and all were familiar with its symptoms. “It bringeth with it a
great desire to drinke,” wrote Sir Richard Hawkins, “and causeth a generall swelling of all parts of the body; especially of the legs and gums, and many times the teeth fall out of the jawes.” The men’s skins turned sallow and blotchy and their breath became rank. As their condition worsened, they became breathless, fatigued, and depressed. The second stage of the illness was accompanied by bruising, swellings, and excruciating pain. The afflicted became lethargic and were stricken with kidney problems and acute diarrhea—an unpleasant condition on a vessel where each trip to the latrine involved a precarious balancing act at the stern of the ship.
great desire to drinke,” wrote Sir Richard Hawkins, “and causeth a generall swelling of all parts of the body; especially of the legs and gums, and many times the teeth fall out of the jawes.” The men’s skins turned sallow and blotchy and their breath became rank. As their condition worsened, they became breathless, fatigued, and depressed. The second stage of the illness was accompanied by bruising, swellings, and excruciating pain. The afflicted became lethargic and were stricken with kidney problems and acute diarrhea—an unpleasant condition on a vessel where each trip to the latrine involved a precarious balancing act at the stern of the ship.
Opinions varied as to the cause of scurvy. “Some attribute [it] to sloath,” wrote Hawkins, “[and] some to conceite.” Others argued that it was caused by dirty ships and said that “the best prevention for this disease is to keepe cleane the shippe; to besprinkle her ordinarily with vinegar, or to burne tarre.” What none on this expedition realized was that the English adventurer James Lancaster had discovered a cure for scurvy seven years earlier. He “had brought to sea with him certaine bottles of the juice of limons, which he gave to each one as long as it would last, three spoonfuls every morning.” It had had a quite remarkable effect, and “by this meanes, the generall cured many of his men and preserved the rest.” Unfortunately, Lancaster’s cure was quickly forgotten and scurvy was to remain a blight among seamen for another 161 years.
As the winds at long last freshened, the ships began to pick up speed. They had by now left the tropics behind and the weather changed dramatically as they headed into a freezing South Atlantic winter. The sudden drop in temperature caused some spectacular deaths. One of the English sailors on the
Trouw
was chewing some bread when his limbs locked rigidly. The fleet’s doctor, Barent Potgeiter, was astonished at what he saw. “He was sitting on a bench … when he suddenly dropped backwards looking terribly ill, foaming at the mouth. He never spoke, and died a few hours
later.” Two days later, a second crew member, Jonghman von Utrecht, suffered a similar attack: “He screamed, foamed at the mouth, scratched, kicked and pushed.” He was carried belowdecks and denied food and water. He began muttering to himself, became delirious, and lost control of his bowels. His end was quite horrible: “he was so senseless that he could not clean himself or void his excrements in a regular way, and it being then very cold, the moisture that was about him freezed and benumbed his flesh, insomuch that they were forced to cut off his legs.” He died a few days after this painful operation.
Trouw
was chewing some bread when his limbs locked rigidly. The fleet’s doctor, Barent Potgeiter, was astonished at what he saw. “He was sitting on a bench … when he suddenly dropped backwards looking terribly ill, foaming at the mouth. He never spoke, and died a few hours
later.” Two days later, a second crew member, Jonghman von Utrecht, suffered a similar attack: “He screamed, foamed at the mouth, scratched, kicked and pushed.” He was carried belowdecks and denied food and water. He began muttering to himself, became delirious, and lost control of his bowels. His end was quite horrible: “he was so senseless that he could not clean himself or void his excrements in a regular way, and it being then very cold, the moisture that was about him freezed and benumbed his flesh, insomuch that they were forced to cut off his legs.” He died a few days after this painful operation.
At the end of March, the men awoke to a sight they would never forget. “We sawe the land,” wrote Adams, “in lattetude of 50 degrees, having the windes a two or three days contrary.” They had reached the coast of what is now Argentina. The crew wanted to drop anchor immediately, but with a brisk northerly filling their sails, the captains decided to press on toward the relative safety of the Straits of Magellan. It was a wise decision, for they entered the straits not a moment too soon. “At which time,” wrote Adams, “winter came, so that at that time there was much snowe.”
The Straits of Magellan presented a formidable challenge to Elizabethan pilots. There were hidden shallows and underwater rocks, and in places the waterway was so narrow that ships had to be maneuvered with extreme caution. Drake’s men had been overawed by the monumental scale of the landscape. “The mountains arise with such tops and spires into the air,” wrote one, “and of so rare a height, as they may well be accounted amongst the wonders of the world; environed, as it were, with many regions of congealed clouds and frozen meteors.” The forces of nature had wreaked havoc on Drake’s fleet, and his ships were battered by “the violent force of the winds, intollerable workeing of the wrathful seas, and the grisely beholding of the cragged rocks.”
BOOK: Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan
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